Viva la España - A Spanish perspective of Euro 2008

It's been quite a fortnight for Spain in the world of sport. They became European Football Champions for the first time since 1964 last Sunday. And, Rafael Nadal Parera, just 22 years of age, became the first Spaniard to win Wimbledon since Manolo Santana back in 1966. Great achievement by the Reino de España, and one which will be remembered for a long time to come.

This year's Euro Championships, which were held in the scenic locales of Austria and Switzerland, promised a lot from the usual suspects, i.e., France, Italy, Germany and Portugal. Each of them, however, with the obvious exception of Germany, were despicable to say the very least. Then there were the underdogs which took the form of Spain and the Netherlands, of course. Spain have always flattered to deceive on the big stage, as have Netherlands, though the latter have had fewer "barren" years than the former. La Selección, or the national football team of Spain, have had some fantastic players down the years, which include the likes of José Antonio Camacho, Vicente del Bosque, Fernando Hierro, Luis Enrique, Josep Guardiola, Fernando Morientes, Raul Gonzalez et al. But despite their presence, the National team have been awful in big tournaments down the years. World Cup Q/F appearances at Mexico '86, U.S.A. '94 and Korea '02 gave some hopes to the ailing Spanish fans, who have for long been subdued and dissatisfied with their team's performances. Quarter Final appearances at England '96 and Netherlands '00 were all they have been able to muster as far as the Euro Championships are concerned. Spain have always been a great football team to watch. But they have also been producing predictable outcomes when the stage is big, and definitely have themselves to blame for their own downfall.

But this was supposed to be the year when Spain broke the shackles, came out of their shell, and paved way for a new era in Spanish Football. Equipped with a team which was arguably the strongest at this year's championships, Luis Aragones, the coach, had everything going for him. An arsenal of weaponry that any manager would be proud of. An armoury which boasted the likes of superstars of the class and panache of Fernando Torres, Cesc Fabregas, Xavi, Iker Casillas, David Villa and the likes, was deemed to be more than enough to last the distance. Some said Aragones was lucky to have such a brilliant set of players at his disposal. But the clever ones realized that it takes a lot more than just star names to win major tournaments. Team work, determination, concentration, ability to adapt to situations, communication with fellow squad members, mental toughness and work ethic are some of the most vital requirements that a player in a national team must have. And it is the job of the manager to inculcate these factors into his players. And that is where Luis Aragones comes into the picture. He may be almost 70 years of age, but he has not lost an ounce of passion when it comes to football. Having been a successful player as well as manager for La Liga giants Atletico Madrid during his hey-day, Aragones knew what it takes to be successful. And it was up to him to guide his young team to glory, and repay the unbelievable faith that the supporters have shown over the years. The stage was set, the expectations were high, and the fervent desire to bring the glory days back to the Iberian nation had never been this great.

The opening game against Russia proved to be the match which set the tone for the rest of the tournament for Spain. Playing some breathtaking football, Spain swept aside the challenge posed by the wily Russians with such class and ease, that it seemed to be poetry in motion on a football field. Fans and pundits alike drooled over their amazing performance which saw them win the game 4-1, with David Villa, the prolific Valencia hitman, bagging a hat-trick. It was a complete performance, which had their fans believing in them once again. But if you are an ardent follower of Spain, you will realize that it is best not to be over-confident. And it proved to be that way in the next group match against Sweden. Spain won the game 2-1, but their performance was anything but spectacular. They were outplayed for large amounts of the game by the Scandinavians, but they held their nerve and won the match thanks to an extra-time goal by David Villa. The pundits earmarked this game to be the start of
the ever-so-predictable downfall of the Spanish Aramada. But the Spanish fans knew that there was more to this. The ability to win matches even when you're playing badly is something which defines a champion. And as badly as they had played, the end result was that they won the game. And that was what was expected of them. That was what mattered most. They were now officially in the Quarter Finals, which compelled the manager to rest his ENTIRE team for the next game against the defending champions Greece. Such was the bench strength of Spain that they played an entirely new look team which was still very very strong. The likes of Pepe Reina, Cesc Fabregas, Xabi Alonso, Dani Guiza, Ruben De La Red and Raul Albiol produced a match-winning performance that gave the manager a selection headache for the future games. Fabregas, in particular, was the chief orchestrator in the middle, and he guided his team to a 2-1 win over the Greeks. So it was 3 out of 3 for the Spaniards. It was a statement of intent. It was a warning for the rest of the competitors in the tournament. No one dared to take the Spanish lightly from now on.

The Q/F was the first massive test for them. Playing against the current World Champions Italy, who were surprisingly defensive, was no walk in the park. Indeed Italy were shorn of their midfield generals Adrea Pirlo and Genaro Gattuso. But their replacements in the form of Alberto Aquilani and Daniel De Rossi did not disappoint. Their strategy was simply to take the game into extra-time and possibly into a penalty shoot-out. They managed to do both. Spain had the best chances of the game, but they could not break down the resilient Italians. The penalty shoot-out beckoned, and with two of the best goal-keepers of this generation on either side, it was anybody's guess as to who would emerge as victors in this gripping encounter. But eventually, justice was served when Cesc Fabregas buried the penalty past the hapless Gigi Buffon with perfection and composure that belied his tender age of 21. It more or less erased any lingering doubts that the Spanish always bottled it in big games. This was the start of something special. The players could feel it. The fans could feel it. There was no denying it. "Bring them Russians on!!" was the mantra, for it was the Russians who stood firmly between Spain and a "Final" appearance. It would be no easy task though, for Russia had their chief playmaker in Andrei Arshavin back from suspension. He single-handedly won the game for his country against the resurgent Dutch, and that was saying something!

