In the history of underdog triumphs, Greece’s victory at Euro 2004 is arguably the greatest of them all.
This wasn’t just a dark horse like Denmark winning in 1992 – initially failing to qualify but still boasting world class stars like Peter Schmeichel and Brian Laudrup – or a one-off shock like Iceland beating England at Euro 2016. This was a country that had only ever qualified for two tournaments previously and had never won a game at either, managing one draw and five losses at Euro 1980 and the 1994 World Cup, not just pulling off an individual shock but going all the way to victory over six games.
Why is it then that this achievement is treated as an afterthought? And, even worse, why were they actively unpopular, with The Guardian describing them as “the only underdogs in history that everyone wants to see get beaten“? Surely the Greeks should be acclaimed as heroes for all the little guys who dare to dream?
Basic idea
Probably because they were boring. The underdog dream is all end-to-end Roy of the Rovers football. When Hollywood makes a sword and sandals epic, they don’t show terrified, dehydrated rookies at the front of a phalanx, slowly edging forward, shields tightly packed together; they show great untouchable warriors spinning around, clattering twenty, thirty men with technical precision. If Hollywood was to make a film about Greece’s triumph at Euro 2004, they would presumably trim down the hours and hours of defending their box.
The idea of little Greece on their way to glory was beautiful, everything people claim to love about football. The reality of making that happen was unwatchable, frequently described as anti-football. The idea of going toe-to-toe with the giants and emerging victorious was great, but it wasn’t realistic – open up the game and Zinedine Zidane, Pavel Nedved and Luis Figo would destroy them. Who did Greece have to match that threat? They didn’t have big names, they had long, difficult-to-pronounce names.
Unlike his players, Rehhagel wasn’t really an underdog. He won his first trophy as a manager back in 1980 with Fortuna Düsseldorf but it was at Werder Bremen that he made his name, taking the team from obscurity to the top of the German game during his fourteen year tenure, winning the Bundesliga and DFB-Pokal twice as well as the Cup Winners’ Cup. He didn’t last long at Bayern Munich, where his condescending and dictatorial style – jokingly referred to as “ottocracy”, a pun on autocracy – and his inability to accept criticism didn’t go down well with FC Hollywood. He immediately got his revenge though, getting Kaiserslautern promoted then winning the Bundesliga the very next season.
Rehhagel’s success was built upon what he called “kontrollierte Offensive” – controlled offence. As a robust defender himself, it was little surprise that he valued height and strength over ball-playing ability from his centre-backs, using a spare man to sweep up behind them, while his teams would attack down the wings, looking to feed a striker who was good in the air like Rudi Völler or Karl-Heinz Riedle.
He took these methods to Greece, playing to their strengths and, more importantly, nullifying the strengths of their opponents.
Defending
The most interesting thing about Greece was their use of man-marking. The system had been exposed as weak to movement as far back as the 1967 European Cup final, where Internazionale’s catenaccio system found itself unable to deal with the position-swapping of Celtic’s attackers – strikers Stevie Chalmers and Willie Wallace would drop deeper, especially Wallace, pulling the centre-backs with them to open up space for wingers Jimmy Johnstone and Bobby Lennox to cut inside, which allowed full-backs Jim Craig and Tommy Gemmell space to overlap.
Man-marking would remain popular for a long time yet, with the tide only shifting definitively in favour of zonal marking in the wake of Arrigo Sacchi’s success at AC Milan, and its popularity lasted deep into the nineties in Germany. By the mid-2000s, however, it was an unusual throwback.
What’s more, the tactical trend at the time was “broken” teams – sides with a distinct split between defence and attack. A few attackers would be given freedom, allowed to focus on attacking rather than defending, while the defenders and a few midfielders would provide them with a solid defensive base, aiming to cover behind them rather than supporting the creative players in attack.
This meant that not only had the majority of Greece’s opponents spent most of their careers playing against zonal systems – probably exclusively for many of the younger ones – so they didn’t have recent experience of what was needed to get around man-marking, but their set-ups also lined up particularly poorly against it. The easiest method for getting around man-marking is for the marked to act as decoys, dragging their man out of position to open up space for a teammate to attack. Broken teams don’t really suit this though: those free attackers are all marked tightly, and the deeper players are discouraged from attacking the space that the forwards might open up due to their primarily defensive role.
