Talking of Greece, how they came back from a goal and a man down with Giorgios Samaras on the pitch no-one will ever know. Someone needs to sit him down and have a real heart to heart with the poor hairy dope. “This football thing’s not really worked out, has it big man? Have you ever thought of running for Parliament?”

Their first opponents Poland will be kicking themselves (or just Wojciech Szczęsny perhaps) after throwing away a game in which they comfortably dominated the first period against woefully inept opposition. But for the grace of Szczęsny’s replacement, Przemysław Tyton, the co-hosts would have been facing down the barrel of defeat to the worst Greek team since… 2004.

In the first truly one-sided game of the Championships, group-mates Czech Republic and Russia rolled back the years. The Czechs to the time before they were actually a football team, and the Russians to the time when captain Andrei Arshavin used to play well in a red shirt. With a 4-1 victory in the bag, Russian fans must be hoping and praying that their skipper doesn’t think that’s his point proven.

As Group B (AKA The Group of Death, Pestilence, Pain, Torture and Anguish™) kicked off, World Cup finalists Holland looked set to stroll past the group’s supposed whipping boys Denmark. After all, they have Robin van Persie who, as any Arsenal fan will tell you, scores when he wants. Sadly for the Dutch, van Persie really didn’t want to on Saturday. No matter how many times he was fed sumptuous through balls by his probing midfield cohorts, he was having none of it.

Against the run of play, the Danish had slotted their winner with a nutmeg under Maarten Stekelenburg by Michael Krohn-Dehli. This tickling of the Dutch ‘keeper’s crackers couldn’t disguise the ultimately vulnerable Dutch display, epitomised best by the hapless John Heitinga, whose luscious good looks more often resembled a bamboozled pug on the night.

So to Germany. Ah, Germany. That sexy, attacking, swaggering bundle of a Nationalmannschaft. Versus Portugal, that sexy, attacking swaggering bundle of, erm… Well they’ve got Ronaldo, who’s pretty good apparently. This was going to be a corker, a thrusting rapier dual between two cavalier exponents of the beautiful game. Well nearly.

As many a commentator has delighted in reminding us, no-one likes to lose their first game, which is nearly as true as it is revelatory. So the Portuguese sat deep and narrow, inviting their opponents on to them and then trying for a one man counter-attack. Ronaldo couldn’t do it on his tod though bless him, floundering against the banks of organised and disciplined German players.

What? We hear you cry. An organised and disciplined German team? But we were told this one would be different. Weren’t they supposed to be the new Spain, but, you know, from Germany. And counter-attacking. Well sort of.

Indeed the Germans patiently waited out the game, retaining possession before striking late on through a clinical Mario Gomez goal. 1-0 to the Germany then, but don’t go yelling for your money back. They’re up and running now, it won’t be long until we have the new Spanish replacement kicking up the German-engineered gears.

So to old Spain – or current Spain as it were – and their opening game against Italy. Winners of the last two World Cups, facing off in the first game of a European Championships group? Thank you and yes please. What was served up was nothing short of a tactical and technical battle for the ages. Which apparently bored the shit out of half of twitter, with the other half unable to type two characters of their allotted 140, through the curtains of tears being shed at the masterclass on offer.

As Mario ‘don’t call me batshit mental’ Balotelli was subbed and replaced by the diminutive (polite for ‘short arsed’) and prolific (polite for ‘scores a lot of goals’) Antonio Di Natale, the game took a twist, the Udinese man scoring with one of his first meaningful touches. Spain struck straight back however, with Cesc Fabregas – a bloody nuisance to the Spanish system in the first half, and more of a false-footballer than a false-nine until his substitution – slotting past Gigi Buffon for the equaliser. And so it remained. A stalemate in the best of senses, and game of the tournament thus far, but with much work to be done by the reigning European Champions.

Easily forgettable after such an experience, was that there were two other teams in Group C. Croatia and the Republic of Ireland faced off in what was certain to be a tight and uneventful affair, the Republic after all having conceded only three goals in their 14 match unbeaten run, and with the Croats hardly being blessed with the best of strikers. A real little gem of a match emerged however, with Croatia looking impressive in a 3-1 demolition job.

The Irish will of course quite rightly point to the penalty that never was, which could have brought the score back to 3-2 late on in the game, but in truth, they looked about as out of place in this match as Giovanni Trappatoni at a youth club.

And so to the final group games. In the early kick-off, England faced off against the old foe, their Channel sharing neighbours, France. Suddenly the world was awash with good omens.
In the first good omen, I realised I’d lost my England shirt when moving house. In the second good omen, Roy Hodgson decided to inject a bit of youthful exuberance and pace into the line up, with the inclusion of Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain (from now on, known solely as Ox). In the third, and most crucial omen of them all, Ox’s inclusion came at the expense of Stewart Downing.

The dark skies are never too far from English football’s horizons however, and in the warm up before the game, we suffered a crucial injury blow.
Ray Clemence is now set to miss the entire Championships, following an Achilles tendon injury.

In the match that followed such fevered build-up, France dominated the possession and provided more creative and expressive passages of play. Time and again however, they crashed against resilient English defences. England, for the first time since Wayne Rooney burst on to the scene in 2004, were playing admirably well. We were organised, disciplined and, most mind-boggling of all, Steven Gerrard was passing the ball five and ten yards.
Five. And Ten. Yards. Progress.

As Manchester City secured a point for both teams, a swell of pride, relief and shock settled on England fans. Roy’s Boys remain undefeated.

In the final match of the opening round, co-hosts Ukraine faced up against Zlatan Ibrahimovic, and some other blokes from Sweden. Ibrahimovic, who divides opinion, started the brighter and took the lead, through Ibrahimovic. Opinion was divided however, as to whether Ibrahimovic should have set up Ibrahimovic, or if such divisions should simply be opined. Undoubtedly now, Ibrahimovic was a good player, but was he a great one? Despite winning so many domestic leagues. And scoring so many goals. For the best clubs in Europe. Sadly no consensus could be reached by British pundits and journalists alike.

Ukraine though weren’t about to stand for any such beating at their own party. Arise Andrei Shevchenko. Prince of Milan. Pauper of Hammersmith. King of Kiev. The veteran Ukrainian talisman dusted off his faltering, weary knees, powering headers, not once, but twice, past Ibrahimovic’s mate in the Sweden goal.