But the momentum that Spain had gathered proved to be too much for the Russians. They played the same one-touch football that had brought them so far in the tournament. An unfortunate injury to David Villa early in the game compelled the coach to make an early substitution, and it was Cesc Fabregas who was brought on. Tactically, it would now be 4-5-1 with Torres playing alone up-top, and Cesc playing in a more advanced role just behind him as a second striker/attacking midfielder. The loss of their top goalscorer was a cause of concern for the Spanish. But it proved to be a blessing in disguise for them, as the substitute, Fabregas, produced a stunning performance in the middle of the park. His link-ups with Fernando Torres produced incessant opportunities for the team, and it brought a new attacking verve to their play. The Russians had been subdued completely by the brilliant defending of Sergio Ramos, the commanding midfield general role of the ever-dependable Xavi, the zippy play of David Silva and Andres Iniesta, and the genius of a legend-in-the-making: Cesc Fabregas. The Russians clearly had too much on their plate, and eventually lost the game 3-0. They were annihilated. Fabregas, the Man Of The Match, produced two spectacular assists, and led his team to an easy win over the Czars of Russia. Spain could believe now. They could feel the excitement. They were in the finals for the first time since 1964. They were *this* close to glory now.

The Finale was against the Germans, the favorites of the tournament, at the Ernst Happel Stadion in Vienna, Austria. A capacity crowd of 55,000 people was there to witness a match between two giants of Europe. It was a lip-smacking proposition for the neutral. The technically astute Spanish were pitted against the more direct and effective Germans. This was going to be a cracker. A perfect end to a brilliant tournament. The initial exchanges between the teams were full of caution. Each team waited for the other to make the first defining move. But as the game wore on, the possession play of Spain was clearly detrimental to the directness of the Germans. The Iberians passed better, had better vision, and had the attacking intent that their counterparts seemed to lack. They move forward fearlessly, and the Germans were pegged back into their own half, and were forced to hit on the break. Every Spanish player was up for it. Marcos Senna, the Brazil-born Spanish national, was at the heart of the midfield. He broke up play effortlessly, and marked Michael Ballack out of the game with such effectiveness, that it induced many fans to actually confirm with the help of the team sheets whether the German captain was actually on the field or not. His defensive play had made him one of the players of the tournament. The eventual winner of that accolade, though, was Xavi Hernandez. Every Spanish move simply HAD to take place with him involved at the heart of it all. His ability to be at the right place at the right time was what had made him such a vital component in the Spanish juggernaut. Fabregas had an uncharacteristically subdued game, though he had played his part for Spain already. Iniesta and Silva caused the German full-backs ample problems, and with the injury to Philip Lahm at H/T, things got even worse for the Germans. Casillas had a calming influence at the back, while Sergio Ramos and Joan Capdevila aided their wingers with wonderfully timed overlapping runs. The Spanish engine was reminiscent of the Rolls-Royce engine: dependable, powerful, monstrous and equipped with horse-power that could put your Mercs and Porsches to shame. They had the class of a Rolls-Royce to go along with it as well.

Fernando Torres opened the scoring with as good a goal as you will see in big tournaments like these. The sheer acceleration with which he nonchalantly passed Philip Lahm and the sheer composure with which he flicked the ball over the advancing Jens Lehmann into the empty net sent shivers down my spine. The Spanish went wild. They were 1-0 up and things were clearly on their side at the moment. But they did not stop. They tried to take the game beyond the reach of the Kaisers, but it wasn't to be. The Germans had a brief period of resurgence in the second half, with Bastian Schweinsteiger and Lukasz Podolski trying their best to grab an undeserved equalizer.
But justice was served once again. There would be no twist in this one. There would be no extra time. There would no penalty shoot-out. There would be no scope of heartbreak for the Balkan nation.

As the final whistle blew, you could see an overflow of emotion from fans and players alike. A nation which was on the brink of mockery on the world stage had just been reborn. A nation which had been so painfully unsuccessful for the past 44 years finally had something to be happy about. A nation which had generations and generations of supporters who were left distraught was now no longer its former self.
There was wild celebration at the Ernst Happel, whose very foundations shook when the fans shouted out at the final whistle. The players were overcome with joy and satisfaction. It probably did not occur to them what they had just done. They did something which none of their ancestors after 1964 could do. They had finally brought glory to their country. A glory which was richly deserved. A glory which was achieved by some of the best football ever played in the European Championship. Even the most ardent of Anti-Spaniards took their hats off to this achievement of monumental proportions. The youth of Spain had done it! And how!

The Germans were sour. The look on their faces said it all. You could have been forgiven to think that they were robbed. But they had no reason to feel that way. Truth be told, they could count themselves lucky to have won the Semi-Final against an injury-ravaged Turkish team. They were second best in the final too. They simply could not deal with the artistic football that Spain produced in abundance. The Spanish gave them a lesson in class. And i think the Germans ought to be magnanimous in defeat. They played well for much of the tournament, but there was no denying the Spaniards the crown. They fully deserved it, and only a imbecile would disagree with that.

So is this the dawn of a new era in Spanish football? Is this the start of a renaissance? Is this the moment where the Spanish will finally turn the corner and go uphill towards the dizzy heights of European and World supremacy? Much of their current squad have players who still have their best years ahead of them. Casillas is just 27. Ramos, just 22. Fabregas and Silva are just 21. Iniesta is just 24. Xavi is 28. Torres and Villa are 24 and 27 respectively. This is the core of the team. If this team wants to continue winning major honours, the team will have to be built around these stalwarts. The heroes of this tournament. With youngsters like Bojan Krkić, Fran Merida, Miguel Torres and Diego Capel to complement the current champions, few would bet against Spain being the favorites for World Cup 2010.

Will this revolutionize the Spanish game forever? Well, only time will tell. But for now, ¡Enhorabuena a España!.