Spain.
A few questions answered.

So Euro 2012 in the end went the way of WC 2010 and Euro 2008, no surprise there. In winning an unprecedented three major tournaments in a row the debate has been opened as to whether this Spanish team is the greatest international side we've ever witnessed. Certainly they are the greatest I have ever witnessed. That, however, won't count for much come the final reckoning I'm sure.

What matters more than debating the merits of the great teams and ultimately declaring one the greatest is that we appreciate each of their contributions while we can. Its easy to lose oneself in the nostalgia of the past and forget the joy of the present. Spain have developed the game, brought something new to the table for all to examine, dissect and try to imitate. They have set their own course and remained true to it. As Cesc Fabregas reminded everyone after Sunday nights final their style is borne out of necessity as much as anything else, "We have to play this way. We can't play long balls because Iniesta is not strong, I am not strong, Silva is not strong, Xavi is not strong." Borne of necessity or not, what this group have moulded their strengths into is something to behold. The passing is incredible but that is only part of the greater story. Sublime passing is futile if not facilitated by the imperious movement of the Spanish. Angles are of the world of mathematics but so too of football; creating and exploiting in an endless, fluid cycle. Defensive strength is in turn a product of the possession game. This side is unusual in their defensive emphasis; defend WITH the ball, 'typical' defense is only a contingency plan should the original fail from time to time.

That is not, to answer another pressing question regarding this team, to say that they are boring. Arsene Wenger became an unlikely traitor from the cause when he claimed that the sole purpose of Spain was to hold onto the ball to defend rather than to attack. Rubbish Mr. Wenger. As one of the greatest purveyors of the finer points of the game Wenger's comments were disappointing to say the least. He is not entirely wrong either though. Possession is little without penetration. The marriage of these qualities makes for joy, excitement and exhilaration. Mostly it brings success. At times it looked as if Spain's success in this tournament was in doubt. Times when the aforementioned penetration was lacking, to be more precise. The fact that the matter is that they rely on Iniesta, Silva, at times Fabregas and lately Jordi Alba for this crucial facet of play. The rest play in front of the opposition. As such the burden is great on only a small few and at times they falter. Crucially though, as is they crux of Wenger's comments, it isn't for the want of trying. The way in which the Spanish play requires that quartet to go past the defenders and relies on the ability of others to find them. The accuracy required is incredible and invariably more often than not the ball will be intercepted. But such is the manner of their game plan, they need only make it work once and the likelihood is that win the game.

Wenger's misunderstanding is this: Spain are limited in ability not in attitude. Limited may seem a perverse tag with which to label some the greatest footballers of our time, but they are. Fantastically good in the strength of their play but limited in their range of abilites and consequently the team's ability to change style when required. Even the 'false 9' is only a tweak to the same system. There is no Plan B, pass to win or pass to lose. Consequently La Roja are predictable and generally quite easy to plan for. In theory if not in execution. Furnishing the enemy with the plan of attack and implementing it to claim victory regardless is no small feat. This is what Spain do time and again. Excuse them please if this bunch of players who have developed a style of play that has brought joy to millions, reinvented the game and won three major tournaments sometimes falls short of the thrills and spills we demand of top level football. The improbable skill of their players renders their shortcomings largely meaningless, and allows them triumph over all before them time and again.

The European champions are not boring. They simply are not cavalier, they are not pacy, they are largely not spectacular. Their expression of the Beautiful Game is a subtle, refined, exquisitely beautiful version. Don't look for joy where it is not, don't intentionally ignore the gifts this team frequently bestow upon us. Appreciate, instead, their style, their manner, their brilliance where it does exist; pass and move football. They lack the flying wingers, the goalscorer phenomenon centre forward, the cult figure enforcer, all these qualities with which we readily identify with and reward with adulation. What this team lacks in such qualities they more than make up for in their abundance of skill and guile. Outwitting rather than out-running, out-muscling and out-jumping.

