Italian midfielder Andrea Pirlo (right) celebrates with teammate Emanuele Giaccherini after scoring during the Euro 2012 championships football match between Italy and Croatia on Thursday at the Municipal Stadium in Poznan
In keeping with their punctilious Swiss nature, UEFA has made life extremely complicated for all those trying to figure out what their teams will have to do in the final round of games in order to qualify for the quarterfinals here at Euro 2012.
A lot of people have understandably gotten this wrong, including the game broadcasters at ESPN ,
In most international football competition, the first tiebreak is goal differential. Here it is not.
It’s so complicated you may want to find a quiet place, a comfortable seat and a lot of notepaper before you try to figure this out.
Here is the relevant passage, Section 8.07 in the UEFA handbook:
If two or more teams are equal on points on completion of the group matches, the following criteria are applied, in the order given, to determine the rankings:
a. Higher number of points obtained in the matches played among the teams in question.
b. Superior goal difference in the matches among the teams in question (if more than two teams finish equal on points).
c. Higher number of goals scored in the matches among the teams in question (if more than two teams finish equal on points).
d. Superior goal difference in all the group matches.
e. Higher number of goals scored in all the group matches.
f. Position in the UEFA national team coefficient ranking system.
g. Fair play conduct of the teams (final tournament)
h. Drawing of lots.
Yup, drawing of lots.
It won’t get to that, but it’s amazing to think that UEFA would even consider nodding in the direction of the bad, old coin-flip days.
Let’s try and puzzle this one through, you and I, as it applies to the teams left in Group C — Italy, Croatia and Spain.
Should Italy beat Ireland (natch) on the final game day and Spain draw Croatia, all three teams will be sitting on five points.
Yesterday, the Italian press, who worked this out within seconds of the final whistle at Italy’s 1-1 draw with Croatia, were muttering paranoiacally about the biscotto to come — something baked up. They might be right.
Based on these rules, Croatia and Spain now have the opportunity to put Italy out with a gentlemen’s draw. The result being tossed about by the professore of the Italian media was 2-2. If Spain and Croatia draw 2-2, Italy’s pooched. Keep that number in mind for Monday.
The first thing that will matter if those teams end up on equal points is how they played against each other. Even at this stage — whimper — Ireland’s an afterthought.
Let’s play this out:
FINAL DAY — Spain 1-Croatia 1, Italy 2-Ireland-0
In this case, all three teams are tied and all have tied each other (knocking out criteria A).
All have three goals for and against each other, so B is out, too. All have three goals scored against each other. There goes C.
So Ireland’s back in it! As the whipping boy. This is where it gets tough for Italy. If we work with the example we’ve given — 1-1 Spain/Croatia; 2-0 Italy/Ireland — Spain is through and Italy and Croatia are still tied with a plus-2 goal difference.
On to E.
This would undo the Italians, since the Croatians will have scored 5 goals to Italy’s 4.
Basically, a Spain-Croatia draw puts Italy in a terrible spot. They must win by at least 2 and hope there are few goals in the other game.
Whatever happens, we’re unlikely to get to the enormous headache of trying to figure out how UEFA comes up with its upside-down national team coefficient ranking system.
So that’s it. In keeping with everything else here, an unbelievably complicated process drafted on top of the world’s simplest game.
In the coming days, as these scenarios seep in to all the groups (since all are close), expect the conspiracy theories to mount at a furious pace.
Croatia fans wait before the start of the Euro 2012 soccer championship Group C match between Italy and Croatia in Poznan, Poland on Thursday
POZNAN, POLAND—Some years ago, the first exhibit you encountered upon entering the Museum of the City of Zagreb was a TV screen.
On it, in an endless loop, was a replay of Croatian midfielder Zvonimir Boban karate-kicking a member of the then Yugoslav police forces.
The incident took place before an incendiary 1990 match between Red Star Belgrade and Dinamo Zagreb. It was one of sport’s great mise en scenes. As political tensions spiralled around a Croatian independence vote, key characters in the tragedy to come descended on Zagreb’s decrepit Maksimir Stadium to witness the beginning of the end of Yugoslavia.
Before the match started, fans rioted. Police flooded the field. When one of the security forces began beating a Dinamo supporter, Boban attacked him.
Boban was a magnificent player. But in Croatia, he is remembered in mythic terms for that one act of defiance.
Croatians call that match “The Game That Was Never Played.” Around the world, it has been called the game that started a war.
All of the nations here place football near the centre of their national culture. Only Croatia can claim to have been forged by the sport.
It is the thin edge of a small wedge here — the nations for whom winning here would mean more than a great party. It would represent a transformational event.
The problems that afflict all of Europe — problems that threatened to engulf Spain and Italy — have been playing out in the stands. Angrier and/or thinner crowds represent most visiting nations at the European championships.
Greeks have barely been able to muster a trainload of fans. Many of the Irish borrowed to get here. Despite having the richest history of all, the Italians have been bled of their travelling support. On Thursday, hundreds of seats in what should have been the tifosi corner for Italy sat empty all game long. It’s only 13 hours drive from this city to Milan. It’s a long daytrip that nobody decided to take.
That absence left the field to the Croatians, whose support dwarfed the four-time world champions. They pressed their sonic advantage all game long. The Italian supporters didn’t even bother trying to overawe them, even when leading.
The Italians were the better, and tallied first through their imperious regista (director), Andrea Pirlo. His 39th minute goal from a freekick was placed with physio-mathematic precision into the corner of goal.
