Tappa Tappa Tappa!!!!

Wellity, wellity, wellity. After a somewhat quiet summer on the transfer front, hasn't Daniel Levy gone and stirred the pot a little with his declaration to fight Fergs and Benitez on the beaches, on the landing grounds, in the fields and in the streets? And probably even in the hills too.

Now, as a Spurs supporter I must distinguish myself from necessarily being a Levy supporter. His treatment of Martin Jol last season was as near to heinous as you can get in football (which isn't that close, but still ...). There's also always been that underlying feeling that the club is merely a business to him, as opposed to its more institutional qualities, which are the ones the supporters hew to most readily (one wonders, however, how much of certain cultural stereotypes filter this perception within the media ...). Nonetheless, in this instance he has shown some moxy, though the motivation for it remains, to me, ambiguous.

The practice of tapping-up is well known to operate at all levels of professional football. Indeed much of the response to Levy's bout of j'accuse has been along the lines of 'well everyone does it'. Which is true enough, and Spurs no doubt have gotten up to some mischief themselves at times, not forgetting just how Juande Ramos came to be manning the Tottenham dug-out in the first place. Nonetheless, Levy's outburst is interesting on a number of levels, and does raise the point of just why these laws are there in the FA charters anyway, especially in light of Ferguson's apoplectic reaction to Real Madrid's rather blatant bout of tappa-tappa-tappa on the Cron.

All this mere weeks after Spurs got themselves embroiled in a spot of controversy surrounding the transfer of England Under-17 captain John Bostock. Many have been ready to use this as an example of Spurs having their cake and eating it too as far as the ethics of transfers are concerned, but such a response shows a sloppy reading of the situation. Bostock, after all, was out of contract. Had be been 18, Palace would not have been entitled to any fee. Nonetheless, in the interests of protecting youth development schemes from Premiership clubs hovering around and snapping young players up as soon as their traineeships are up, those clubs are obliged to honour the club that invested in the player a fee. Spurs offered Palace said fee, which Palace declined, holding firm to a 5 million pound valuation, in keeping with the Aaron Ramsay transfer between Cardiff and Arsenal. Unlike Ramsay, who was under contract, in the instance of a fee being unable to be settled, the case is taken to a tribunal: Simon Jordan gambled by insisting on the 5 million, and lost out. Now, the tribunal's valuation might seem wrong (it is) and sets a poor precedent for protecting the youth development of clubs from outside the Premiership (or even within the lower tiers of the Premiership), but Spurs did play by the rules in this instance - rather, they benefited from a poor decision from an independent body. Now, why that may be is any one's guess, and all sorts of wonderful conspiracy theories are probably being scribbled in permanent marker on the walls of Simon Jordan's fancy-pants home, but the implication that such tribunals will defer to richer clubs in such disputes seems quite strong - while there's likely nothing as scurrilous as a big wad of tenners in a brown-paper bag, there's something to be said about the extent to which the game's decision makers are in thrall to wealthier, more lucrative clubs.

Ferguson and Benitez's alleged doings in relation to the mooted transfers of Dimitar Berbatov and Robbie Keane to Manchester United and Liverpool respectively, are of a different order. Levy's statement says, quite bluntly, that both clubs have contravened the code of conduct expected in transfers in going about their business. Even though Levy clearly says:

The behaviour of both clubs has been disgraceful. We told both clubs very early on that we had no interest in selling Robbie or Dimitar, respectively, and that they should refrain from pursuing the player. Both clubs arrogantly chose to ignore this request and we now have evidence that both clubs have systematically been working to prise the players away from us, outside of PL rules of conduct.

Our subsequent position has been severely compromised by both clubs making their intentions widely known and indeed making contact with the players and their agents, without the Club's permission.

The initial reaction focused on Ferguson's purported "comments regarding Berbatov in The Sun. Ferguson has denied making these comments, from which he, and seemingly a few of the blunter instruments in the press, have concluded that the Spurs case is all smoke and mirrors. Which is the usual haughty bluffing on Ferguson's behalf: as Levy's statement says, the nature of the complaint refers to Manchester United and Liverpool making contact with the players or their agents without the permission of the club that holds their registration. This breaches K3 and K8 of the Premier League's rules regarding transfer conduct. What Ferguson did or didn't say to The Sun is irrelevant with respect to these accusations. Spurs believe they have evidence, which they will submit to the Premier League, who will then determine whether United or Liverpool have a case to answer. That evidence cannot be made public until such time; either Spurs have evidence representatives of United and Liverpool made contact with Berbatov or Keane directly or through their agents, or they do not. Ferguson's comments are a diversionary tactic - attempt to create a tone of incredulity to Tottenham's complaints and sway public opinion away from anyone laying a finger on precious United. Spurs have played this with a straight-bat, stating that Ferguson's comments to The Sun do not constitute the substance of Spurs' complaint to the Premier League.