Twice to restore the pride of the Ukrainians.
Twice, to move them top of a pretty tough group.
And twice, to really stick two fingers up at Poland, who they never really liked anyway.

We’ve been shit since 1996 (when we weren’t shit, but we still lost). Just six years prior in 1990 came our high (when we were shit, then we weren’t shit, then we were just about shit again, but only at penalties), with some particularly shit years in ’92 and ’94.  Before that we were pretty shit all the way back to 1966. We had a particularly high level of shitness – even by our own high standards – in the ‘70s.

The loyal England fans who have followed various messianic teams to all corners of the globe, competition after competition, decade after decade, in grand expectation of maybe being on the same flight home as their victorious heroes, have perhaps in this time of recession and financial hardship simply decided they have wasted enough money on this thankless pursuit of glory. Maybe they’ll take the missus and littl’uns to Skegness for a fortnight instead.

There can be no argument that the BBC Panorama programme this week showed some shocking scenes of violence and racist behaviour. But let’s be honest and call a shovel a shovel here: Our travelling fans have never been too far away from a dash of national anthem booing, never ones to shirk away from a beer fuelled slap or seven. Our football today is hardly the bastion of all things sacred, good and holy, so why would that discourage fan attendance? Our last England captain and Euro-starting centre-back is awaiting trial for ‘allegedly’ racially abusing the brother of his then international team mate. The captain of Manchester United and the star striker for Liverpool – the two most famous English clubs of course – were embroiled in a race row earlier in the season. Several fans have been arrested this year, charged and punished for racially abusing players in the English game, online.

Racism is everywhere and violence generally trundles not that far behind. Italy have also had their issues with fan violence, with racism. Samuel Eto’o spoke earlier in the season about the abuse he used to suffer playing in La Liga. It’s not just the Poles or the Ukrainians, and it’s by no means any more than a minority in any of these countries.

So how about we don’t demonise the hosts of this year’s Championships before it’s even begun. How about we don’t claim that their horrendous, shameful behaviour – behaviour you’d certainly never see a well-mannered English fellow engaging in of course – is to blame for the English fans not following their team.  How about we just accept that the real reason, when all the nonsense is swept out of the way, is that there’s just nothing worth following for an English fan these days.

We’re shit. And we know we are.

This summer will see the completion of the FA’s new national football centre (NFC) at St George’s Park. Heralded as England’s answer to France’s famed Clairefontaine academy, there will now be a centre of excellence for our national game, not seen but desperately needed, since the demise of Lilleshall in 1999. As top clubs created their own academies to train young players, Lilleshall became redundant, with the task they performed so admirably in bringing through the likes of Joe Cole, Michael Owen and Scott Parker to name but a few, being taken in house by professional clubs. With the enormous resources of the Premier League era clubs, the training of top young players could scarcely be improved upon by a Lilleshall replacement and the NFC seems primed to address this, by investing far more time and resources, into the development of young, skilled English coaches.

The appointment of Roy Hodgson highlighted this aspect of the FA’s plans in several ways. As FA Chair Sir David Bernstein alluded to in his introductory press conference alongside his new manager, Hodgson “can walk into any training ground across the world and commands respect wherever he goes”. Hodgson looks set to become far more of a figurehead for English football, than his predecessor ever was, being heavily involved in all levels of the National game. As a coach with decades of experience and numerous invitations to sit on FIFA and UEFA technical committees, Hodgson is well placed to detail exactly what direction and training a young coach needs in order to continue in the professional game once his playing career is over.

His appointment and the saga of the replacement for Fabio Capello also served to show that the FA is right in putting such stock in this area. As Germany, Croatia and France have shown with the appointments of Joachim Low, Slaven Bilic and Laurent Blanc, there is much to be gained in the appointment of young aspiring managers at international level. Contrast their appointments with the advocated candidates for the England manager’s role being two sixty somethings, and it is clear there is a dearth of young coaching talent, which needs addressing.

Finally, yesterday saw the biggest small step forward of them all, with official recognition of the need for a shift in the English perception of what makes a good young footballer. With the FA announcing that eleven-a-side football will not come into play for children’s matches, until under-13 level, encouraging a more technical approach to the game, and discouraging a reliance on youthful physique and strength, the stepping stones appear to have rolled into place for a quiet, but pronounced change in how our children are introduced to the game.

With better and younger coaches, more technically able youngsters entering the professional system and a Football Association which appears to have heeded the successes of Spain and Germany – nations who of course embraced such grass-roots changes many years ago – perhaps we can hope for, in decades to come, a team of actual world beaters.

The quiet revolution that has now started, may produce unimaginably loud results in the years to come.

I’d bet the majority of you would remember 2003 with relative ease. I was only 11 years old when the football season came to an end, but it was one of my most vivid memories of that year. I started secondary school in 2003, the same year as the start of the war in Iraq and when Australia won the Cricket World Cup.

Living in the west coast of Scotland I was brought up supporting Celtic Football Club and 2003 was a successful year for the club, in European terms at least. They missed out on the SPL title to bitter rivals Rangers by just one goal. The Ibrox side also clinched the League and Scottish Cups. They defeated Celtic 2-1 in the first Cup Final of the season, with first-half goals from Claudio Caniggia and Peter Lovenkrands before Henrik Larsson’s effort after 57 minutes. They then clinched a famous treble following a 1-0 victory over Dundee thanks to a goal from defensive stalwart, Lorenzo Amoruso.

So Celtic, domestically, had a season to forget, but the UEFA Cup run that the squad put together was simply fantastic. We actually got knocked out of the Champions League Qualifying Round by FC Basel, on away goals I might add. But this turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

The first match of the run was against lowly opponents FK Suduva. The Lithuanian outfit travelled to Glasgow and I remember thinking how strong a team we had out on that day. It proved just that as Celtic thrashed the minnows 8-1. They followed that result with a 2-0 away win, meaning they progressed into the pot for the second round with a 10-1 aggregate victory.

It wasn’t such a happy time for Celtic’s rivals, Rangers. They waved goodbye to any chance of European glory with defeat on away goals versus the unheard of – in Scotland anyway – Viktoria Zizkov.

