Team of the Tournament (so far)

After the group stage, it seems customary to make a team of the tournament so far. With a whole day of cold turkey where we've all been jonesing for another hit of live football (just hours to go now, hang in there), we've had time to think. This is often a dangerous thing, but we've tried to keep it positive. Here's our XI of the players we've most enjoyed watching. Most enjoyed watching - not 'best'. Therefore we're not saying that this is the best team, formation, anything. We like these dudes the bestest just because.

Goalkeeper: Przemyslaw Tyton
We like the resurgence of the goalkeeper as captain - Buffon, Lloris, Casillas - in the Dino Zoff envelope, but as Roy Carroll will testify, there's one way to make yourself an instant hero: make your first touch of the ball a penalty save. Moreover, the last time we saw Tyton play was in the Eredivisie early in the season where he was wiped out by a team-mate's knee to the noggin, prompting the little seen double figures on the added-time board. Coming on in the opening game following Wojciech Szczesny, he turned Giorgios Karagounis's penalty away earning himself near-legend status in the blink of an eye.

Defence: Mats Hummels, Theodor Gebre Selassie, Olof Mellberg

Olof Mellberg is the manliest man alive. Hewn from granite 34 years ago, he looks as good as he ever did. Frankly, UEFA have a right cheek to credit his second goal against England to a Glen Johnson own goal. The ball was in. Also, cool beard.

It's our thesis here that the full-backs are the most important players on the field in the modern game. Gebre Selassie looks every inch the part. He gets forward, he's comfortable on the ball, he looks good in defence. What's not to love?
Mats Hummels is just brilliant.

Enduring image of the tournament

Midfield: Andrea Pirlo, Xavi, Andres Iniesta, Yohan Cabaye, Luka Modric
Yes, we've picked a midfield of tiny football pixies, but we like tiny football pixies. We could watch all five of these all day long. Pirlo's range of passing is incredible, his free-kick against Croatia magnificent. Good luck to Spain and Barcelona finding a new Xavi, Cabaye is a real driving force in the French midfield, has a bit of bite in the tackle and thunderous shot on him. Modric did his level best to drag Croatia into the knockout stages and but for a brilliant Iker Casillas save would have done just that. But the king among the princes is Andres Iniesta.
Ahh, Iniesta. What can you say that these pictures don't?

Not a lot really.

Forwards: Karim Benzema, Mario Mandzukic

He hasn't scored yet, but Benzema's all-round play has been quite outstanding. He's a man on top of his game after a stellar season in Spain, he's quick, strong and inventive and has looked right up for it from the off in this tournament.

Mandzukic has found the net, been a massive handful for whoever he's been up against and is a bit of a throwback to an old-style, hairy-arsed centre-forward. Strong, powerful and direct - there's a lot to be said for that.

Who to manage that lot though? It's a choice of two. We like Erik Hamren turning up dressed like Terry Griffiths circa 1979, but it can only really be Slaven Bilic, mainly because we'd fear being bundled into the boot of a car, driven to some wasteland and buried under a new motorway fly-over if we didn't appoint him. Oh, and the suit-and-beanie look is coming to a high street near you soon, whether you like it or not (HINT: you do like it, or else).

Yesterday at the Euros #7

Why oh why oh why is this tournament serving up so many great games? It's difficult to keep up. And we had two more yesterday.

It looked like Italy were going to overwhelm Croatia, especially after Andrea Pirlo's sumptuous free-kick. Mario Balotelli was more switched on than in the opening game, as was Antonio Cassano, but the Italians couldn't get that crucial second goal. Instead, Mario Mandzukic brought a deep cross down on his toe and smashed it on off the far post. 1-1 it remained through the flares.

The second game lasted, as a contest, for all of four minutes. Someone replaced the sad version of Fernando Torres with the Fernando Torres that scored a bunch of goals for Liverpool and Atletico Madrid and it was this non-sad version of Torres that seized upon some lackadaisical defending and lashed one past Shay Given. Ireland circled the wagons and they held out for exactly 45 minutes until David Silva decided to take the piss. Andres Iniesta's shot came back off Given and Silva swooped on the rebound, told the defence what he was going to do and did it anyway. With 20 minutes left, non-sad Torres was set free and slotted one past Given. Shortly after, Cesc Fabregas was brought on for Spain and he finished another chance from a tight angle as if to say "I'll show you for not starting me". Ireland are out. Trappatoni - that unpretty blend of the Pope, Bishop Len Brennan and Gary Oldman's Dracula - finally brought James McClean on, but only at 3-0 down with 15 minutes to go. Madness. Almost as mad as Gerard Pique playing centre-forward with Damien Duff marking him.

Ireland are out, but could be kingmakers should they beat Italy. That seems unlikely. Basically, everyone needs to win.

Tomorrow, it's Sweden v England and France against Ukraine.

The Languid XI

You know the sort. The player who looks like football is just a bothersome task that gets in the way of looking effortlessly cool. Like exerting oneself is the worst thing a person can do. Like they could take to the pitch with a cigarillo and a brandy, do something amazing without spilling a drop or knocking the ash off the end.
Here's our Languid XI, lining up in the formation of languidity, 3-4-3:

Goalkeeper:
Vitor Baia
Goalkeepers are normally highly strung individuals, bawling and shouting a lot, flinging themselves about and blaming everyone but themselves for their failings, which made our search for a suitable custodian difficult. But the former Portuguese number one gave off such an air of calmness that he was the obvious choice. No histrionics, no pretending he was really a midfield general but was just helping out by going in nets, economy of movement and stylish hair.

Defence:
Paolo Maldini
Mats Hummels
Gerard Pique
All three of our defence exude casual brilliance. It's one thing to be brilliant, quite another to be brilliant while looking like you just don't care, like the fact you're better than the rest is actually quite banal. Hummels being flagged for offsides is not uncommon, and we all love a centre-back being offside, though his obvious delight in the Netherlands falling apart in front of him betrayed his lack of inner languidity. Pique is very similar - a midfield stroller trapped in a centre-back's body.
What else is there to say about Maldini? Just look at him...

Midfield:
Andrea Pirlo
Sócrates
Juan Sebastian Véron
Rui Costa
Sócrates is the coolest person ever to pull on a pair of boots and the captain of the coolest team the game has ever seen. His grace of movement was completely at odds with his gangling frame, but it was off the field that he became cooler still with the drinking, smoking, philosophising and democracy activism. What a guy.
The renaissance in Pirlo's career since leaving Milan has been quite staggering. The movement has become even more economical with age, but if anything that's made him more dangerous as a player. Feared, respected, admired, bearded. It doesn't get much better than that.
The latter pair exemplify the archetypal midfield stroller. Socks half-way down shins, pads flapping, cruising around the middle of the park like they owned it and spraying passes around for fun. Those are the guys young lads aspire to be, the players that make you fall for this often stupid game in the first place.

Forwards:
Giorgios Samaras
Dimitar Berbatov
Bryan Ruiz
Sleeves down below hands? Check. Lank-haired (or formerly lank-haired) masters of the stroll? Check. Routinely shouted at by fans for not doing enough and then go and do something totally bloody amazing? Check. If you want any more than that from your front three, you have a heart of stone. Of course, Ruiz and Berbatov are now team-mates, regularly competing for the award for doing the most brilliant thing while also looking a bit bored by it all. And they have that dreamy away kit - the black with the white and gold sash. All properly languid teams should wear the sash, the kit of cool.
Samaras is a lot better than people give him credit for. Like many of our team, his apparent lack of effort weighs against him in terms of image, but he's alright, y'know, and stylish with it which is, of course, far more important.

Would this team win many games? Who cares.