England at Iceland, in the Stadium at Nice: Live Blog

10:06 p.m. It is already the second half, and it is the first game of the day I have watched. At work I sometimes have a Guardian minute-by-minute report open on a Firefox browser tab, although I rarely get around to reading it. But since there was no game at 3 p.m. today, and there was important news to follow, I had a business liveblog about Brexit open on one tab instead. Once I realized that there was more minute-to-minute suspense in reports of something that affects millions of lives than in an intensive hour and a half of soccer, I was slightly sickened, and didn't read it much longer.

Who do I hope will win in this match? On the one hand, I think England is suffering enough. On the other hand, I do have a faible for Iceland's team. It is 1-2, so far.

10:12 p.m. I do enjoy a nice, glutinously gradual replay of an England player fouling by clutching an Icelandic player's shirt from behind, with the UEFA-mandated motto 'Respect' piously inscribed on the sleeve of his pulling arm. I say to use such mottos only if everyone/anyone actually intends to abide by them.

10:16 p.m. Heavy symbolism in the players' clothing here. England in white and red; Iceland in blue; rounding out the colours of the Union Jack and, at the same time, representing a partitioning.

10:19 p.m. Groan-worthy allusions to Vikings by the German commentator, which I think were about as in-depth as I myself could get on the strength of Bugs Bunny's versions of Wagnerian opera.

10:22 p.m. To indulge in unseemly nationalism, I think that yesterday Germany's team was a clear cut above Iceland's team, though. The difference in agility once they have the ball at their foot is very evident here. Edit: Not to mention Eden Hazard, of Belgium, in the game against Hungary. His goal, partly the result of the aforementioned agility, was delectable.

10:31 p.m. The German commentator, perhaps having dived into longwinded 19th-century prose beforehand, proffers this profound thought, 'Fühlt England schon jetzt den Druck — die Last — sich zum Spott zu machen, für immer und ewig?' 'Does England already feel the pressure — the burden — of making a joke of itself for the rest of eternity?"

10:36 p.m. Icelandic players fouling here, too. Pushing, holding onto people, etc.

10:40 p.m. I think this is the first time I have ever seen a goalie (England's) throw in a ball from the side himself. Here it was probably intended to give England more time to score the equalizing goal, since England did not then have to wait for more teammates to trot so far to the ball in order to throw it in.

10:51 p.m. Iceland wins! 2-1!

10:56 p.m. From the Guardian's liveblog:

It’s all over! England have been eliminated from Euro 2016 by Iceland. For the second time in a week, England suffer an ignominious exit from Europe. They’ve been awful tonight and thoroughly deserved to lose. Hats off to Iceland, though. They’re a limited team, but played to their own strengths and thoroughly deserved their win.

Soccer: Belgium and Italy in France

9:06 p.m. 'The oldest team in the history of the UEFA Euro championships' remarks a German commentator in tones of awe, as we see Italy's team. He alludes to the hoary age of 31.5 as if it were thaumaturgy.

9:18 p.m. An Italian player, defending his half, neatly interrupts a forward rush by two Belgian players by kicking back his heel as if he were posing for a photograph in a skirt, and thereby hitting the ball back toward the Belgian half again. Now that's panache.

9:23 p.m. It's nice to watch Giorgio Chiellini play in an un-bitten state again. The images of the last World Cup and the certain unfortunate event are still so strongly imprinted on my mind.

9:28 p.m. I was thinking of writing, "I think the Belgian players are too polite for this game," when one of them lightly fouled Chiellini by plowing into his legs. But then Chiellini's fouling leads to a free kick, and soon thereafter Italy scores. 1-0.

9:37 p.m. "First corner for Italy." Nothing comes of it.

9:45 p.m. Romelu Lukaku (Belgium) nearly kicks the ball backward into the Italian net. But it hops rather gently, once, and Italian goalkeeper Buffon catches it, looking like he feels that he has had a hair's-breadth escape nonetheless.

9:48 p.m. 'Peep!' for half-time.

10:26 p.m. The second half of the game has been running for a long time now. The charming interaction between the Belgian players, selfless and sharing, passing to each other beautifully, edifies the soul; but the aggressive edge is certainly missing. If Italy were to win 2-1, I think it would be well deserved.

10:29 p.m. So far the volume of derisory whistling by the stadium audience — it is particularly displeased whenever the Belgian defense has the temerity to pass amongst itself, or (ever-gracious) whenever an opposing player has the temerity to be switched out — would be enough to rival two aviaries, I think.

