Pasodoble on the left hand side: Spain win the trophy

Spain 4 Italy 0

Olé! Olé! Olé! Olé! — Spain finally removed their specs, put down their script, and came out from behind their desk like Angela Rippon on the Morcambe and Wise show.

It was a magnificent display that blew away all nagging doubts about a stuffy, goalless, technical Spain, passing teams (and fans) to death. No. This was an irresistible team playing the perhaps the most exquisite football ever seen.   

Don't take my word for it, take a look at the BBC’s “overhead tactical camera” coverage of the entire game.

In the build up to the first goal, Xabi Alonso plays a sudden crossfield pass to Silva with such speed and accuracy to change the play that it looked like a giant had put his fist on the pitch, capsizing the entire Italy team.

Sixteen Years Of Hurt: Italy beat Germany

Italy 2 Germany 1

“I feel so proud” beamed Gianluca Vialli after Italy’s surprising but deserved victory against the Germany to reach the tournament final.

Vialli’s sudden appearance as a BBC pundit for this match was itself a surprise, and a very welcome one at that. It’s been too long, Gianluca, too long! While Vialli purred before during and after the game, the always watchable Jurgen Klinsmann sat next to him, wincing at the German defending. Alan Shearer completed the punditry trio: the third most fluent English speaker in the team.   

Gianluca had every right to be proud. Italy were positive, intelligent, hard working — brilliant, quite frankly. And the passion was extraordinary. The night began with skipper Gianluigi Buffon belting out the Italian national anthem, eyes closed, chest heaving. It ended with Mario Balotelli’s mother holding her adopted son for a long embrace at the side of the pitch, weeping while Mario explained that his two goals were for her.

Good, Bad and Ugly: Spain beat Portugal on pens

Spain 0 Portugal 0 (Spain win on penalties)

Bruno Alves

No player in Euro 2012 looks more like a tobacco spitting badass from a spaghetti western than Portugal’s Bruno Alves. So it was appropriate that Alves was chosen to take a penalty ahead of Cristiano Ronaldo in the climactic shoot-out against Spain.

When the time came, El Bruno paced towards the penalty spot — eyes occupied. 

The hissing crowd became silent. 

An imaginary Ennio Morricone soundtrack swelled. A church bell chimed. Trumpets blasted. Bruno looked up and eyeballed Iker Casillas. Casillas stared back. Tension unbearable then…

Nani suddenly raced forward and tapped Bruno on the shoulder to tell him he’d got the order wrong. It was actually Nani’s turn to take a penalty. Oops.

Primordial Soup: Italy beat England

Italy 0 England 0 (Italy win on pens)

Andrea Pirlo

The tournament’s first goalless draw and first penalty shoot out. Italy dominated yet were extraordinarily wasteful in front of goal, while England fulfilled La Gazzetta dello Sport‘s prematch assessment that Roy Hodgson’s team were unworthy of success and their style of play was, in Gazzetta’s words, “primordial”.

Of all the pre match predictions among the English, the most confident was tactical: Italy were going to play a compact midfield diamond formation, with Andrea Pirlo orchestrating attacks from deep. This meant that England were going to have to press Pirlo relentlessly, using their strikers if need be, to deny him time and space to control the game.

As it turned out, Pirlo spent almost 120 minutes ambling about his business happily unhindered by Englishmen. He was afforded so much time and space he could pick his passes like a man browsing the paint aisle at Homebase. Early on, TV microphones picked up Joe Hart shouting at Wayne Rooney, the obvious candidate, to pick up Pirlo. Who knows if Rooney heard Hart but nothing changed.

The more worrying truth is that England are no closer to evolving into any higher form. They actually regressed in the game itself, slumping alarmingly after a relatively sprightly first 15 minutes.

After that, England’s hunter gatherer XI touched the ball like they were handling fire for the first time. Passing was totally out of the question (statistically, England’s most successful passer was goalkeeper Joe Hart — seriously). Their strategy of defence was to bravely hurl themselves in front of soaring shots, repelling attacks with legs, feet, skulls and bones. Nobody does that better than England at least.

Wayne Rooney’s lack of touch, his poor passing, and his dire fitness, epitomised England. Frustratingly, Hodgson made changes too early in the second half which made things worse. Welbeck, who was marginally more prepared than Rooney to chase back and harass Italy’s midfield, was replaced by Andy Carroll.

England’s inflexibility and their 4-4-2 formation may have survived three games, but was hopelessly inadequate for challenging even the roughest of Italian diamonds.

