Italy reach Euro 2020.
We did think it would end in a penalty shoot out but you can never tell. In one of the most pulsating, nerve jangling, compelling and unforgettable European Championship semi finals since the beginning of time, Italy finally broke Spain's heart, resolve and resistance and booked their place in Sunday's Final against either England or Denmark. It's time to catch our breath because last night's battle of wits will almost certainly go down in the history books and deep into the archives of international football history.
Both Spain and Italy have met so often at tournament football level that you'd think they'd be familiar with each other's leg measurements and blood group. They've always been tightly contested matches and never boring so hopes were high and even the referee looked vaguely excited at times. The fact is though that this was a momentous epic, so thrilling and compulsively fascinating that it was rather like watching two sets of psychologists deep in thought.
When Spain beat Croatia in the quarter final in a monumental eight goal classic, the neutrals must have thought they would be keeping their powder dry for a semi final against Italy. But then Italy also showed a clean pair of heels in their seemingly unstoppable progress to the latter stages. In the quarter final against always highly fancied Belgium, Italy made a very dangerous Belgium side look decidedly average and mundane. For the first time in a long time Italy looked like the landed gentry had taken over their estate, a team of aristocrats, a team of soaring grandeur and a team with a sense of arrogant entitlement about them.
Now though Euro 2020 is at that crucial stage of the tournament when nothing would be left to chance and meticulous preparations had to be made. The truth is if we were worried that the game would splutter into a disappointing anti climax, we would be pleasantly surprised. The Italians were in a good mood and for the best part of the game so were Spain. It would be Spain who would feel the more aggrieved side, having kept the ball so much more skilfully and efficiently than Italy. The Azzurri looked as though they were just happy to be in a semi final.
Ever since failing to qualify for the 2018 World Cup Italy have been the proverbial bear with a sore head and a grizzly one at that. And yet under the former Manchester City boss Roberto Mancini, Italy have been a nation transformed, almost completely revived. No longer are they the melancholy misery guts who felt sorry for themselves for three years and cried bitterly in a corner away from the limelight. This Italy are not the secretive, mysterious, inhibited team with a hidden agenda. Nor are they the cynical, ferocious tackling, negative and defensive team who just wanted to put up the shutters in vital games.
What we saw last night was a much more convincing, engaged, positive, free thinking, free spirited, liberated national team, a team of buccaneers and warriors, demonstrative and expressive. The Italians have always worn their hearts on their sleeve because they feel the game passionately. They never like losing and would rather withdraw into themselves than lose, a down to earth philosophy that has served them so well throughout the years. But this felt like a new dawn had arrived for the Italians, an era of ground breaking developments and bright new frontiers.
Italy are back in business, a pleasure to watch, quick thinking, quick witted, encouragingly imaginative in possession, stylish in the extreme and enormously entertaining. It was if the weight of the world had been removed from the shoulders. Finally they could make their own decisions, become the men in charge of their destiny rather than relying on luck, gamesmanship or cheap, cunning expediency to get their own way.
For much the tireless and evergreen Giorgio Chiellini, who may be around in the game to pick up a potential World Cup winning medal in the Qatar World Cup at the end of next year, was the quiet and yet hugely influential one. If Chiellini does emulate his fellow countryman Dino Zoff by lifting the World Cup then nobody will have deserved it more. Zoff was 40 when Italy won the World Cup and Chiellini, all chisel chinned and composed, ready to fight the good battle and looking as if he would love to play well past his pensionable age.
Both Chiellini, Giovanna Di Lorenzo, Giorgio Bonucci and Emerson cleaned up at the back, erecting an impenetrable wall of blue shirts across the Italian defence, rotating, pressing, switching the angle of the attack swiftly, an Italian side that had now become admirably adaptable, models of flexibility and filling in for each other when Italy found themselves in a defensive crisis. This was a proactive Italy, nimble footed, inventive, full of foresight and premonition, knowing exactly when to defend and then attack on the front foot.
