Chapter 898: Clash of Sword and Shield
Italy's head coach was former Manchester City manager Roberto Mancini.
On the eve of the European Championship final, the Italian tactician declared confidently that his squad would defeat Portugal to lift the trophy.
Having made his statement, Mancini settled in—ready for the battle to come.
When he managed Manchester City, it was during the club's early rise under Middle Eastern ownership. Under his leadership, City claimed their first Premier League title, the triumph that signaled their arrival on the world stage.
In those years, Mancini's greatest rival had been Manchester United's legendary manager Sir Alex Ferguson. Their duels had been fierce, marked by tactical mind games and verbal sparring.
And while they were opponents, Mancini deeply admired Ferguson, especially his mastery of psychological warfare. His confident words before this final were Ferguson's influence in action.
But this time, he received no response.
No rebuttal from Fernando Santos. No counter-comment, no provocation.
Days passed—even match day arrived—and the Portuguese camp remained silent. Mancini finally realized the truth: Santos had decided to ignore him completely.
It made him both infuriated and helpless.
...
When the two coaches met before kickoff, Santos shook Mancini's hand warmly—then proceeded to compliment him.
He praised Italy's form under Mancini, calling it a return to the nation's historic style.
The Italian's irritation vanished instantly, replaced by grudging respect. In that moment, he understood—Santos simply stood on another level.
Winning both the European Championship and the World Cup had made Portugal's coach a legend of his generation. Mancini's honors, though admirable, still fell short.
...
Portugal's lineup was unchanged: Rui Patrício in goal; Rúben Dias and Pepe at centre-back; Raphaël Guerreiro and João Cancelo as full-backs. The midfield three: João Palhinha, William Carvalho, and Bruno Fernandes. The attack: Diogo Jota, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Bernardo Silva.
Palhinha, who started the tournament as a substitute, had earned his spot through growing authority and tactical discipline. With strong tackling, composure, and intelligent positioning, he had replaced Danilo Pereira as first choice.
Italy fielded their best as well: Gianluigi Donnarumma in goal; Emerson and Di Lorenzo as full-backs; Chiellini and Bonucci in central defense. The midfield trio—Marco Verratti, Jorginho, Nicolò Barella—controlled the tempo, while Lorenzo Insigne, Ciro Immobile, and Federico Chiesa led the line.
...
Five minutes in—disaster for Portugal.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!"
Rui Patrício knelt on one knee, staring helplessly at the ball lodged in the net.
Rúben Dias sat on the grass in front of him, stunned.
"Jorginho! Jorginho!! It's Jorginho for Italy! 1–0!"
The replay told the story: Jorginho's thunderous drive had deflected off Dias's shoulder, wrong-footing Patrício completely.
For Italy's deep-lying playmaker, goals were rare—but long-range efforts were his passion. And to score in this final, against Bruno Fernandes' Portugal—after losing to Manchester United twice in cup finals with Chelsea—was vindication.
Overcome with elation, Jorginho sprinted toward the Italian supporters, pumping his fists as his teammates swarmed in celebration.
"Damn it," Bruno muttered under his breath, shaking his head. A deflected goal—nothing anyone could do. Pure misfortune.
...
Italy didn't retreat with their lead—they pushed harder.
Mancini knew defending a single goal against this Portugal was suicide. Attack was his only real defense, even for Italy's famed azzurri style.
Bruno appreciated the courage. He responded by driving Portugal forward, orchestrating attacks from midfield.
He knew where Portugal's weakness lay: defense. Despite strong names, the unit had been inconsistent—four goals conceded in the group stage, five more in the knockouts, now ten total, the leakiest among the semi-finalists.
Spain had allowed six, England only three, and Italy? Just two all tournament.
So yes—Portugal's armor was fragile. But their sword was unmatched. Led by Bruno and Ronaldo, they'd scored twenty goals—nearly double Italy's tally, dwarfing Spain's eleven and England's nine.
Everyone called it the Battle of Sword and Shield—Portugal's unstoppable attack against Italy's impenetrable defense.
Bruno worried Italy might bunker down after scoring, but to his relief, Mancini's men kept attacking. That was exactly what Portugal wanted.
...
End-to-end football ensued—and soon Portugal struck back.
Italy, pressing high, were caught on the counter.
Bruno launched a sweeping pass across midfield to Bernardo Silva; Bernardo delivered early behind the defense. Ronaldo timed his run perfectly, bursting through the line.
Donnarumma charged out.
Ronaldo hesitated, feinted—and while everyone expected a power shot, he lifted his foot at the last instant.
The ball arced gracefully over the keeper's head and dipped into the net.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!"
"Ronaldo!!! What audacity! A chip over Donnarumma in the FINAL of all matches! He's done it again! What confidence, what composure—pure Ronaldo!"
The commentary captured the disbelief. Had Donnarumma stayed rooted, he could've caught it with ease—but he didn't. Ronaldo's genius—and nerve—paid off.
Santos, clapping on the sideline, turned to his assistant Ilidio Vale with a wry grin. "That man has no fear," he said.
Ronaldo ran to the corner flag, leapt, spun, and spread his arms as teammates rushed in. The crowd went wild.
For the neutral fans, this was heaven—two goals in twenty minutes, the stars delivering magic.
Back level, Portugal surged again.
...
Their momentum was unstoppable.
"Donnarumma! World-class save!"
The Italian keeper denied Bruno's powerful header after a clever attack—Jota flicking to Guerreiro, who crossed beautifully. From the resulting corner, Ronaldo's back-post header lacked power, easily caught by Donnarumma, who immediately launched a clearance.
But Pepe intercepted, recycling play into wave after wave. Bruno's shot was blocked by Chiellini; Jota followed up from range, missing by inches.
For nearly ten minutes, Italy couldn't breathe. They couldn't even carry possession past midfield.
Both Jorginho and Verratti were pinned deep, chasing shadows instead of creating.
...
The half ended 1–1: Jorginho's deflected strike, Ronaldo's sublime chip.
Mancini, surprisingly upbeat in the dressing room, praised his players and urged them to stay brave. "We can win this," he said.
The second half began with Italy in possession, attacking from the whistle—catching Portugal slightly off guard. Santos, momentarily puzzled, raised an eyebrow. "What got into them?" he murmured.
But he remained calm.
Like Bruno, he didn't fear Italy's attacks—what he truly despised was their defensive shell.
...
In the 56th minute, Italy produced a stunning sequence.
Insigne weaved past Bruno and Cancelo, cutting to the byline before curving a reverse cross toward the box.
Immobile feinted at the edge of the area, gently flicking the ball inside.
Chiesa sprinted in, colliding with defenders Rúben Dias and Guerreiro—then crashed to the floor.
The whistle blew instantly.
The Dutch referee, Björn Kuipers, pointed to the spot—and flashed a yellow card at Guerreiro.
Confusion erupted. Guerreiro blinked in disbelief, still digesting what had happened. In seconds, the stadium split into chaos—Italian fans roared with joy, Portuguese supporters thundered their protests.
"Penalty! Kuipers has pointed to the spot and booked Guerreiro! Chiesa brought down inside the box—it's a huge call!"
It was sudden, shocking, and controversial.
As Guerreiro stood frozen, realizing the verdict wouldn't change, Bruno clenched his jaw and muttered beneath his breath.
The final between the strongest sword and the strongest shield had just turned ruthless.
(END CHAPTER)
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