My Euro hangover lasted longer than most, and not for the obvious reason. Oh sure, there was no shortage of golden hops consumed amid the communal bonhomie of a major tournament. But after a while it became less about the spectacle and more about simply coping with the life-sapping tedium of watching teams sit back, tackle hard and spring the occasional counter. In other words, they were all trying to out-Leicester Leicester.
Granted, Iceland and Wales played with a heroic resilience and unbreakable spirit that stirred the soul, but apart from Hal Robson-Kanu's sick Cruyff turn and the Houdini-like ease with which Aaron Ramsey made Eden Hazard and the rest of Belgian's ballyhooed midfield disappear into his satin back pocket, did Wales really make your nerves jangle?