And that would probably be that, except for the almighty twist in the tail being that Levy seems willing to sell both players to United and Liverpool, in spite of his comments. All of which casts Levy's statement in a much different light. The first point of interest is a no-brainer: even though Berbatov and Keane would be gone, Spurs would end up with in excess of 50 million pounds to put towards building their squad for the next season. Not lunch-money by anyone's reckoning. Well, maybe Bill Gates' and Roman Abramovic's. Spurs bought Keane for 7 million pounds and Berbatov for 11 million. This is a substantial profit, and if Ramos can turn the same trick with other strikers around the 10-15 million pound mark (hell, look what he did with Fredi Kanoute ...), then the sale of both players may not be the crushing blow it is expected to be. Secondly, there's a widely held theory, and not a silly one, that speculates that Levy has used this statement to cushion the blow of the loss of two popular players and cut off any criticism he is likely to receive from the Spurs fan-base regarding his willingness to sell. What better way to do this than the stress your unwillingness to sell in calling United and Liverpool on a spot of tapping-up, and remarking that both players' heads are turned and they are a menace to the dressing room?

A third possibility is the more quixotic option: that Levy's comments are motivated by a straw well and truly breaking the camel's back. The frustration of clubs such as Tottenham, Villa and Everton must be substantial, given all three clubs, with their histories, large supporter-bases and (particularly in Spurs' and Villa's case) wealth, keep having to sell their best players. This summer we've seen Martin O'Neill put his foot down with regard to Gareth Barry, saying that his prize asset will not go cheaply, and any tactics to try and engineer a cut-price move by unsettling a player and turning him into a liability would not be acceptable. Levy may well be joining him.

Given that Spurs, Villa and Everton enjoyed periods of great success before the Premier League-era, these clubs should have remained attractive options to players, not just as platforms to show off to the Champions' League clubs, but as avenues to success in their own right. One could argue that these clubs' inability to compete with Manchester United, Chelsea or Arsenal in the Premier League-era has done for them, but while this argument has merit, it lacks historical context: before the Premier League, clubs that finished in fifth, sixth or even seventh position could have reasonable expectations of mounting a title-challenge the next season (never mind finishing fourth, which is now seen to be the height of ambition for Spurs, Villa and Everton, a sad state of affairs for very proud clubs). While a fifth-placed finish for Spurs may have represented a disappointment for talented players craving success, pre-Premier League and, more pertinently, pre-Champions' League, said players tended not to flee the ship - fifth wasn't so far off the pace such that you weren't seen as a viable contender or an attractive club to be at. This encouraged a greater spread of players, a greater diversity in the composition of final tables (excepting Liverpool in the 1980s, league success fluctuated wildly, particularly for Villa, Everton, Manchester United, Spurs and Arsenal). Parachuting into a team playing Champions' League football wasn't an option; playing your existing club into success seemed to be a little more widely held conviction (we shouldn't get carried away - many players moved around to better position themselves for success. It's just that that movement wasn't a centrifugal shift into a core of four clubs).

Perhaps it's this that Levy is railing against. This of course, is related directly to Spurs' fortunes: boo-hoo, they can't quite crack the big time. But their ability to do so is becoming increasingly impaired by the growing perception that they are the club you go to to shop yourself around to Manchester United. This is a hard perception to change, given that club perceptions have become caught in a positive feedback loop, spiralling out of control. For a decorated, and celebrated club (celebrated well out of proportion to their success in terms of trophies - Spurs have always had the benefit of the club's ethos regarding style to see them through in this regard), and also one of Britain's most wealthy and well-supported, this is a lock-out that is difficult to gatecrash. While the tactic is to replicate Ramos' success at Seville, by using riskier, younger players who are in the process of making their reputations, Spurs only have to come close enough to find that they've totally lost out. The club loses the players who served them well to get to that point, continuity is dashed, the club has to gamble more on unknown quantities. It's the same for Villa, Everton, City and anyone else who wants to be serious about reinjecting some competitiveness into the league. Perhaps Levy is using this broadside to diminish the scavenging tendencies of the Champions' League clubs, by trying to have the laws enforced and create a disincentive for those clubs to treat the others as feeder-clubs who should be flattered at the interest.