10:32 p.m. A novel technique by an Italian player who wants to impede the Belgian player who is racing with all appearance of future success toward the Italian goal: he scissors his legs around the player's middle à la World Wrestling Entertainment, thereby reaping a yellow card.

10:44 p.m. This has altogether been (often — not always) a relatively edge-of-the-seat kind of game, like Germany vs. Ukraine yesterday evening. . . . 56% possession of the ball by Belgium. Hm.

10:47 p.m. Goalkeeper Buffon catches the threatening ball and rescues his goal again. Afterward he affectionately bears the ball in his palms, in wonder, as if it were the fragile Golden Snitch in Harry Potter.

10:50 p.m. Italy 2-0. Les jeux son faits. Alas for Belgium.

More Football: Polish vs Northern Irish in Nice

After gaping aghast at Vedran Ćorluka's red-tinged head bandages and open rivulets of blood in Croatia vs. Turkey, and feeling quite seasick by the end of the game, I was relieved at the prospect of a new game to weaken the memory of it. I am late at watching the game, however, since I felt hungry and therefore fried a banana pancake for myself.

6:34 p.m. It appears that Northern Ireland's team strategy is to surround any Polish player who has the ball in their half with three players, wheeling madly with their legs and not particularly striving for any economy of motion. I feel that this is a stupid sort of game.

6:42 p.m. Perhaps this might be a decent rugby match, if a) tripping and grasping shoulders and b) knocking bodily into opponents and c) running around were the single aim of rugby.

6:46 p.m. Half-time is whistled and players clap as they walk off the field. Why, I ask grumpily. Why?

7:03 p.m. Fans are tooting horns as if at a truck rally, which in my view illustrates the childish level we are at. The German commentator is condescendingly shocked that a Polish player isn't doing better when faced by two players from a team in the third English league.

7:07 p.m. Poland's team, after 'dominating' with two-thirds ball possession in the first half of the game, finally scores a goal in the second half.

7:10 p.m. I see Chinese advertising on the side of the field. Thanks to my Mandarin lessons, I can decipher Zhong Guo (Middle Kingdom = China).

7:13 p.m. More rugby 'soccer.'

7:15 p.m. In addition to ball possession statistics, for instance, I'd like to know statistics as to how often players were lying on the ground after tripping or being tripped in this game. Opposing player has the ball? No problem, and no need to actually run around him, wriggle away the ball, let a teammate come from the front to kick the ball away, or put forth any kind of effort that requires imagination or skill. Bash him good!

7:19 p.m. This afternoon's Croatia vs. Turkey match is looking even finer and smarter and more congenial (there was fouling and tripping, but polite fouling followed by sincere apologies if the perpetrator felt that he had gone too far, and lots of actual footwork and dexterity during the duelling) by ignominious comparison.

7:31 p.m. Lafferty nears the Polish end and displays a bicycle kick, generally a pleasure to see, as the soccer ball however soars far over the goal.

7:37 p.m. A Northern Irish player defending his goal from his side's box generously kicks the ball straight back to the Polish opponent attacking from the corner.

7:44 p.m. Graceful playing and no foul in the past minute or so, and I begin rueing my mean opinions about this game . . . and then a Northern Irish player is bodychecked again, the aggressor and aggressee sprawl on the ground, and my mean opinions are but confirmed again.

7:50 p.m. At last an end to the ordeal, 1-0 Poland to Northern Ireland. I need ice cream to soothe my aggrieved nerves.

The Angle and the Bear: Football Live

On this second day of the 2016 European Football Championship, Slovakia and Wales have already played against each other to the strain of the Welsh national hymn, Gareth Bale did what he could, and the game was won 1-2.

9:00 p.m. England vs. Russia begins in a Marseilles stadium.

9:07 p.m. I'm not impressed by how either team is playing thus far, but to be fair teams do seem to temporarily capsize through nervousness from time to time in these early games.

9:10 p.m. A player just tripped over his own soccer ball that he was holding between his legs . . .

9:12 p.m. To generalize cruelly, I haven't been impressed by the English team in the past World Cups, and not here either. Not a great deal of finesse or elegance, more crude power. British journalists (well . . . you see the conflict of interest there) have been insisting for years that England Has a Chance to be at the top, and I've never been convinced.

9:14 p.m. When I'm thrilled if a pass is completed . . . it doesn't necessarily say good things about the quality of a game. On the other hand, the game is roaming over a great deal of the field, rather than streaming up to a line of defensemen and breaking apart like waves over a coastal boulder, therefore more interesting to watch.

9:24 p.m. In the follow-through motion after an advance on the Russian goal, an English and Russian player slid along in each other's arms as if they were in a skating rink. The conditions of the ground appear a little questionable. But there is no rain?

