Spain are to futbol what Alabama is to football: boring, villainous, and undeniably successful.
La Furia Roja, champions of Europe and the world, have held opponents goalless for 900 straight minutes in the knockout stages of major tournaments, winning nine straight matches in the leadup to Sunday's European Championship final. It's hard to lose when the other guys don't score, of course, but Spain rarely rip the nets themselves, racking up four straight 1-0 wins en route to raising the 2010 World Cup. In this tournament Spain have rarely threatened goal, taking 110 minutes to create a clear chance against a mediocre Portugal side before escaping yet again in penalties.
Looking at those scorelines, it's hard to understand why pundits hail Spain as a free-flowing marvel, a testament to attacking football, an all-conquering wonderteam that mere mortals don't understand. Whatever. Us lazy Americans will take more goals plz.
You certainly can't blame Spain's individuals for lulling you to sleep, for they've shown a capacity to play exciting football in the past. Ten of Spain's starting 11 are among the world's best at their positions: the indomitable Iker Casillas, a stone wall in goal; Sergio Ramos and Gerard Pique, center backs with moves that make most attackers jealous; Jordi Alba, the man who somehow covers left back and left wing simultaneously; Sergio Busquets, the whining anchorman who kills everything beautiful the opposition starts; and Xavi, Xabi, Iniesta, Silva, and Cesc, midfield maestros extraordinaire. (So sorry, but you suck, Alvaro Arbeloa!)
All of these players can pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass the ball all day and all night, pass the ball till Queen Elizabeth finally dies, pass the ball for fun, pass the ball for other guys to shoot, but mostly pass the ball so the other team can't pass it. They are all also smallish, slow and mediocre at finishing. A quintet of sublime chance creators is all good and well, but rendered somewhat redundant without a top-notch chance finisher, the one thing Spain lack in the absence of injured David Villa and circa-2008 Fernando Torres.
Coach Vicente del Bosque realizes this and tailored his strategy to his side's aforementioned passing strength. When Spain take the pitch, they play a game more resembling keepaway than high-level soccer. In the end, the Spanish possess the ball at least 60% of the time, closer to 70% in most cases - but this comes at the expense of any form of attacking thrust. The pass masters move the ball forward at a snail's pace, passing sideways and backwards many times along the way. So the ball skids back and forth along the grass in these endless, hypnotic triangles.
But it never hits the back of the net. For either team.
That's the genius of del Bosque's strategy - although his team seem unlikely to score, they at least maintain a nominal chance by holding so much of the ball. Other teams, knowing they'll have so few opportunities to construct successful attacks, often seem defeated before stepping on the pitch. Looking at the results, you can hardly blame them.
Spain plays the beautiful game as beautifully as any side ever has, but not in the traditional, visual sense. The beauty lies in the strategic vision ruthlessly executed by a ruthless group of players. They control every pass, strangle every opponent, win every game.
You just wish they did so without curing insomnia along the way.