This, after all, is the most galling aspect of the whole ordeal: Liverpool and United acted from day one that they would get their men, irrespective of Spurs' wishes (and they are most certainly entitled to rebuff any offers for players under long-term contracts, AND have no obligation to inform the player), as though their interest were some kind of privilege that could not be resisted.

Regardless, one doesn't exactly fancy Levy's chances of incurring a real body-blow on United or Liverpool. A small fine is likely to be in the offing should the clubs be found guilty, an unlikely thing in itself, given that the tendency to defer to wealth and power will see that any tribunal will fawn over United and Liverpool in contrast to those horrible, lowly Cockney buggers. He might, however, have turned a portion of the fanbase on Keane - Keane's seeming u-turn on his 'retire at Tottenham' stance has been flabbergasting, and deeply disappointing for a club that has all but lost its ability to hold onto its great servants. No Archibalds, Perrymans, Mabbutts, Hughtons or Hoddles have graced Spurs for some time, and it seems highly unlikely if they ever will again, which is a great shame for a club that used to inspire such loyalty from many of its players (which was in part what made the club so appealing for many of us supporters). Many Spurs fans believed Keane fit that bill, but, it seems he is happy to dawdle off at the first come-hither look he got from a Champions' League club, rather than show his supposed love of the club by leading us there, surely a huge achievement in itself.

Oh the shame of it all ...

Blatman and the Cron take Bloody Kansas

ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS (Pt. 1): Honest Sepp Blatter, Honest Abe Lincoln, and, erm, Honest William Wilberforce. Like a humanitarian fresco isn't it?




















ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS (part 2): Nat Turner (top), leader of slave revolt in Virginia; Frederick Douglass (left), escaped slave, leading abolitionist, all round hero and unsuccessful vice-presidential nominee; The Cron (right), chattel of Massah Fergs.


Calling it cheek would assume some kind of self-awareness. And if there's one thing both Sepp Blatter and Little Cristiano "the Cron" Cronaldo don't possess, it's this. Spectacularly so.

Sepp Blatter's comments last week that the conditions of player contracts were tantamount to 'modern slavery' were gratifyingly obtuse and also particularly revealing with regard to the more insane extremes of contemporary footballing culture. That the Cron endorsed them so readily only added to the farce, simultaneously confirming everything we knew already about him and further demonstrating the extent of the Great Footballing Fall of the past 10 years.

While the prospect of the Cron, Frank Lampard, Alex Hleb and Dimi Berbatov locking arms and belting out a round of 'Get Off the Track' is strangely tempting, hopefully the gobsmacked knee-jerk reactions of the press, Sir Bobby Charlton and pretty much everyone you happen to trip over in the street has seen that this one's had its legs hacked clean off.

The premise itself, of course, is absurd: a footballer's contract is negotiated and entered into freely, with many providing preposterously generous recompense (like, say, the Cron's 120, 000 GBP a week). Players are not, as Little Cron keeps whining, owned by their clubs at all. Their registration is. Slaves, one might recall were owned body and soul by their master. Noone sees Sir Alex Salex Lord Wrigley of Salford Ferguson taking the cat-o'-nine-tails to Little Cron when he finds him getting up to the manifold behaviours SASLWSF wouldn't approve of (as interesting as it would be to have SASLWSF bursting in on Little Cron and three of Lancashire's finest chippies with a whip ...). This certainly isn't what Honest Abe was on about when he railed against the 'moral, social and political evil' of slavery.