Round two saw the ‘Battle of Britain’ with Blackburn Rovers the opponents for Celtic. Many predicted this would be when Celtic would be knocked out but the Bhoys had other ideas. After a hard fought 1-0 home victory, Henrik Larsson popped up with his fourth and fifth goals of the tournament at Ewood Park, to add to his hat-trick in the first round. A 3-0 aggregate win was good but made even sweeter by the fact that the Blackburn manager at the time was Graeme Souness, a former Rangers player and manager. He said before the second leg that if Celtic scored one goal, Blackburn would score three. That worked out well for him.

Next up were the Spanish side, Celta Vigo. For me, this was our hardest tie en route to the final. Celtic managed a 1-0 victory at home and lost 2-1 away, qualifying under the away goals rule which is just about what they deserved.

The last 16 saw Celtic come up against five time German champions, Stuttgart. It was around about this point we actually thought we were in with a chance of doing something in the competition. We mustered a 3-1 home win after going one down to a Kevin Kuranyi goal – remember him? Then, when we went 2-0 up in Stuttgart and 5-1 up on aggregate we thought we were into the quarter-finals, no bother. We proceeded to lose three goals and give every Celtic fan in the world the fright of their lives. A 5-4 win overall was enough to set up a second ‘Battle of Britain’. This time, Liverpool awaited.

For me, the best two things about that cup run came against Liverpool. The way in which both sets of fans came together to sing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ was magical. Nearly as magical was John Hartson’s piledriver at Anfield, which propelled Celtic toward a semi-final clash against Boavista.

The Portuguese opponents were not well known to us, and what ensued was a nervy affair in both legs. Henrik Larsson once again proved to be the difference, scoring the winner in Portugal. The dream had become reality: We were going to Seville and the UEFA Cup Final.

There isn’t much I would like to say about the final as it was such a heartbreaking game. We went behind twice and fought back twice. The game went to extra-time, but disaster struck when Dianbobo Balde received a red card. Porto scored and we lost 3-2. That was that. We had fallen at the final hurdle but that Porto side were excellent (cheats) and went on to lift the Champions League the following year under the guidance of a certain Jose Mourinho.

This is such a distinct football memory for me that shaped my love for the game. It shows why we all love this game so much. For that group of players not to win a single trophy was a disaster, but then, they remain heroes to many of us. That’s football. Three of the starting 11 are back at Celtic now with Neil Lennon in charge and Alan Thompson and Johan Mjallby his coaches. Paul Lambert has led his Norwich side to the English Premier league and Jackie McNamara is at the helm of Partick Thistle.

This side will go down in Celtic history, somewhere close to the Lisbon Lions perhaps.

Just to let you all know, the only time I used the internet during the writing of this post was to check spellings of teams and player names I was unsure of. I also checked who scored the goals in the two cup finals. The rest is purely from memory and will always be there even though I was only 11.

This is what football does to you.

Paul is a sports journalist and co-ordinator at Ayr United’s youth academy. Follow him on twitter @steakheed

Editor’s Note: We weren’t going to post a tribute to Gary Speed today. What could we say that hasn’t already been said? This morning we were contacted by our resident Championship blogger James Riches, a proud Welshman who wanted to voice his own feelings. We chose to run James’ piece for no other reason than it is a touching personal tribute to a Welsh football legend. RIP Gary Speed, you will be sorely missed.

There have been many times during my years watching Wales that I have thought it couldn’t get any worse than this. Yesterday proved in devastating fashion that I was a fool to think such things.

As I sat on the sofa, nursing a hangover and waiting for kick off at the Liberty Stadium, I heard my girlfriend getting out of bed with an urgency not usually associated with a Sunday morning. When she came in and told me the news that Gary Speed had died I, like everyone else, did not want to believe it.

Sat in front of BBC News, I was frozen in my chair as the full horror of the situation was revealed. There had been no accident or attack. Our national team manager had hanged himself. It was beyond comprehension.

Like many others, I had watched him on Football Focus just hours earlier talking knowledgably about the game, with absolutely no hint of what was to come. This is a feeling backed up by host Dan Walker, a man who would know having spent a large portion of Saturday with Speed. His subsequent blog conveys the confusion felt by pretty much everyone across the football world.

Former team mates and managers such as Robbie Savage, John Hartson, Bobby Gould, Mark Hughes, Howard Wilkinson, Steven Taylor, Hugo Viana and Kenny Dalglish are among a seemingly endless list of fellow pros queuing up to offer tributes, which is testament enough to how he was regarded in the game.

Speed was captain of Wales for the majority of my childhood, and while my young mind immediately gravitated towards Ryan Giggs in search of an idol, it was clear that Speed was one of the few bright spots in an otherwise underwhelming team, particularly under Gould.

By the time Mother Riches had decreed I was old enough to go to games myself, Speed was often pushed out to left back by Mark Hughes, a role he carried out expertly and without fuss. However, watching the highlights reels that have been on an almost constant rotation since the news, it is clear that I perhaps missed seeing him in the midfield role he was best at.

Most are aware that he was the most capped outfield player in Welsh football history, only beaten to the overall crown by Neville Southall, undoubtedly a fine keeper but not exactly glancing over his shoulder at the competition.

As international football moved into an era where the slightest niggle would result in a phone call from the club doctor as the player slunk back to his house for a rest, Speed was always there. When an away trip to an unglamorous location came round, there was no question of Speed not being on the plane.

And this, remember, was in a team that frequently suffered disappointing results and only twice threatened to qualify for anything during his 14-year international career. Indeed, he stated that he wished he had stepped up to take that penalty against Romania at Cardiff Arms Park in 1993, a kick that would have seen us qualify for USA ’94, ultimately missed by Paul Bodin.

In all respects, he was what every player should aspire to be, the yardstick against which all other international players should be measured.

I freely admit I had reservations when he was appointed manager. Recent history has proven I was spectacularly wrong, but given his relatively undistinguished stint at Sheffield United, I was concerned. However, the strides taken under Speed, some of which have been covered by me on this site, had put Welsh fans in the curious and unfamiliar position of being confident going into a qualifying campaign.

The inquest into his death will be held this week, but in all likelihood it will reveal little that we don’t already know. We may also never know why Speed was driven to do what he did. None of the suggestions or rumours flooding the internet are very palatable.

Yesterday was a day when football was nothing, and like everyone else, I can only say that I cannot comprehend what his wife and children must be thinking. For Welsh fans everywhere, this is our darkest hour.

