An Ode To The Enthralling Europa League

It wasn’t afforded the glitziest of settings, neither was it covered with the widespread abundance that will be the case when its elder sister in the Champions League Final comes around in a week’s time. But it was momentous, and Turin provided a second-rate yet truly apt stage in a fight for the continent’s secondary exploits. And it was enthralling, captivating, tiring, and nail-biting. And yet it came around and passed us by like a whiff of breeze; vague to the carefree lot and vivid only to the keenest. An all-Iberian final isn’t alien in the UEFA Europa League; Benfica and Sevilla stretched the limits of time as penalties were needed to break deadlocks and hearts. Tears dropped, some of joy, some of sorrow.

The relatively new Juventus Stadium was brimming to the capacity; only the white and the red shirts, scarves and flags were to be seen whenever the helicopters put through their visual inputs. The Spanish contingent knows a thing or two about cheering, while experience mattered for Benfica’s clans as they made their journey to a second successive continental final. And after 120 minutes of high drama, intrigue and intensity, Sevilla ingrained themselves in the history books and engraved their name on the trophy for a third time. Benfica returned home dumbfounded, perhaps sinking to the half-a-century-old Bela Guttmann curse.

The football was infectious, although it came with a tinge of misfortune. Chances were created, and missed thereafter. The ball was lost in attempts to bulldoze at speed; both teams falling prey to it. The managers were polar opposites; one was a statue of calm amidst the growing tension and pessimism while the other was seen screaming and swearing at every moment the cameras turned towards him. Benfica failed to replicate Jorge Jesus’ characteristic calm on the pitch, while Sevilla perfectly epitomised the fire and passion of Unai Emery. Benfica won the battles, but the war was to be won by the Spaniards. It was typical of the night when Sevilla captain Ivan Rakitic fell on his knees after Kevin Gameiro dispatched his winning penalty. A war was won, and it was with great effort.

The Europa League remains as important to European football as the FA Cup remains in English football, or the Copa in Spain, for that matter. Last night was a breath of fresh air; two teams with varied imperfections played not the most memorable of finals or the best ever, but held aloft the perfect advert for the competition. The Europa League is considered as the dying breed; top-tier teams use it as an experience-bank for its youngsters. The rewards may be dwarfed, but the mere sight of two teams cancelling each other out at frantic pace is reward enough.

They say the Europa League signals to a monotone where the theme is always the long, arduous travels to little known stadiums in Eastern Europe and petty money; but there is more to the competition than just that. That last night’s drama that proved to be a small stepping stone in establishing the tournament’s greatness is my, as well as many others’ wish. More respect and more luxury is what the competition needs afforded at this moment. Perhaps Michel Platini’s call for the automatic Champions League place for its winners could be the springboard it badly needs. Till then, it enjoys poor company.