The Reign of Spain

Okay, maybe they're not that boring, Spain.

They were, though - until the final. Even Arsene Wenger thought that all that possession with no end-product was pointless and negative, which is a bit like Katie Price calling Jodie Marsh 'a bit trashy'.

Maybe there were mitigating circumstances. Italy looked shagged out. They had one day less to prepare and they'd spent 120 minutes smacking footballs against Scott Parker just a week ago which could tire anyone out. (I reckon if they remake The Ipcress File Scottie should be there in the Michael Caine role, clutching that rusty nail into his palm to bloke out the pain.)

Pirlo couldn't wield much of an influence, which shouldn't detract from his awesome performance in the 'quarter-back' role. I remember Becks trying that position against Northern Ireland once. It was about as successful as a landing party of haddock soldiers.
Talking of Becks, if we must - well done Pearcey for leaving him out. Not only does he not really qualify on footballing grounds (they do exist and are not some political get-out-of-jail-free card for people who don't want the 'best' two centre-halves in the country punching each other out on the training pitch), but Pearce has tacitly admitted that the Olympic football tournament is a meaningless sideshow that not even a celebrity auditonee for Pirates of the Caribbean - how else do you explain the ludicrous beard? - could save.

Spain were also helped by Italians collapsing like they were two Allen keys short of a flat-pack bookcase. But, as Alan Shearer might put it, 'let's take nothing away from the Spaniards, they was top-drawer.'

Shearer's presence on the pundits' panel still bewilders, particularly when he was alongside the truly articulate Vialli and Klinsmann. I mean if you can't string together a meaningful sentence in your own language then what's the point?

But maybe, just maybe, all this flak served to needle Spain into a more progressive style because, fook me, they were good in the final. Not the best team we've ever seen but probably - alongside 1970's Brazil - the best national team.

Of course much will always be made of the absence of a proper centre-forward. An English translation of this would be someone who's 'good in the air and has a decent touch for a big lad' - or, to put it more straightforwardly, Andy Carroll.

But Del Bosque has worked out that keeping the ball is a good way to stop the opposition, and a Carroll or a Gomez, or in this tournament a Rooney, are a good way of guaranteeing that the oppostion get it back.

But on Sunday the flair players came to town. Italy's flat-back four was tailor-made for dashing little darts in behind them from the likes of Fabregas, Silva and Jordi Alba and the big noble lunks that held fast for Prandelli thus far were made to look like giant blue cones on a training pitch.

Certainly Spain's interchanges of pass were slicker than ever. Iniesta, Barca's friendly ghost and Xavi, part midfield maestro and part Pokemon character, set the tone. Busquets and Alonso stuck a stud in when necessary. Ramos and Pique were sturdy at the back, and Balotelli was pretty anonymous (if you can be anonymous when someone appears to have scored a scale model of the Andes down the centre of your forehead).

Ramos even found time to float forward and treat us to one of his trademark penalty-box tumbles. My God that man's a knob, which unfortunately doesn't prevent him from being a good footballer.

Torres was used as a tormentor of tired legs, and in Casillas they had the best keeper in the tournament, just about.

The defensive strategy of most of Spain's opponents seemed to be to let Arbeloa have as much of the ball as possible. Thank God they didn't have a right-footed Jordi Alba or we could have all spent the summer at home under British umbrellas.

Del Bosque deserves enormous credit of course for continuing to oversee a strong team ethic from players who use El Classicos to test out the relative strengths of (a) each other's shinpads and (b) the ability to fall over convincingly.

So yes, Spain fully deserved the title. They were all the things they'd not really been for the rest of the tournament.

All of which can't allay my disappointment for Germany who appear to be, dare I say it, squandering the talent of a golden generation. [Pause for small helpless chuckle].

All in all, it's been a very enjoyable tournament. Why they want to inflate this neat high-standard three weeks of football into a flabby doddering test of stamina in four years time is beyond me. Oh, apart from pure naked greed, of course. Perhaps Bob Diamond's putting together the next one.

Given Spain's ridiculous 4-6-0 formation  it's difficult for a Teesside brought up on a 4-4-2 to work out what the team of the tournament should be. You could do worse than pick Casillas and ten tiny Spaniards.

But here's mine anyway:

Casillas: Lahm, Pastapopolopodopolous (summat like that), Pique, Jordi Alba; Pirlo, Khedira; Fabregas, Xavi, Iniesta; Balotelli.

Not sure what formation that is so I've put del Bosque in charge. He'll sort it out for us.

In the meantime let's watch Andy Murray's opponents get their match completed so that the poor lamb is knackered before his quarter-final. home advantage should mean something, shouldn't it? Gawd help us!