18
VIENNA — The Spanish fans dance wherever they go. They put on a show. Drums, dancing, singing, guys dressed as matadors and women in flowing dresses. It's an injection of infectious rhythm into every soccer occasion.
The Italian fans sing. They chant with gusto. They roar. But they don't dance.
Spain plays a dancing sort of soccer, all energy, exquisite co-ordination and connection. Italy doesn't. Italy usually wins in big tournaments and has crushed, over the decades, Spanish hearts with a mixture of skill, dour tactical aggression and sometimes just aggression.
It ain't so any more. Italy is out of Euro 2008. Deservedly out. Justice is done. Italy no longer deserved to be here. There should be no Italian tears. Sunday, playing a cynical game of keep-possession and slow-the-pace, Italy did nothing to add to the often superb, flowing soccer that has characterized this tournament.
Related Articles
The game ended 0-0. The extra time ended 0-0. It was all decided on penalty kicks. Then the Spanish fans danced and danced with manic joy.
This game carried the burden of history. Spain's desire to beat Italy went way beyond the team's desire to get to the semi-finals this week. It was a desire to throw off the burden of history and change the soccer world's view of Spain as a country of gifted soccer players who always failed as soon as the pressure of a big tournament arrived.
As far as Spain was concerned, that perception of failure was unfair. What was looked on as failure was sometimes down to the ruthlessness of Italy.
No player on this Spanish side could have been unaware of what happened in 1994 and why it had special meaning for this quarter-final game against Italy.
In 1994, Spain played Italy in a World Cup quarter-final.
Roberto Donadoni, the current coach of Italy, was part of the Italian team. Italy was leading 2-1 and Spain was fighting desperately for an equalizer. In the dying minutes, it was all pressure from Spain. The Italians looked shaky. Then Luis Enrique sprang into the Italian penalty area, chasing an excellent cross. Instead of meeting the ball, he met the full force of Italian Mauro Tassotti's elbow. Blood poured from his nose and down his face.
The referee didn't see it. There was no punishment, even as Enrique shoved his bloodied face into that of the referee. Everyone else appeared to have seen it. Later, such was the outcry that footage of Tassotti's brutal blow to Enrique's face was studied by the Fédération Internationale de Football Association and Tassotti was, retrospectively, barred for several games. But the result stood, of course. Spain seemed cursed.
Sunday's game, in which Spain finally made the breakthrough, and Italy departed, was, for the most part, dire to watch. The first 45 minutes was all ultracautious soccer. Italy's defence was rock solid and successfully quelled the attacking speed of Fernando Torres and David Villa for Spain. Faced with a bolted door, Spain seemed content to linger outside the Italian goalmouth. Chances were few and there was almost no action in either goalmouth.
The second half was only a little livelier, but frustration was evident. From both sides, there were absurd claims of injury. Spain's coach, Luis Aragones, made a double substitution, sending on Cesc Fabregas and Santi Cazorla for Xavi and Andres Iniesta. Italy made substitutions, too, and it was substitute Mauro Camoranesi who got the first real chance, but was blocked by sprawling Spanish goalkeeper Iker Casillas. Everything still stood at 0-0 as the 90 minutes ended.
It was only in the 30 minutes of extra time that the game became open, gripping and fast. Spain finally introduced its fluency and swift passing and came close twice. Italy responded with more verve, and Donadoni introduced talismanic Alessandro Del Piero. But tired legs on both sides were causing countless mistakes.
The penalty shootout was memorable. Villa scored for Spain and Fabio Grosso for Italy, then Cazorla scored for Spain again. Then, when Casillas made a spectacular dive to save against Daniele De Rossi, one sensed that history was in the making. There was a moment when time seemed to stop, as Italy's keeper, Gianluigi Buffon, saved against Daniel Guiza. But then it happened. Casillas repeated his extraordinary act and saved Antonio Di Natale's kick. All that was needed was Fabregas to beat Buffon, and he did. Then the dancing started.
Italy had had a poor tournament. It goes out without any reason to feel aggrieved. It was hopeless in a loss to the Netherlands, dogged but unimaginative against Romania and dogged but downright lucky against France. Against Spain, it tried cynicism, but it was cynicism playing against heart and a hope anchored in a bitter history.
Spain deserved this triumph for the breathtaking, dancing movement of its play in the tournament, and for old-time sake.
