Spain's victory untainted by luck.

Spain were the best team at Euro 2008 and they won - what a relief.

The Spaniards defended, they passed, they created and they scored - all better than any other team, from beginning to end. How reassuring. Football is not, afterall, a lottery of erratic moments that starts with a coin toss and finishes with penalties. Cause can lead to effect, good football can win you football matches.

In recent years knockout competitions, particularly at international level, have become shoot out of chance. Four years ago Greece were a disciplined and conditioned
outfit that, in a few critical instances, caught the kiss of fortune and won the European Championships. More recently Turkey beat Croatia in a fit of insanity, governed as much by blunder as by brilliance. It makes for unrivalled drama, but makes little sense.

The appreciation of the match, in such circumstances, is based on the personalities and not the art. It is a Hollywood blockbuster compared to a cinematic classic. And once the euphoria of shock has dissipated, it is that much emptier for it.

But the Spanish have redressed the imbalance by marginalising luck in all its forms, and it is a triumph for the game. Football makes sense again, and means so much more for it.

Wenger's champ man fever

Whenever I play championship manager, for some reason, I always target the stars of the future, the next Peles, the new Zidanes, the original ‘mr x’. I shun the established internationals, even if they are on free transfers, in order to unearth a hidden gem in South America or Africa or Scandinavia – the more obscure, the less known, the better. It just seems more of a challenge, more fun to create a championship team from scratch, and ultimately build a dynasty.

With flair and magic they destroy teams 3-0, 4-0, 5-0; playing some of the finest football seen on a subuteo-like simulation graphic. But, inevitably, it ends in shattered dreams with the team of future legends falling short in the final days of the season and winning only plaudits and sympathy. But I draw comfort in the idea they are potentially the greatest team in the world.

I fear Arsene Wenger is similarly addicted to the promise of tomorrow. Last season Arsenal lost the league by points and a million miles. This season they will not be favourite. After they limped to the line in May, in have come a 17-year-old (Ramsey) and a 21-year-old (Nasri), both of whom will be fresh for the season after long stints resting on benches. And out have gone a 24-year-old (Flamini) and a 27-year-old (Hleb), both of whom were reaching a peak. Wenger may not have wanted them to depart but it is difficult to imagine their replacements influencing the title race like a Terry, a Rooney, a Lampard, a Ronaldo, a Torres. The big guns at United and Chelsea will probably decide the end game.

It is said that wise old Wenger is just thrifty. But with outlays of £13 million for Nasri and £18 million for Walcott (and in the past 12 million for Francis Jeffers) suggest he is a visionary with a flaw. Wenger is a genius at discovering youngsters and nurturing into internationals of high value stock but his obsession youth potential this is becoming a weakness.

Shearer fluffing auditions

ALAN SHEARER is increasingly looking like the most uncomfortable person at Euro 2008. With the thunder and lightning terrorising the Austrian night sky, the former England captain figgeted and twitched on the BBC sofa as Germany gave Turkey a taste of their own miracle medicine.

But it was the Martin O'Niell that made him squirm. Perching on his shoulder and interjecting at every opportunity, O'Neill trumped Shearer in every discussion. The Geordie renowned for his pride has slowly been reduced to a stammering, nervous wreck in this Championships, often looking across to Hansen and Lineker for a lifeline.

"Can i just disagree with you there Alan," O'Neill says with the authority of a successful manager. Something his fellow couch potatos cannot compete with.

For Shearer, who harbours managerial ambitions, it is worse. It is an audition. One in front of millions, including chairmen and players, as he pits his tactical wits against a potential rival. Though young, Shearer has suffered as much in his ideas as his fight and conviction.

Ironically the up shot of it all is that Shearer is more settled than ever in his pundits chair. After being snubbed by Newcastle, he turned down Blackburn in favour of his TV commitments. Now he looks like a man whose confidence has burst and a venture out of the studio and onto the training pitch is the last thing he wants.

No end to Scolari tears

WHEN the tears stop for Scolari, the cold sweats will set in. His fresh start at
Chelsea will include a reunion with three of Portugal's back four that aided
the Germans into the semi finals of the Euros. Boswingwa, Ferreira and Carvalho
not only failed to deal with club mate Michael Ballack and his domineering
Germans at set pieces, but also in open play. All three had a wayward foot in the
opening goal.

