Revenge of the Soccerwhos?

YOBBO ON EURO: DAYS 6/7

Last 16 of the tournament, deep into the second half. One team in gold shirts, the other Azzurri blue. The Azzurri get enough chances to win a full season of Serie A - two full seasons considering every Serie A game that doesn't finish one-nil finishes goalless - and yet honours remain even in the final minutes, thanks to the doughty, dedicated efforts of the lads in gold. Then, as if ordained from on high, a dodgy penalty is whistled to settle things once and for all....

Sound familiar?

It would. Except that Italian keeper Gigi Buffon's big toe intervened to prevent Romania exacting an unlikely form of revenge on behalf of the deeply wronged Australian World Cup side over the World Champion Azzurri. And it wasn't really that dodgy a penalty (compared to the Lucas Neill-Fabio Grosso fiasco). And both sides had already scored. Even so, Italy's participation in this EURO tournament - as it always seems to be at this point in the group stage of international tournaments - hangs by a gnat's pube. Despite their three-blot touchup at the hands of the Dutch the Italians could have been forgiven for turning up to the Netherlands fanzone in the centre of Berne frocked up in hi-vis safety oranje and bellowing patriotic Dutch songs about dykes, drugs, weed and pancakes, because the biggest favour the Dutch could do them after the first round result was to hand out three-goal shellackings to all other participants in the group. Not a particularly likely result seeing how the French began their game against them, throwing everything sans l'évier de cuisine at the council workers.

And yet, as if on cue: Netherlands 4, France 1.

Meaning (a) Luciano Moggi must have still been hanging around somewhere in the stadium and (b) whoever wins the Italy-France game on Wednesday morning goes through to the second round - unless Romania can jag a result out of the already-qualified Dutch in the parallel match, in which this clash of 2006 World Cup finalists becomes the most superinflated Who Cares fixture in recent history. Even a draw would be enough for the Romanians if the same result occurs between the wogs and frogs - probably just reward for being at least as good as either of the WC08 finalists across 180 minutes of European championship football.

The day before, Rockstar Roy Slaven managed to inspire, cajole and generally bully a fantabulously gritty performance out of his tablecloth-striped Croatian side, smacking the alleged tournament fave Germans upside the head with a ballsy 2-1 slapdown. The Cros were slick and fluent with the ball and pressed and harassed like buggery without it, and had everything that the same side lacked against the Austrians four days before. Even striker Ivica Olic took time off from his traditional role of rolling around on the floor a lot to stay upright long enough to tap in what amounted to the winner. As for the Austrians, they like the Italians this morning had fifteen billion chances to take the lead in their game against the Poles; like the Italians, got punished; and like the Italians, were bloody lucky to pinch an Edward Woodward courtesy the oldest, grumpiest bastard in their side - Vastic with the injury-time penalty for the Austrians, old man Panucci with the final touch on a free kick into the area for the wogs. While their co-hosts are goneski, Austria still have an outside shot at making the next round, but they'll have to pull a Quoinsland Origin-style nutbag redneck lynchin' out of the bag against their more fancied neighbours, as discussed in previous media commitments.

More awards:

The David 'Cement' Gillespie Memorial Stackhat for Hardest Head
...Goes to splendidly named Romania midfielder Razvan Rat for coming off decidedly better in his almighty bloody headclash with teammate Mirel Radoi. The latter needed scraping up into the first aid cart with a crater the size of the Sea of Tranquility on his temple. The former needed a small Elastoplast on his forehead, and went on to be one of his side's better midfield distributors. Cunning as a Rat.

The Captain Arse Award for Arsiest Goal In All Of Arsey Arse-Scented Arsedom
Since we can't give this to the entire Dutch squad, looks like it's going to have to be Wes Sneijder with his two monumentally arsey efforts - one, finishing off that rightly lauded Totalvoetball-esque team move (not quite Totalfootball though, maybe Partialfootball?) against the Italians, and two, the thirty-yard exclamation mark at the end of the France game. Unless Arjen Robben gets more game time in the next couple of games, of course...

Misleading Non-Football-Related Headline Of The Day
BBC Online: Gaza 'hurt by Palestinian feud' - you'd have thought with his alcohol-and-kebab-fuelled fall from grace in the years since he was a decent footballer he'd have more to worry about than whether the Palestinians were going to accept his 'Friend' request on Facebook.

Coming up on Day 8: Spain-Sweden at sparrows for insomniacs looking for action; Greece-Russia to follow for insomniacs looking for a cure.

The Doctor is OUT.