Slavery, as a concept within Western society (bearing in mind that slavery does still exist in some parts of the world. Which makes Blatter's and Little Cron's whining all the more insulting ...) is loaded with strong moral resonance. Few issues are cast in as absolute terms as slavery is. This is largely due to the ramifications of a slave system (human lives as chattel to be traded with no recourse to legal protection of rights) to some of the more cherished assumptions that underpin Western Democracy, such as individual autonomy and the safeguards that ensure that such autonomy is protected and able to be expressed. As Hegel understood, the roles of master and slave, and the concomitant violence and suffering that went along with them, are central to the concept of self-hood and the moral and ethical dimensions of that self. Overcoming this primal, brute struggle for control was to realise one's self and others more fully - acknowledging the suffering of the slave was to recognise it as a person, thus transcending the role of slave. Such recognition also necessitates the abrogation of the role of master - the two, more aware of themselves and each other as human beings thus ditch the whips and chains and elaborate a vaster moral and ethical universe. Then everyone dances around with flowers, sings inoffensive folk-songs, Francis Fukuyama says really stupid things about the End of History and aliens invade.

Hegel might have been simplifying a fair bit, but the master-slave narrative does highlight the values and assumptions implicit within the concept of slavery. That the crux of the matter is (growing) self-consciousness and recognition of the other is particularly revealing, particularly with respect to Blatman and the Cron's moronic outpourings. What the whole 'modern slaves' idiocy demonstrates is the profound lack of self-consciousness seemingly endemic among professional footballers. It takes a distinct, and in some ways admirable, ignorance of reality and of the basic assumptions and thought processes of others to say, and believe (and it's the fact Blatman and the Cron really believe it that's both galling and, well, brilliant) that a footballer earning 120, 000 GBP plus sponsor's endorsements, that travels Europe every other week (and other parts of the globe in the off-season), has bikini models lining up to commit all manner of heinous and wonderful things upon them, has hordes of people who shell out a goodly portion of their wages each week to watch them play or associate themselves with them via a replica kit or a daft Nike ear-ring, is a slave. But when you take a step back and survey the cult of stardom, media saturation and handling of young footballers from a young age is it any surprise?

The Cron here gets the most flack as he actually came out and endorsed Blatman's comments, but he is hardly alone in his preternatural inability to comprehend the realities of the world around him. From the moment he was identified as a promising young kid, he's been gifted a distinction which, in a country like Portugal and, latterly, England, commands significant interest and admiration. Already we have a sense of entitlement that guards against any kind of meaningful self-awareness. Should a kid's talent be such that they explode into the public consciousness from a young age, and young Cron's gifts (extravagant, wonderful gifts) did propel him well and truly into the public consciousness, they are suddenly plunged into a world where that mark of distinction and entitlement are ramped up so many notches as to leave the bounds of reasonableness. People wear pictures of you on t-shirts (honestly, if YOU saw someone walking down the street wearing something with your mug on it, wouldn't you feel a bit weird?). People sing your name (the only time I ever had my name sung was in the most unpleasant fashions one can imagine). Football being football, people are so partisan that you can act like a grade-A plonker and yet they will defend you vociferously even though every shred of hard evidence attests to your pronounced detestability. Like those execs with those rather silly big words (synergise anyone?) say the club you play for must become, you are a weightless entity, a giant free-floating signifier, not bound or acted upon by context.

Because, let's face it, the other people needed to provide said context are wholly absent from your day to day life. All you've got are toadies, yes-men, a jumped-up trollope masquerading as a girlfriend and fans. So when your club's wage-rise doesn't meet your fantasy expectations you stop your car and feel sick. Or when your inflated idea of your own abilities finds validation in Sir Alex (who only wants you so the filth below him in the league table don't even have an outside chance of catching up) you sulk all season, bawl out your team-mates and probably go into the shed at half- and full-time and whimper 'Bu-bu-but I-I-I wa-wanna g-g-g-o to Uuuuuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiteeeeeed!' in the corner. Or when your fantastic Cronaldo Globetrotters Fantasy Football Spectacular move to Real Madrid hits a roadblock you say even more stupid things than usual. Like you're a slave. Because you are, as Robert Musil might have had it, a man without qualities; a man without content; you're an empty vessel and by god you're making a lot of noise.

Ultimately we can't be too harsh on the players. We kept throwing our money at the whole thing, even as our clubs were becoming the weightless multinational merch-peddlers they are now. We admired our folk-heroes so much we overstated their abilities, and marketers, PR agents and TV execs everywhere cottoned on, repackaged and resold them as pop-stars and superheroes stationed on a higher plane. Everyone believed the image so much, we went on and ensured that they did exist on another plane. And lo, they went off and became idiots. No, it's not our fault that these men are characterless buffoons as there's ample enough opportunity out there for someone, somewhere to instill some common-sense into a young footballer. But are we surprised?