9:28 p.m. At last England passes three or four times consecutively, and bounces the ball into the goal as it had tried to do earlier, and it lands in the near corner of the goal. It was offside.

9:35 p.m. The Russia goalie carries out an excellent fist-away (Faustabwehr in German; I can't think of the proper English term right now), as Wayne Rooney fires a fast ball at him and he raises his fists to ping it away as if pulled by a string.

9:39 p.m. England's coach seems 'pleased.' He strikes his hand against the top of the bench roof in frustration as he turns from the field.

9:41 p.m. Another ambitious but misguided English shot at the Russian goal. To be fair, they are often very close, which cannot be said of the generous 'volleys' that are sometimes fired into the stratosphere over the opponents' end of the field whenever desperation strikes a soccer team.

9:44 p.m. Players are being forced by ill-mannered antagonists into performing tumbling rolls, pleasing to the gymnastically attuned eye, but not pleasing to the referee.

9:46 p.m. Half-time! Nobody's happy? It seems to be hot in Marseilles, too. Sweat is puddling darkly on the Russian players' crimson jerseys; forming rills down the forehead of Harry Kane et al.

10:03 p.m. Half-time over. Russia's defense have been passing the ball amongst each other. This expedient is often the death-knell of all watchability. (Although it worked for Spain in past World Cups, apparently.)

10:22 p.m. A goal? A car just honked, in celebration?, outside the apartment here in Berlin. But since I'm watching the slower internet footage, I'll know in a few minutes if anything indeed happened.

10:28 p.m. England gets a goal. Of sorts. The line of Russian defencemen looked terribly young, so my protective instincts were too awakened to appreciate the goal against them — which was still just, since the English team has seemed better throughout the game.

10:45 p.m. Three minutes' added time. We can admire the Russian defence's passing skills that much longer.

10:47 p.m. *Cough* Never mind. Russia just scored by practically running it into the goal.

10:48 p.m. 1 - 1, I guess.

The Dawn of the European Football Championship, Live Blog

8:52 p.m. Being newly employed*, I only found out scant minutes ago that France is playing Romania in the opening game. The Romanian team is distinguished in its way, no doubt, but metaphorically speaking my face fell. I have lower hopes for the dramatic interest of the soccer.

*(i.e. less able to devote time to reading sports news)

9:01 p.m. Es ist soweit! It's time!

9:03 p.m. A commentator for Germany's broadcaster: 'France has a magnificent defense. . . .  . . Romania will do all it can.' (Roughly translated.)

9:07 p.m. Romania nearly scored a goal against France after all. The elegantly French goalie — tall, slender, gaunt-cheeked, and brooding-looking — looks as if he had been harrowed to his very soul.

9:10 p.m. I withdraw my aspersions on Romania's team. One of its players just made a beautiful pass in the air, across the French half, near the goal, despite all the defense. Altogether it hasn't looked bad in general either. (Except for the goalie fumbling the ball at the very beginning, in a situation where it didn't matter.)

9:14 p.m. After the listless presence of France in past World Cups, with Franck Ribéry and a few others doing what they could to salvage the mess, its team looks far more animated here. (As far as I can tell; to be honest, I've spent more time typing than watching.) Patrice Evra, still looks considerably world-weary, however.

9:23 p.m. A deafening near-silence after roaring outrage or excitement after a foul by a Romanian player against a French player, proving belatedly how stirred and loud the audience has really become, followed by a crescendo again as the ball is kicked off again.

9:27 p.m. Olivier Giroud, having been given and missed the opportunity as the lone vanguard of the French team in the Romanian half to score a goal, demonstrates that he is a bit of a ham, acting out his despair and the profound belief that his shining level of skill should have pulled that off. (I'm overinterpreting, here.)

9:30 p.m. Returning to the game in the middle of a commentator's sentence, without knowing the context, I am puzzled to hear of 'a yellow card for the 66-year-old."

9:31 p.m. The ball possession of the teams has been 54% (France) to 46% (Romania) so far. Interesting. But it also doesn't mean much with regard to a team's quality, often, since one team often likes to have the other do the running, I think, based on what their strategy or interest level in the game is.

9:41 p.m. A foul that I missed, which required medical attention for a Romanian player's leg. The Romanian coach, standing in lonely state in front of the team bench on the grassy sideline, looked like an impassively important Soviet potentate — at a tedious event on a visit to a mildly obstreperous satellite state — as it was resolved.

9:47 p.m. Ew. A player spitting with the camera zooming in on his face.

9:50 p.m. Half-time!