England are out of a World Cup. These seven words seem as though they should be more surprising: aren't we, as the uninitiated (and uninterested) up and down the country were asking on Sunday morning, meant to be good at rugby? Didn't we “give” it to the world? Isn't it a little embarrassing?

Embarrassing, yes. Surprising, no. Firstly, it's actually in quite a good state; and secondly hyperbolic lament is best left to Arsenal fans. Instead, I would suggest that precisely no one should be really surprised anymore, whatever their protestations about our domination for 60 minutes against Wales or, god forbid, the dreaded “Group of Death”. Put simply, the relationship between English sport and World Cups has turned into the play that Beckett never wrote; a self-perpetuating farce full of “new dawns” and “cautious optimism”, leading only to a wearied acceptance and inevitable finger-pointing. The same things happen, people shout a bit, and then they happen again.

If you look back over the past two or three World Cups in England's biggest three sports (at their male editions at least – their female counterparts have had an unprecedented level of success on the world stage lately... food for thought perhaps), the plotlines appear so similar that it's almost farcical. Long before, the team are written off as “a work in progress”, or criticised for having become stagnant with age; the credentials of the unfortunate who happens to be in charge are routinely savaged, and the public begin their preparations for the national mourning to come. With a couple of months to go, however, something funny happens. A recent shock victory against one of the traditional powerhouses of the sport - beating Australia in the autumn, drawing with Brazil in the Maracana – combined with the inclusion of some young, dynamic talent (rugby's George Ford and Antony Watson, Ross Barkley, Raheem Sterling etc in football) becomes enough to convince even the most rational of fans that this year could indeed be our year...

Form and experience can suddenly be safely ignored: the fact that Stuart Lancaster's eventual starting 15 had accrued more than 200 fewer caps than the 660 averaged by previous World Cup winning sides, and about 600 less than the All Black team who took to the field against Argentina was suddenly irrelevant. The verve of youth, free from the experience of the 2011 débâcle, would surely be enough. England's record in the post-2011 Six Nations makes acceptable reading; no Grand Slams, a solitary Triple Crown, and a sequence of 2nd place finishes is exactly what one might expect of a team in development, but it's hardly a sequence that encourages particularly high expectations for a competition traditionally dominated by the southern hemisphere. Further, the fact that England have lost one crucial match in each of the previous three tournaments, against Ireland this year, France last, and Wales, most emphatically, in 2013, speaks directly of a team not used to winning games under actual pressure – and yet, most fans would have confidently predicted qualification from a group containing the most successful team in recent Six Nations history and this year's Four Nations champions, proven winners at the highest level of the sport. World Cup wins don't happen to teams without such a record of domination; think of the Spanish team who won the 2010 FIFA World Cup, the Australia Cricket sides of 2003 and 2007, or even the England team in 2003.

As ever, though, the fairytale must, and will, turn sad. Outplayed, out-thought, overawed by the situation, the realisation slowly filters through that no, this is not actually going to be our year. And then the inevitable fallout: suddenly a dressing room that has been praised for its unity is rife with coaching rows; a selection policy lauded for its consistency is ridiculed, held up as an example of managerial naiveté; a man immensely popular, often extolled for the 'culture' that he has established, for the sense of 'pride in the shirt' that he has reinvigorated, is taken to the proverbial cleaners by one and all. His achievements become the albatross around his neck. If he is lucky, a stay of execution may be granted, as with Roy Hodgson after last year's Brazilian débâcle, but no one will be surprised if he joins the likes of Peter Moores, Martin Johnson and Andy Flower, consigned to the scrapheap, deemed not “up to the job" by the powers that be.

The dreaded rebuilding must begin shortly after: selection experiments are deemed failures without question (when will we next see the George Ford-conducted midfield that sparked so much optimism during the Six Nations? What about Sam Burgess?), a raft of senior player/squad members are suddenly surplus to requirements, and all the talk is of post-mortems, grassroots problems, and “identity crisis”. It's this final phase of the narrative that is the most damaging to the sport in question; immediate success following significant change is no indication of actual improvement or potential for lasting success – any number of Premier League football clubs offer willing testimony of this – and often all that is achieved is a parallel narrative (à la Sunderland) of short term fixes and stagnation. Much better, as the England cricket team have shown in the aftermath of their latest World Cup disaster, to effect change from within, to trust to the same personnel to come up with a solution rather than decide that the incumbents are just not up to it.

Success at the highest level, ultimately, is not immediate. It is the result of meticulous planning, stability, and unshakeable trust between the players and management. It is not the conclusion of this current narrative of English sport. No one should be surprised that we are out of our own World Cup, disappointing though it may be; we were beaten by two teams who have played a more consistently high level of rugby over a longer period. They were proven winners; we are not – yet. The England management made it clear throughout the build up to this year's tournament that they didn't consider their side ready to mount a serious challenge. Japan 2019 has always been the target at which they've aimed, and they should be allowed to be judged, in four years time, against that.