England cry mercy

England cry mercy

AFTER the mauling in Auckland last Saturday the overriding call eminating from the
England camp is "mercy".
Of course the official line does not deviate from the progressive and positive as
players and management insist that opportunity still outwieghs the potential for
disaster. But it is a sound bite that is increasingly difficult to swallow. Recent
allegations surrounding four members of the squad are at worst an uncomfortable
development.
But it is in the selection of the second test team that England have publicised
their weakness and shown their fear. Not that weakness were hard to spot. It is the
first team pick with Martin Johnson's paw print on it. By removing a creative and
attack oriented player in Barkley with the defensively robust but out of position
Jamie Noon, England are attempting to plug holes in the sinking ship. It is a
negative step that the All Blacks will feast on.
History shows that olicies of containment rarely work. They only serve to encourage
and motivate aggressors as the fear in the opposition is revealed. The crucial
mental battle is up. The aggressors thrive on the confidence while the pacifiers
quiver in the reinforce knowledge of inferiority.
The only guarantee with a damage limitation policy is that there will be damage and
where the All Blacks are involved it is often substantial.

Small guys light up euros; Zero20 vision; England's trauma contiues

A FIST from the grave as Buffon resurrects the World Champion. The Croatians shock the ordinary Germans. The Dutch, the Portuguese and the Spanish struttting, the Swiss, the Greeks and the Austrians faltering. The Euros are beginning to simmer. But the highlight so far has to be the flourishing of the small players that many feared extinct - Deco, Villa, Van der Vaart, Sneider, Modric, Xavi, etc. Not least the playmakers in the centre dictating tempo, manipulating direction and plotting attacks, while runners orbit around the side's nucleus. The small players were once an endangered species, with their place threatened by the physically domineering box-to-boxers or the suffocating ‘holders’, but are now thriving in Switzerland and Austria. In recent years they have been marginalised and ostracised to the flanks- for a time the best, Zidane, was operating on the left for Madrid - or thrust upfront as inside forwards. Xavi, Deco, Sneider, Modric - the midfield shemers are back and re-establishing their authority.

CRICKET have always been towards the studios, patient and even intellectual end of the sports spectrum. But when the cash man cometh they are as crazy as the rest of us. I am struggling, like most i think (the players, administrators and officials included), to understand all these policies, proposals, ideas and inuendo that are flooding into the game. Like global warming no one seems to know what will happen, when and which governing body can make the most money out of it? There seems to be no long term vision or sensible planning, just a mad gold rush. There is no doubt that with these opportunities come with pitfalls and it will be a testing time for test cricket. Let's hope five years down the line we are not cheering for home runs or rounders.

NEW ZEALAND'S rehabilitation begins: England's trauma continues. Despite a competitive opening quarter England were sliced and diced by the brutal All Blacks led by the mercurial Dan Carter. It was a merciless initiation to the the rugby caldron of Auckland. In such situations international futures are decided. Some walking away wounded to fight on, others strapped to the life support machine and refibralators charging. As he was against Argentina at Twickenham two years ago, Charlie Hodgson was halled off like a scolded schoolboy before the 50 minute mark. It apppeared then that time was up for the gifted but fragile fly half, but injuries sent a reprieve in the post. Even a plague declared on all other English fly halfs may not be enough now. He was the sole white shirt to be left grappling with night air, as England's tackling was atrocious, and others will be dented by the occassion. There were chinks of light principally created by Ojo and Rees, who took their chance with gutsy resolve. But with a game to go and a team - particularly the midfield - in tatters there could have more casualties.

Ronaldo's outing; Germany NO! South Africa champions

SO Cristiano Ronaldo has finally come out of the closet - and he is wearing a Real Madrid shirt. No wonder a fuming Sir Alex Ferguson has threatened to go to Switzerland and drag him back by his diamond-encrusted earrings. No wonder Ronaldo has retreated to the sanctuary of the Portuguese squad and the arms of Big Phil Scolari.

Beyond fulfilling his mother’s dreams, the question must be why? It is difficult not to see these flirtations as a cosmetic operation to enlarge his already swollen head, an exercising of his well-established ego.

