Cristiano Ronaldo’s tears at the end of the Euro 2004 final are an iconic image for many football fans. It was his first major international tournament, and for many viewers, it was a stark lesson in football’s inherent cruelty. Unlike some sports focused on engineered parity, European football often feels like a domain of established powers, where the giants are expected to triumph. Euro 2004, however, delivered a stark and unforgettable deviation from this script.
Greece entered Euro 2004 in Portugal as massive underdogs. Their history in major tournaments was bleak; they had never won a single game in a major competition. In the opening match, they were pitted against the host nation, Portugal, featuring a young Cristiano Ronaldo and established stars. Many expected a comfortable Portuguese victory. Skipping the opening game, anticipating a predictable result, proved to be a mistake. Greece, against all expectations, secured a 2-1 win. This match served as an immediate and vital lesson: in the Euros, complacency is punished, and upsets are always possible. Remarkably, those two goals in the opener would turn out to be the most Greece scored in any single match throughout the entire tournament. For the rest of their improbable journey, a single goal would consistently prove to be enough.
Facing Portugal in that first match was just the beginning of a gauntlet of footballing royalty for Greece. Euro 2004 was brimming with stars who had dominated the previous decade: Luís Figo, Zinedine Zidane, Raúl, and Pavel Nedvěd, to name just a few. Otto Rehhagel, Greece’s pragmatic German coach, understood the vast talent disparity. His tactical response was not to attempt to match flair with flair but to disrupt and nullify. Greece adopted a highly organized, defensively robust strategy. They packed their own penalty area, intensely marked key opposition players, and effectively suffocated the creative spaces where playmakers typically thrive. By dragging Europe’s elite teams into a physical, grinding contest, Greece aimed to exploit vulnerabilities and capitalize on minimal opportunities.
While such ultra-defensive tactics might be criticized when employed by a team like Chelsea with a huge budget and world-class players, Greece’s approach was born of necessity. They simply lacked the individual brilliance to dominate games in a conventional manner. It wasn’t a flawless defensive wall; in almost every match, opponents created scoring chances that narrowly missed or were well-saved. To some observers, this appeared as mere luck or fortune. More critical fans labelled Greece’s games as dull and uninspired. However, for those captivated by the underdog narrative, Greece offered a compelling alternative: winning by any means necessary, even if it wasn’t aesthetically pleasing. Their tactics were reminiscent of historical Greek guerrilla warfare – a scorched earth approach on the football pitch. Remember Thermopylae; remember resilience.
After narrowly qualifying from the group stage, defying expectations once more, Greece was drawn against reigning European champions France in the quarter-finals. France boasted a team overflowing with talent, including Zinedine Zidane, Thierry Henry, Patrick Vieira, and Robert Pirès – many of whom had just completed Arsenal’s historic undefeated Premier League season. Most pundits predicted this would be the end of Greece’s unlikely run. The game remained scoreless for over an hour, a testament to Greece’s defensive discipline. Then, Theodoros Zagorakis, not known for his attacking prowess, produced a moment of unexpected brilliance. He flicked the ball over a French defender, surged past him, and delivered a perfect cross for Angelos Charisteas to head home the winning goal.
It was a moment of individual skill, reminiscent of something Zidane himself might conjure. Except, on this occasion, it was a Greek player outshining the French maestro. In a year where Zidane was voted the best European player since 1954, the Greek midfield effectively neutralized him. Despite his glittering club career with Real Madrid, Zidane would never lift another major international trophy after this defeat.
The semi-final presented another formidable challenge: the Czech Republic. The Czechs had their own captivating story, having overcome a three-goal deficit to defeat the Netherlands in the previous round. However, they too succumbed to the suffocating Greek defense. Adding to their woes, Pavel Nedvěd, the Czech Republic’s talismanic midfielder, was forced off with an injury in the first half, significantly diminishing their attacking threat.
As extra time wore on and fatigue set in, the score remained 0-0. Penalties loomed, and with Petr Čech in goal, the Czechs might have fancied their chances. But a lapse in concentration defending a corner kick moments before the end of the first period of extra time proved decisive. Traianos Dellas rose highest to head the ball past a static Čech, scoring a silver goal – a rule in place at the time where a goal in extra time ended the match. Against all logic and expectation, Greece had reached the Euro 2004 final.
At the time, perhaps few outside of Greece truly appreciated the magnitude of their achievement. In retrospect, while the 2014 World Cup is often lauded as one of the most exciting in recent memory, Euro 2004 is sometimes viewed as a less thrilling tournament, primarily due to Greece’s defensive style. Many fans tune into international tournaments seeking spectacular attacking football, a contrast to the often more tactical and grinding nature of club football. They want to support footballing giants like France, Brazil, or the Netherlands, teams expected to deliver on the promise of ‘the beautiful game’. Euro 2004, with Greece’s disruptive tactics, arguably spoiled this anticipated spectacle for some.
The final in Lisbon pitted Greece against Portugal once again, offering the hosts a chance for revenge. Portugal, led by Ronaldo and veterans from their ‘golden generation’ – Rui Costa and Luís Figo, who had won the 1989 Youth World Championship – were desperate to finally fulfill their long-held potential. This was likely their last chance at major international silverware.
Greece, labelled by some as “the only underdogs in history that everyone wants to see get beaten,” continued to defy the odds. Early in the second half, from their only corner of the entire match and their only shot on target, Angelos Charisteas headed in the decisive goal. Despite sustained pressure and near misses from Ronaldo, Figo, and Rui Costa, the Greek defense remained impenetrable. They held on, secured a 1-0 victory, and completed one of the most improbable triumphs in football history. Cristiano Ronaldo’s tears flowed again, this time even more intensely.
While the emotional image of Ronaldo weeping may have initially evoked schadenfreude in some, particularly after witnessing his expressions of perceived entitlement earlier in the tournament, perspective shifts with time. Though not yet at his peak brilliance in 2004, Ronaldo was clearly on the path to greatness. As sports fans mature, the simplistic joy in witnessing an underdog victory evolves. Often, upsets are merely a result of a stronger team underperforming, which isn’t necessarily something to celebrate. Over time, exposure to mediocrity in sports fosters a deeper appreciation for genuine excellence. Sometimes, narratives take a backseat; the pure desire is to witness the best performing at their highest level.
Paying for pay-per-view to watch Euro 2004 felt like a niche interest at the time, before ESPN’s extensive football coverage. It felt like a personal indulgence to witness legends like Zidane, Nedvěd, Figo, Totti, Kahn, and Barthez in action. Having become a football fan relatively recently, these players were already established icons, their reputations built on past glories only read about. Each year brings new stars, often younger and seemingly less imposing than these giants of the early 2000s. No footballer since has quite matched the aura of Zidane in 2004.
Many of these titans would feature in the 2006 World Cup, but it felt like a final, somewhat diminished act. Euro 2004, in a way, marked the end of an era. Cristiano Ronaldo learned a harsh but vital lesson about the unpredictable nature of sport, and so did many viewers. The tournament began anticipating a showcase of footballing gods, but instead, it became a celebration of eleven resilient Greeks – the team that humbled the established powers and made even the future gods of football weep.