In my humble and in many ways uneducated opinion this Spanish team will be ranked among the greatest but not quite at the pinnacle of the finest teams ever. That title, for the time being at least, still rests with the Black Pearl and the Samba beat of Brazil's incredible 1970 World Cup winners. Crucially that team provided the exhilaration that Spain cannot frequently muster. 

What cannot ever be taken away, however, is their achievements and the manner in which they were attained. Limted, but undeniably great- the ironic truth of this fabulous group of players that must be acknowledged to protect their legacy from detractors in the ilk of Mr. Wenger.

The Italian Odd Couple


Selection permitting, come this evening we may have witnessed the sublime brilliance or infuriating petulance of one of the game's most peculiar strike partnerships; Mario Balotelli and Antonio Cassano. Very much cut from the same cloth the partners upon which Italian hopes are likely to rest are mavericks, playboys, eccentrics, the list of terms is endless. Given the temperament and tendencies of Balotelli one would be forgiven for expecting Cesare Prandelli to partner him with a level headed role model from which he could learn to curb his eccentricities. Instead the coach seems to embrace what makes the young City striker what he is and revel in the possibilities of his strike force. There really is a growing sense of master and student between the two. Upon arrival in Poland, Prandelli did, however, note one restraint he'd placed on the pair, "Mario actually wanted to share a room with Antonio but we didn't want to overdo it." A wise move one suspects!

Their 'rap-list' takes some reading. Ballotelli's training ground darts throwing 'pranks', experimenting with fireworks, confrontations with team mates, appearing unannounced at press conferences- of different teams, wearing an AC Milan jersey on national TV while playing for great rivals Inter, its all there. Not to be outdone the jovial Cassano can lay claim to "sleeping with 600- 700 women", being sent off and subsequently abusing the referee in the Italian Cup Final of 2003, imitating Fabio Capello, falling out with Sampdoria president Riccardo Garrone and generally being one to overeat and under train. As he puts it " I was born tired", tired in this sense we can take to mean lazy. Throughout much of his stint in Madrid he was ridiculed and lampooned as a clown of ever increasing weight and lessening value. Claims such as those made in his autobiography, 'Telling Everything' that he had a friend in Madrid whose job it was to "bring me three or four pastries after I had sex" probably didn't help his cause. Not that he cared what the media had to say about him one suspects. Cassano, like Balotelli, is a free spirirt. Just this week Balotelli's agent compared him to Peter Pan. In a curt reply to questions on the matter the young striker asserted that he is "more of a man than Peter Pan" although he did accept "I could be Peter Pan because I do things my own way, I'm a bit free". On the eve of a quarter final of the European Championships it was all a little surreal. Saving his best for last Balotelli out did himself in response to James Milner's claim that there are two Ballotellis- the one who can the win the game and the one who can get sent off at any minute- by simply saying; "he's fortunate that he knows two of me!"

For all their misdemeanors however they remain incredibly talented footballers, capable of putting England to the sword tonight should they be on their game. Cassano, at the age of 29, has collected two Italian Super Cups, one Serie A title and one La Liga. Ballotelli's haul at the age of 21 is truly remarkable; 1 Italian Super Cup, 1 Coppa Italia, 1 FA Cup, a Premier League Title, 3 Serie A titles and a Champions League. Their combined medal collection is one to marvel at and, given their idiosyncrasies, a huge testament to their incredible talent. José Mourinho once called Ballotelli "unmanageable". Roberto Mancini though perhaps gave the best insight into managing and tolerating such a talent in equal measures;

"I told him, if you played with me 10 years ago I would give you every day maybe one punch in your head..I don't speak to him everyday, otherwise I would need a psychologist, but I speak with him because I don't want him to lose his quality." Mario can be one of the top players in Europe. I don't want him to lose his talent."

Infuriating and inspirational in equal measure; the Odd Couple will tonight be given the grand stage upon which to silence their doubters and fire Italy to a semi-final date with Germany. Balotelli once wondered aloud after scoring against Manchester United; Why Always Me? Now that he has a partner in crime in the world of footballing mavericks, concerns of being singled out should no longer trouble him.