Hodgson’s Neanderthal game plan was revealed afterwards when he praised his team: “We worked so hard to get ourselves into the situation where we might win on penalties.” In the end, Hodgson fared no better or worse than previous managers when faced with a decent team in the knock-out stages. Going out like this, especially on penalties, is England’s level. 

Piggy In The Middle: Spain beat France easily

Spain 2 France 0

Laurent Blanc 

Ugh. This was a meeting that promised so much eye candy, pitting France’s swashbuckling forwards against the Spanish champions. Instead, Spain inflicted a slow and suffocating death on France that was, quite frankly, unpleasant to watch.

The match was a cruel 90 minute game of piggy in the middle. It could be argued that it was won and lost not on the pitch but in the fevered mind of French coach Laurent Blanc. Blanc looked like he’d lost a lot of sleep dreading the prospect of containing the Spaniards and by sunrise his mood had slipped into paranoia. The eventual team selection was so incoherent France had two right backs.

Former world cup winner Blanc was supposed to be the man to restore Gallic flair and pride to Les Bleus. His record since taking over in 2010 was excellent, even if he had courted controversy with talk of imposing “race quotas” limiting black and Arab youth players (Blanc soon changed his tune when he realised that he'd be left with a squad of just Lloris in goal, Franck Ribery, and that bloke who used to present Eurotrash) .

The Money Shot: Germany batter Greece

Germany 4 Greece 2

Yikes! 

A game with political and financial overtones, but also a re-run of the Monty Python match of International Philosophy (Nietzsche passes to Hegel and all that) .   

As the players left the team coach the big news was that the Germans had stripped their attack and replaced it with a whole new model. Out were Podolski, Müller and the goalscorer Gomez. In was the youthful duo of André Schürrle and Marco Reus, and to replace Gomez, the veteran goalscorer Klose. Such a bold move at a critical juncture in the tournament had all the hallmarks of taking the piss.  

Entering the stadium at the same time was German chancellor Angela Merkel. I’m guessing the millions of Greeks watching at home booed and jeered as Merkel took her seat to observe proceedings like a Roald Dahl villainess. I did!  

Oops he's done it again: Shearer butts in.

Alan Shearer took a lot of flack during the 2010 World Cup for his dour demeanour. So this year, Shearer seems self consciously upbeat and proactive in his analysis, almost as though he’s being prodded with stick. But when he butts in during a monologue by Lee Dixon, Dixon shoots Gary Lineker an exasperated “he’s done it again” face at 35 seconds. What can we read from this?    

(Spotted on When Saturday Comes twitter feed)

'Still ev'rybody says - Rock me Amadeus': Portugal reach semis

Portugal 1 Czech 0

The Portuguese dominated the Czechs to win a place in the semi finals and make Portugal genuine (if outside) contenders for the Championship.

The Czechs showed little attacking intention — a large number of the side were restricted to tethering Portugal’s explosive wide players, which merely pinned their own ambitions deep in their own half. The previously positive Petr Jiráček, formerly of the band Supertramp, did so much work tracking back that in the closing stages he looked liked he’d crawled out of the desert.   

Portugal's control and superiority exhausted the Czechs. Coentrão and Nani were always dangerous, while João Moutinho pulled the midfield strings in a career defining game that will make the twenty-five year old a major transfer target.  

Salford Lads Club: England beat Ukraine to qualify

Ukraine 0 England 1

So England came of top of their group despite being second best to all three opponents for long periods in all three matches.  

Rooney’s return made him one of many “talismans” (or talismen?)  of the night. Commentators were spotting them everywhere. Shevchenko was Ukraine’s “talisman”.  Sweden scored against France through their own “talisman”, Zlatan. Steven Gerrard became “talismanic”. In the end there was more talisman action than an episode of Rentaghost.    

Windmills Of Your Mind: Spain and Italy qualify

Spain 1 Croatia 0

Italy 2 Ireland 0

Circles in circles, wheels within wheels, leagues within leagues. As the images unwind, what you come to find is a new impenetrable UEFA goal difference calculator which made following Group C feel like Sudoku. 

Rather than give priority to goals For vs goals Against, the system sent teams level on points spiralling into some Mini-League of the Mind, giving preference to results of games between the concerned teams only (I think).    

Day Of The Dead: Holland crash out, Germany and Portugal progress

Portugal 2 Netherlands 1

Germany 2 Denmark 1

The Group of Death reached its' gory climax in Ukraine yesterday and both matches began with everything still to play for.

