The worst tackle Álvaro Morata has suffered at the Euros came from his own team. At the end of the semi-final, as Spain celebrated, a fan leapt on to the pitch in search of a selfie. When he set off, so did José Santos, the security guard who travels everywhere with them. Slipping, he accidentally went in two-footed, a big man with a beard and bulging biceps crashing into the striker; Morata’s knee twisted inwards, leaving him limping. An ice pack was applied and for a moment there was a fear that he could even miss Sunday’s final. Especially for Santos.
It is his job to look after Spain’s players; now, the Spain captain looked after him. “It’s only a yellow card,” Morata said as he boarded the bus, smiling but still not moving well. Back at the Öschberghof, their residency over the last month, and at the home of little SV Aasen, just across the road and over the fields where they train daily, it was a message the captain kept repeating, cracking jokes to make light of it, reassurance for the man who felt responsible: José, it’s fine. It’s also very like Morata.