Sepp Blatter on the other hand, has no business encouraging this sort of thing. As head of the game's governing body, his craven adherence to seeing football degenerate into a free-market circus (with players taking the place of CEOs) to flog off to the entertainment industry is deeply saddening and troubling. Some of the standards football, and outstanding footballers, have embodied over the years, such as grace, intelligence, professionalism and quiet dignity (think Pele, Bobby Charlton, Danny Blanchflower or more recently Paul Scholes) are being leeched from the game. As the brief review of Euro 2008 below shows, these qualities aren't extinct, as players like Xavi demonstrate. But those who make the decisions in the game are steering it away from those virtues, rooted in the soul of the game and the clubs which sustain it. It's the vapid Cronaldos who are being feted and promoted furiously, their every whim celebrated and honoured. And woebetide anyone who stands up for anything as anachronistic as honouring a contract, or showing commitment to a football club beyond how it might benefit your career and your burgeoning brand identity. Hell, if only we opened our eyes a bit we'd have known that the Charltons, Blanchflowers and Scholeses of the world were actually Uncle Tomming it big-time ...

Slowly but surely, everyone with an interest in the game is becoming a slave to such empty economic ideology, as though Little Cron, Lamps, Hhhhhhhhhkkkkkkkkkkkleb and the Dim one were reading us Who Moved My Cheese? for bedtime and we were imbibing it as we would a great game of football. And that is deeply depressing.

Abandon Hope All Ye That Enter + Euro 2008

The time, as the Walrus famously noted, has come to separate all things football from my other personal musings which all take place over at that other blog. This here blog will be solely devoted to football. Incredibly biased, myopic, foul mouthed and misdirected reportage of it in fact. Hopefully it will stimulate and provoke. For the most though, I'm sure there'll be some choice jokes about Ashley Cole and some ripping neologisms or new terms of insult for a player. Which is all we can really hope for in this kind of thing.

So onward and upward ...

EURO 2008 BEING TOTALLY AWESOME



Remember Euro 2004? No, I don't either as I was left dozing off at inopportune times throughout the tournament. Namely just ahead of kick-off. Frankly, they should have just let that barnstorming 3-2 between the Czech Republic and Holland be the final and be done with it. Because it was all seriously downhill from there. Except with Little Cristiano 'The Cron' Cronaldo crying lying the little bitch he is after Greece mugged a typically graceless Portugal in the final. Unless you had sufficient Greek and Portugese blood there was little to rouse the spirit and edify the soul in that tournament and it should all be best forgotten.

It's a good thing that most everyone involved in Euro 2008 had a little pow-wow beforehand and passed an executive decision to play interesting football. Greece, totally miffed that fielding 10 central defenders and a goalkeeper was on the out, had a little sulk, sent out 10 central defenders and a goalkeeper anyway and got hoiked in the first round. Even Sweden, whose starting midfield boasted a combined age more fitting of some dude from the book of Genesis, and seemed terminally incapable of bringing the ball all of ten yards from their defence, managed to slam a few past them.

Outside of those plodders it was all fun and games though. Portugal passed well only for a gardening implement dressed up in a wig and a hair-band to pass off as a striker (so as to devote more resources to Phil Scolari's attempt to assemble the most overly-elaborate midfield in the history of the game) to scuff the ball into a corner flag or for the Cron to produce 700 hundred step-overs and get tackled before glaring at everyone else. Or maybe he was casting death-glances to Sir Alex Salex Lord Wrigley of Salford Ferguson in the stands, and winking in semaphore to let him know that unless he sold him off to Real Madrid he'd continue to bottle every big game he plays in. Not that the rest of us will ever tell the difference. Holland once again performed their biannual trick of getting football journalists and neutrals everywhere to partake in a rather disturbing bout of collective premature ejaculation, twonking Italy 3-0 and France with a lazy 4-0, all of which was achieved with the kind of footballing porn the puritans who schmucked up Euro 2004 tried to have banned. Germany fell over each other, shoved the opposition a bit and got it all together for the odd moment which earned them a big black hat from everyone, although they got a big comedy gold star from this fair blog. Croatia went all Mighty Mouse for a week until a Turkey side that would be deemed clinically insane if it were a person dumped them out after Slaven Bilic had, erm, 'made love' to the pitch moments before. Spain thwacked Russia around with David Villa only having to look at a football for it to scuttle past a goalkeeper and into the net, then Russia, piqued into action, went ballistic and added yet another bunch of swashbuckling, cavalier, Corinthian ne'er-do-wells to what had emerged as a pretty good list of swashbuckling, cavalier, Conrinthian ne'er-do-wells.