The exact Time of death (T.o.d.) for the group was probably the 80th minute when Lars Bender scored for Germany. His goal guaranteed quarter final places for Germany and Portugal and killed Denmark and Holland’s hopes of qualification. Until then, all manner of eventualities were  feasible — including an unthinkable but possible German exit.   

Greece Lightening: Greece qualify, France win during storm

France 2 Ukraine 0

Ukraine’s meeting with France was delayed after six minutes due to an extraordinary lightening storm that had tragic consequences. The tragic consequences being that we viewers faced almost an hour of improv with Adrian Chiles, back at the studio.

“Does anyone have any storm stories?” Chiles asked his panel of pundits, openly confessing his need to fill in time. No one did. Then, breaking the silence, Gareth Southgate recounted an incident at Villa Park when a parachuting Santa Claus got his chords caught in the roof of a stand. Which is kind of the same isn’t it? Chiles didn’t seem to care.

Hairway To Steven: England overcome Sweden

England 3 Sweden 2

Twenty two minutes into the game, Steven Gerrard  picked up the ball near the far touchline, just inside the opposition’s half. He glanced up for a nanosecond, nudged the ball a little, then launched a forty yard pass towards the penalty spot and Andy Carroll's bonce.

Andy Carroll’s thumping header to give England the lead was an act of pure patriotism — a goal so English it should be erected on the fourth plinth in Trafalgar square. Less than twenty four hours earlier, Spain had played nearly eight hundred passes to beat Ireland, lulling their victims then suffocating them like a python. Sod that. Just glide the ball onto a big Englishman’s head and have done with it.  “The plan has worked!” exclaimed BBC’s Guy Mowbray while Carroll celebrated.   

Back To The Future: A repeat finale of Spain vs Germany looking likely

Germany 2 Holland 1

Germany’s victory over Holland was ominous, and they look odds on to meet Spain in a second consecutive Euro final. Mario Gomez was ruthless in front of goal wiping away the memory of his poor finishing for Bayern Munich in the Champions League final (Gomez did prompt memories of Crispin Glover's George McFly in Back To The Future, however). The Dutch struggled again, only Sneijder looking like he really had a plan of how to get them out of their hole.   

Mario Gomez (left) with fan
in the 1980s (or is it 1950s?)

Watching the game wasn’t easy though, thanks to another less than impressive BBC showing. Jonathan Pearce was wretchedly bombastic throughout. He opened by asserting that the famous old game between Cryuff’s Dutch Masters and Beckenbauer’s West Germany was memorable for “thirsts for revenge for the Nazi occupation of Holland ahead of the 1974 World Cup final”. 

Lawrenson provided no relief. After a miserable start covering Germany’s first game against Portugal, Lawro sighed and tutted his way through this match like Mary Whitehouse passing judgment on the "permissive society". A commentator on Twitter offered the explanation: “Lawro hates football. He hates being there”. Another compared Lawro to a grump in the back of the car: "Should have taken the A40 back there."

Game of Thrones: Bendtner vs Ronaldo

Portugal 3 Denmark 2

In the debate to name the world’s best player, Christiano Ronaldo is usually edged aside by Lionel Messi, but statistically, both players are almost inseparable, and to his advantage, Ronaldo’s supporters can point to the Portuguese player’s superior aerial prowess and free kicks.  

But there is third player whose backer believes him to be the rightful heir to the title of Best In The World. That player is Danish striker Niklas Bendtner. Unfortunately, the backer who makes this claim is Danish striker Niklas Bendtner. “If I decide that something is going to happen, then it will happen", Bendtner explained before he was shipped off on loan to Sunderland from Arsenal last year. 

Back In The USSR: Shevchenko swansong and other games

Ukraine 2 Sweden 1

Ukraine’s victory over the Swedes was all about the magnificent swansong of Andrey Shevchenko. Kiev looked like it was heaving to celebrate “Sheva”, the city's favourite son, and that was before he made two extraordinary precision headers to overcome a first half deficit and win the match.

WTF? Swedish fan in Kiev

Thirty five year old Shevchenko is the most iconic of Ukrainians — one of the few remaining players with a substantial memory of life in the old Soviet Union. He shares his surname with the nineteenth century literary father of the nation, and grew up in a town made desolate by the Chernobyl nuclear disaster when he was ten. If he was English, he’d be Johnny Shakespeare from Coventry.