At 32, Pirlo appears to be Dr. Who-ing his way through life, getting younger as time passes. He may be the most influential player in all of Europe right now.
However, the Italians could not avoid that most Italian of footballing vices – laying back. Croatia lurked for long enough, equalizing on an achingly patient poacher’s goal by Mario Mandzukic.
The 1-1 draw had the Italian press corps tumbling out of the stadium so that they could begin shrieking at each other about its meaning. They couldn’t make up their minds (meaning they will revert to their default, factory setting: ‘Attack!’).
Had either team won, the other would be essentially finished. Now, it’s far too complicated to think about without having a nice lie-down first. Just add Group C to the bulging list of brackets that could go any way at all on the opening round’s final day.
If the Italians should fail, their fans will gnash their teeth and move on. They’ve got trophies and history to tide them over.
Croatia belongs to that European underclass who sees this tournament as a way to cement their place in the world. They will never stick it to England or France on the political or financial stage. But from the perspective of football, they can hurt their elders and often have.
That list of outsiders might also include the co-hosts, Ireland and the Czech Republic. The Greeks may see themselves there, based on their current predicament. The Russians now evidently consider this tournament a political process, and a way to antagonize their neighbours.
These are the smallest, poorest and/or newest countries. Their motivations are varied, but their purpose is the same — to assert themselves when they know the world is watching.
Were it not for football and war, much would know nothing of Croatia. Excelling at the former is the most effective way to make people forget about the latter.
That compelling desire — something that is several orders of magnitude greater than the traditional rooters’ impulse — drives these huge Croatian crowds. Like everyone else, they’re also poorer than they were 10 years ago. They’re still here.
Watching them, their fervour, is a thrilling and powerful reminder of how much winning on this stage could mean to people who feel they’ve never won anything before.
POZNAN, POLAND—Some years ago, the first exhibit you encountered upon entering the Museum of the City of Zagreb was a TV screen.
On it, in an endless loop, was a replay of Croatian midfielder Zvonimir Boban karate-kicking a member of the then Yugoslav police forces.
The incident took place before an incendiary 1990 match between Red Star Belgrade and Dinamo Zagreb. It was one of sport’s great mise en scenes. As political tensions spiralled around a Croatian independence vote, key characters in the tragedy to come descended on Zagreb’s decrepit Maksimir Stadium to witness the beginning of the end of Yugoslavia.
Before the match started, fans rioted. Police flooded the field. When one of the security forces began beating a Dinamo supporter, Boban attacked him.
Boban was a magnificent player. But in Croatia, he is remembered in mythic terms for that one act of defiance.
Croatians call that match “The Game That Was Never Played.” Around the world, it has been called the game that started a war.
All of the nations here place football near the centre of their national culture. Only Croatia can claim to have been forged by the sport.
It is the thin edge of a small wedge here — the nations for whom winning here would mean more than a great party. It would represent a transformational event.
The problems that afflict all of Europe — problems that threatened to engulf Spain and Italy — have been playing out in the stands. Angrier and/or thinner crowds represent most visiting nations at the European championships.
Greeks have barely been able to muster a trainload of fans. Many of the Irish borrowed to get here. Despite having the richest history of all, the Italians have been bled of their travelling support. On Thursday, hundreds of seats in what should have been the tifosi corner for Italy sat empty all game long. It’s only 13 hours drive from this city to Milan. It’s a long daytrip that nobody decided to take.
That absence left the field to the Croatians, whose support dwarfed the four-time world champions. They pressed their sonic advantage all game long. The Italian supporters didn’t even bother trying to overawe them, even when leading.
The Italians were the better, and tallied first through their imperious regista (director), Andrea Pirlo. His 39th minute goal from a freekick was placed with physio-mathematic precision into the corner of goal.
At 32, Pirlo appears to be Dr. Who-ing his way through life, getting younger as time passes. He may be the most influential player in all of Europe right now.
However, the Italians could not avoid that most Italian of footballing vices – laying back. Croatia lurked for long enough, equalizing on an achingly patient poacher’s goal by Mario Mandzukic.
The 1-1 draw had the Italian press corps tumbling out of the stadium so that they could begin shrieking at each other about its meaning. They couldn’t make up their minds (meaning they will revert to their default, factory setting: ‘Attack!’).
Had either team won, the other would be essentially finished. Now, it’s far too complicated to think about without having a nice lie-down first. Just add Group C to the bulging list of brackets that could go any way at all on the opening round’s final day.
If the Italians should fail, their fans will gnash their teeth and move on. They’ve got trophies and history to tide them over.
Croatia belongs to that European underclass who sees this tournament as a way to cement their place in the world. They will never stick it to England or France on the political or financial stage. But from the perspective of football, they can hurt their elders and often have.
That list of outsiders might also include the co-hosts, Ireland and the Czech Republic. The Greeks may see themselves there, based on their current predicament. The Russians now evidently consider this tournament a political process, and a way to antagonize their neighbours.
These are the smallest, poorest and/or newest countries. Their motivations are varied, but their purpose is the same — to assert themselves when they know the world is watching.
Were it not for football and war, much would know nothing of Croatia. Excelling at the former is the most effective way to make people forget about the latter.
That compelling desire — something that is several orders of magnitude greater than the traditional rooters’ impulse — drives these huge Croatian crowds. Like everyone else, they’re also poorer than they were 10 years ago. They’re still here.
Watching them, their fervour, is a thrilling and powerful reminder of how much winning on this stage could mean to people who feel they’ve never won anything before.
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