It's all about the Low Countries.

 It's all about the Low Countries

The contrasting fortunes of Belgium and Holland have always been an intriguing topic of debate. In footballing terms they may share the same attacking philosophies but yesterday they were almost reading from the same page. In recent years Holland have suffered something of a shocking decline into the wilderness but yesterday in the Parken Stadium, Denmark, the technical ingenuity and flair that had many of us in raptures during the 1970s has now been translated into the modern language of football.

This was not the Total Football so frequently on display back then but it was the sum of its parts. There were glimpses, reminders and similarities but then it wouldn't be Holland without resorting to concepts and ideals. But yesterday was very much about the Low Countries taking significant steps towards sunlit uplands and, who knows, sweltering heatwaves on the day of the Euro 2020 Final on July 11th. 

Yesterday afternoon Belgium were first out of the blocks and for much of their first second half against Denmark it looked as if somebody needed to call a search party for the real Belgium. Perhaps they were in Brussels searching for those familiar, hypnotic rhythms or maybe they were just lost in Bruges. The fact of the matter was that Belgium were completely anonymous, enthralling at first but then overcome with stage fright when a red Danish tidal wave came surging towards their goal. Their football had been submerged into semi obscurity perhaps stranded out at sea where none could see them. 

But suddenly, and as if by a wave of a magic wand, Roberto Martinez, certainly one of the most engaging managers at this tournament, discovered that Kevin De Bruyne was still sitting on the subs bench and ready to be launched into action as and when required. The truth is of course that De Bruyne should have started yesterday's game for without him, Belgium were just limp, lack lustre, unsure of their bearings and completely off the pace. De Bruyne was, quite clearly, the missing link. 

Then after Denmark had taken an early lead, their supporters briefly had flashbacks to Denmark's victorious European Championship Final win against Germany in the 1992 Final. Oh for that fierce shot by John Jensen that beat the Germans.  That was the game when the Danish team were summarily whisked away from their holiday beach to take part in the 1992 Euros Finals. Poor old Yugoslavia were caught up in the most horrendous war which saw the whole of the country torn apart and Croatia formed as a new country seemingly overnight. 

And yet in the second half Belgium, Denmark's opponents yesterday, re-discovered the form we knew they were capable of delivering and just merrily passed their way around the back of the Danish defence, carving open their opponents at will,  humiliatingly outplayed and out thought before just collapsing in a dizzy spell of intense Belgium pressure. 

Before we knew it Thomas Meunier had fully woken up after a first half slumber, Youri Tielemans remembered the cracking goal that had won the FA Cup for Leicester last month, Leander Dendocker had found his range and vision with a very poised display, Thorgen  Hazard reminded you at times of his brother Eden and Romelu Lukaku was very much on the same wavelength as his country. In fact Lukaku gave an umforgettable demonstration in the arts of a classic forward. 

But it was the appearance of Kevin De Bruyne, certainly one of the classiest midfielders in recent Belgian history, who sent a current of electricity through Belgium. Before then Belgium had just been sparking and then blowing a fuse although not quite literally. Bruyne was a force of nature, irrepressible , a breath of fresh air, an almost revolutionary game changer, moving gingerly between the lines, dribbling with the ball  skilfully and astonishingly, then creating room and space for Lukaku to pounce on up front.  

Both of Belgium's winning goals against Denmark were simply breathtaking in their execution. The combination play between Thorgan Hazard, Romelu Lukaku and finally De Bruyne was a spectacular piece of joined up thinking, three players in complete harmony with each other. When Thorgan Hazard slipped the ball past Kaspar Schmeichel for  Belgian's opening goal you knew you'd witnessed a team who were determined to bury the past and finally found the right attacking formula.

Then Belgium scored their second, the culmination of some quick witted, very pretty and well designed passing in and around the Danish penalty area. Firstly Tielemans swiftly moved the ball across the penalty area and after another Belgian foot had touched the ball on De Bruyne answered a nation's call, curving the ball softly and low past Danish keeper Schmeichel. Job done and Belgium through to the last 16.

Meanwhile in Denmark, the Dutch were replicating some of the old routines that had left most neutral football fans utterly enchanted during the 1970s. Sadly, the Total Football that had so strikingly defined Hollland with two successive World Cup Finals against West Germany and Argentina had somehow got lost in a recent breakdown in communication, but had now been revived for Euro 2020 as if somebody had flicked a switch, clicked their fingers and given the Dutch permission to re-capture former glories.

