Day Seventeen

England 0 Italy 0

Pens 2 - 4

It was a good run, but it had to come to an end eventually. Let's be honest, we all knew it had gone on longer than anyone expected already. And at least we got to see a traditional tournament favourite.

Yes, there had to be a 0-0. Twenty seven games without one, but then England had a knockout game and that was that.

And the defeat? I find I can't be bothered to write much about that performance, so here's something I wrote about England v Portugal 2006 instead.

It’s just vicious really. Like free range calves, they get to run around the field for a few weeks, but then out come the chainsaws. Discounting the third place playoff, a poor apology for a wooden spoon game which is now beyond our wildest dreams, all the last fifteen games exist entirely for the purpose of inflicting the dreary ennui of defeat on one nation after another.

Children cry themselves to sleep, grown men hide under blankets all day, flags droop sadly on the bonnets of cars. Everywhere around the world. Including qualification, every country in the entire world except one goes through this every four years, every two years if you count the continental cups.

At least England - finally - managed to give us some halfway decent football. With their backs to the wall, they leapt like gazelles and fought like Douglas Bader, as opposed to the other way round like they normally do.

If Ronaldo had deliberately wound Rooney up he may have ended up regretting it, because it just united the team and brought all the arguments about England’s formation to an end. Crouch, stuck with the lone striker role by force of circumstance, played it brilliantly, holding the ball up on his own and tempting the Portuguese defenders into giving away free kicks. He linked up well with Lennon, who was also on by necessity, replacing the injured Beckham. How surprising that England’s finest football should have been played without Beckham, Rooney or Owen. How surprising, and how memorable.

I’m not even going to talk about the penalties, except to point out that Portugal missed two themselves, so the opportunity was there, dammit.

So the Portuguese have a semifinal with France. Good luck, you both have a 25% chance of not ending up feeling like we do.

So that was then. What's changed?

First, there's no third place playoff in the Euros for us not to get into. Second, all that stuff about finally getting some decent football hardly applies. Third, Pirlo didn't have to wind our players up like Ronaldo did, he was just effortlessly better.

But most importantly, there's no great sense of upset. People only really sulk if they have genuine hope in the first place. When the last penalty went in there was almost a sense that it was for the best, that to have beaten Italy on penalties after being comprehensively played off the park would have been so embarrassing, it was actually better to slink off now before Germany got to administer the retribution the rest of Europe was craving.

Steven Gerrard, interviewed afterwards, seemed to feel that there was some kind of unfairness in England being out again on penalties, that they'd been robbed of their just desserts by a capricious fate. It's quite rare to see someone so comprehensively misjudge the national mood. Which is not so much don't come home too soon as come home now, we can't stand it any more,  even the Greeks are laughing at us and we don't know where to look.

So that's the end of England's tournament, and also the complete rout of Groups A and D, but there's still plenty to look forward to. Three more games, and tasty affairs they look as well. Germany v Italy, Pirlo's midfield genius v Gomez and Klose up front. Spain v Portugal, with Ronaldo's solipsistic genius against the ultimate collective. And Germany v Spain in the final. There, I said it. Actually, I said it at the beginning of the tournament. Predicting a final correctly - now that would be a step up from previous blogs.

Day Sixteen

Spain 2 France 0

With the possible exception of Holland v Germany this was perhaps the most galactic fixture so far. Unfortunately it fell so far short of its billing that frankly I can find little to say about it.

It was very cagy for the first 15 minutes, then all caginess suddenly and briefly vanished. Jordi Alba somehow eluded the French defense down the left, Reveillere being paradoxically a little sleepy, and crossed to Xabi Alonso, alone in the penalty area. He headed it back across the goal, which was the correct thing to do as Lloris was moving the other way, and his momentum then carried him away from the ball.

The French were rocked, but they rallied, and Cabaye had a good effort from a free kick after half an hour, which Casillas had to tip over for a corner. We hoped it would mark a turning point in the game, but instead it was France's best moment.

In the 38th minute Pique had a free header in the box, but it flew over. The commentator forgot himself sufficiently to start talking about Barcelona, then suddenly remembered he was actually covering a Spain game. In fact five of their eleven starters do play for Barcelona. With four from Real Madrid, that's fully nine out of eleven from two clubs. Add in Silva of Manchester City and every player in the Spanish team finished in a top 2 league position except Jordi Alba of Valencia, who had to settle for third.

I typed and fact checked all that between Pique's header and the half time whistle, and wasn't distracted by any significant action. After the break France came back a bit, and Spain were a bit sloppy at times. By the standards of Spain, that is, we're not talking about balls going through the keeper's legs, but it was enough to give the French hope.