In the Midst of Realisation

For days hope and optimism took hold on the seemingly arid landscape of the Croatian aftermath. Cause to believe seemed scant initially, yet as the movement grew more and more followers were converted. Eventually the perennial dictator was overthrown and the pretenders ruled. Their time was short lived, however. On Thursday reality came out swinging and wasted little time in reestablishing the natural order. Within three minutes our siesta was over. As is the disposition of autocrats, retribution was swift, prolonged and harsh.

Spain were simply sublime. They passed and moved with their customary aplomb, tiki-taka flowed as beautiful as ever. The travesty of the night was not the defeat, rather its origin and manner. The Spanish were more than capable of overcoming this Irish side on the merit of their own ability. The helping hand we extended was an unexpected and unwarranted contribution. Having seemingly sought to aid in our own demise, the Spanish wasted little time in granting our wish.

Giovanni Trapattoni is a fine coach with a distinguished past. He has steered the nation to its first European Championships in 24 years. On Thursday, however, it was his performance that was most glaringly inept. Robbie Keane alone up front, was an incredible decision. Simon Cox in midfield equally so. Trapattoni, in yesterday's press conference explained his decision to deploy Cox in the unfamiliar role, pointing towards his capacity to occupy Xabi Alonso and diminish his influence on proceedings. Sound in principle, not so in execution. Cox was never the man for the job. The chance of the Irish turning the Spanish over were slight from the outset. Accordingly one would imagine the Irish management would be economical with such glimmers of hope, seek to encourage and develop them in training and ultimately plot a course to unlikely success. In the end they were being rapidly dwindled away through inexcusably poor decisions.

Like most things in life, however, this loss cannot be attributed to one single individual. The broad brush strokes of the rights and wrongs of Trapattoni's decisions do not account for the many shades of grey that afflicted this Irish team. Some of the Republic's greatest servants have faltered at these Championships. Shay Given, seemingly not fully fit, simply does not make the sort of mistakes that led to Spain's second goal. Once David Silva had dispatched the ball to the net Ireland's dream was irrefutably unattainable, our championships over. Robbie Keane was never given the opportunity to prove his worth to those that now doubt him and cut a forlorn and frustrated figure. Richard Dunne too struggled at times. His stumble in the opening minutes, after a fine tackle, gave Torres the opportunity to pounce for the opener. Although Stephen Ward was ultimately responsible, the man that has so often been Ireland's most impenetrable line of defence; Dunne, was on this occasion found wanting. His knee jerking and buckling under the burden of his weight a microcosm of the team; burdened, buckling, and ultimately beaten. Our best may not have been enough at these championships, and given the evidence of the past week one would suspect as much. Frustratingly, however, we will never know.

The reality of our ineptitude was crushing, yet looking around the stadium you'd never have guessed. Of course there exists a correlation between expectation and reaction, and in that context greater lee-way is afforded to the Irish players. Were Spain to be knocked out after two games, conceding seven goals and scoring one, nobody would expect their fans to be as understanding as Ireland's were last night, such would be the disparity between expectation and performance. Regardless, the actions of the Irish supporters were truly magnificent. Thousands of miles away, a silence descended in homes and bars as people became aware of the growing symphony of Irish voices lamenting the travails of times gone by. As the din grew greater, so too did its influence. The singing spread, and before long enveloped the homes and establishments that had fallen silent. One final stand against the reality of the situation. As the chorus of voices sang the Fields of Athenry, you could see a people yet again pick themselves up off the canvas and dust themselves down. Exhibiting the best of what this country has to offer in terms of resilience, character and loyalty, their actions unfortunately spoke louder than those of our heroes on the pitch. This was the fan's turn to inspire the players, to express our appreciation for their efforts no matter how futile they ultimately had proven, and to remind them of the esteem in which they are held for their service to the jersey. It is not enough for the players to content themselves with gallant defeat, it is not enough for them to comfort themselves with the strength of their support nor to disguise their failings. But that is not what the final few minutes of Thursday night were about either. In their darkest hour the players deserved our support. The extended, ever-looping rendition an indication of the willingness of the fans to oblige and of the shared catharsis that had enveloped the stadium.

