FULL BODY IMMERSION in an international tournament doesn’t leave room for much else. Family and friends fit in around the football. You see other events, global and local, tragic and trivial, in peripheral vision. The matches keep on coming.
The only way to make sense of it all is to use a classic literary device made famous by Craig David in his masterpiece, 7 Days.
FRIDAY – ALL PATIO FURNITURE MUST GO
I had no sooner clicked send on last week’s column, which declared that expansion to 24 teams would make Euro 2016 a friendly, cuddly, lovable affair, when the first item of café patio furniture began to arc its way across the Marseille night sky. My idea – that the infusion of plucky underdogs would flood the Euros with heartwarming narratives – was getting a pummelling, like a drunken England fan under the crack of a riot policeman’s baton. Braying English yobs, twitchy French police, naughty locals and terrifying Russian ultras – the toxic brew of Marseille poisoned the opening days of the tournament, and the taste lingered as the factions moved north to Lille.
SATURDAY – COMMENTATORS CURSE, BUT IN REVERSE
England’s first game of the tournament is also our first live match. It’s a time to step up to the plate, to be bold, to seize the moment. Just ask Keith Andrews.
“What is Eric Dier doing taking this free-kick?!” – cries co-commentator Keith seconds before the Spurs midfielder smacks England’s goal past Russian keeper Igor Akinfeev. “I’m eating my humble pie here, Trev!” he magnanimously adds as England celebrate.
When I pick him up on it later in the week, Keith comes armed. Dier apparently hadn’t taken a direct free-kick in 65 Premier League appearances for Tottenham, he tells me. Lies, damned lies and statistics.
CHILLED ON SUNDAY
Turkey vs Croatia is a more relaxed affair on Sunday, Luka Modric inspiring his team to an ultimately deserved win. On the subject of the Euros forcing global events to the margins, I realise I am missing a Donegal match in the GAA championship for the first time, either in person or on telly, since the 2003 All-Ireland semi-final. That time I was marooned on a Greek island on holiday, with neither radio, Irish pub, nor carrier pigeon to get the score. This time I can see a Vine of Odhran MacNiallais’s goal out of the corner of one eye, while the other is watching Modric’s similarly sweet strike in Parc Des Princes. What times we live in.
MONDAY – IRELAND: THE REALITY SHOW
Donegal goals aside, every other inch of social media video content features green-jerseyed rascals and their high jinks in Paris. It is no longer enough to travel abroad, get pissed up and support Ireland. Now, you must travel abroad, get pissed up and support Ireland while being filmed doing mad things. The Irish Fans™ have become a reality TV sensation, a social media juggernaut. Keeping Up With The On-The-Lashians.
They are offering a 360° multimedia experience, from the charming (fixing that old couple’s tyre) to the hilarious (Balcony Man) to the annoying (leave that poor nun alone, lads). Everything must be recorded, posted and shared, or it hasn’t happened. TIF™ are coming to a sophisticated arrondisement near you soon, before moving on, leaving only piss, vomit and good vibes in their wake. This is high concept support, and that concept is: Aren’t We Great Altogether?
And yes, I am just jealous.
TUESDAY – JONNY BE GOOD
The mood is of rueful positivity after the draw against Sweden, but Paul McShane has me worried. He has pointed out — and is amazed that no-one else has noticed it — Jonny Walters’ role in Ireland’s goal. He does a piece of analysis showing how Walters nudges a Swedish defender out of the way as Seamus Coleman’s cross drifts toward Wes Hoolahan. It’s barely perceptible but just opens a channel of space for Wes’s shot.
McShane explains the brilliance of Walters, which I have often suspected but never fully grasped. “He’s just so clever, he’s really subtle about it. It’s totally deliberate. Jonny’s such an intelligent player — game intelligence — on top of the work he does covering back.”
Would a fit Walters have allowed Sweden so much space on the right side throughout the game? The realisation of how ill we can afford to lose any of our handful of key players becomes stark.
WEDNESDAY – TOGETHER STRONGER
Through the murk of tear gas and rain, my hopes for a soul-enriching Euros have finally burst through. Hungary’s victory over Austria and Iceland’s draw with Portugal were big results for two of the weakest teams in the tournament and gave us the scenes of unbridled joy that make a tournament special. Despite TIF™ social media assault, seeing long-downtrodden nations getting their moment in the sun (or interminable rain) has been the fan experience of the tournament so far.
His comments about Iceland suggest Cristiano Ronaldo may not agree, but the message of the opening week has been how those teams that have depended on good organisation, collective spirit and unified purpose have outdone those based on randomly scattered individual brilliance. Italy, Hungary, Iceland, Northern Ireland, even doughty Albania, who held out in Marseille until France’s awesome weaponry eventually prevailed – all showed the value of togetherness and structure. Is there a Brexit metaphor in there somewhere?
THURSDAY
Roy Hodgson’s Remain campaign gets a massive boost thanks to timely contributions from Jamie Vardy and Daniel Sturridge, while Northern Ireland finally arrive at the party with their famous win over Ukraine in the hail (hail!) of Lyon. A good thing too, because Michael O’Neill’s team is the ultimate case of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, that running Euro 2016 theme, so it would have been a shame for them not get in on the act at the finals.
During that game, word comes through about the tragic death of British MP Jo Cox, victim of a madman, but whose murder seems linked to the ongoing attack of extremism and intolerance on better values. Pushing outside events to the periphery of one’s mind to focus on the football is difficult and feels crass at this moment.
But the matches keep on coming.
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