There is no way of speculating what effect this loss will have on Welsh football. If what we have seen recently is anything to go by, we will need a manager with pretty much the same ideas and footballing philosophy. It’s an impossible task. There was only one Gary Speed.

James is Headers & Volleys’ resident Championship writer and an extremely proud Welshman. We in turn are proud to work with James, especially when he presents us with articles as warm as this, on such a tough subject.

André Villas-Boas

So it would seem everyone’s agreed then? Andre Villas-Boas should be first sacked, second dragged through along the Kings Road by horse and cart and then fired from a cannon, at a wall, from a very short distance. Of course the British media are never ones to under-react to the slightest whiff of crisis, but the only way the young Chelsea manager is going to put these irksome stories to bed – particularly with club and Abramovich favourite, Guus Hiddink’s recent availability – with some victories and points.

Back to back home defeats, losses against their perceived main competitors, a blunt edge at the business end of their supposed attacking formation; all of these things have led to the departure of, amongst others, Luiz Felipe Scolari and Carlo Ancelotti in recent seasons. So what can the Portuguese do to arrest his side’s slump?

Firstly, the club and manager’s immediate priorities need to change. They are now 12 points and 23 goals behind high-spending/flying Manchester City – effectively making it 13 points – so the main focus at Stamford Bridge as it is in North London at the Emirates stadium, should be to qualify for the Champions League and to do as well in that and the domestic cups as possible. Right now, they can’t be expected to compete with City, who have been building to this point for well over two years with young talent and players whose best days are generally ahead of them, not behind them. They can’t even compete with the stuttering Manchester United who, despite struggling to a number of one goal victories in recent weeks, have secured points when playing below par. With Tottenham soaring as well, and with the impending return to pitch side of Harry Redknapp sure to give the Spurs players a further boost, Chelsea need to work very hard to keep their grip on the top four spots, let alone anything further.

The thing is, the same cracks appeared during Ancelotti’s final season, and clearly have not been repaired. Villas-Boas inherited the vast majority of his current first team squad and it would seem that more than anyone, it is the older, more established heads who are the players who are misfiring. Lampard has proven in the past weeks that he is certainly not the spent force people were making him out to be, but Didier Drogba on the other hand may well be. One goal and one assist is a poor return for a striker of his calibre, but his lacklustre displays are even more worrying. Through injury and suspension he’s only made five starts this season (one of which, he was sent off in after only 40mins), but he is clearly not the player he was two seasons ago. That first season under Ancelotti The Drog was unplayable for any defender. Now he merely appears unplayable for his own manager.

Alex Ferguson has often spoken about great teams going in cycles and is rightly hailed for his ability to rebuild time and time again. Chelsea are in a period of transition with established players ageing and young players slowly being brought into the fold, so Villas-Boas needs to be given full backing in the next two transfer windows, otherwise the team will continue to stagnate and eventually decay. In January he should look to bring some players in early on, not even necessarily to do things straight away, but more with an eye on next season. Ferguson did this to great effect when signing the likes of Patrice Evra and Nemanja Vidic who were brought in but didn’t feature too heavily until the following season. This summer, Chelsea should be in a position to put the finishing pieces together for their first team squad, in time to be really competitive in 2012/13.

Another burning concern for Villas-Boas must be the malaise and constant errors of the Chelsea and England captain, John Terry. At his very best, he looked a player with very limited pace but who could compensate for it with his lionheart, never say die attitude; heading ability, his ability to lead by example (on the pitch at least), his organisation and communication, as well as a fairly decent positional sense. Currently, he is being exposed more often than the sons of Gaddafi. With the right players around him, he could certainly still do the job effectively and his limitations would be less pronounced. Having two attacking fullbacks and Mikel in front of him as ‘protection’ is only serving to highlight his flaws more than ever.

One criticism of Villas-Boas that must be made is that, at times, his selections have been flawed. He needs a far steadier back line and right now, David Luiz alongside Terry just doesn’t work. They need a strong and steady back four such as Cole-Terry-Alex-Ivanovic, or even trying Luiz at right-back. He may well thrive there. If you play Ivanovic inside him at centre-back, at least he’ll have the positional sense to cover the Brazilian’s surges forward. With the players available in defence, the manager’s stated preference for the high defensive line should be rethought. A high line, playing offside and cramping the space in which opposition forwards can operate is all well and good, but unless the players at his disposal have the pace or outstanding positional sense to deal with balls over the top – neither of Terry’s strong points – the defence will spend more time running toward their own goal than facing the play in front of them.

Mikel is so laboured in possession it beggars belief at times. He’s a good passer of the ball and does a lot of work for the team, but he doesn’t suit the way Villas-Boas wants to play. Stamford Bridge is crying out for a player who can be the metronome of the team, keeping things moving as well as being able to play the odd killer ball, turning defence into attack. Of course everyone will rightly mention Barcelona’s Sergio Busquets as the benchmark for this position. What Busquets possesses is the key attribute for the anchor-man in this system; that when your full-backs bomb forward, he can seamlessly drop into a back three and provide extra cover for any possible counter. The type of player Chelsea need is one who can also mix things up and play quick one touch football, as well as having the poise and technique to invite pressure, hold the player off, then pass and remove his opponent from the game. Mikel tries this often, but regularly gets caught in possession, or puts a teammate under pressure because of a wayward pass. I’d like to see him just going for the quick, energetic option. People make out Chelsea need Essien to come back here but he’s not the right player for this position anyway. I’d like to see Oriol Romeu given more minutes as he would seem to be the blueprint of exactly what the Blues need.

In midfield, as we’ve already touched on, Lampard certainly isn’t over the hill. He does however need some help in the engine room. He has been scoring, but hasn’t been dominating the midfield and spraying the ball about at will as he often as he can, perhaps by having to drop deeper to assist the struggling Mikel. Ramires looks good and quite exciting, but as a midfield three, Mikel, Lampard and Ramires don’t offer the right balance. They need both more bite and better passers, which they have in abundance with both Romeu and Raul Meireles. Meireles should certainly be getting a run in the team. One of the players of the second half of last season, the Portuguese offers a goal threat in addition to Lampard’s, and passing ability to help provide ammunition for Chelsea’s misfiring front men.