The biting reality of our greatest fears hurt. The embarrassment as bad was as we could have envisaged. Yet unity, loyalty and a steadfast refusal to be bowed exhibited the best of our country. The team must improve, of that there is no doubt. Now, more than ever before, they owe it to their fans.

Rep. of Ireland vs. Bosnia Herzegovina
An exercise in familiarity


The machine that is Irish soccer at the moment rolls on, thirteen games now without loss. Shane Long's 79th minute header giving the men in green the victory. In all honesty Bosnia didn't pose much of a threat. Their main attacking force- Manchester City's Edin Dzeko- was present in body but not particularly in mind. Consequently the visitor's attack was rendered largely ineffectual.

The FAI, we're told, handpicked today's opposition due to the similarities between their style of play and that of our Group C opponents Croatia. Short intricate passing in the middle of the park is the name of the game, and Ireland were to get to grips with it before departing for Eastern Europe. All in all, this was an exercise in familiarity and, in Trapatonni's terms, experimentation. So what did we learn?


James McClean had an encouraging first half. The young Sunderland winger was all gusto and plenty guile. He succeeded in delivering a number of threatening crosses, tracked back well in defence and nearly managed to sneak one effort in at the near post just before the break. The new man had arrived and set down a marker for his competitors. Meanwhile on the other flank Damien Duff gave his customary assured performance. The Fulham star looked sharp throughout and really should have opened the scoring, Ireland's two best chances of the half having fallen to him. Duff, you would imagine is a certainty to start in Gdansk on June 10. It is competition for the other wing berth that has now been blown wide open. Having started promisingly McClean's influence waned in the second period, while replacement Aiden McGeady proceeded to deposit 45 minutes of stellar wing play in his account. As McClean looked increasingly sloppy and seemed to tire in the magnificent May heat, McGeady was only getting going. The pace and trickery we have come to expect from him were apparent in abundance, but so too was his final ball. The Spartak Moscow winger has been much maligned by public and press alike in recent times, but as the player himself was at pains to point out this week; nobody contributed more assists in the qualifying campaign and again today he proved the difference. Having seen his magnificent floated cross squandered by Johnny Walters moments earlier, the winger again tricked his way into a dangerous position and lofted another cross into the area on 79 minutes which Long duly converted. Just as the game was heading towards a stalemate McGeady again proved to be the spark of inspiration that changed the game. McClean's challenge had been seen and surpassed, the Man of the Match award  secured in just 45 minutes work. Aiden will rest easy tonight. The emergence of the young pretender McClean has pushed Stephen Hunt somewhat to the periphery. Having been stripped and ready to come on, he was strangely stood down again and forced to retreat to the bench. The 'lap of honour' at the finish presented Trap with the opportunity for a word of consolation. One would imagine Hunt will start against Hungary, it may perhaps be his only start of the summer. So the race to occupy the flanks is well and truly on. For now McGeady occupies pole position.

Up front, Long will have certainly given the manager food for though with an impressive display and a well taken goal. One would imagine Doyle remains the favourite to partner Robbie Keane come crunch time but the Tipp native has been applying steady pressure of late and should not be discounted in the reckoning. Beyond that Simon Cox didn't get a run out today while Johnathon Walters turned in a performance he'd rather forget. Nonetheless the big Stoke man can provide a different focus of attack which may prove important moving  forward. One note of caution at the opposite end of the pitch would be the ease at which the Bosnian's often found space in front of the Irish back four. This particular group of players generally work very hard in denying such space to opposition players, but today were found wanting at times. 


The preparations for our first European Championships in 24 years are underway, just one more sparring partner awaits in Budapest. As a nation we pray that come full time in the Ferenc Puskas Stadion the team has been sufficiently well conditioned to avoid the knock-out punch of the heavy hitters that await.

The Curious Case of Chelsea Football Club

Last night, in one of the most epic- if not brilliant- finals in recent years, Chelsea finally reached their Holy Grail and became Champions of Europe. The Chelsea oligarchy has reached its ultimate justification, yet it remains dysfunctional to its core.

