Portugal did a Leicester City. The fairytale is a horror story. It's the thing to do though, and it's spoiling football as a spectacle: defend the shit out of a game, bore the arseholes off everyone with an 8-1-1 formation that wants as little of the ball as it can get away with, and when everyone's knackered and mistakes are inevitable, lump the ball forward and get the only goal of a game that basically contained nothing that a sane person could call entertaining. It's inevitable that, when you extend the idea that the result is all that matters to its logical conclusion, that you'll go through this stage until someone works out how to beat it by actually scoring early goals against a double back line that is barely interested in trying to attack. It stinks. Well done Portugal.