The lower the stakes, the better the vibes

I'm not sure how international breaks became so mundane, games being played — lots of Euro qualifiers, this time — that feel all stakes but no tension. Maybe it's because my home nation is England, so I end up watching them, and they're managed by Gareth Southgate, so I end up watching that.

It takes two to make a thing go wrong and Italy were as culpable for sending my mind wandering during Thursday night's game. It was a boost for sales of Pledge, though, as I'm sure coffee tables and TV stands across the country were feeling the rub of a cloth at half-time, after layers of dust became the first half's main talking point. And this despite Harry Kane taking a scoring record off of Wayne Rooney, too, which was like watching a semolina pudding smother a potato. Kane tried to look as if his penalty — of course it was a boring old penalty — was a big occasion, giving it lots of tigerish grrrr in the celebrations. But even Harold Kane never looks particularly convinced that what he's doing is worth the bother. It's no wonder Antonio Conte can't stand being at Spurs anymore, watching such gormlessness in training every day.

So much for the first seventy minutes. The last twenty minutes were different, though, and the reason may not surprise you: Roberto Mancini brought Wilf Gnonto on for Italy. I don't think I need go into many further details. Italy started giving him the ball, and he started beating his markers inside and outside, zipping crosses and cut-backs, chasing the ball when he got tackled and demanding a pass when his midfielders won it back. In short, he came on and did all the stuff he does for Leeds, that doesn't just make him worth watching, but Leeds worth watching.

The slight hitch is that, by doing this stuff on the international stage, fans of other clubs have decided that Gnonto is not only worth watching, but worth having. At their clubs. We'll leave the sense of 'big club' entitlement that drives Arsenal fans into tweeting that Gnonto should 'come home' to north London for another time, because for now this is about the earlier stages before they get into the 'I wanna have it' spoilt brat act. We've seen Gnonto, and who wouldn't want to watch him all the time?

The reasons for that are interesting. Gnonto didn't win the game for Italy — they lost, 2-1. He didn't score, or set up a goal. Despite his best efforts, he hasn't helped Leeds to many results either. It's the curse of being a good player in a bad team that allows the more stat-minded to scan their spreadsheets looking for evidence of his impact and come up with nothing to show. He's all equations, but no bottom line.

That, though, is what makes him so precious. For twenty minutes on Thursday he dazzled, catching the eye, demanding attention, entertaining his audience. It was like a sharp stand-up comedy routine, bringing the crowd to life for a while and then done. It was an interlude of joy, in a sport that can makes pleasure feel like a guilty secret. Could Italy's fans enjoy watching him? After all, their team lost at home to England for the first time since 1961. Is it permitted, even so, to find joy in their little no.7's little show?