When it is well played, there is hardly a better examination of national character than soccer. No sport demands so many skills and so much intelligence from all of its players. It is the king of sports, and we should be deeply, deeply grateful that Ireland did not get to this year's finals.
But for some wildly eccentric timekeeping by the referees in the matches against Croatia and Macedonia, which seemed almost based on the premise that the final whistle would blow only when Ireland's opponents had scored the winning goal, we might have qualified. That would have been the equivalent of parachuting the Legion of Mary Under-14s into North Korea. We should start saving up our pennies to bribe referees always to blow the final whistle when the other team has just gone ahead - until, that is, our soccer players stop resembling three-legged pit-ponies at play. Which will be in neither my lifetime nor that of the child you conceived a moment ago, ma'am; and might I suggest you show the milkman the side entrance and that you take that grin off your face? That's your husband's key in the front door.
Emotional interest
The avoidance of humiliating massacres is not the only reason to be pleased that we didn't qualify for Euro 2000. Not merely would our presence have robbed a better-qualified team of a place, but we would have been diverted by partisanship from enjoying the true quality of the games. No matter how much we tried to stand back and be clinical, we would have been hoping for Irish victories, regardless of the injustice involved. In the absence of an emotional interest corrupting our judgments, we have been able to sample the sumptuous pleasures of the greatest sporting contest I have ever seen.
In the absence of skill, there can be no worthwhile examination of character, as the English have shown. All we know about the English game - or the Irish game, come to that - is that it is rugged and inane. A handwriting expert cannot make any judgements on the character of an illiterate. Those who play the British game - as we do - are merely revelling in athletic primitivism; it is agreeable in much the same way as mud wrestling. We must look to teams who understand the calligraphy of football to be able to come to conclusions about their character.
Take the Yugoslavs. In the match against Slovenia, and with only 10 men, they fought back from 3-0 down to draw 3-3. It required truly Serbian qualities of dedication and courage to achieve that; and there was also something recognisably Serbian about the reason why Yugoslavia was playing with 10 men. The missing man, Mihajilovic, is a swaggering bully and an abject coward who contrived to get sent off when he had no more stomach for the fray.
Ruthlessness
The Czechs are - as you would imagine - artistic, clever, talented; but they are not fighters, as history has shown. They didn't fight in 1938 and they didn't fight in 1968; and though such pacifism might have been politically justified, when brought to the allegory of war that is sport, it is inclined to bring about defeat. The Czechs should have beaten the Dutch, but they lacked that composed ruthlessness which would have translated copious possession not into a carpenter's enthusiasm for touching the woodwork but into goals.
The Dutch, now, are among the most intellectually assertive people in Europe. They are know-alls. My knowledge of Dutch is modest, but I suspect that there is no Dutch equivalent of the expression, "I haven't a clue". Their self-confidence is breathtaking. It has to be. They are living on the seabed. They are also an enormously visual people, and they work disgustingly hard. They do not laugh much, and when they do, it is not an agreeable sound, a sort of smug, mocking chortle - a measure of their own considerable self-esteem. Their football - sophisticated, skilful, flamboyant - is a fair reflection of their own qualities.
The Portuguese are among the loveliest people in Europe: fair play is a concept they remain devoted to. You will hardly ever see a professional foul from a Portuguese player; they are the last footballing nation in Europe to congratulate opponents for scoring a goal. I would love them to win the European Championship; but today they will probably be knocked out by France, a country which is populated simply by the most talented people in Europe, who not merely gave the world 246 types of cheese, but nearly as many words for the concepts of personal brilliance - flamboyance, verve, elan, flair, cavalier, esprit, etc.
Visual beauty
Football shows the true spirit of the Italian people - methodical, systematic, organised, but most of all, con brio. Their game is highly cerebral and elegant, as you might expect from a country where visual beauty is revered to the point of idolatry, where appearance is a matter of the greatest cultural importance.
Portugal, France, Italy, Holland: three countries with profound maritime traditions, involving personal skill and complex teamwork, and one, Italy, with none to speak of. When all other factors are taken into account and are roughly equal, I go for history and traditions; that is why the Dutch will beat Italy tomorrow. Today, the Portuguese will depart, courtesy of the French; but mark the gentlemanly way their players will accept defeat. That will be their own moral victory - as these games have throughout been a moral victory for the true sport of kings, concluding with a Dutch victory this weekend.