And here I am. Spain are European champions. I suppose I knew there was always a chance this could happen but what I did not know then was that I would end up cheering Spain on, that they would win the tournament in style and deservingly. Nor could I have foreseen that the tournament in which they would be crowned champions would turn out to be the most magical and spell-binding in years. In many ways it reminded me of Euro ‘88, especially with worthy swashbuckling teams such as The Netherlands, Russia and Turkey (even though they weren’t there all those years ago).

Most of the games I saw were fantastic spectacles: high in quality of football as well as entertainment value - so often a rare combination. The recurring themes of late goals and high drama were almost the order of the day, though amazingly not all of the late goals were winners because they were followed by even later goals. Spain enjoyed one last minute victory against Sweden but it was another less celebrated ‘microtheme’ that caught my attention.

Throughout the tournament Marchena was considered the weak link in the Spanish defence (largely because the pundits didn’t know who he was). He spent every game going about his business in a workmanlike fashion, no frills and no holding back in tackles. Throughout the tournament he seemed to take great offence at players crumpling under his challenges no matter how hard or unfairly he clattered them. He would regularly bawl at them to get up as they lay prostrate in his wake, waving his arms frantically at them as play moved on.

On one such occasion Marchena can be seen emptying his lungs screaming at the Swedish forward Rosenberg, who is lying on the ground after a fairly innocuous collision in the dying seconds. As the action unfolds on the bottom of the screen, Marchena appears apoplectic as he chastises Rosenberg for diving. All the while his team mates are counter attacking, setting up David Villa to score the last minute winner: still, Marchena towers over Rosenberg and is engrossed in the almost paternal reprimand he barks at the young Swede in a mixture of disappointment, horror, disgust and rage – apparently oblivious to the victory that is setting his side on their way to the quarter finals and, ultimately, the championship.

He won’t grab many headlines but he is one unsung hero in this great Spanish side and deserves his moment of glory after what was, for this reticent supporter of Spain, one thoroughly satisfying tournament.