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.

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.

Standing on the Precipice

Challenges invigorate the mind,  the body and the soul. They keep old men young, give impetus to one's existence and purpose one's profession. Some are small, but important nonetheless. Others are mammoth. 

In the world of professional sport this narrative can sometimes seem crude and misplaced in the context of the realities of 'real- life' problems. Even so, it is often the challenges our sporting figures encounter that inspire us to face the more mundane difficulties of everyday life. Today, in Ireland we as a nation are hurting. We are tired and confused, misled and misinformed. Many people find themselves subjected to crippling financial burdens while simultaneously striving to keep family units intact. Challenges have rarely been greater. It is in this context that we look, more than ever, to the heroes of the sporting sphere. Last weekend promised much but delivered scant reward with the All Blacks crushing the 'Potato Paddies' as the afterthought they view us as, and the damn Croats having enlisted some sort of divine script-writing intervention ensuring an opening day defeat at Euro 2012. Hope, however, springs eternal and so tomorrow we will willingly undertake our usual pre-match routine; self-deprecating jokes prepared, apologetic pardons assigned, acknowledgement that really we don't have a hope registered and suppressed, and finally vocal chords prepped for another night of "You'll neeever beat the Irish....". Only the Irish would sing a song whose premise is so wholly refutable. Tongue firmly in cheek then! Tomorrow the Rep. of Ireland face reigning World and European champions Spain, standing on the precipice of elimination. So too, in a sporting context, will the challenge that awaits be so daunting and seemingly insurmountable.

The premonitions and proposals as to which team represents Ireland best hope of survival is largely futile. Only Trappatoni will decide, and he is likely to make only minor changes. That however, makes it no less interesting to contribute to the generally obsolete debate!

It seems likely that Robbie Keane will retain his place in the side, and that he may be joined by Johnathon Walters in place of Kevin Doyle. Noises from the Ireland camp at today's press conference seemed to indicate a five man midfield with Walters as the extra body and Keane playing the role of lone striker. This to my mind represents nothing in the way of progressive and constructive influence on the team and their subsequent chances of causing an upset. Walters, presuming he plays the deeper role (presuming he plays that is!), offers endeavour, strength to hold the ball and set up attacks and a reasonable ability to cross the ball. Unfortunately the situation calls for more. For my money, Shane Long is our best striker at these championships and should be given his chance to prove as much. He is the only of our strikers that can legitimately claim to carry any sort of form into the summer, and may prove ideal for the task at hand.

Playing Long up front, with Keane in behind offers us a genuine attempt at disrupting the Spaniards. In all honesty neither Long, Walters nor anyone else is likely to strike fear into the hearts' of the defending champions, nor is it likely to prevent the Spanish Armada of little'uns laying siege to Shay Given's goal from every conceivable angle. Remember though, there's always hope, the crutch of every unwavering, loyal but equally illogical supporter! Spain, like Barcelona like to play the ball out from the back by pushing the full-backs on and splitting Ramos and Piqué to receive possession. Long is quick and crucially young and willing. The sight of him hurtling at the centre-backs might not win possession but it may very well unsettle what can be a flaky center-back partnership. Those two guys fancy themselves as footballers with the ball on the deck, justifiably so at times, what they fail to acknowledge is that they are liable to a rush of blood to the head. 'Put 'em pressure Jack' might just be called for again! Playing Keane in a withdrawn role, acting as a fifth midfielder when in defence is perhaps the most contentious issue with this particular blueprint for success. He is, however, more than capable of performing it successfully. Playing Keane in this role allows him to occupy Xabi Alonso and Sergio Busquets, who otherwise a flat midfield four will find hard to engage allowing them the freedom of the park. Keane's efforts may indeed prove strenuous on his ageing legs, and ultimately fruitless in regaining possession directly but it will serve to hurry the likes of Alonso instead of giving him all day to pick his passes and unlock our defence. That leaves our wingers to pick up their full-backs, and Whelan and Andrews free to sit a little deeper. Along with our back four, playing a slightly higher line, this leaves a 'back six' to pick up Spain's front four whatever shape that might take. Even if one of Busquets or Alonso feels the need to join in it still conceivably allows us an extra man in defence to deal with Spain's attacks and the higher line leaves less space to pass through us.

In attack the system too allows us some scope for optimism. If we're going to win this game, or take a point, we're going to do so through either playing counter-attacking football or through set plays. Possession football and intricate passing moves are not our forte as countless column inches and even more video evidence will testify. Long, in my opinion, offers most of what Walters does and quite a bit more besides. Having him on the pitch offers us three 'get-outs' to turn defence into attack and relieve the onslaught. Firstly, is playing the ball directly up to Long. His strength defies his size and more often than not it will stick. His distribution skills are also better than Walters. From there he can lay it off to Keane, Duff or any other of the supporting cast. Alternatively Long offers an option in behind which as a lone striker neither Walters, nor Keane nor Doyle do. The Tipp man is extremely quick and makes intelligent runs behind the defence. Perhaps most importantly, should he manage to spring the offside trap and evade his markers, I'd fancy him sticking it away unlike the other options at our disposal, bar Keane. Thirdly, our wingers breaking quickly can act as an outlet for balls out from the back. McGeady especially should have the pace to trouble his marker. Finally, another benefit of adopting this system is that is gets Robbie Keane involved in setting up attacks as well as trying to finish them off. Playing as a lone striker as he may well do tomorrow is a pointless exercise. He simply doesn't have the ability to play that game anymore, if indeed he ever did. Playing him behind Long gives him the opportunity to get on the ball and instigate attacks. We sorely lack creativity in possession but Keane remains the greatest proponent of creativity in our ranks. He still has that ability to thread careful passes in the final third that can give us a little more guile to break the Spanish resistance and also aid in retaining the football.

Regardless of the system, it will require unwavering commitment, clinical execution and a slice of luck for Ireland to succeed tomorrow. It is the biggest task of the players careers, to a man. It is perhaps one of the manager's greatest tasks too. We have long been prepared to play the role of jovial revelers off the pitch and plucky underdogs on it and tomorrow, in the end, may prove no different. If so we will slip comfortably back into our rightful position in the pecking order, gain acclaim from all involved for our spirit and the support of our fans in Poland and comfort ourselves with the undeniable truth that this team is a bunch of lads that always give their utmost effort in the name of our country. What we must not do is acquiesce to such a fate without the application of the group's collective wisdom to the job at hand. The burden in this regard falls largely with the manager. One defeat does not mean that the playbook need be ripped up, but alternatives must be at least given real consideration. If ultimately this too proves unsuccessful, there will be no shame in having tried. As Lou Brock once said;

"Show me a guy who's afraid to look bad, and I'll show you a guy you can beat every time." 

A challenge awaits this team. They should not be afraid to attempt to change the destiny others have prescribed for them in the fear of humiliation at the hands of the Spaniards. Regardless the team will return home with the best wishes of the nation, and so too the manager for all he has achieved in guiding us to this moment. And rightfully so. If however, he feels that his players cannot adapt to subtle changes perhaps he should reconsider the professions of faith in their ability to which he is prone, as his words then are no more than empty rhetoric. There is no shame in losing tomorrow, the only shame, Mr. Trapattoni, will be in failing to give the players their due chance to compete.