Band of Brothers

The look on the faces of the Azzurri, dejected and defeated, with tear-streaked cheeks told us that they had dared to think that they might win this game and yet the match finished with them comprehensively beaten and the world of punditry hailing the Spaniards as the greatest international team of all time, better even than the 1970 Brazilians! 

How sweet it was to watch Fernando Torres take the electrically-charged air, with his bemused little ones, once the evening’s business was complete; to see the serene self-confidence returning to his frame at the end of his seesawing season.  How had the mighty fallen, from idol at Liverpool who walked on water to a bit-part player at Chelsea on whom Abramovich had wasted fifty million pounds; and now, just a few weeks later, the proud owner of Champions’ League and Uefa 2012 winners’ medals.  But it would be unfair to single out any one player or any single reason why we are all (save those who dared hope for an Italian win) tonight celebrating Spain’s victory with such a feeling of joyousness, of having watched something especially wonderful.

It’s true they have an exceptional squad of players but no matter how talented they may be it takes a rare sense of togetherness to coalesce accomplished individuals into a coherent entity, and that unity, that sense of being a band of brothers comes from charismatic leadership.  We must doff our hats to Vicente Del Bosque whose sotto voce command of the situation is perhaps informed, not only by his long and varied career as both player and manager, but also by having been a member of the Spanish National team when they flattered to deceive and failed to deliver.

I reiterate my belief that it is far more than chance that these great players are in Kiev, today, together.  They are the product of a system that first nurtures and celebrates the creativity of players before it concerns itself with the detail of winning games.  Do we really care whether ten year olds win or lose?  I suspect not.  But how proud are we when good players come together, become a great team and win a great victory!

How clever William Shakespeare was, when he composed Henry-the-Fifth’s St Crispin’s Day speech, putting into the mouth of the King those immortal words…. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.  For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.  I am sure every member of that Spanish squad can relate to such sentiments this night even though it be 1^st July and not 25^th October. 

England of course have The Bard but, in footballing terms, not much else when compared with Spain.  It is to be hoped that we don’t console ourselves with last November’s 1-0 win at Wembley.  We, it is generally accepted, were bested by the team that, tonight, was thrashed 4-0 by the Spaniards.  That is where we are!