EURO2016: Another song of Ice and Fire (Spain v Italy)

Individuals don’t win football games, teams do. Whether it’s the controlled steady nature of an old Spanish flame or the fresh and icy Italian breeze tossing the waves; rising and falling and leaping and bounding, wild and passionate. It was that day unlike any other day for many number of days that Spain lost a knockout game to Conte’s Italia.

And I hope they may always be spoken of as Conte’s Italia, for the man with the volcanic personality shouting the wind into alignment deserves to be the man who is recognized for Spain’s defeat. 

Spain were autumn leaves that night when they could have been the summer. La Furia Roja was a dwindling flame to their once all-consuming power. Don’t get me wrong, they were still masters at their familiar game, outstanding on a familiar stage - their control, their precision, their stillness. They had the best line up in the EURO2016 tournament. They were still where they once were. But that’s just it. That is all they were.

 Italy were a cold fury, an icy blizzard. They bought the storm with 11 excessively-tanned men visibly corded in muscle, bounding forward in full strength. It takes a great man to take a fresh Italian side, criticized for their lack of- rather than their ability to-, and make them into a legion worth standing against a widely adored, and even more widely admired Spanish nation. 

Spain stayed true to their academies, true to their traditions and true to the depths of their truest natures that won them the titles and the names that will forever go down in footballing history. But the truth was little more than a meagre stroke in the midst of the Italian orchestra. Conte, like the rest of the world had finally figured out how to beat Spain. He amputated Spain’s midfield without even waiting for yesteryears world cup scars to heal. “In Andres Iniesta, Spain have arguably the best playmaker in the world who can create something out of nothing if the game is close.” 

Iniesta maintained Spain’s heartbeat, but he was almost always surrounded by a blazing circle of Italian blue employing a Spartan style defence. When once his every pass meant another moment of Spanish dominance, this time it was just another attempt caught in the cross hairs of the stubborn Italian defence. “I asked for Iniesta’s shirt because it was the first time I’d beaten him,” stated Gialuigi Buffon. It was like they’d done the plays a million times over. I’m sure they had. It was like Chiellini had memorized Iniesta’s game before he even played it, analysed Iniesta’s feet before he even moved them, read Iniesta’s mind before Iniesta even thought it. 

Chiellini wasn’t just defending Iniesta, he was one with Iniesta, he was Iniesta. And at the same time he was everyone else, as every other Azzuri. 

They were not a single man looking to shine, they were a well tuned, well practiced, well versed unit - yet still stumbling and rolling unnecessarily as Italians had always done through the ages. This time any lack of precision was converted to the mathematical, any mistake was worn proudly and leapt over, carefree. The lack of individual greatness was pushed aside to become the Azzuri. They were no one and yet they were all. 

As the midfield is for España so the defence has been for Italia. Bambi Morata faced their BBC; Bonucci, Barzagli and Chiellini. They sound like a cheese platter but boy did they know Bambi's play back to front. 

For goodness sake the men had known the young Spaniard from the moment he stumbled out of Madrid and into Juventus! Not only did this defending combination start 122 league matches together for Juventus last season, they won the Serie A after conceding just 20 goals throughout the campaign. 

“They told me to wear a helmet to play against them,” Morata laughed in an interview, explaining, "Bonucci is the boss, Barzagli the quality and Chiellini the strength.”

They reminded me of a Spanish combination not long ago stamped into legend. The Pique-Puyol pairing in the centre with a feisty Ramos patrolling the edges. But suddenly, despite the captain’s armband, Ramos looked like he was out for his own glory. Featuring in Spain’s “hymn” La Roja Baila, sporting a very billionaire playboy-like beard and walking tall and proud as Spaniards were known to do, it was hard to imagine Ramos pulling an individually independent team together like Iker had once managed to do. I could almost see Ronaldo’s shadow stamped all over his nature. Maybe, as a Barcelona fan it’s just my own intrinsic bias. Nonetheless, he was a strong player and together they held out as Shakira and mini-Pique watched from the sidelines...

On either side of the pitch, the keepers sent us into a reverie. At 38, Gialuigi Buffon outlasted even Casillas.

Buffon was the great wall that contained the winter, the wall that protected the Azzuri and let them play their structured football with a wild and hungry twist. 

I don’t blame our Dr Seuss inspired goalkeeper whom I will proceed to refer to as Thing 2. “The best player on the pitch against Italy,” Del Bosque said about De Gea. I may be inclined to agree. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is still very fresh to the international stage. The commentators said Spain had not lost the last 10 knockout round games, but all those 10 times Iker Casillas was in goal. They said Spain had not conceded a goal in a knockout stage during their reign, but each of those 10 times it was Iker Casillas in goal. 

An Iker that Mourinho prematurely destroyed to leave Spain in shambles. Yes, I blame Mou still and I always will. 

Dr Seuss inspired Thing 2 (Cat in the Hat) v De Gea

Italy came out with a sub-par team led by a sub-par manager who showed the world that Leicester wasn’t the only team that could take what little they had and make even more from it. They were what I had hoped Spain would be. What every supporter prays their team can become. Italy were a passionate echo of their coach, Conte sitting on pacing back and forth in front of the bench.“We need to do something extraordinary because the ordinary will not be enough,” he said before the game. 

Similarly, Spain echoed their own dictator. Balding and stone faced with a weathered expression that showed little but absolute composure. "We hardly changed anything, although coaches do obviously have to have a bit of flexibility,” Del Bosque said not batting an eyelash. His words spoke for themselves. The man was straddling the borders of folklore and retirement.

Spain have often shown they are averse to change. Obviously it’s easier said than done when what you’ve been doing has worked so well for so long. Why alter a brilliant thing? Many of us felt the same way last World Cup when we were adamant that anyone who doubted Iker were false prophets sent from hell itself to plot against España. But De Gea proved himself true this tournament. He let goals in when Iker in his peak may not have, but his youth and his rigour was clear. He made brilliant saves and showed us a glimmer of Spain’s promising future. 

If we are always thinking of what could and what would, where is the moment for what is? 

Del Bosque instructed Spain’s brilliance and orchestrated their other-worldly glory. But for everything there is a season and now it’s time for him to be sent to a well-meaning museum in the heart of Spain to sit alongside the others in the golden-era of football section. 

While Spain has been waiting out the siege, the other teams have become faster and more and more furious. La furia roja can’t just sit back and play their passing game anymore. This much was obvious last world cup. It’s understandable though, the position they are in right now. They are being forced to recover from the loss of some of the greatest players the world has ever seen. There have been casualties from every area of their pitch, so many changes to so many crucial roles. The team of today needs a visionary, someone to teach them how to be strong now, and not yesterday. A man that is willing to leap off the bench and threaten to set the world on fire for his cause. Come two year’s time, Spain must settle their issues with the past and write history anew for España.

Nothing lasts forever.

Spain can always contest the world as a team of awe-inspiring individuals but for eight glorious years they were also La Furia Roja. Their football still remains uncontested, but their victories? Not so much. Maybe I’m just a little bit giddy about seeing Iker being replaced by a character from a Dr Seuss book. 

It’s taught me that one cannot always hold onto what once was just because it was so good. 

Nothing lasts forever. 

Spain must learn to become no one and everyone, they must be themselves and be each other just as Italy have done. Not for fame or fortune, but for victory…for España. 

-evieroo