In all, it was fitting that Spain should have won the tournament, and to have done so so convincingly and handsomely. In a tournament where attacking play was encouraged, and in particular attacking play that favoured swift movement and high technical proficiency, Spain best epitomised this ethos. Throughout they were sleek, using the ball intelligently and moving it quickly, with Villa and Torres buzzing around incessantly up front, pulling holes in opposition defences and capitalising on the passes Xavi, Iniesta and Silva were able to slide through said holes. While Villa got the most attention through his goals, Torres in particular gave masterclass after masterclass of leading the line, running willingly and intelligently to create space for his strike-partner and the midfielders pressing in behind him. He earned his goal in the final, when that initial surge of pace to catch up to what looked a comfortable Philip Lahm was ominous; the moment he got within a yard of him you knew it was all over.

That said, the tournament belonged to midfielders. Xavi led what was an exceptional Spanish midfield with quiet authority. Simple and unspectacular he outthought and outclassed every defence he came up against, with Silva and Iniesta providing able back-up and Marcos Senna doing the muscle-work in behind. They worked splendidly as a unit, something that sailed entirely over the heads of the English press who bayed for Cesc Fabregas' inclusion at every opportunity. Fabregas, it must be said, played well in his appearances as a substitute (and his start in Villa's absence in the final), however, his individual flair was deemed as something to be used sparingly by Luis Aragones, whereas the starting midfield was the bedrock upon which Fabregas could come on and capitalise on. Having won the whole show, Aragones' selections must surely be vindicated and Fabregas' time will definitely come.

Which brings us to the big implication of Spain's success - has this victory changed the Spanish mentality into a winning mentality, the kind that Germany are able to rustle up even when the quality of players is lacking? Throughout the tournament Spain looked composed and sure of themselves, the odd nervy moment against Italy notwithstanding. Spain possess the talent to build upon Euro 2008 and be very real contenders for the next World Cup. Indeed, they are probably the best team on the planet at the moment by a pretty comfortable margin, coupled with an exceptionally strong domestic league. But will the World Cup provide another mental hurdle? It is one thing to win the European Championships, coveted as it is. But will the ultimate prize raise those thorny questions of Spanish football again? I hope not: the style of their play, their professionalism and their will to win lit up Euro 2008 and endeared them to many. Indeed, it's the kind of football many of us wish to see played week-in and week-out by our clubs and national teams, so it is exciting and gratifying to see that brand of football succeed.

Which brings us to England's absence: given that Spain won with some elegance and swagger, and did so with grace and charm, the England circus was in many ways a welcome absence. Euro 2008 hewed largely to continental footballing virtues - namely footballers being professionals doing their jobs without any surrounding hoopla or soap opera. With the dishonorable exception of the Cron, the tournament was bereft of the vacant big-heads that so blight the Premier League and seem to distract the English national team from ever performing to their ability. No moronic statements from Wayne Rooney; no puzzling faffing about over David Beckham's inclusion/exclusion/haircut (Fabio Capello would do well to note Aragones' stubborn refusal to even countenance Raul); no bizarre roasting incident in some Vienesse brothel involving Rio Ferdinand; no WAGS; no incommensurate grief with the inevitable collapse against Germany on penalties; no blatantly jingoistic and racist tabloid palaver aimed at Germans. And yet, with all that said, there was something sadly missing come quarter-final time: Croatia's spectacular implosion on penalties just wasn't the same, given that it was prefaced with footballing wit and brio, rather than dogged but laboured plodding, huffing and puffing and punting-it-up-to-Crouchie. For all the crap that goes along with it, no other footballing nation quite does operatic disintegration quite like England (brilliantly ironic given England is the one European nation whose character is as far from operatic as could be). But then again, if we were to have that, we'd have missed out on the likes of true footballing talents like Modric and Arshavin, which is, after all, why the game is so good to watch and is as compelling as it is from the outset.

However, with the Premier League kick-off a mere month-and-a-half away, all the wailing and gnashing of teeth will be sure to return in all its glory, and Spain's giddy triumph will fade into a glowing memory. Drat.