Debuchy had a header on the hour mark, which he had to lean back to get onto and couldn't then keep down, but it was a chance. Soon after there was a goalmouth scramble at both ends. Which is two goalmouth scrambles all told, obviously, not just one very large one. That would be to stretch the definition of a goalmouth scramble to breaking point.

Apart from that there was little else to say. Not that it was boring, it just wasn't the kind of thrill-a-minute action we'd had with Germany and Greece. It was the football equivalent of a long bout of safety play in snooker. Plenty to admire, very skilful, but it isn't going to make the highlights reel. Except that football is limited by time rather than pots, so there may not be much else to put on it.

It was probably in an attempt to give their respective forward lines the cutting edge they lacked that Spain brought on Torres and France brought on Giroud. It didn't work. Torre's one decent shot was saved, and it turned out he was offside anyway. Giroud didn't even manage that. He's done alright for Montpellier, with 33 goals in 73 games, but we didn't see any evidence of that last night.

In the last minute of normal time Pedro won a penalty for Spain. Reveillere challenged him clumsily, there was contact, he went down, job done. Alonso scored, and that was the end for France. Reveillere was left to rue his role in both Spanish goals. I was going to say never mind lad, you'll learn, but it turns out he's 32, so probably won't.

And that was that. Spain and France meet again in October, when they play in the same qualifying group for the 2014 World Cup in Brazil. It's an unlucky draw, which means one of them might miss out, but it might at least save us another game like this one.

Day Fifteen

Germany 4 Greece 2

In a tournament that also featured Poland v Russia, this was politically the sharpest fixture by some margin. I usually stick up for the Germans, as I hate that whole thing, you know the thing I mean, but even I was going for Greece in this one.

That this amounted to deliberately backing the losing horse for no substantial reason was apparent by the second minute, as Klose stood alone in the box waiting for Reus' cross. Only a slip robbed him of a clear chance. On the other hand Samaras managed to kick Khedira in the shins, stopping the game for him to get some attention, so on some level it was all square.

Two minutes later it was still all square. Khedira had a shot, it came back off the keeper and Ozil and Klose both rushed in. Klose put it in, but offside was given. It was unclear which of the two had been penalised, but clear even then that it wouldn't ultimately matter.

Things carried in in this vein for the rest of the game. Well I'm sorry, but what do you want me to say? Do you want me to start listing all the times a German player had a shot? Tell you what, here's a list of the players that didn't. Neuer, Boateng, Hummels, Badstuber. I made that list by typing in all the starting German players and deleting each one the first time they struck the ball towards the Greek goal on purpose. Actually I think Hummels may have had a header early on. Even Boateng found himself up the byline putting crosses in.

By the time they'd been at it for half an hour I was developing false hope. Surely we'd seen Greece win like this before? We knew the script from 2004. The stronger team shoot and shoot and shoot, and it doesn't go in. It hits the post, it flies just over the bar, it bounces back from the keeper to a defender. Finally Greece sneak into their half inside a giant horse and bang! 1-0 to Greece. It worked against Russia, after all.

That wasn't what happened, obviously. There is no script but the action of Maths in the tangible world that we call physics. Philip Lahm wasn't worrying about narrative twists. He placed the ball and his foot in juxtaposition by swivelling his right femur through a vertical plane, simultaneously and rapidly adjusting the angle between femur and tibia. The chemical energy thus released was imparted to the ball, which, being light, accelerated rapidly, and travelled along the vector Lahm's foot had placed it on to cross the line before the goalkeeper could get into an intercept path. Of course it did. That's how these things work.

By half time the Greeks must have been glad to get in only one down. We feared for them after the resumption.

They only went and equalised though. Greece have wiped out the debt, shouted the commentator. Distaste for the world of international finance has infitrated the zeitgeist, and is turning up in some surprising places these days. Salpingidis got free down the right, to the apparent surprise of the German defence, and put a cross in. It looked like he'd hit it too hard at first, but Samaras got on the end of it and squeezed it under Neuer. It was still physics, it's just that physics can surprise you sometimes.

It couldn't last, so it didn't. Khedira restored the German lead 5 minutes later. A cross from Boateng was coming through to Maniatis, but he was a bit slow to it, and Khedira got in a lethal volley. If you can get dip and pace on them they're almost impossible for the keeper to adjust to, and so it proved here.

