Imported home scents, electronic pills, butter bans and faith healers - The wacky and wonderful ways England prepare for major tournaments

With an unenviable brief that regards anything other than victory at next summer's World Cup a failure, Thomas Tuchel would be forgiven for clinging to any device that could help lead his troops to victory. 

This week, football fans were offered the latest glimpse into the technological world England now inhabit, as Nike's new 'Mind001' shoes were thrust into the spotlight. The national team's sponsor claims they can boost mental sharpness, a promise bold enough to make even seasoned sports scientists blink.

Looking like a pair of brightly coloured £80 slip-ons, the shoes arrive with the breathless claim that they 'enhance your pre-game routine' by linking sensors on the soles of your feet with receptors in your brain. Whether that is groundbreaking science or optimistic marketing remains a lively debate.

Tuchel, speaking to the media on Wednesday, reflected that he did not know too much about the latest fad and even seemed unconvinced by its reach, but he did share a crucial insight that perhaps explains the long history of outlandish approaches ahead of major tournaments. 

'They told me they can focus better in meetings if they wear these shoes and I hope they believe it,' he said. 'May be the most important thing is that they believe it.'

And belief has always been central to England's pre-tournament circus. From Eileen Drewery to Nike slip-ons, the Three Lions have flirted with all manner of measures designed to squeeze out an elusive edge. 

Though none have delivered that first tournament win since 1966, several have aged into pure entertainment. Others have offered revealing snapshots of the England psyche.

Here, Daily Mail Sport revisits some of the most memorable, surreal and occasionally inspired methods England have embraced, endured or quietly shelved on their long road to silverware.

It smells like home 

When Gareth Southgate settled on the secluded Weimarer Land Spa and Golf Resort ahead of Euro 2024, England officials went to unusual lengths to recreate the familiarity of St George's Park. 

Among the more memorable touches were three bespoke fragrances, each tailored to a different part of the complex. One scent covered the main areas, another lingered throughout the gym and recreation zones and the third was pumped gently into the players' bedrooms.

The logic rested on psychological conditioning. By replicating the aromatic profile of their Staffordshire base, England hoped players would settle faster, sleep better and resist the disorienting rhythms of tournament life. 

In a resort boasting padel courts, robot waiters, a helipad, and golf holes seemingly stretching into infinity, the subtle whiff of home was considered just as important as diet or tactical drills.

Staff described the operation as meticulous, with even the grass seeded to match Wembley. Windows were frosted with Three Lions motifs. Every detail was honed to reduce distraction and dial up focus. That included scent diffusion, apparently, even if the science remains open to debate.

Verdict: England reached the Euro 2024 final but fell at the last hurdle again, leaving the scented experiment somewhere between comforting and cosmetic.

Prevent heat exhaustion for £60

As preparations intensify for the 2026 World Cup across the vast heatbelt of the United States, Mexico and Canada, England have embraced another unusual piece of tech. 

Players swallowed a £60 electronic pill that travelled through the gastrointestinal tract, transmitting live data on temperature and heart rate to FA scientists.

Inside a 36C training tent in Girona - during a week-long camp in June - sessions lasted 45 minutes and pushed players toward the kind of physiological strain expected in Dallas or Monterrey, where humidity regularly turns routine drills into survival tests. 

The pill allowed staff to monitor peaks and drops in core temperature, assess cardiovascular load and tailor hydration and recovery plans.

Then-Crystal Palace midfielder Eberechi Eze, now of Arsenal, captured the mood, telling Daily Mail Sport: 'Forty five minutes on a bike is a long time!' 

Chelsea's Cole Palmer added that players had to 'maintain a certain wattage' throughout the session.

To be clear, the pill delivered no performance enhancement of its own. It merely recorded the chaos happening inside each player. Yet the data, in theory, allowed staff to predict fatigue points, rethink substitution windows and prepare players for the brutal conditions awaiting them.

Verdict: England qualified early under Tuchel but the 2026 tournament will determine whether internal telemetry becomes smart planning or another chapter in the quirky annals of pre-World Cup experimentation.

