Who knew. By writing, top European soccer players missed a five-point penalty shootout; the referral has been shameless; VAR video updates will still create any global events; and there was a gleaming sunshine in Glasgow and a downpour in London as Scotland (23th in the world rankings) faced Auld enemy England (4th in the world) in their lair, and escape with a 0-0 stalemate.
The Euro 2020 soccer tournament - so named for marketing purposes, or 2021 - was incredibly exciting and, so far, with amazing competition, with no clear preference from 24 teams. Still.
Nikita Khrushchev - remember him? - was the First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union at the time, and everyone who entertained Josip Broz Tito was the President of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia
Fifty-one matches will be played when the European Championship matches end on July 11. That is a very bad football, no matter how you cut it. The real surprise is that, unlike most international soccer tournaments, these games have been popular for some time.
There have been more than a few points of speech, as expected, and one minute at a time that showed the international game in its beautiful light, and very disturbing, about what could have happened as it happened.
On this day, however, almost in the middle of Europe's most popular football team, now is a good time like any other to see and honor the three main points of speech: Man, Goal and Game.
MAN
A moment when the Good Game was beautiful and scary. Everyone who watched Denmark play Sweden in the first round of UEFA Europe's football competition - both on TV and sitting in person at the Copenhagen Stadium in Tella Parken - saw that the minute Christian Eriksen of Denmark fell, four minutes before halfway, that this was too bad.
This was not a game, of the kind of world football we are famous for and popular.
For a moment there, it was believed that Eriksen, unconscious and unconscious, would not survive. Medical teams have used CPR not once but several times. Shocked players, players on both sides surrounded Eriksen, protecting him from unwanted TV cameras and fans watched in astonishment, some covering their faces in shock, others looking down in disbelief, all of which was a bit of a stress.
We now know that Eriksen, a 29-year-old man with a picture of health and hygiene, suddenly had a heart attack and a cold before he collapsed.
We now know that Eriksen survived, thanks to the timely intervention of on-field medical teams, that the 16-story Copenhagen teaching hospital is just five minutes away from arriving at the national stadium, that Eriksen today is healthy, talkative and well. One day he surprised his Danish team-mates by visiting during training time.
Few of us, however, as we watch that night we will never forget seeing our teammates and Eriksen, his best friend, Danish goalkeeper and team captain Kasper Schmeichel, threatening Sabrina Kvist Jensen, Eriksen's partner and mother of their two children, comforting a young woman who, for a while there, they can be comforted. Almost everyone watching was expecting the worst and, while it is not easy to admit this, they - we - can be forgiven for it.
Now we know that this will not be the time to commemorate the Euro 2020 tournament. Thank you.
Writing this, just ten days later, you might think that Euro 2020 will be remembered for the reason that all major league sporting events are remembered: who won, lost, and the quality of play to achieve that moment.
However, that moment puts sports in the right place.
We must not underestimate the significance of this game in the wider world: the opportunity to see the fans in the stadium, and to experience the joy of the fans who enjoy the tournament in person after 18 months of closure, that is welcome.
For Eriksen and for all of us - and no doubt for a moment that Eriksen was as close to death as possible - it was a reminder that life is weak and precious. That’s bigger than any game. As a Danish newspaper reported, “Denmark was defeated. But life won out. ”
@ ChrisEricken8 on Twitter
GOAL
Holy Schick!
No one who knows anything about the Good Game could predict that one of the biggest goals ever achieved in the European Championship would come in a seemingly boring competition between a Scottish player - who knows one or two things about a dour - and the Czech. Republic.
Patrik Schick, 25, who plays for Bayer Leverkusen in the German Bundesliga, has hit what the British call "worldly." Schick's moment of encouragement came more than five minutes after half, when he scored in the first half to put the Czech Republic ahead 1-0 at Glasgow's Hampden Park.
Scottish goalkeeper David Marshall was playing well with the ball in the Czech depths. He will not be blamed for this. This is a modern game, in which the goalkeeper is expected to be as much a player on the pitch as the last one to come back - "sweeper keeper," position, demand, sharpened and perfected by one Barcelona strategist and current two-time Premier League champion (such as Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola).
Schick, circling the left-hand line and almost in the middle of the opposition, saw Marshall leave his line and give the ball a powerful kick. As the silent crowd watched - UEFA TV commentator's host broa
About the Creator
Angels on the pitch.
In the heart of a bustling city, where the rhythm of life pulses through the streets like a steady heartbeat, there existed a small soccer field tucked away from the chaos. This field wasn't just any ordinary patch of grass; it was a sanctuary, a place where dreams took flight on the wings of determination and passion. It was here that the story of the angels of the pitch unfolded.At the crack of dawn, when the world was still cloaked in darkness, a group of young boys and girls would gather at the field, their cleats clicking against the pavement as they made their way to the hallowed ground. Among them was Alex, a talented midfielder with a heart of gold and feet that danced with grace across the turf.On one particular morning, as the sun began to peek over the horizon, Alex noticed something peculiar. A pair of worn-out cleats lay abandoned near the goalpost, as if waiting to be discovered. Intrigued, Alex approached the cleats and picked them up, examining them with curiosity. Despite their battered appearance, there was an air of magic about them, as if they held a story waiting to be told."Hey, check these out!" Alex called out to the others, holding up the cleats for all to see.The group gathered around, their eyes widening in wonder as they beheld the mysterious footwear. They had heard tales of legendary players who had once graced the field, but never had they come across such a tangible relic of the past."Maybe they belong to one of the angels," whispered Mia, the team's star striker, her voice barely above a breath."Angels?" scoffed Diego, the goalkeeper, a skeptic to the core. "There's no such thing."But Alex knew better. There was a magic in the air that morning, a sense of possibility that transcended the boundaries of belief. With a determined gleam in his eye, he slipped on the cleats, feeling a surge of energy course through his veins like electricity.As the team began their training session, something extraordinary happened. Alex moved with a newfound agility, his every step infused with the spirit of those who had come before him. With each pass and shot, he felt as if he were channeling the skill and wisdom of the angels of the pitch.As the days turned into weeks, Alex's teammates couldn't help but notice the change in him. His once tentative touches had been replaced by a confidence that bordered on the divine. It was as if he had been touched by an unseen hand, guided by forces beyond mortal comprehension.But with great power came great responsibility, and Alex knew that he couldn't keep the secret of the cleats to himself forever. So one evening, as the sun dipped below the skyline and the field was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, he gathered his teammates around him and revealed the truth."These cleats," he began, his voice steady with conviction, "they're not just ordinary shoes. They're a reminder of all those who have played on this field before us, of the angels who watch over us even now."The others listened in rapt silence as Alex recounted the legend of the angels of the pitch, of how they had once roamed the earth spreading joy and inspiration through the beautiful game of soccer. And as he spoke, they felt a sense of awe wash over them, as if they were being blessed by unseen hands.From that day forward, the cleats became more than just a pair of shoes; they became a symbol of hope and unity for the team. With each passing game, they would lace up their boots and take to the field with a renewed sense of purpose, knowing that they were not alone in their quest for victory.And so, the angels of the pitch continued to weave their magic, their presence felt in every pass, every tackle, every goal. For on that sacred ground, where dreams took flight and legends were born, they watched over their earthly counterparts with pride and affection, forever guiding them towards greatness.
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