Low took Schurrle off for Muller. He'd looked good, Schurrle, energetic and skilful. He hadn't played in the tournament before, apart from 25 minutes against Denmark while we were mainly watching Portugal v Holland, and to be honest I'd never heard of him. Apparently he shares the honour with Gotze of being the first players born after German reunification to play for the national team, which only goes to show how ridiculously fucking old I am. Before I know it I'll be watching the first German player to be born after I wrote this. I expect he'll be better than anyone we have.

It was Germany's oldest player that sealed it though. Papadopoulos gave away a free kick by the corner flag, and then couldn't get to it before Klose. That was the third, and it was looking like it could get away from Greece now. Klose scores in the land of his birth, said the commentator, archly. Klose was born in Polish Silesia. His dad is German, but his mum, wife and first language are Polish, and the Poles regard him roughly as Greeks regard the Elgin Marbles.

Reus got the fourth. Klose's shot was well saved, after an excellent ball from Ozil, but it bounced out to Reus who hammered it home with force and precision. Angela Merkel was there, and by this point she was probably hoping they'd stop. A win is one thing, but there's a limit to the humiliation any nation can bear at the hands of another. I found myself wishing the Greek election had been this weekend instead.

As things turned out that was as bad as it got for Greece. In fact they got a goal back just before the end when Samaras's shot hit Boateng on the arm and a penalty was awarded. He was looking away at the time, so it seemed harsh, but no-one complained too much. The refs have headpieces, so maybe Christine Lagarde came on the line and told him to give it.

Salpingidis scored, which was nice for him, but that was that. Greece go home, with no money, no trophy, no Marbles, nothing. Germany have now won 15 games in a row.

The game also marked the triumph of the west in the tournament of the east. Poland, Ukraine, Russia, Sweden, Croatia, Greece, the Czech Republic, they've all fallen. The six surviving teams are Portugal, Spain, France, England, Italy and Germany. Holland and Denmark lost to western opponents, so Croatia v Ireland is the only eastern triumph over a western team.

Meanwhile, that's 26 games without a goalless draw. 5 left. One of which could be an England Germany semi-final. First, Italy, and first before that, France v Spain.

Day Fourteen

Czech Republic 0 Portugal 1

At Christmas it's the Two Ronnies, on a royal anniversary it's the Sex Pistols, and every June in even numbered years they reel out the football nostalgia docs. If you invest as much of your emotional capital in major international football tournaments as I do, they're a reliable trigger for the remembrance of things past. So seeing David Platt's winner against Belgium in 1990 on my wide screen the other night instantly took me back to the tiny telly in the Midlands pub we used to drink in back then. I can almost taste the purple nasties - a snakebite with a dash of blackcurrant, if you're wondering. I think all the cells in my body that thought that was a good idea have since been replaced.

A week later we were back in the same pub on my birthday, watching them lose to Germany on penalties. By Euro 1996 I'd moved to Bristol, and I remember seeing Croatia v Germany in a pub in the Mendips with a friend, the last time we ever did acid. Germany won despite Davor Suker's trickery and the way the grass kept moving around like that. Gives purple nasty a whole new meaning.

So there are games that become a part of your personal history, and then there are games like this one. This was the kind of game you soon realise won't be cropping up in your Euro 2020 blog. This was more like Sweden v Holland at Euro 2004, a game I must presumably have watched, but have no memory of.

Both teams normally play in red, so the Czechs took priority in the matter of shirt colour, having won their group. Portugal had to play in white instead. This will also apply tomorrow, when Greece and Germany play, as they both play in white. Germany will take precedence as goup winners, and Greece will have to defer to them and play in the away strip. I wonder how that will go down in Piraeus and Heraklion?

Although they didn't top their group, Portugal were still favourites. If you don't know anything about football, and apart from me who does, you could still work out why just by rating the players' clubs by budget. Portugal's starting 11 play for clubs like Real Madrid, Porto and Man Utd. Most of the Czech players play for teams like Bordeaux, or Besiktas. Perfectly good clubs, with a strong record in Europe, but not at the very top of the European club scene. They can afford decent B-list players, but they're not world class, not galacticos, like Ronaldo or Nani.

The referee was Howard Webb, an Englishman, as the commentator was keen to let us know. Brooks no nonsense from players, Howard Webb, he said. I'm not so sure about that. Webb refereed the last World Cup Final, and I seem to recall him brooking rather more nonsense from Holland than most observers thought he should have brooked.

Once we got going, it was the Ronaldo show again. Six of Portugal's first ten attempts on goal came from him, and nearly all the close ones.

The first real chance fell to him, as he muscled ahead of the defence to get his shot in. It was well saved, and the ref gave a foul against him anyway, but it was an ominous sign for the Czechs.