And so we get to Torres. What a dilemma this is for Villas-Boas. With the one signing he’s made who has actually looked half decent in Juan Mata, you need a pacey, imaginative striker to run onto the intricate through balls the 23 year old Spaniard plays. Torres fits the bill perfectly for this and indeed, would appear to make Mata far more effective when he is on the field, than Drogba can. The problem with Fernando is that his confidence still seems so fragile, despite the public sentiments and excuses being espoused. Before his sending off against Swansea, Torres had really seemed on the road to recovery. Following his suspension however, he looks straight back to square one. Can Villas-Boas trust a man so out of form yet of more benefit to his system than the equally out of form target man Drogba? Indeed, with Daniel Sturridge consistently scoring, or even as a plan B, Florent Malouda who was the liveliest player in Blue yesterday, there is an argument that neither of the big name strikers should be in the team.

It should also be noted that Chelsea have competed well in every game this season. Competing alone doesn’t win Championships though. In the recent losses against Liverpool and Arsenal, as well as the loss to United earlier in the season, they have generally matched them in most parts of the pitch and things could have very easily have gone the other way if it weren’t for individual mistakes. That’s not to excuse the losses, but in order to win trophies and especially a league as competitive as the Premier League, you need to dominate and beat the best teams.

The fact is however, their record at the moment looks pretty dire. The question subsequently becomes less, ‘What can Andre Villas-Boas do?” and more “What will Roman Abramovich do?”
Here’s hoping the Russian’s trigger finger isn’t itching too much just yet.

Ronaldo de Assis Moreira, better known as Ronaldinho

Ronaldo de Assis Moreira, better known to the world as Ronaldinho, was at one time or another a favourite of every football fan. With his skill, goals, and stylish looks (maybe just his smile), everyone of a certain age wanted to be Ronaldinho. Who could blame them?

Born in the city of Porto Alegre, the state capital of Rio Grande do Sul, Ronaldinho lost his father at the early age of eight to a heart attack and was raised by his mother, Dona Miguelina Elói Assis dos Santos, with the help of his big brother Assis and sister Deisi. The first time anyone really took notice of him as a footballer was when he was still a young boy and managed to score an incredible 23 goals in a match that his local side won, well, 23-0. He was certainly noticed again at the 1997 under 17′s World Championship which Brazil won; he scored two goals in the tournament. People started whispering how young Ronaldinho was like past players Garrincha and Didi.

His big break came in 1998 when he joined Gremio, firstly playing in the youth side but then making the step up to the main team during the Copa Libertadores de América in the same year where they were eliminated by the eventual winners, Vasco da Gama. He stayed with Gremio until 2001. During his time at Gremio he was linked with a different club every transfer window, from Arsenal in the English Premier League, where a work permit stopped his move to the Gunners, to even St Mirren of the Scottish Premier League. He was very close to joining the Saints on loan and all looked set to go through, until a fake passport problem scuppered the move. He finished up his career with the Brazilian side having played 145 games, scoring pretty much one in two with 72 goals.

Both Arsenal and St Mirren failed in bringing the young Brazilian to Europe, but where they failed, Paris Saint-Germain succeeded. In 2001 he joined the French outfit for a fee of around £5 million and stayed with the club for around two years. During his time in France he came under the spotlight on and off the pitch, playing just under 85 games for the Paris club and scoring twenty-five goals, which included some real classy efforts, such as his lovely chip from outside the box in the 2-0 semi-final win over Bordeaux.

His off-field problems occurred when he started showing his face at the night clubs in Paris, which didn’t go down too well with the club, especially his manager Luis Fernández.

In the summer of 2003 another English club was in for his signature, this time Manchester United. Yet again though, the outcome was the same as he decided to sign for Spanish side FC Barcelona, for £21 million. Ronaldinho was at Barcelona for five seasons and during his time at the club it was very easy for all to see that he was playing his best ever football. He made his debut in the friendly match against AC Milan scoring a goal in the 2-0 win. In his first season at the Nou Camp he helped Barcelona to second spot in La Liga.

One of the best ever games that I can remember watching, was quite possibly the greatest that Ronaldinho played in. On 19th November 2005, Barcelona were leading Real Madrid 2-0 with little under ten minutes remaining, with goals from Eto’o and, of course, Ronaldinho. The latter received the ball just inside the opposition half, dribbled with such elegance as he eased past Guti and then Sergio Ramos and, as cool as you like, slots the ball past Iker Casillas. Agreed it was not the best goal he ever scored, but with it being the goal that made it 3-0 against Real Madrid in their own back yard, it made it a very special goal. Even more special in fact that after the goal, both sets of fans rose to their feet and applauded the master class Ronaldinho had put on. After his five season stay at the Spanish club he decided that his best playing days were behind him and it was time to move on. He left behind so many fond memories and great goals, scoring 107 goals in 254 games, as well as gaining 80 assists.

It was largely believed that Ronaldinho was a player in decline, but many didn’t share this view. Again the bids came flying in and he turned down the chance to join an English club for a third time, this time when Manchester City came calling. In the end he chose to join AC Milan for a fee in the region of £14.5 million.

Whoever it was saying his best days are over should have realised their folly as his first goal came against none other than Inter Milan in a 1-0 win on 28th September. One of his other most memorable nights came in a 4-0 win over Siena, in which Ronaldinho managed a quite superb hat-trick, his third goal of the night being the cherry on top of the cake. In his first season with the Italian club he scored ten goals in 32 appearances. In his last season with the club, he was still extremely instrumental, topping the leader board of assists with a total fourteen. December 2010 would be the last Christmas the Brazilian would spend at the Italian club. Having scored just under 29 goals in 116 matches and with 29 assists, the Brazilian left in the January transfer window.

After three seasons at Milan, Ronaldinho wanted to go home. The rumours had it yet again that ANOTHER English club wanted him. Yes that’s right, Blackburn Rovers. Thankfully for every football fan, he decided against it and eventually went home to Brazil joining Flamengo.

When Ronaldinho was unveiled by the club, he was met by over twenty thousand fans. He scored his first goal for his new side in a 3-2 win against Boavista. One game that was always going to be interesting for him was the game that came on Sunday 30th October 2011, against his boyhood club Gremio which his new side lost 4-2. And the biggest pop of the night? Not any of the goals scored, but when Ronaldinho was booked for dissent, the fans obviously feeling a little bad that he decided to join Flamengo rather than his first club. Ronaldinho has been at Flamengo for ten months now and he’s scored 20 goals in 47 games and, with the season due to finish shortly, who knows if he’ll stay or if go. With his age the latter looks less likely.