He has won everything in England and to play in Spain would be a challenge, but at the age of 23 he is (scarily) still developing and sculpting his career. A sudden shift to Spain could disrupt that precarious progress. But more importantly it would be a career path chosen on the romantic notions of the white shirts of the old Real and the glitz of the modern Madrid, image over reality. Madrid claim to be the most famous club in Europe but United can claim to be the best club in Europe. Right here, right now.

It is difficult to see this as anything more than impetuous greed, in the name of money (£150,000 a week some suggest) and stardom. Not necessarily evils, but Ronaldo could be so much more. He must be careful not to trade, or confuse, fame with success.

GERMANY are going to win the European Championships according to the bookies and the pundits; please, please No! This has no jingoistic origins. They have effectiveness, teamwork and the draw but, with Bayern reserves throughout the side and an Aston Villa reject on the left (Hitzleperger), they are not the most talented team out there. France have youth and experience in enticing measures, Holland are as talented and unstable as ever and Spain shimmer with potential. It does not happen often, but with England excluded for once we can back the best team to win.

TWO English cricketers must be pretty miffed at present. Two track records, one of patchy brilliance and the other of constant belligerence, but neither are enough for Harmison and Hoggard find a place in the team. They were ruthlessly, and rightly, jettisoned from the England Test team when their performances dropped below the brilliant and the constant. But they must feel aggrieved to see Collingwood and Bell continuously protected in the face of recurrent failure. And how about Bopara and Shah. Maybe, after the pairs latest failing in the third test, the benevolence is set to end and the selectors are preparing for another clinical axing.

SOUTH AFRICA have served notice – they will be rugby World Champions in both title and deed. By beating Wales, the Six Nation Champions 43-17, they ended the, oh so, romantic Warren Gatland/Sean Edwards honeymoon in the high altitude of Bloemfontain.

England and Rooney four years on; Andy Murray and Lawrence Dallaglio

A FEW nights ago England beat Croatia in Euro 2004 on ESPN Classic – so much, and yet so little, has changed since then. The personalities are almost identical, the image irreconcilable. There was a freshness, excitement and anticipation surrounding the team. Granted they were in a major tournament but it was a team in its infancy, a team of unforeseeable potential, and a team to show off to the world. In Sven we trust was the mantra; Roonaldo was the chant. With heart stopping energy and guaranteed spontaneity, the raw 18-year-old Wayne Rooney personified the team, and so the faith festered. But it was all in the mind’s eye.

Four years on and it’s a tainted band of capped internationals, dulled by defeat and sullied by failure. What a good player Rooney has become, but the legendry status we assumed a formality is not guaranteed and the succession is precarious. In those early days he traded on physicality, allied to an accomplished skill level, to defy his tender years and enhance his precocious reputation. Now something extra is needed to hit the Messi and Ronaldo heights, and similarly England need something extra. The aura of potential greatness has slipped by. Hope has sprung a leak. Still Capello seems the right man to introduce a steel-capped dose of realism.

DESPITE its obvious appeals, tennis is often a tedious sport to watch but Andy Murray renders it indigestible. My timing must be poor because each time I see his matches one thing strikes me: 11th best in the world, how? But more infuriating than his consistent errors, perplexing shot selection and mental frailties is his ugly and uninterested demeanour. The hunched shoulders, the scuffing trainers, and the muttering grumbles – protestation requires passion – are all so sapping and tiresome. Sports fans are all failed sports stars, and when the privileged few appear apathetic to their fortune, lethargic in the face of opportunity and fail even to raise a smile to their circumstances, it is hard to find the enthusiasm. More unjust criticism for the maligned Murray? Or is our summer sports(recreational) culture too soft?

IT takes a brave man to steal Lawrence Dallaglio’s thunder. But in the retiring international’s own ball-breaking style, young back row colleague’s James Haskell and Tom Rees did just that as Wasps won the Guiness Premiership yesterday. In the first half particularly, the two snarling flankers blitzed Leicester’s lumbering back row as though they had been caged and starved for months. The most complimentary aspect of Dallaglio’s legacy is surely fearsome predatory instincts of his protégés, who guarantee a healthy future for Wasps and England.