Even if they did venture forward they probably aren’t the type of players you want attacking, given they are only meant to be defensive players. Spain for example used Raul Bravo and natural centre-back Carles Puyol as full-backs with David Albelda and Ruben Baraja in midfield. Likewise France used natural centre-back William Gallas at right-back and Claude Makélélé and Olivier Dacourt in midfield. Zinedine Zidane or Raul Gonzalez might be able to drag their marker high up the pitch, leaving a massive gap for their teammates to attack, but those teammates weren’t exactly the ideal men to punish Greece.
This meant the Greek defenders could generally focus on controlling their man rather than worrying about other men running in behind them. They would stick tight to the opposition forwards and follow them closely, giving them no space to turn or control the ball. These were world class attackers, but they found themselves squeezed out of matches due to the Greek defenders staying on top of them and giving them no space to use the ball. This tight marking also required that the passes into the forwards be of top quality, as the defenders were so close to their men they could easily step in ahead and intercept an under-hit or inaccurate ball before it got to the attacker.
Rehhagel didn’t expect his defenders to be able to win every one-on-one against some of the finest players of their generation though, and so Traianos Dellas was used as a sweeper. While his defensive teammates were expected to stick tightly to their men, the Roma centre-back was relieved of marking duties to act as a spare man at the back. He was required to use all of his positional sense and ability to read the game to stay two moves ahead of the play, sensing danger before it appeared so he could be in a position to step across and cover when an opponent escaped the attentions of his marker. Covering the width of the pitch, Dellas was forever moving around to plug gaps before they could exploited, always having to readjust as the opposition moved, taking his teammates with them – yet he always seemed to be in the right spot at the right time to come away with the ball.
Michalis Kapsis had the least flashy role of the defenders. He wasn’t particularly aggressive, preferring to simply stick tight to his man and deny them space rather than stepping in to win the ball unless he had to, but his opponents were rarely able to wriggle away from him. Despite standing at just 6 foot, he was also dominant in the air, heading away crosses into the box – shown perfectly by the way he marshalled the giant Jan Koller in the semi-final. He and Rehhagel allegedly had a strained relationship, yet he was chosen for all six matches, proving his value.
Takis Fyssas was the weakest defensively of the backline, with the opposition able to dribble past and escape his marking more than any of the others. Stylianos Venetidis looked the better defender when he filled in for Fyssas, but the Benfica left-back was the brighter player going forward. With Greece reliant on crosses from wide into their tall forwards, Rehhagel went against type by choosing the more attacking option at left-back.
On the right, Georgios Seitaridis impressed. He would time interceptions well, stepping in ahead of his man to collect the ball and enabling Greece to immediately push forward on the counter attack.
Goalkeeper Antonios Nikopolidis had lost his place after fifteen years at Panathinaikos due to his refusal to sign a new contract, getting booed by supporters after it had emerged he had come to an agreement with arch-rivals Olympiacos, and supposedly wasn’t even on speaking terms with back-up for club and country Kostas Chalkias at the start of the tournament, yet Rehhagel kept his faith in him. Relatively short for a goalkeeper and unable to make up for it with athleticism, Nikopolidis wasn’t very good at claiming crosses, but the aerial strength of Greece’s centre-backs meant that wasn’t really an issue. Instead he could use his smart positional sense to focus on stopping shots, while he was willing to rush out off his line to smother a loose ball behind his centre-backs, acting as another spare man like Dellas.
Of course, Greece’s man-marking scheme meant their defensive set-up was left at the whims of the opposition and so they would be forced to adapt according to the opposition’s line-up. Against Portugal, their 4-3-3 lined up perfectly against the host’s 4-2-3-1 – each full-back picking up a winger, Kapsis on Pauleta, Angelos Basinas picking up Manuel Rui Costa and Dellas the spare man – but how would they keep a spare man if the opposition played a front two?
Against Spain, Kapsis dealt with Fernando Morientes and Seitaridis and Fyssas picked up Vicente and Joseba Etxeberria but Kostas Katsouranis was introduced to deal with Raul. The Real Madrid legend would switch between a striking role and dropping off into midfield, so Katsouranis, a defensive midfielder comfortable filling in at centre-back, was the perfect man to track him. Whereas Basinas might have struggled getting dragged into defence and a centre-back might have been uncomfortable pulled forward into midfield, Katsouranis knew both positions and so wherever Raul went, he was comfortable following.
Katsouranis featured again in the following game, although he generally stayed in defence as the Russians set up in a more traditional 4-4-2. For the quarter-final against France, he was moved forward into midfield alongside Basinas though. France were playing a 4-4-2, but whereas Raul would drop off into midfield, Thierry Henry would pull wide out to the left flank. Rather than have Katsouranis dragged wide, marking duties for Henry were passed on to Seitaridis, who had played as both a full-back and centre-back. Again Rehhagel adapted the marking scheme so that the player most suited to the job was picking up the right man.