363 days ago Roman Abramovich relieved Carlo Ancelotti of his duties. The Italian, while presumably not short of an empathetic shoulder to cry on given his former employers trigger-happy nature, would have been allowed to feel just a little preplexed given the relative success during his two years at the club. But alas the bell had tolled for Ancelotti and in his place Andre Villas Boas was hired. Before long he too was being swiftly signalled to the exit.

While one would find it difficult to extol Villas Boas' record during his brief tenure, his mistakes were not at the core of what remains wrong with Chelsea Football Club. AVB failed trying to do the right thing. He simply went about it the wrong way. Having been authorised to undertake a transformation of the club's ageing squad he went about his business with the subtlety of of a scythe. In the process he managed to alienate senior players likely Ashley Cole, Frank Lampard, Alex and presumably Terry, Cech and Drogba too. Having lost control of the dressing room Villas Boas was always likely to fail. 

However, the question remains why was he needed in the first place? A manger with the wealth of experience that Ancelotti possesses is surely astute enough to recognise the ageing profile of his squad. Why was he not given the opportunity to bring about the Velvet Revolution required, rather than AVB's Storming of the Bastille. 

Robert Frost in his 1920 work ' The Road Not Taken', hindsight and a dash honesty in tow laments the consequences of his actions;

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

In time Mr. Abramovich may do likewise. 


Leaving the significant successes of the last fortnight aside, what at his football club has really changed. While 'The Old Guard' of players that form the core of the Chelsea dressing room are far from finished as a force in the Premier League or Champions League, Chelsea are still far too dependent on them. A freshening of the squad is required, just as it was 12 months ago. The Board have replaced one young, inexperienced manager with, for now at least, another. It seems perverse that a manager that has achieved so much in such a short period of time would be shown the door like those before him. Yet for once it may be the correct decision. Let us not forget a year ago Villas Boas had just completed the Treble with Porto having captured the Europa League- becoming the youngest manager ever to win a major European competition. He was the hottest property around, the flavour of the month so to speak. Only three months prior to the culmination of AVB's achievement Di Matteo was sacked by West Brom. Not one of Europe's elite clubs- West Bromwich Albion. If fifteen months ago a modest mid table club found his managerial direction to be surplus to requirements, surely any decision on his appointment as permanent manager must be taken with a note of caution. None of this is to take away from Di Matteo's achievement, he has done a stellar job. However, going forward his tenure must be properly evaluated. What has he changed?

Not much. He has reinstated key figures and more importantly key players like Lampard, he has sought to bring more out of Torres and he has created a happy dressing room. Tactically? He has stuck to the tried and tested of Chelsea going back as far as the Mourinho days; solid back five (not playing, or pressing too far up the pitch), two holding in front with Lampard providing goals from midfield, and a front four of playmaker (Mata), two wide men and a central striker. It's not rocket science, but it works, it suits this group of players and Di Matteo has been absolutely correct in returning to it. Any notions that Chelsea's reversal of fortunes has come about as a result of the manager's tactical nous are, however, misplaced. Another key consideration, is that given that his success has so evidently been built on the restoration of the Chelsea core, will he now have the desire or ability to gradually reduce their influence on the team?


Abramovich should never of sacked Ancelotti. The man is a two time European Cup winner and multiple domestic champion in Italy, he won the domestic double in his first season in England, and had crucially begun to ring the changes in the squad seeing no more use for the likes of Deco, Ballack, Cole, Belletti & Carvallho. The decision facing Ambramovich now leaves him to ponder the lessons of the past. Should he recognise and seek to refrain from his tendency to prematurely replace successful managers and hand Di Matteo the reins on a permanent basis? Or should he take heed of the most recent of lessons that choosing the young, successful, up-and-coming manager does not always represent the best option? Should he invest his faith in Di Matteo and the new manager obliges with an early season record comparable to that of his predecessor, Roman may feel more than a little empathy with Frost for the folly of his actions. A curious case indeed.