Ronaldinho is a Brazilian legend.

When I think of the Brazilian shirt, my first thought is of the brightness of the yellow. I then go on to think of all the fantastic names to have adorned the Selecao shirt: from Pele, Romario, Rivaldo, Ronaldo and Garrincha, to Zico, Socrates, Nilton Santos, Didi & of course, Ronaldinho. The list is much, much longer than that. You understand by looking at it though, how hard it must have been and just how good he must have been to be included in amongst so many world class players.

He won his first Brazilian cap at the age of just eighteen years old, in a game against Latvia. Three days later he took part in Brazil’s successful Copa América campaign. After the Copa América, Ronaldinho played in the Confederations Cup and scored in every, match including a hat-trick in the semi-final. He missed the final against Mexico due to an injury and subsequently, Brazil lost that match 4-3.

Ronaldinho competed in his first World cup in 2002 held in South Korea and Japan from 31 May to 30 June. It was also the first World Cup held in Asia, and the last in which the golden goal rule was implemented. Brazil won the tournament for a record fifth time and he, along with the other two famous R’s Rivaldo and Ronaldo, were a force to be reckoned with. They scored fourteen between them and although Ronaldinho only managed to score one, he ended the tournament with a World Cup winner’s medal. Not bad for a twenty-two year old. Oh and I have to mention that his solitary goal was that goal, against David Seaman.

The next tournament for the Brazilian was the 2003 Confederations Cup. It didn’t go quite as well as the World cup did, winning one, drawing one and losing one in the group stages, Brazil were inevitably eliminated. He didn’t manage to make it into the next tournament, the 2004 Copa America, as the coach at the time, Carlos Alberto Parreira, wished to try out new players and tactics.

He was, however, the captain of Brazil in the Confederations Cup in 2005. During the final he played a blinder, well in fact all tournament he was completely brilliant, scoring three goals in the tournament which put him as joint overall top scorer. In the final he was handed the man of the match award as Brazil beat Argentina 4-1 to add another medal to the midfielders growing haul.

In 2006 the World Cup came around again and this time it was based in Germany. It was now time to form a new forward line, leaving one part of the three R’s behind in Rivaldo (as he had now retired), Ronaldinho was to be the main man alongside Adriano, Ronaldo, and Kaka. Unfortunately it wasn’t to be. In fact it was a very disappointing outcome, especially for Ronaldinho, who only managed one assist and no goals in the tournament. Brazil eventually got knocked out in Quarter-finals at the hands of France.

Come the 2010 World Cup, he was named in the 30 man squad. This time it didn’t start, never mind end well, as he was not named in Dunga’s twenty-three man squad for South Africa. That didn’t get Ronaldinho thinking it was all over as he has been back in the squad as recently as September this year, when he was called up by new coach Mano Menezes. He played the full 90 minutes in the 1-0 win over Ghana and managed to play in the back to back friendlies against Argentina and scored a fantastic free kick against Mexico in the 2-1 friendly win.

At the age of 31, and with the next World Cup not until 2014, who knows if Ronaldinho will get the nod to play. There is an argument for and against him being chosen by Menezes, but there is only one thing he can continue to do and that is to play well for his club and just wait for that call from the manager. Until the decision is made, we can all remember the great memories he’s given us in his brilliant career.

One thing for sure is that he will never be forgotten and will go down in history as yet another fantastic Brazilian player. That man is none other than the great Ronaldinho.

You may have noticed, I haven’t put up, or mentioned what Ronaldinho has won in his wonderful career. The reason is. It just looks so much better listed below:

Honours

Club

Grêmio
South Cup (1): 1999
Rio Grande do Sul State Championship (1): 1999

Paris Saint-Germain
UEFA Intertoto Cup (1): 2001

Barcelona
La Liga (2): 2004–05, 2005–06
Supercopa de España (2): 2005, 2006
UEFA Champions League (1): 2005–06

AC Milan
Serie A (1): 2010–11

Flamengo
Taça Guanabara (1): 2011
Taça Rio (1): 2011
Campeonato Carioca (1): 2011

International

Brazil
Copa América (1): 1999
FIFA World Cup (1): 2002
FIFA Confederations Cup (1): 2005
Superclásico de las Américas (1): 2011

Individual
FIFA Confederations Cup Golden Ball: 1999
FIFA Confederations Cup Golden Shoe: 1999
Rio Grande do Sul State Championship Top Scorer: 1999
FIFA World Cup All-Star Team: 2002
FIFA 100
Don Balón Award (2): 2003–04, 2005–06
EFE Trophy (1): 2004
FIFA World Player of the Year (2): 2004, 2005
UEFA Club Best Forward (1): 2004–05
European Footballer of the Year (1): 2005
FIFPro World Player of the Year (2): 2005, 2006
UEFA Club Footballer of the Year (1): 2005–06
UEFA Team of the Year (3): 2003–04, 2004–05, 2005–06
FIFPro World XI (3): 2004–05, 2005–06, 2006–07
Golden Foot (1): 2009

Gary is a regular blogger and podcaster for Lovely Left Foot, The Football Project and French Football Weekly. You can tweet him @Linton1388.

Welcome to the Headers & Volleys Bucket List. World football is a big place and sometimes there seems almost too much to see. In this series we will be looking at the top things to see and do, before you pop your clogs. Feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments section below, or contact us here and we will feature the best entries on the site.

Ryan Leverton of SportsLeviathan.com concludes his journey through his own Bucket List with today’s final instalment. Here, Ryan looks at one of the world’s most prestigious club competitions, the Champions League.

Whilst I love international football, in the most part because I am patriotic and I love supporting the same team as all my friends, hugging and chanting with people who on a regular Saturday would be a foe more than pal, club football is everyone’s bread and butter.  I am certainly not one of these people who doesn’t care about England and would prefer to watch their club every week; there is space in my life for both and I would cheer Rooney one week in a white shirt and then snarl at his quality the following when white turns to red (the shirt not the card!). However, what gives me goosebumps, gets my blood pumping and epitomises my love for football is when you walk into a full stadium on a European night. 