Sheva expected to have quit the game by now, and by rights he should have retired to the forest to make wood carvings, or whatever elderly Ukrainians do these days. Instead, savouring the notion of ending his career in glory competing in his homeland championships, Sheva spent the past two years being fitted with false knees, new vertebrae, robot hips — anything to keep him on his feet for the last hoorah. It was worth it.

The Day The Music Died: England hold France to a draw

England 1 France 1

Like dark clouds parting to reveal a bright blue sky, like the sight of the first flowers after a long cruel winter, like the church bells pealing to herald the end of war, the pre-match news filtered through that the England band had been denied entry to the stadium at Donetsk. The eighteen year headache was over.

Throughout and after the match, Twitter was jubilant with praise for the unnamed Ukrainian official responsible. Free from the tyranny of those drum thumping orcs, English fans were able do what English fans do best, singing with unrivalled gusto and spontaneous passion. Like proper football fans.

Spooky but Toothless: Spain draw with Italy

Italy 1 Spain 1

This was the group game I was most looking forward to. Pre tournament build up spoke of an Italian resurgence on the back of yet another major SeriaA scandal, consistent with their triumphs in 1982 and 2006. The build up also revealed a tiki-taka backlash among neutral fans, many of whom have grown bored with Spain and Barcelona’s dominance through endless patient passes, and are willing Drogba-like wrecking balls to bring down Spain’s carefully assembled jenga tower.    

The 1st Marquis of Del Bosque

Italy played an un-Italian back three, boasting flying wingbacks (to take advantage of the selection of Napoli’s wingback Maggio). Spain went into the game with a remarkable Four-Six…Zero formation.

Lacking David Villa due to a broken leg, and faced with the prospect of fielding Fernando Torres as the lone striker, Spanish coach Del Bosque had obviously hurled his subbuteo players at the wall in despair.

"Profligate" in Poland: The first games

Poland 1 Greece 1

Poland’s opener against Greece under a sweaty stadium roof was a highly enjoyable draw marked by panic stricken goalkeepers and a dire referee.

 

At half time, Poland's goal by the comparatively easy to pronounce Lewankowski (Lev-an-kov-ski) was welcomed by a relieved Alan Hansen, who conspicuously avoided referring to any other player by name throughout. The excellent Jakub Błaszczykowski, for example, remained suspiciously unheralded.

The game introduced the tournament’s first villain: Spanish referee Carlos Velasco Carballo, who gave two yellow cards to Greek defender Papastathopoulos — the first for heading the ball and the second for falling over.

Voodoo Chiles: The Euros Begin!

The Euros have begun!

The first surprise of the tournament was that the BBC had decided to host the thing from their base in Salford, rather than from their usual spot overlooking a nation's tourist treasure.  This cheapskate move reflects the austerity of the age, but Lineker was quick to point out the travel distances involved this year (over one thousand miles separate some of the stadiums). It means that being anchored to a studio in England makes barely less sense than sitting atop some rooftop in Warsaw.

Insane Clown's Posse: Poland vs Greece Pre-match Thoughts

This evening, hosts Poland face Greece in the opening fixture; a meeting not likely to get neutrals fired up, but a game which promises so many awkward syllables in players' names that Clive Tyldesley should have been made to spend a month in a paint stripped room with Geoffrey Rush and a phonograph just to get through it. 

Mister Magoo and Cross-Eyed Clarence

After Roy Hodgson's squad selection, drawn largely from the cheap plastic and rusted bolts of Anfield's subs bench, we're soon forced to face the equally uninspiring return of Lineker, Shearer and Hansen for the BBC.

Lineker, to be fair, has improved since his 2008 nadir. Having ditched his wife and hooked up with a model 20 years his junior, Gary hosted the Euros from Vienna through Lily Savage plucked eyebrows and so much botox you thought you'd pressed pause on the remote during his intros.

'Le Carrousel': France's forwards look set to bedevil England's Kabaddi defence

On Friday the 2012 European Championships begin. I'll be hooked on the event as ever, catching as many games as I can on the box, so this year I thought I'd run a blog following the tournament. Issuing dispatches; offering addled thoughts. That type of thing.  

   

Tonight I've been watching France, England's first opponents at the Euros, pour melted cheese over Estonia in their final pre-tournament friendly. At 3-0, Nasri, Benzema, Ribery and Newcastle's Yohann Cabaye are operating a whirling carrousel in the "D" around the Estonian penalty area; playing the possession game honed by their Spanish and Catalan neighbours. Fantastic stuff.