A few minutes later he had another go, with an overhead kick after a poor defensive clearance came straight back in again. It flew wide. Then his free kick attempt, well hit, went a yard wide.

Meanwhile, Miguel Veloso was booked for a poor tackle on Darida. At least that was the official reason, but I noticed the back of his shirt said Miguel, not Veloso, so hopefully he was partly booked for that. You never saw Trevor Brooking poncing about in a shirt that said Trevor, did you? Think on, young man.

On 38 minutes, Postiga's hamstring seemed to go. They stretchered him off, and brought Almeida on. He's out of the semi-final, but might be back for the final if they get there. They'll miss him.

On 43 minutes there was a reasonable shout for a Portuguese penalty, when the defender clearly had a hold of Nani's arm in the box. Martin Keown thought it was a dive, as he only had it for a second, but if you ask me holding for a second is holding.

In first half injury time Ronaldo nearly scored. The ball came into the box, he did some of his technicolour jiggery pokery to get clear of Kadlec, and his shot hit the post. Keown commented that he could have had three or four, but it was very noticeable that he hadn't.

The second half continued in similar vein. Ronaldo had another free kick, and hit the post again. It looked like Cech might have just tipped it, but the replay showed there was no contact. Goal kick.

The Czechs seemed at times to be struggling with their defensive clearances. There are three basic techniques for a clearance: the measured pass to a teammate, the forward hoof up the pitch and the lateral hoof to row Z. If you're passing to a teammate you'd better be sure it gets there, if you're hoofing it you try to avoid the vertical hoof, in which the ball goes a long way up before coming back down right where it started from. Limbersky in particular seemed to struggle with these fairly basic guidelines.

Almeida had the ball in the net immediately afterwards, heading home from a Nani cross, but was offside. Always a joy to see those forwards running offside, said Martin Keown. You aren't a proper BBC commentator until you know how to act up to your image.

After a flurry of positive Czech moves, the next big chance was Portugal's. Moutinho got the ball, wasn't closed down quick enough and his shot was well saved.

It was all too much for Cech, who punched his teammate Kadec in the head and kneed him in the ribs. Simultaneously, which is actually quite athletic. He made it look like he was going for the ball, but I think he reckoned his defence needed a breather. Except Kadec, who needed to breathe a little less. I love to see keepers coming for those, said Keown. They always lead with the knee, and it's usually the defenders that come off worst. Now there speaks a man who doesn't have to defend any more.

He's a man who know which side his bread is buttered on, is Keown. I remember during the World Cup he was commentating on a New Zealand game, and he wasn't in any way backwards in coming forward to do the coverage for their next qualifying campaign. Fiji, Vanuatu, the Solomons, there was nowhere he wouldn't let us fly him.

On 75 minutes, Nani broke through and so nearly scored. Kadlec just got a slight deflection on it, and it flashed over the bar with Cech nowhere. You thought they'd never score.

Then they scored. Moutinho made the run, and got the cross in. Ronaldo got across Selassie, put his head to it and directed it down. It wasn't actually his best effort of the game. Down is the right place to put it, but it bounced slightly too early, and passed the keeper at a savable height. Fortunately for Portugal it was fast enough to beat Cech's diving reach.

The commentator took the opportunity to go off on one about Ronaldo, as they do like to. Apparently if you include Real's pre-season fixtures last summer he's played almost 12 months of continuous football, and you have to give him credit for that. I'd probably have nodded off by September at the latest.

Pereira had a good shot, with a chance to finish things off, but the keeper saved well. The Portuguese manager decided to put safety first, and brought on defensive midfielder Custodio for Nani. Yes, Custodio. Or Custodio Miguel Dias de Castro, to give him his full name. Now you know what I said about Miguel Veloso above, so you know what I affect to think on the subject of players putting their first name on their shirts, but if you're a defensive midfielder whose real name is Custodio there may be some excuse.

With three minutes left, Ronaldo fell over in the box and appealed for a penalty. Just like old times. The commentator tried to sugggest he'd been impeded, but Keown brushed the suggestion aside like Norman Hunter squashing a recalcitrant striker.

The Czechs only managed two efforts all game, but when they got a corner in injury time their fans still cheered loyally. Even Cech went up for it, but they didn't manage a strike on goal and he had to scamper back as fast as his little legs would carry him. Limbersky intercepted the Portuguese breakout, giving us one last chance to namecheck him and mention the way he's had me thinking about cheese every time they play, but the whistle blew and the Czechs were on their way home. Which is at least quite close.

Portugal face the longest journey home of any team at the Championships. But not yet.