So with one round of the Euro Championships gone, the time for hype has died and everyone have put down their markers. The big guns seem to be back in full force to avenge the utter humiliation of Euro 2004 and this is shaping up to be a classic tournament.

I would imagine the betting syndicates in the nether regions of society are well pleased at this mostly predictable course of events. With England absent (feel free to burst out laughing at the Poms; I certainly do), all the talk is for a change about the football and not whose girlfriend wears what fragrance and who roasted who, when and for how long.

The Germans have been efficient, powerful and organised. Typically Teutonic, you might say; now for Adidas to make some breathable lederhosen and the stereotype would be complete. Steady in defence and devilishly quick going forward, assured seems to be a word invented to describe their style of play. What was also incredible is how they were obviously playing within themselves, as if they were doing just enough to satisfy the objectives of one, winning comfortably; and two, sending a message to their opponents that they mean business this time around. Michael Ballack (if Beckenbauer is Der Kaiser, would he be Der Bismarck?) and Miroslav Klose seemed to be in cruising gear, which should worry a few people.

Portugal were all that was expected of them — flash, swift, flowing, incisive, good to look at, and not without a bit of drama, as the goal posts would attest. Like any Scolari side, they were solid enough at the back. You get the feeling they need to fine-tune their attack just a bit more for the big teams, and their defence is so dependent on the steadying influence of Ricky Carvalho (in my view, Chelsea’s player of the season past) that he is as key to their fortunes as the thoroughbreds upfront.

France, oh France. Their limp display probably did more than anything else to show just how immense Zidane’s influence was to their cause. Certainly they have the talent, and it was there in glimpses against Romania, but without a talisman (Henry, the stage is set for you here) to grab the team by the scruff of their necks and take them to glory, they seemed directionless. They’ve left themselves a hard task to get out of their group. This could be the stage for a young gun (Ribery, Nasri) to step out of the shadows.

Holland were just classy (Holland hup!). Rinus Michels must be smiling in his grave after that display. Maybe not total football yet, but totally magnificent nonetheless. And like that Dutch village boy with his finger in the dyke (stop sniggering at the back there!) they didn’t relent once they had Italy on the ropes. How many pacy youngsters can one nation have? It was like watching L’Arse, except they had penetration to go with the build-up (again, the sniggering!).

On that goal, Ruud was born off-side, so regardless of where Panucci was he would have been in the same spot 99 times out of 100, at least. That is not to detract from a performance that was as accomplished as it was surprising. Now we know why Benitez persists with Dirk Kuyt; with the right talent around him, that man’s work rate will win you many games. Stats show he covered more ground than any man on the night and, unlike with ‘Pool, you could see the worth of his efforts. Now, any chance of a byline volley à la 1986 to seal the deal? Please?

Italy, eish. You know that old chestnut about the Italian tanks in World War II? Six reverse gears (one forward) and a pop-out white flag on the main cannon? So much for “Catenaccio”, hey? Once the Dutch got on top, the Azzuri just wilted. Are the Italians really that dependent on Cannavaro at the back? And do they have the mental strength to recover from this? I say, bring on little Alessi del Piero; as with France, now is the time for a talismanic figure to make the team believe they have that extra 10% in them. This side is not without talent (Pirlo, De Rossi), experience (Buffon, Materazzi), guts (Gattusso) or ability (Toni et al). Someone needs to take matters into his own hands and by dint of effort or charisma get the boys going forward with purpose.

Spain. If they were any other country, I would install them as my second favourites after Germany. But ignore history at your own peril, hey? Their performance was as complete as any seen in the Euro Championships and each of their goals was an example of well-worked tactical mastery allied to great skill and no small amount of self-confidence. Kudos to Luis Aragones (an otherwise meritless man — see the Thierry Henry/Jose Reyes “monkey” episode) for resisting the urge to do like the English and shoehorn his best players into the starting XI at all costs. Instead, he picked his best complete XI. Fabregas on the bench? That is a huge call right there — more cojones than a coming-out ball in San Francisco, I tell you. That it paid off is really no less than he deserves. But as we all know, this is Spain; them winning a major tournament seems bizarre enough a thought. Expect a spectacular collapse any time soon. Pass the paella.

Finally, anyone else still find it funny that England are not there?

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  • Siyabonga Ntshingila is a walking example of how not to go through life productively. Having been chanced his lackadaisical way through an education at one of the country's finest boys schools and a noted university, he then proceeded to unleash his special brand of inertia on the unsuspecting corporate world. Alas, as with all things in life, the scam could not go on forever, and like a deVaselined Ananias Mathe reality caught up with him and he is now (thanks to the undue influence of his beloved) making a living as a freelance writer and a sub-editor for Newstime.

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Siyabonga Ntshingila

Siyabonga Ntshingila is a walking example of how not to go through life productively. Having been chanced his lackadaisical way through an education at one of the country's finest boys schools and a...

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