Butter is BAD (and so is ketchup)

Long before gourmet chefs travelled with the team, Fabio Capello attempted to solve England's tournament anxieties with an austere approach that became infamous during the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. 

Bread, butter and ketchup were removed from tables on the basis that, in the Italian's view, 'You English eat too much bread'. 

Capello argued that removing condiments would trim portions and tighten focus. The players did not share his enthusiasm. 

The Rustenburg base was remote, the facilities isolated and mobile signal patchy at best. With little to do and even fewer comforts available, the absence of ketchup became symbolic of the wider strictness. 

A safari trip with photographers in tow offered limited respite and even the games room was compromised, with coaching staff commandeering the space to watch matches on the only large TV.

Emile Heskey later defended Capello's discipline, arguing that complaints about butter and ketchup were excuses. Others reflected differently, with several players describing boredom, tension and a growing split as the camp edged toward meltdown.

Once England stumbled to a drab draw against Algeria, the mood darkened further. John Terry's public airing of internal frustrations overshadowed attempts to adjust tactics and the group never recovered. Germany dismantled England 4-1 in the last sixteen, with Frank Lampard's chalked-off goal only deepening the inquest.

Verdict: The butter ban became a punchline after England crashed out early, cementing Cape Town and Rustenburg as landmarks in the geography of English tournament failures.

Aussie penalty guru 

If England ever needed evidence that unconventional thinking could produce clear results, they found it in the quietly transformative work of Australian sports psychologist Dr Pippa Grange ahead of the 2018 World Cup. 

Embedded at the team's base in Russia, she helped dismantle decades of fear around penalty shootouts, a national trauma that had shaped English football since the early 1990s.

Her methods focused on openness, honesty and group connection rather than mystique or intimidation. 

Grange encouraged players to share life stories, speak candidly about anxieties and understand pressure as something manageable rather than suffocating. Posters with motivational slogans filled the gym, team-bonding card games replaced isolating screen time and conversations about confidence flowed as freely as tactical briefings.

Players embraced it. Some described her as a calming presence, while others leaned on her for guidance as they confronted moments of intense scrutiny. 

The payoff arrived in Moscow when England held their nerve to beat Colombia on penalties in the last sixteen, the moment felt like a decisive break from generations of trauma and pave the way for future shootout successes during the Southgate era. 

Verdict: England reached the semi-finals in 2018, finally winning a World Cup penalty shootout and proving that psychological preparation can deliver more than symbolism.

Glenn's Eileen 

No survey of England's pre-tournament eccentricities is complete without revisiting Glenn Hoddle's long association with faith healer Eileen Drewery. 

Their friendship stretched across decades and entered the spotlight dramatically when Hoddle became England manager. Drewery was credited by Hoddle with helping him through injuries as a young player, initially through what she described as 'distance healing'. 

Over time, her presence around his clubs became normalised. By the late 1990s, she began working with England players during Hoddle's reign.

Drewery offered counselling, spiritual guidance and healing sessions. Some players welcomed the chats but others were less convinced, with stories circulating of brief appointments spent watching television with her husband. 

Nonetheless, her influence grew enough to cause unease once Hoddle published his World Cup diary, which referenced private conversations and fuelled fresh scrutiny.

Critics questioned whether an unqualified spiritual adviser should have any bearing on player welfare or team selection, while supporters emphasised her calming presence. 

The turbulence culminated in the 'Hodgate' episode, when plans emerged for a paid spiritual sanctuary involving Hoddle and Drewery. Combined with Hoddle's later remarks on disability, the entire saga accelerated the manager's exit.

In hindsight, her involvement sits at the intersection of England's long search for marginal gains and the cultural swirl of the 1990s. It remains one of the most surreal chapters in the national team's history.

Verdict: England reached the last sixteen at France 98 before losing to Argentina on penalties, so it's fair to say she was less capable than Dr Grange. 

Across decades of preparation, from scented spas to swallowed sensors and slip-on smart shoes, the England team have embraced the cutting edge and frankly eccentric. 

Whether the Mind001 era proves transformative or temporary remains to be seen, but history suggests only the trophy itself will ever quieten the hunt for the next unusual edge.