I don't have a crystal ball or any deep insight into what makes the warped minds of those bound up in hatred, that spills over into physical violence, tick, but I guess we must give thanks, to some extent, that Polish irregulars took the racist headlines away from the issue of colour by pouring their venom onto the Russians last week; maybe we can see that as good old-fashioned tribalism - something I think we might all experience without too much conscience of becoming Nazi degenerates.  How unfortunate it was that the Russians were due to play the Poles on Russia Day (their national day) and how even more ironic was it that this day commemorates not all the bad things for which the Poles hate the Russians (particularly them being under the Soviet cosh but more generally centuries of history as well), but celebrates the fall of the so-called 'evil empire' that saw state communism defeated and the 'liberation' of the masses.  Ironic too that they have swapped the right to work for the right to be unemployed, aimless and adrift!

Sandwiched in between the violence that day was that game!  Wow!  So much to admire, so much skill, so much ebb and flow, so uncluttered with the inflexible hatred that was manifest on the streets and, for so long, did the result hang in the balance and finally, what a great goal.  What little boy wouldn't want to be scoring the equaliser for his country in a major game with a goal like that!  The Arshavin living ghost that the Arsenal fans saw in the weeks and months leading up to his return home has been brought back from the dead. 

Now that both host countries have been dumped out of the competition we find that football issues have largely supplanted the media frenzy around the race issue.  With England progressing into the last eight all the talk has moved on to how many bodies can we Brits get out there to cheer our boys on against Italy rather than how dangerous and unpleasant might it be to head east if the hue of your skin is slightly darker than Palmolive Milk and Honey!

The second quarter final between Germany and Greece was a union made in heaven given the current politico-economic climate that pervades all things European at the moment.  What cartoonist or satirist won’t be making great capital of Germany (finally after a stuttering start) putting their opponents to the sword as Chancellor Merkel looks on.  ‘Yes Angelica’ you hear her male companion saying, ‘Now it is appropriate for you to throw your arms in the air in celebration; but not too wildly, and please don’t outstretch your right hand skywards quite so much.’  The poor woman seemed somewhat bemused about terrace protocol.  I am sure she just wanted those damned, irritating Greeks ground into the dust.  Job done!

The remaining four teams that have still yet to play their quarter-final matches would, no doubt, have been delighted if the Greeks, playing for penalties as they were from the kick-off, had confounded logic and knocked the stylish Teutons out of the competition.  As it turned out the Germans scuppered that plan even before half-time was reached but we might reflect on the usefulness of the penalty shoot-out when it has teams believing, before the game even starts, that this will be how the contest is decided.  Recently a friend suggested that, if the ultimate end of a game is a draw, it should be the count of corner-kicks that each side has had that is the tie-breaker.  That would be a much fairer way of separating the teams because it would reflect the balance of play throughout the game. 

The Greeks have long since been self-delusional but their dream was not to be.  How fierce they looked with their swarthy bewhiskered faces giving the (for the most part) lily-white countenances of the Germans stubble rash in their close encounters.  How fortunate that they have managed to hang on in the Euro Zone until now.  How else might those blue and white daubed supporters have been able to afford their tickets?  They would have needed lorry-loads of new drachmas – shades of German hyper inflation in the 1920s.

Each game will have its own set of dramas.  Now we move on to that intriguing match-up between the Spaniards and the French; an encounter one likes to think where skill will be matched with skill and where the prize will be a semi-final against Christiano Ronaldo.  I am guessing that both sides will fancy their chances against him.  England, last up, already know who they have to contend with, even before they overcome the Italians – none other than the Iron Chancellor herself, those teeming thousands of fans following in the footsteps of their grandfathers and, oh yes, a not inconsiderable German team.