Euro 2012: A tribute to Spain's Phantom 9

Spain made double history at Euro 2012. Not only were Victor Del Bosque’s side the first to win three international tournaments in a row, they were also the first to win a competition with a surreal formation that largely omitted a striker. So to honour Spain’s ‘Phantom 9’, here are nine memories to take away from Poland and Ukraine.
The hosts show RESPECT

Before the tournament all the talk was geared towards crowd trouble, racism, monkey chants, the families of ethnic players being warned to stay away for their own safety, etc. Thankfully, just like the 2002 World Cup in Japan and Korea, where police had allegedly learned English commands to stave off any hooliganism, the scaremongering in Poland and Ukraine largely – but for a few isolated incidents – proved fruitless.

On the pitch it was a shame that both host nations fell at the first hurdle. As with Austria and Switzerland four years previously, it wasn’t a massive surprise given Poland and Ukraine’s moderate talent, but both will see it as an opportunity missed.

For long periods the Poles battered an ageing and largely poor Greece side that played for around an hour with only ten men in the opening game, to no avail; dug out another single point against Russia; then simply ran out of gas against the Czech Republic after wasting a string of first-half chances. Similarly, Ukraine failed to take advantage of the euphoria which followed the superb 2-1 win over Sweden. With games stretching to midnight local time, partying in the respective countries was well under way. Pity the champagne ran out early.

Fandemonium

The premature departure of Poland and Ukraine, whose fans lit up their respective stadia, was a blow to the atmosphere, though plenty stayed on. In general it was a colourful affair; fancy dress, painted faces, the obligatory cameras panning to the pretty ladyeeeeeeeeeeeeez in the crowd (and Angela Merkel).

Perhaps the most consistently weird sight was of fans biting their fingernails and quivering as they prayed for their team to score or hold on to their lead. But wait a minute, sudden joyous face! We’re on telly worldwide – wahey! Who gives a shit about the footie now?

TV ratings

Obviously the BBC won as usual, largely due to the public not having to suffer adverts ad nauseum, nor idiotic commentary from ITV’s Clive Tyldesley and Peter Drury and their ‘oh-so-clever’ pre-scripted tripe. “Pirlo? Peerless, more like”, “Klose moves ever-closer to Gerd Muller’s international scoring record" and the clincher from Drury, who was clearly salivating when Georgios Samaras bundled home a Greek equaliser against Germany: “AND GREECE HAVE WIPED THE DEBT!”

Not that the BBC were much cop in the commentary stakes either, mind you. The main trio of Guy Mowbray, Jonathan Pearce and Steve Wilson were fine, but their right-hand men were cringeworthy. Mark Lawrenson did his best to emulate the ITV twats with his dry, unfunny puns every other minute, while Mark Bright, despite his child-like enthusiasm, remained endlessly irritating. Nevertheless, at least the Beeb refrained from the endless “And the last team to beat Spain? Yep, that’s right, England.” Thanks for that, Clive.

Over to Gabby for the latest from the England camp

As much as I want England to win an international tournament in my lifetime, at least inevitable defeat at some stage means we can then concentrate fully on subsequent games rather than be subjected to the obligatory non-stories and squeaky-clean press conferences.

As for Ingerland on the pitch? Well, it was a decent effort. Most fans were happy for the team just to get out of the group stage given the average bunch Roy Hodgson had at his disposal, and taking an Italy side that reached the final, tearing Germany apart on the way, to penalties was no disgrace. Although we still had to suffer the obligatory ‘tactically and technically we’re way behind the best’ whinging. No shit, Sherlock. Then again, the last team to beat Spain? Yep, that’s right, England. Thanks for that, Clive.

Dumbo number five

In recent years I’ve started to feel a little, just a little, sorry for Cristiano Ronaldo at international level. He’s been accused of playing for himself rather than his country, but to be honest he’s largely lacked enough quality around him to make a definitive mark with Portugal, so it’s a tad harsh, in my opinion. At the last World Cup, for instance, he suffered from horribly negative team tactics and below-par teammates, both of which meant he was starved of the ball for long periods.