Last night Holland just kept hold of the ball for as long as they could, weaving together their intricate webs of passing, their football spellbinding, consistently attractive and from time to time simply dazzling. You recalled Johan Cruyff, the greatest flying Dutchman of all time, the wily, cunning Robbie Rensenbrink, Rudi Krol, of the thunderous shot, a dashing, inventive and scheming midfield player always on the look out for that clinical through pass and never less than fully involved at the heart of everything the Dutch could offer, Johan Neeskens, equally as gifted as Cruyff but another talismanic influence, orchestrating, prompting and dictating the pace of the Dutch attack. 

The fact is that Holland have only won the European Championship and that was 33 years ago when the staggering talent of Ruud Gullit, dreadlocked and deadly, linked up lethally with Marco Van Basten to guide Holland to their only major international trophy. Van Basten's remarkable volleyed goal will live long in the memory if only because it was so perfectly struck. 

The current generation of Dutch football is in a much healthier state than it might have been had it not for manager Frank De Boer. Holland are quite obviously enjoying their neat, one touch football, not quite as potent as they were back in Cruyff's days but their comfort and ease in possession is still a delight to behold. The ground based passing mentality still brings a smile and glow to those who might have thought the Dutch had lost the plot and would never re-connect with their spiritual roots. 

Throughout Denzel Dumfries, the ageless Daley Blind, Maarten De Vrij and Matthias De Ligt, carefully guarded the Dutch defence with the most impenetrable screen while Donyell Malen sprang forward like a gambolling lamb in springtime, running hard at the Austrian defence and timing his overlaps to the right moment.

But the one man the Dutch fans had come to see fully lived up to expectations. Memphis Depay, one of the most dangerous strikers in the whole of the world game, is tattooed, brimming with confidence and there is a hint of arrogance about him that the Dutch can't get enough of. Holland's 2-0 victory against Austria owed much to their timeless technique and insistence on re-cycling the ball when one of their attacks broke down. This was not the Dutch of the 1970s but it did give a pretty convincing impersonation of what their ancestors had made their trademark. 

When the effervescent Denzel Dumfries had won the ball back from the Austrians there was only one way to go for the full back. Dumfries turned towards the penalty area, tussling with an Austria defender, intelligently checking back before being bundled unceremoniously to the ground. The referee, after consulting briefly with VAR, pointed to the penalty spot. Memphis Depay, the man of the moment, stepped forward, sweat pouring off his forehead and drove home Holland's opening goal. 

Holland had quite literally seized the early evening so to speak. Their football had simple, clean lines, polished surfaces, elegant movements and intuitive touches that were straight off the cuff. Their second goal seemed somehow pre-destined since Austria were never likely to find anything like the incomparable form that Hugo Meisl once gave world football during the 1930s, a Wunderteam in every sense of the word. 

So it was that Holland wrapped up the three points that enabled them to reach the last 16. A typically cultured Dutch build up resulted in Depay slotting the most precise of through passes to Donyell Mahlen who bounded into the area, laying the ball across to the onrushing Dumfries who simply stroked the ball into the net with consummate ease like a kid tucking into a gobstopper or lemon sherbet on the way home from school. 

This could turn into the most gripping European Championships in recent history. Italy, who have already looked full of goals, could do with a Baresi or Pirlo to keep them going but they do look in very buoyant mood, galvanised by their lively start to the tournament. Spain still look very decorative, a case of the baroque and the rococo merging as one, a team who can still draw pretty pictures, apply sensitive brushstrokes, full of flamenco finery and exploding into a kaleidoscope of colours, flaring and fizzing like the traditional sparkler at a fireworks party. But we will see. 

France and Germany can never be discounted and France remain the tournament favourites and the longer Kylian M'Bappe looks as though he may emerge as the star man of the Euros the more likely it is that France may win another major trophy. Germany were beaten by the odd, own goal to France and you would have to reserve judgment on their prospects of advancing to the latter stages of the Euro 2020. But England are up and running with a narrow if eye catching victory over Croatia so this may not be the time for taking out betting slips. We are now fully conversant with England's history and we all know what might happen if the nation even consider themselves to be superior to everybody. Don't even think about it. Let the show go on.