In their midfield, Italy had students of football engineering, roving and roaming, creating and imprinting, a side of Italian architects who just wanted to build something special and enduring. Chelsea's Jorginho and Nicolo Barella, fresh faced and lively, spritely and full of enthusiastic running on and off the ball were security personified. Marco Verratti, equally as exuberant and restless, clocked up the miles with wholehearted industry. Ciro Immobile and the effervescent Lorenzo Inisigne were always hovering with intent, supporting their colleagues when necessary and almost driven in their desire to win.
And yet the game itself belonged exclusively to Spain for much of the game. Their patient, methodical and disciplined approach did considerable justice to them. Once again it was the Spaniards pass and move game that heightened the senses, almost identifiably Spanish. The Spanish passing game is more or less legendary now, a side who insisted on recycling the ball with precise continuity and never satisfied with anything less than perfection.
Once again Eric Garcia, Cesar Azpilicueta, the outstanding Aymeric Laporte and Jordi Alba kept up that almost incessant tap routine in a way that became addictive watching. And then there was Sergio Busquets and what can be said about Busquets that hasn't already been said. Busquets is a formidable presence, still magisterial on the ball, wise and knowledgeable, prompting, graceful, a man who treats the ball as if it were a much loved ornament.
Jordi Alba, who scored a stunning goal earlier on in the tournament, flourished again with acres to space to run into and always looking for the right moment to shine and flower. Koke and Pedri were darting and dashing, nippy and utterly creative, while Mikel Oyarzbal and Feran Torres continued to hunt in packs, all action and dynamic, shielding the ball intelligently and dragging their defenders persistently and threateningly all over Wembley.
Then though Spain ran out of collective steam and their evening just fell around them. In a typical Italian counter attacking breakaway, a goal emerged. From a quick Gianluigi Donnaruma throw out from the keeper's hands, the ball travelled through a blur of Italian legs and eventually Marco Verratti tucked the ball through to the remarkable Federico Chiesa. Chiesa, always a livewire, wriggled and twisted before curling a delightful shot around Donnaruuma for an Italy lead.
It looked as if the second half would completely run away from Spain. They'd exerted a technical stranglehold on the game with their trademark short passing game but the minutes were ticking away. Then from nowhere, the Spanish armada promised untold riches. A sparkling cats cradle of passes between Aymeric Laporte and the supremely effective Dani Olmo carried out their buddy buddy act before Olmo slipped the ball through ever so delicately to Alvaro Morata who positioned his feet and then almost passed the ball under the Italian goalkeeper for a goal of refinement and quality.
By extra time these two European powerhouses were still exchanging gestures of mutual appreciation. This had become, quite literally, a battle of wits, two giant sized footballing intellects meeting head on without any fear and shame. Italy and Spain were locked together in an intriguing confrontation that seemed to get better with every passing minute. Blue Italian shirt was facing white Spanish shirt on equal terms, relentlessly chipping away at each other in a game burnished with gold.
And then there were penalties and in hindsight that always seemed to be the most obvious outcome. We should have known they were coming although there must have been a part of us that somehow wished this hadn't been the case. The first round of penalties were so dreadful that some of us thought neither had practised them beforehand.
Ultimately Alvaro Morata, who had been the Spanish hero of the hour, suddenly became the villain of the piece. Morata blasted the ball at the Italian keeper Giovanni Donnaruma and his hand pawed the ball away from the net. Spain had lost out at the Euro 2020 semi final and the team who were once World Cup winning all stars and Euro victors to boot. were now grief stricken and mortified.
Meanwhile Roberto Mancini who is becoming quite accustomed to success in recent years at club level, wrapped his arms around his coaching staff, formed a celebratory circle but didn't do the Hokey Cokey and turn around. Italy love to be the centre of attention, never less than a major topic of discussion for all kinds of reasons, publicity seekers at time and controversial occasionally. But on a late Tuesday evening at Wembley there were plenty of blues but little evidence of sadness. Viva Italia for a while although England will be hoping to see a much lighter and more victorious horizon on Sunday evening.
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