The Euros have not been great so far. Quite a number of average matches, no breakout players and an insistence on high-pressing football as the ONLY way to address the modern game has meant it’s not been a classic.
So far, it’s the sublime beauty of England’s creative flair that has, alone, moved the dial. Only kidding! If you support them, I commiserate with you. It must be frustrating to be promised so much and to see so little so timidly delivered. And yes, that’s a very obvious bald political analogy – thank you, thankyouverymuch.
In truth, only the freewheeling, frantic chaos of Türkiye has offered genuine never-know-what-to-expect-next excitement.
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One benefit of Euro 2024 is the increase in Roy Keane on screen. I loved Keane as a player, as a manager and now as a pundit. The essential Roy Keane-ness has always been at his core. Relatively small, wiry,
taciturn, tough, brilliant, terrifying.
In later years he introduced a beard that, during his period as second in command of the Republic of Ireland team, was so grey, wild and insistent that it seemed to inhabit its own even deeper realm of Roy Keane-ness. If you were a player subbed for an under-par performance, and The Beard moved towards you, even Martin O’Neill, the boss, with his lifebuoy of bonhomie, could not save you.