Why I Was Wrong About Italy at EURO 2026 — and 3 Lessons About Modern Football They Taught Me

I publicly predicted Italy would be eliminated in the quarter-finals of EURO 2026. I argued they 'lacked a star to create a spark', that this collective wasn't heavy enough to go deep in a major tournament. The result? Italy won the whole thing. And a rebuttal from a reader, packed with data showing Italy's pressing stats were in the top 3 of the tournament, was shared over 5,000 times. It was one of the most humiliating failures of my writing career. But instead of deleting the article, I did what I believed was the most correct thing at the time: I wrote again. This article is my deepest self-review, and also the most expensive lesson about modern football I've ever learned.

At that time, I was a young writer at a local sports site in Hai Phong. I believed in the power of stars, believed in the 'genius' moments that make the difference. Looking at Italy's squad, I didn't see a Messi, didn't see a Ronaldo, didn't see a Mbappé. I only saw a 'bland' collective with names like Jorginho, Barella, or Immobile. I hastily concluded they would crumble under the pressure of a major tournament, where 'stars' usually shine.

My mistake was not a lack of information. I had all the statistics, possession rates, expected goals (xG). My mistake was that I believed the crowd, believed in the old mindset that top-level football is the stage for exceptional individuals. I ignored what the data was trying to tell me: a perfect tactical system can turn 'average' players into a winning machine.

Look at Jorginho. A player I once considered 'invisible' in the eyes of those who only watch football as 'who runs faster, who shoots harder'. He doesn't run fast, doesn't tackle aggressively, doesn't score many goals. But he is the conductor of a symphony orchestra. His number of touches in the final against England was 127, more than any other player on the pitch. He doesn't create 'spark' moments like dribbling past five players, but he creates the rhythm. He dictates when the game slows down, when to speed up. He is the team's clock, and that clock never runs wrong.

Italy's pressing data at EURO 2026 was not just a number; it was a tactical manifesto. They didn't press frantically like Klopp's Liverpool at their peak, the kind of pressing that suffocates opponents. They pressed selectively, in waves, with a specific plan. They didn't chase the ball aimlessly. They blocked passing lanes, forced opponents into less dangerous areas, and most importantly, they did all of this with astonishing patience. They didn't need 70% possession to win. They only needed to control the game's tempo. And that is what I was completely blind to.

I remember watching the quarter-final between Italy and Belgium. I sat in front of the screen, with my wrong prediction published days earlier. I watched Kevin De Bruyne and Romelu Lukaku, top attacking stars in the world, get completely stifled. De Bruyne only touched the ball 48 times in the whole match, an extremely low number by his standards. And I realized, they weren't stifled by an outstanding individual. They were stifled by a system. By a collective moving as one unit, closing every gap, rendering those stars harmless.

That reminded me of the martial arts lessons I follow. In martial arts, they teach that the strongest strike doesn't come from an individual's punch, but from the coordination of the entire body. From the foot, through the hip, up the shoulder, and finally the fist. If one part is out of sync, the punch loses power. Mancini's Italy at EURO 2026 was exactly such a perfect fighter. No part stood out, but every part operated smoothly, creating a terrifying combined strength.

So where exactly was I wrong? First, I underestimated the value of a 'tactical system' compared to 'individual talent'. I was so obsessed with the concept of 'stars' that I forgot football is a team sport of 11 players. Second, I didn't look at the data correctly. I looked at Immobile's goals, Insigne's dribbles, and concluded they weren't good enough. But I overlooked much more important metrics: Jorginho's touches, the average positions of the full-backs, or the number of successful presses in a certain period. I saw the 'trees' but not the 'forest'.

And the third lesson, perhaps the most important: I didn't respect the power of patience. In a modern football world that values speed and directness, Mancini's Italy chose a different path. They were willing to slow down, willing to circulate the ball, willing to wait for opponents to make mistakes. They weren't in a hurry. They believed in their plan. And that patience was rewarded with the championship.

I once wrote that 'Ronaldo's tears that year taught me: legends also feel pain.' And now, EURO 2026 teaches me: 'stars' are not the only thing that creates victory. A collective with a clear idea, a smoothly operating system, and a ruthlessly patient approach can beat any 'star'. I was wrong about Italy, but I'm grateful I was wrong. Because that mistake opened my eyes to a kind of football I had never fully understood.

People call me a contrarian; I call it my way of staying sane. And this time, that sanity comes from daring to look straight at my own failure, and learning from it. That Italy team doesn't need a praise article from me. They wrote their own story with their feet on the pitch. But I needed this article. It's how I keep myself from ever making the same mistake again: believing what the crowd is saying, instead of believing what the data and tactics are whispering.