Italian job completed as Italy beat Turkey in Euro 2020 opener.

 Italian job completed as Italy beat Turkey in Euro 2020 opener. 

Italian football has always been a fascinating case study in human behaviour. Give the ball to an Italian player and they'll either develop a very close working relationship with it or they'll put up the shutters, retreat into a shell and only come out to play when the mood suits them. Now serial winners of World Cups, Italy's football has attracted a deep seated notoriety that never advances their cause in any way, shape or form. 

When the highly revered Enzo Bearzot was their manager way back when, Italy were unpredictable, temperamental, sensational at times, a delight to watch or just annoyingly defensive. In other words they were a mass of contradictions. There was a time when they had players who could actually turn on the style such as Paolo Rossi, goal scorer supreme, who once almost single-handedly won the World Cup for Italy with two superb goals in the Final itself. 

Further back in time there was Gianni Rivera and Luigi Riva, undoubtedly two of the greatest footballing practitioners ever to pull on a blue shirt. Both were the Azzuri's generalissimos, models of elegance, poise, balance and perfect close control ever seen in Serie A. It may be some time before the Italians produce their like again. Italian football has been through several periods of evolution and re-construction, moments of disgraceful ugliness, naivety at times and catenaccio. Which probably leads us onto the subject of their cynical defensive tactics. 

There were of course exceptions to that rule. Marco Tardelli will always be regarded as the Italian's most accomplished centre half of all time. Tardelli of course excelled during the 1982 World Cup when he scored and gave a defensive masterclass that bordered on perfection. Tardelli had a remarkable positional sense, reading the game with a studied erudition and then breaking up opponents attack with relentless satisfaction. Tardelli was passionately attached to his national team and still one of its finest defenders. 

Even further back there was Roberto Bettega who once bulleted a header past Ray Clemence that more or less dashed England's hopes of reaching the 1978 World Cup Finals in Argentina. Bettega was a quiet assassin, a pain in the neck for defenders, lethal up front, full of nuisance value and mobility, terrorising his adversaries and then preventing England from taking any active part in Argentina. 

But catenaccio and its implications has almost defined Italian football wherever they've been on their travels. When the defensive bolt was locked tightly, Italy were immovable, impregnable and ultimately impassable. Their football was highly disciplined, structured, regimented, never really appealing to the eye as such because everything about their game was based on organisation and uniformity. This could have been seen to their decided advantage at times but how often can you remain in a straight jacket? 

Admittedly the Italians will always have their 1990 World Cup and Salvatore Schillaci or Dino Zoff who became the oldest goalkeeper ever to lift a World Cup. But juries are always out about the consistency and quality of the Italians since none can really tell which team will turn up on the day. They can either be suavely spontaneous, lovably entertaining or simply dreadful. This is not suggest that there is an element of the chameleon about them nor are they tormented souls who just can't come to terms with who they really are. But the impartial observers would really like to see a much more positive side to their football. 

And yet here they were once again back on the big international footballing stage. Gone missing from the 2018 World Cup, Italy now simply outplayed and eventually thrashed a dispirited Turkey side in their opening match of Euro 2020(or to be numerically accurate) Euro 2021 since the global pandemic put everything onto the back burner. It was a good to see an Italian side fully prepared to attack from the first whistle and not be afraid to show the more redeeming aspects of their football. There was a glorious fluency about them last night, a sense of freedom and adventure much missed from Russia three years ago.  

It almost felt at times that the Italians had been released from a police cell with a single light bulb hanging ominously from the ceiling after a severe interrogation. Their football had the air of the noblesse oblige about it, a genuine nobility, a sense of royal distinction about it. It was dignified, beautifully delivered, carefully conceived and executed, richly constructive and patience was the ultimate virtue. 

From the start Italy built their football methodically and masterfully from the back, an endless river of passes flowing from the surprisingly dressed white shirts of Italy. They moved the ball around simply and accurately in all areas of their home pitch, taking their time when they had to and then breaking forward  with a decisive authority and menacing power. This was the Italians at their best, unfettered, uninhibited, free flowing, ambitious and never repressed at any time.

With Alessandro Florenzi, Leonardo Bonucci, Giorgio Chiellini and Leonardo Spinazzola at the back mopping up efficiently and attentively at the back for Italy, you always felt that this current class of Azzurri were always in complete command of everything. Then Jorginho, Chelsea's Champions League winner, loped forward into attack, a player of stylish sophistication, prompting constantly, firing up Chelsea, giving and taking in generous measures and smoothly rolling the ball into the path of hungry Italian attackers./ 

Throughout, the nerveless composure of Nicolo Barella, Manuel Locatelli and the always attack minded Jorginho surrounded Turkey with a solid fence of white players, one and two touch passes drilling refined passes into the heart of the Turkish defence. It would not have been a shock when Italy eventually took the lead. After an incessant spell of non stop attacking and startling passing, they broke ruthlessly from midfield. 

Following a fluid formation of passes deep into their own, Dominic Baradi went full pelt towards the by line before cutting back the ball low, hard and successfully into the six yard box. The Turkish defence, now rushing back in numbers, couldn't deal with Baradi's mercurial pace and the Italian forward's driven ball bounced off Turkey's Merieh Demeral's legs and into the net for an own goal. 

From that point onwards Italy never really looked back. It was as if they were in full possession of their sense, recalling their halcyon World Cup days and just  happy to be back in the place where they'd always felt a real sense of belonging. Once again the Italians were conducting tuneful orchestras rather than tuneless one man bands who never really felt interested. Their football wore a smart dinner jacket and bow tie, rather than the tatty, dishevelled clothes that always looked out of place on the big international stage. 

In the second half the Italians began to boss and govern the game, dragging and humiliating their opponents one way and then the other. Soon they were drawing circles around a now tiring Turkish side, a thrillingly choreographed Italy, a professional Italy, a side to be reckoned with, running Turkey ragged, always thinking, devising, plotting and synchronising with each other. A second goal was always likely to happen and it did. 

After another mesmerising sequence of passes across the centre of the pitch, Italy flooded forward and and then played Pass the Parcel across to Ciro Immobile who caught the ball excellently under his foot and then smashed the ball low again into the roof of the net. Italy were now uncatchable, a force of nature, playful, impulse and intuition in all of their thought patterns.

Then the Italians took out another palette of colours to spray over their home turf. Spinnazola, always on the look out for something to feed on and hunt down, picked up a loose ball, thumping his shot forcefully at the Turkish keeper and the rebound fell very conveniently to Lorenzo Insigne who curled around the ball around the net minder and into the far bottom corner of the net. 

And so for the first time in what seems a very long time, Italian football was in everybody's good books. This time they mean business although it's still hard to rate them as potential winners of Euro 2020. They still have something of the roguish twinkle in their eyes, a sense that these leopards are never going to change their spots. There is an incorrigible mischief  about them that always looks as if it might just backfire on them again. But the bad old days or good old days of catenaccio, depending upon your point of view, still hover over the Italians. For just a night though the bars and cafes of Milan, Rome and Naples will be overflowing with good cheer or in the current climate, perhaps not. Viva Italia!