Liverpool fans I’m sure would testify their home games in the Champions League are electric and it is true I am sure of all clubs, well, at least once you get down to the nitty-gritty of the competition. In our English stadiums the attendance due to stewarding and safety is reduced, however, the atmosphere remains unrivalled.  It illustrates many things, not least that people seem to care most about winning the Champions League as well as that fans are willing to go that extra mile to create a winning support, even more so in European matches than domestic. 

I went to Chelsea 4 Liverpool 4.  Despite being the craziest match I can remember, my lasting memory was that I didn’t think the atmosphere could get any better at Stamford Bridge.  A home, knockout Champions league tie (preferably the second leg) is memorable and a must for our ‘bucket list’.

An away trip in Europe is also highly advised. As a young man I was fortunate enough that the team I supported were successful in Europe. I visited Stockholm, Barcelona, Milan and Rome. The excitement on the flight with fans singing at 30,000 feet, coupled with the continental squares full of football colours and litre stein glasses is unforgettable. As I previously mentioned, the idea of this list is supposed to be things that are achievable, but whoever you support, a trip abroad in some capacity is a must. 

I have friends who support Tottenham and they have relished the Europa league and its opportunities to venture to pastures unusual. Growing up, the ultimate test was always ‘Europe’. Will they get into Europe? How will they cope in Europe? Can they become champions of Europe? It is a different yet nonetheless special experience and if you get the chance it is a ‘must do’

* * *

If you love football, create a Bucket List and do those things before you die, here is mine.

1)     Visit Ashborne and watch Shrovetide Football
2)     Go to Austria and debate the weekend away in a Viennese Coffee house
3)     Take a trip to Brazil play football on the streets, the beach and the Maracana
4)     Attend an FA cup final at Wembley (or an equivalent final)
5)     Watch a game on the terraces
6)     Watch a ‘Derby’ match – Fenerbache vs Galatasary and Boca vs River Plate
7)     Go to the World Cup
8)     Experience a Champions League Knockout match (Home / Away or both)

We will be breaking from the Bucket List for a couple of weeks, but will return with more instalments of the things to do in football before you die. A huge thank you to Ryan for his extensive, detailed and intriguing looks under the skin of the best football experiences, and for providing us with no little laughter and entertainment along the way. We urge and implore you to check Ryan’s cracking site SportsLeviathan.com.
If you’d like to contribute to the Headers & Volleys Bucket List, with some of your own experiences you want others to try, or with the dreams of games or stadia or teams you hope one day to visit, please do get in touch.

Didi - Master of the "Dry Leaf" free-kick

When remembering Brazil’s World Cup winning sides of 1958 and 1962 it is easy to focus entirely on Pele and Garrincha. The twin giants of Brazilian football made such an impression at the two tournaments that so many other great characters fade into the background. For the emergence of a boy who would be king and a little bird so captured the imagination of the world at large that many other heroes were forced into the periphery.

The result of the natural fascination with Pele and Garrincha is the marginalisation of a host of other legends. From goalkeeper Gilmar, to full-backs Djalma and Nilton Santos and the likes of Mario Zagallo and Vava in attack, Brazil possessed all-time greats in every position. No man’s legacy has been more frequently forgotten though than Didi.

Waldir Pereira, known to the world as Didi, did not have it easy in his quest to become a professional footballer. Born, as with so many Brazilians of the era, into great poverty in the city of Campos he came close to have his leg amputated at the age of 15 following an injury playing street football. While mercifully his leg healed more quickly and more fully than expected, he used the incident as a greater spur to prove his ability throughout his career.

On recovery he joined the youth team of Sao Cristovao, but following brief spells with a series of clubs, he made his professional debut with Americano. Not that he stayed there long. Indeed it was only when he joined Fluminense in 1949 at the age of 21 that Didi was finally able to settle down. He quickly impressed for the Tricolores and represented Rio in a match against Sao Paulo to celebrate the opening of the Maracana stadium in 1950, scoring the first ever goal in the cathedral of Brazilian football.

By 1952 Didi was ready to make his debut for the Brazilian national team against Mexico. At the time Brazilian football was still recovering from the Maracanazo disaster, losing at home in the final match of the 1950 World Cup to Uruguay. The national team had not played a single match in almost two years since that fateful day and Didi was one of five debutants to take to the field for new coach Zeze Moreira. That match saw a comfortable 2-0 victory for Brazil, with both goals coming from Baltazar, and Didi played well enough to retain his place going forward.

From then on Didi was a fixture for the Selecao and by the time the 1954 World Cup came around, he was already a focal point of the team. Brazil began the tournament against Mexico and handed them a 5-0 thrashing Didi was renowned in Brazil at the time for his “folha seca”, or “dry leaf” free-kicks. Due to the injury that Didi had suffered as a boy he kicked the ball in such a way that it took a dipping and swerving trajectory, akin to a falling leaf. When Didi scored the second of Brazil’s goals with just such a free-kick the world became aware of his special talents.

Didi then helped Brazil through to the quarter-finals with the equaliser in the 1-1 draw against Yugoslavia. Remembered as the Battle of Berne due to the levels of violence witnessed, Brazil’s quarter-final against Hungary was a match for the ages, but saw the Selecao crash out 4-2. Didi hit the post in the second-half, but at this stage Brazil were no match for the Magical Magyars.

In 1957 Didi made the switch across Rio from Fluminense to Botafogo. That first season he won the Rio state championship, and was in imperious form for the Lone Star club. For the national team he was increasingly the focal point of a maturing side. Didi had begun his career as an inside-forward in the mould of Zizinho, linking play and creating chances for the striker. As Brazilian tactics evolved he was moved into a deeper midfield role, while one of the remaining half-backs was shifted deeper into defence to create a 4-2-4 formation.

Brazil vs Sweden, 1962

The result of this for Didi was that he was increasingly involved in every passage of play. His partner in midfield (initially in 1958 Dino Sani and later in the tournament Zito) was required primarily to break play up and provide the ball for Didi. Didi could also drop deeper to collect the ball for his back four and spray penetrative passes behind opposing defences.

At the 1958 World Cup Didi’s influence came to the fore. Indeed, while he scored only once in the tournament (an incredible effort from 30 yards in the semi-final against France), he was involved in almost every good Brazilian move. The only game in which he was truly nullified was against England in the group stage as Bill Slater man-marked him and prevented him receiving the ball. Had Sweden been wise to the threat he offered they might have done likewise. Instead, manager George Rayner was forced to rue his mistake afterwards, “It was impossible, he was masterful” he reflected on the way that Didi contributed to a 5-2 defeat for the hosts.