This Portugal side were much better, though, and Ronaldo was largely a hit – until the penalty shoot-out with Spain, that is. I know, I’m our team’s best penalty taker so I’ll go last. That way I’ll be able to grab the glory, my teammates will pile on me, and I’ll be the hero. But hang on, what if my teammates don’t score and I don’t get the chance? Too late. Oh shit.

Music to our ears

The damn Spanish. Not only do they not need strikers to win matches, they don’t even need words in their national anthem. In all seriousness, the Marcha Real really is a powerful and euphoric anthem, and the fact we didn’t need to hear their players sing it was a definite bonus. Contrast that with the players from other nations, whose singing was generally laughably bad, most notably Ronaldo.

Now don’t get me wrong, these players were at the tournament to play football, but considering how many of them clearly spent hours meticulously slicking their hair back in male model styleee, you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Italy goalkeeper Gianluigi Buffon attaching hair clips as kick-off approached? Really? At least Petr Cech still wears his helmet for protection (snigger).

16 Nation Army

Along with Spain, the White Stripes were the tournament’s biggest winners. After every goal, the duo's rock anthem Seven Nation Army blasted from the speakers. Well, not their version (though that has hovered around the top end of the iTunes chart since) but a Euro equivalent, which every fan of the team that had just scored sang along to.

Great song, of course, but why the need for goal music? Yes, I know it’s becoming more and more popular around domestic leagues, but come on, this is an international tournament. Fans know how to celebrate a goal without having to be guided by bangin' choons. It will be upbeat organ music at corners next. And the obligatory countdown before kick-off? This isn’t America, you know. Er, rant over.

The Were-Spain-boring debate

Yes. Yes, they were. Accusations that we’re just bored of them winning doesn’t wash with me, I’m afraid. Manchester United have won countless Premier League trophies but although I’m not a fan, I’ve never felt bored watching them; they’ve always tried to play quick-tempo, expansive football. During the 1999 Treble-winning era, in particular, they were great value for couch-potato viewing as the likes of David Beckham and Paul Scholes emerged.

Spain were a similarly attack-minded side in 2008 and 2010, playing not too dissimilarly to modern-day Barcelona, but for 90 per cent of this tournament they played in third gear. Commentators masturbating over their ability to keep the ball didn’t help. I make that the 112th consecutive pass, Andy. They are so technically adept, aren’t they, Clive? Here’s Busquets, Xavi, Busquets again, across to Arbeloa, back to Busquets, he flicks it neatly to find Pique, Pique plays it back to Casillas, who effortlessly strokes the ball out to Jordi Alba. I mean, look Andy, Casillas plays like a modern-day sweeper, doesn’t he? Certainly does, Clive. Yawn.

Self-indulgence is all very well if you’re 3-0 up with 10 minutes left, but at 0-0 it’s plain arrogant. Had Croatia taken a couple of their late chances in the group encounter, Spain could have been on the next plane home. And then there was the Portugal semi, of course. Hi Cristiano!

Campeones

But despite the above, what do great champions do? They shove mockery back into their critics’ mouths and put on a scintillating display in the final, that’s what. Italy tried to live with Spain but simply couldn’t. The first goal was like watching the Russian ice hockey team at their most ruthless. And who needs strikers when you’ve got an adventurous left-back who can steam through a brick wall-like defence and finish like Messi? Barca fans will enjoy Alba.

Ultimately, strikerless Spain had the last laugh in more ways than one. Thanks to a late cameo, featuring a goal and an assist, Fernando Torres ended up waltzing off with the Golden Boot. That’s right, a striker. Takes the piss really, doesn’t it?

So, three major titles in four years, and with a side young enough to carry on winning several more. Who can stop them? Well, the last team to... Shut it, Clive.