This set-up was carried on into the semi-final against the Czech Republic, where Milan Baros would pull out into the wide areas. Even when Baros started pulling out to the right rather than the left, dragging Seitaridis away from his natural flank, the Greek stuck tight to him and denied him space to operate.
Midfield
While the defenders were under strict man-marking orders, the midfield was given greater room to interpret the needs of the team. An opposition attacking midfielder would be man-marked but the deeper ones didn’t usually need to be. Usually staying narrow, Greece’s midfielders would typically get tight to the opposition’s deeper midfielders early in the build-up to discourage passing through the middle and force the opposition wide, but once the opposition began to venture forward into attack, they would desert these duties. After all, the likes of Albelda or Costinha sat in front of the defence weren’t really attacking threats and so the Greek midfielders’ defensive abilities were better off elsewhere.
Whereas the defenders and one of the midfielders would have man-marking duties, the midfielders would pick up a man to disrupt the build-up but soon revert to a more zonal marking scheme when Greece were defending in their half. Like Dellas they would be there to plug gaps that appeared as their opponents tried to escape the attentions of their markers. If an opponent did manage to beat a man, there was always a flood of Greeks willing to rush across to crowd him out or fling themselves in front of shots.
They also weren’t afraid to pull down their opponent and take a yellow card if they wriggled away from them. It was better for Greece to concede a tactical foul and get men back to defend the box than allow the opposition to run at them.
The narrow midfield and tight marking would typically encourage the opposition to play wide, then once there the midfielders would drop back to double up on the wideman with the full-back.
This more zonal approach in midfield shined particularly against France. In a cross between a 4-4-2 and a 4-3-3 – Giorgos Karagounis switching between pushing up on the left and helping Katsouranis and Basinas in midfield – Kapsis marked David Trezeguet and Seitaridis picked up Henry, with Dellas as a spare man, but duties for Robert Pires and Zinedine Zidane were shared. Pires started on the left, as he did for Arsenal, and was watched closely by Theodoros Zagorakis, while Zidane would roam – when he was wide, Fyssas would take over, but when he tucked inside one of the midfielders would pick him up. Part-way through the first half, Zidane and Pires switched flanks, so Fyssas took over marking Pires, who was happier to stick to the flanks, while Zagorakis, Basinas and Katsouranis shared Zidane as he roamed, but the pair soon swapped back again, unable to get space.
The most obvious problem Greece faced was when the opposition were able to make runs in behind, with the man-markers pulled forward to leave space to exploit. Both Rui Costa and Zidane managed this but the attacking midfielders getting man-marked kept it to a minimum.
Attacking full-backs posed the same threat, although few teams actually had any to worry Greece with. Nuno Valente was decent but didn’t get forward a lot in the opener while Paulo Ferreira’s lack of quality on the ball was shown when he set up Greece for the opening goal of the tournament. Neither Spain nor Russia had threats from full-back. Bixente Lizarazu threatened a few times for France but was 34 by the time of the tournament and couldn’t be expected to bomb up and down the flank in the scorching Portuguese sun, with the sole goal in that game coming when Lizarazu struggled to get out to the flank in time to tackle Zagorakis, while Gallas wouldn’t offer width on the right. By the time of the final, Miguel had replaced Ferreira for Portugal and he and Valente pushed high up into attack, but he was forced off through injury in the first half and Ferreira was reintroduced.
When the opposition didn’t have attacking full-backs, Greece were able to play more of a 4-4-2, keeping Angelos Charisteas up front next to Zisis Vryzas, but when the full-backs were willing to advance, Greece would form more of a 4-3-3, with Charisteas and Stelios Giannakopoulos tracking the full-backs deep into their own half, willing to put the work in for the good of the team.
This was a constant throughout the squad. Generally made up of players from rivals Olympiacos, Panathinaikos and AEK Athens, previously the national team had been difficult to unite. “The first thing [Rehhagel] taught us was that the national team had to come first,” said Fyssas. “Rehhagel insisted that everything else came after the national team.”
“It was more like a family. It was not one of these national teams with 55 players. We had 20 or so who were always in the squad – he would bring two or three more along to have a look at them – and so we were very close. We would sacrifice everything for each other.”
“We only had the weapons we had been given. We did not have a Zidane, or Simao, or Cristiano Ronaldo. We only had hard work, sacrifice, determination and that family spirit.”
Vasilis Tsiartas agreed: “We were all equals together. We were all connected. It was unique.”
