TF at Wembley watching the Italy and Spain classic! #1

To describe it as an aperitif feels disingenuous. But for most in this land, those of us who believe ‘ or at least desperately want to trust ‘ that it really is coming home, it’s exactly what it was.

Many neutrals in attendance had gambled. Semi-final tickets do not come cheap, and Bully’s special prize would have been an England appearance. It was a lost bet. Few licenced premises on the Vegas strip though, offer such generous consolations to those who’ve lumped on black only to see the ball chose red.”And if of an Italian or Spanish persuasion ‘ and there were plenty of them making it a carnival atmosphere ‘ this meant everything.

Two of football’s finest going at it. High quality, high in drama and high in octane. Two hours at a tempo not out of place next to The Four Seasons.”A classical classic apt both for the changeable conditions in North-West London pre match, and that it’s composer, Antonio Vivaldi, will have borne a huge grin as the Azzuri secured safe passage to Sunday’s finale.

The reason so many are infatuated by this sport is that so often, all of it ‘ the sweat, tears and caffeinated and / or alcoholic drinks ‘ come down to a solitary moment.”What’s cooler than being cool? Jorginho. A recent Champions League winner. A man who most of us would wander past in the streets without so much as a first glance, let alone a second. A potential Ballon d’Or winner?

That trademark un-up, honed on a primary school hopscotch area, betwixt conker battles ‘ Giorgio Chiellini and Leonardo Bonucci doubtless spent many an evening baking their tree-based weapons in the AGA to ensure they were impregnable, a trait that has not yet left them ‘ and games of bulldog.

Unai Simon collapsed early. He guessed wrong.”A guttural roar released. Italian limbs everywhere. London and the Bel Paese are separated by 1,000 miles but you would not have known it. The crowd was partisan and Italian.”Is there a finer sound than the Il Canto degli Italiani belted out at full volume? Perhaps not.

33 unbeaten now. Ominous signs. Roberto Mancini, who cut a suave figure all night in his beautifully tailored cloths, would never be so blunt as to say it. He doesn’t have to. There were scores of thousands peppered around Wembley last night believing football is coming Rome.

Oh what a evening until that point. Tension yes, although as a neutral it was a thing of beauty. Compared to Mancini’s calm,”Luis Enrique, spottable from a mile off in his gleaming white sneakers, was emotion-riddled.

Invited by the Italians to squirm free from their press ‘ a boa-constrictor-esque squeeze and all ‘ the Reds did so. The Spaniards are not the force they once were, but remain mighty impressive.”Close your eyes and it could have been a decade ago, Sergio Busquets dominating the midfield as he did on the same ground in the 2011 Champions League final. And the touch. Oh the touch. Ball and feet married in perfect harmony, even deep into extra-time, with the legs burning.

Enrique’s side will feel slightly aggrieved. They dominated possession and dictated the pace. But they lacked killer instinct. Where have we heard that before? The Italians had just that. They are clinical on the break, and tested the Spanish high-line with dink balls causing Unai Simon to have to rush out handless. Not a convincing sight.

The opener came after a hectic fifteen minutes to start the second period. From zero to goal in seconds. Gianluigi Donnarumma claimed, rolled and moments later Federico Chiesa curled home. Ignition lit.”Aymeric Laporte will consider himself unlucky having appeared to snuff out the danger, only for his tackle to fall kindly for Chiesa. The goal scorer has been a shining light in the tournament to date, and left the field later with a sore hamstring. There will be millions of Italian prayers that he is fit for Sunday.

Enrique immediately turned behind him. He saw Alvaro Morata. A goal-scorer scoffed at by English fans after a relatively frugal spell at Chelsea. True to footballing karma, just as my pal was regaling me of a tale of how he saw Morata sent off at Norwich – booked for diving and dismissed for telling the ref to do one (I haven’t verified that by the way, why let the truth get in the way of a good story) ‘ the equaliser was stroked home. His Juventus colleagues at the heart of the Italian defence were left bemused by some neat interplay. It was slightly closer in that Thomas Muller’s wayward effort against England a week ago, but was a reminder the fragility of results.

Spain looked the likelier; the Italians settled. Despite Busquets’ efforts to cajole the referee towards his fans for penalties, the coin fell Chiellini’s way. Early nerves saw Manuel Locatelli and Dani Olmo get the shoot-out off to a false side. Olmo’s spot-kick has just landed in Highbury.

Then came Jorginho’s moment. Despite English fans attempting to get renditions of ‘It’s coming home’ throughout the night, there is plenty of work yet to do.”We go again tonight

SAM DALLING’