There was no sense of inevitability as the ball landed at Federico Chiesa’s feet. No real feeling of grace. An agonising, attritional 95 minutes of football had seen to all that. Like tired boxers in a 13th round, Italy and Austria were simply circling each other, waiting to see whose legs gave way first. The awkward high bounce, forcing Chiesa to control the ball with his head to prevent it from going out of play, simply reinforced the notion of a game in which nothing had worked and nothing would work.
And then in a shuffle and a swing of the left boot the ball was burying itself in the Austria net, and Chiesa was being buried in a flurry of blue shirts, and in a fleeting instant Italy’s Euros were alive again.
Italy was alive again. On a night when Italy had almost stopped believing in miracles, Chiesa’s extra-time missile felt like more than a goal. It felt like a benediction, a blessing, a kiss of life.
Naturally even in victory there is an element of anticlimax here, given the way the Italians charmed us during the group stages. That fluid front three was nowhere to be seen, the dominant midfield went missing for large periods as Austria countered with numbers and intent. And yet anyone with even the faintest experience of tournament football would have been able to foresee a test like this somewhere along the line.
Did we really think Italy were going to moonwalk their way through the whole draw? Was it not inevitable that someone, somewhere along the line, would throw a spanner in the works? By and large, tournaments are not won and lost by beautiful football. They rise and fall on nights like these: when the games are tight and taut, when the nerves are jangling, when the ultimate determinant of victory is not the number of medals in your pocket but your threshold for suffering. Italy had played some scintillating football to reach this point. They had set the tournament alight. But they had not remotely been made to suffer like this.
And so on a crisp night in London Roberto Mancini’s side were wound through the wringer: buffeted and bruised, forced time and again to go to the painful place. Marko Arnautovic’s disallowed second-half goal had even forced them to contemplate the unthinkable. Mancini’s substitutions, not just the two goalscorers but even the introduction of the game-spoiling Andrea Belotti late on, proved critical. The bruises will hurt in the morning. But the glow of victory, ultimately sealed by Matteo Pessina, will be the most glorious analgesic imaginable.
Certainly this was a tougher, more rugged and more unpleasant test than any Italy had yet faced in this tournament. Unlike Wales, Austria actually carried a significant threat going forward. Unlike Switzerland, they competed physically in midfield and had a co-ordinated plan to disrupt Italy in possession. Unlike Turkey, they didn’t just kick the ball back as soon as they got it.
They are akin to a Bundesliga side in style and temperament, with their slingy vertical style and ravenous high press.
Clearly Austria had heeded the lessons of the group stage: that the best way to get at Italy is to force them to play at a higher tempo than they are comfortable with. And far from taking control of the game, Italy began to lose their grip as it progressed, knocking at the door several times throughout the 90 minutes without ever really managing to fashion a dangerous chance from it.
Arnautovic’s goal, offside by the width of a kneecap, was a much-needed wake-up call. Mancini removed the frictionless Marco Verratti from his midfield, introduced the more hard-running, all-action pair of Pessina and Manuel Locatelli, and Austria never really looked like winning after that. Pessina made the game safe on 105 minutes, and despite a late Austria goal, Italy managed to harness just enough order amid the chaos to progress.
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And in a way, this could be the best thing to happen to them. They will now have time to work on their flaws before the quarter-final against Portugal or Belgium: tighten a few screws, make themselves a little less predictable in attack and a little harder to counter. Above all, they now know they can win these sorts of games: when the form book goes out of the window, when the tactical plans have all been exhausted, and when all that remains is to stand and fight.
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