Come the tournament, there were still several disputes within the squad but they were put aside for the good of the team.
“We discussed it very openly,” said Tsiartas. “We told each other that this was the only opportunity that we would get to write history. We knew we would never be able to recreate what had happened. We vowed then to give everything to make sure we did not need to.”
What they may have lacked in skill, they made up for in effort. The Greeks ran tirelessly to track their men, cover their teammates and get across to make a tackle or block a shot, putting their bodies on the line in order to stop the opposition. Unlike many of the other teams at the tournament, everyone was expected to work hard, and everyone did.
Attacking
A common narrative about Greece’s progression through the tournament is that they were quite open during the group stages then shut up shop in the knockouts, although this doesn’t really stand up to scrutiny. They were defensive throughout the tournament, although a lot of the time this was due to a lack of quality rather than a lack of trying.
There were a few spells where Greece tried to play a bit more patiently, passing along the ground – mainly against Russia but also against the Czech Republic and even Portugal in the final – however they were generally pretty bad at it. They might attempt a quick combination of passes or a dribble to beat a man, yet they would inevitably come to an end with a misplaced pass or poor touch.
More often, Greece would simply look to pump the ball long to Vryzas or Charisteas, however this wasn’t exactly a winning strategy either. Rather than attempting to bring the ball down and hold it up, allowing their teammates to get up the pitch and support them, they would usually try to flick the ball on to the other. This would have made sense if someone was running in behind – Giannakopoulos scared the Czechs in extra time from a flick on by Charisteas – but as both strikers were acting as target men, one would flick the ball on to the other, who would do the same thing, jumping to try and win it in the air again, the ball bouncing and bobbling until the opposition defenders finally recovered it and sent it back the other way.
They improved this a little towards the end of the tournament by hitting the ball into the channels, behind the opposition, rather than direct balls through the centre to fight for in the air, but it wasn’t exactly a successful tactic.
Greece’s best moments were always when they were able to get the ball out wide and whip crosses into the strikers. Many of these attacks came on the counter, where Fyssas and Seitaridis would break forward quickly. Greece got their second in the opening match after Seitaridis intercepted a pass in his own half and burst forward into attack, getting fouled in the box to win a penalty.
Against France and the Czech Republic, Fyssas could venture forward, but Seitaridis was occupied marking Henry and Baros. In a man of the match performance, Zagorakis provided the width on the right in place of Seitaridis, setting up the only goal, and then in the semi-final, with Zagorakis switched to the left, Katsouranis provided the width on the right, repeatedly crossing following a switch of play from left to right.
With Greece’s strikers struggling to hold up the ball, making it hard for their teammates to get forward into attack and actually feed them with crosses, set-pieces were key to Greece’s success, giving them a chance to push their aerially dominant players up into the box and hit high balls into them.
Needing an equaliser against Spain, Rehhagel turned to Tsiartas – a lackadaisical playmaker who didn’t fit the German’s Plan A – who received the ball from a throw-in and launched a long ball to Charisteas at the back post to finish.
Greece had gone into the Russia game just needing to avoid defeat to progress. They lost but still got through to the knockouts thanks to Vryzas’ goal – they were equal on goal difference with Spain but progressed thanks to scoring more goals. Again from a throw-in, Charisteas received the ball and looped it high into the box, Dimitris Papadopoulos fought for it in the air, and Vryzas pushed away Roman Sharonov to collect it in the box and dink over Vyacheslav Malafeev.
In the semi-final, Dellas got the only silver goal in the history of international football by heading home a corner. Coming seconds before the break in extra time, it was as good as a golden goal, giving the Czechs no time to respond.
They then scored another from a corner in the final. This time Charisteas towered above Costinha to head the ball into the net, with Ricardo caught far off his line pushing away Vryzas.
Conclusion
Greece may have been fortunate to come away as European champions and would be unlikely to duplicate their success in a hundred attempts, however attempts to dismiss and forget it come across as an inability to face up to the truth.
Yes, they were very defensive. Yes, they held on by the skin of their teeth. But they beat the hosts Portugal, holders France and best-performing Czech Republic on their way to claiming the trophy. One win might be a fluke but four is a stretch of the imagination.
Portugal even got a second chance and still couldn’t get revenge. They made changes to mess with Greece’s marking, pushing the full-backs forward and having the attacking midfielders constantly swap positions, replacing Simao Sabrosa and Rui Costa with Ronaldo and Deco, yet Greece held strong and emerged victorious.
Rather than simply being happy to make up the numbers, the Greeks did everything necessary to claim the trophy as their own, regardless of what outsiders thought of them.
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One response
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