By the late 1950s Real Madrid had already captured a collection of the world’s finest players. Di Stefano, Puskas, Santamaria and Kopa had all been recruited by Santiago Bernabeu to his personal project. No wonder then that in 1959 Didi joined them in Spain. It was to be the greatest mistake of his career.

For in Madrid there was one undisputed master: Di Stefano. Ferenc Puskas had fitted into the team by altering his game, converting from a creative inside-left into an out and out striker. Raymond Kopa too had moved from a central playmaking role onto the right wing. How then could Didi, the ultimate midfield maestro, fit into a team with the original total-footballer?

Puskas would later suggest that the real reason that Didi had failed in Spain was that he had put on the weight the Hungarian had lost, but in truth it was always going to be a hard task to accommodate two incredible playmakers in one team. After a brief spell on loan in Valencia, Didi opted to return to Botafogo. While often looked on as an unmitigated failure, Didi’s time at Madrid was not without its high points. He scored six times in 19 games, a respectable return for an essentially creative player.

Back in Brazil, Didi certainly showed no signs of the excess weight that Puskas alluded to in carrying Botafogo (along with Garrincha, Nilton Santos and Quarentinha) to consecutive Carioca championships in 1961 and 1962 (though his appearances were more fleeting in the second season due to injury). If anything, Didi’s desire to prove himself burned even more brightly during his second spell in black and white, after the ignominy of his time in Spain.

When the 1962 World Cup came round, Didi was in prime form and joined by so many of the victorious 1958 team few could back against Brazil. They began by beating Mexico 2-0 but the second game (a 0-0 draw with Czechoslovakia) was most notable for an injury to Pele which ruled him out of the rest of the tournament. The final group match proved satisfying for Didi as two late goals from Amarildo knocked out Spain (and thus prevented Di Stefano from ever playing in a World Cup match).

Victories over England and host nation Chile took Brazil through to a final against Czechoslovakia. Didi’s influence in these games was not as dominant as it had been four years earlier, but he remained an enormous factor in the way that Brazil could strangle and subdue opponents. The final saw a terrible error from the previously unflappable Villiam Schrojf when he handed a goal to Brazil after Masopust had put Czechoslovakia ahead. From there Brazil didn’t look back and second-half goals from Zito and Vava secured a second World Cup for Didi et al. Few to this day have matched that remarkable achievement.

Didi, front row, third from left

Didi returned to Botafogo following the World Cup triumph, but at 33 he was nearing the climax of his career. A brief spell with Vera Cruz in Mexico brought down the curtain on what had been a glittering football journey. Didi had always enjoyed tremendous success against Mexico so perhaps it was fitting that it should all end there.

What set Didi apart in a golden era of playmakers was his unhurried and languid style that afforded him time and space in even the most congested midfields. No matter what pressure was applied to him, he managed to glide through games with a sereneness that spoke volumes about an intrinsic confidence in his own ability. He conducted the team from deep with a level of certainty that instilled belief throughout the team. When times were tough (and even Brazil in this era didn’t always have it all their own way) you could rely on Didi to bring order amidst the chaos.

Certainly there were contemporaries who played with more swagger and showmanship. Undoubtedly there were better goalscorers, dribblers and more fearsome tacklers. What Didi demonstrated (his free-kicks aside) was not material for the showreel. Yet at a time in which our appreciation of the possession game has never been higher, has there ever been a greater exponent of the virtues of such play? For that reason alone it’s time to celebrate the “Ethiopian Prince”.

Didi’s Career Honours

Brazil
FIFA World Cup: 1958, 1962
Copa Oswaldo Cruz: 1955, 1958, 1961, 1962
O’Higgins Cup: 1955, 1961
Pan American Games: 1952
Atlantic Cup: 1956

Botafogo
Brazilian Champion (Roberto Gomes Pedrosa Tournament): 1962
State Championship: 1957, 1961, 1962
Tournament Home: 1961, 1962, 1963
Colombia International Tournament: 1960
Pentagonal Club of Mexico: 1962

Fluminense
Copa Rio: 1952
State Championship: 1951

Real Madrid
UEFA Champions League: 1959, 1960
Ramon de Carranza Trophy: 1959

Individual Title
World Cup’s top player: 1958

You can follow Rob on twitter @ademir2z or visit his blog at http://ademirtozizinho.blogspot.com/ for articles on world football and the history of tactics.

Welcome to the Headers & Volleys Bucket List. World football is a big place and sometimes there seems almost too much to see. In this series we will be looking at the top things to see and do, before you pop your clogs. Feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments section below, or contact us here and we will feature the best entries on the site.

Ryan Leverton of SportsLeviathan.com continues his journey through his own Bucket List. In today’s penultimate instalment, Ryan looks at the biggest global football competition, the World Cup.

My penultimate entry is predictably the World Cup.  I was going to suggest a World Cup final but ultimately the chance of your chosen country (especially if it’s England) reaching one is a forlorn hope and I want the choices to be something everyone can access in their lifetime, if they wish.  Of course you could spend a fortune to go to a World Cup and pay even more for a final ticket but unless your country are present in the final it may seem like a damp squib.  So my choice is to go to the World Cup, experience the fun, frivolities and spirit of football in its purest form. 

I must personally admit that this is one thing on my list which I am yet to experience.  Friends of mine went to Germany and South Africa and their feedback was that the experience is difficult to explain, describe or comprehend.  Mixed emotions of euphoria, ecstasy and despair intertwined with compassion between rival supporters and the enviable generosity from the host nations locals mean this is a spectacle not to be missed. 

It needs little more build up than if you love football, you must attend a world cup.  Plan a route, hope your team doesn’t slip up in the group or have Robert Green in goal, or both.  Travel round the country, take in everything it has to offer, probably drink too much, definitely spend too much but ultimately have the time of your life, and maybe, just maybe, the one you go to is the one when where your team lifts the FIFA World Cup trophy. 

I’m already planning my trip to Brazil in 2014 – Two birds, one stone!

Coming up in the final instalment of this part of the Bucket List: Ryan walks us through Europe’s Premier club competition, in ‘These are the Champions de de de de de deeeee…’.

Click here to see the previous articles in the series and get in touch if you’d like to contribute.