Andres Iniesta not just great, he was perfect - and he's Spain's best chance of three in a row

Sadly, so far the presiding images of Euro 2016 are those filmed on a go-pro attached to some psychotic Russian in pinstriped shorts stamping on the heads of passing England fans, images that have failed to deliver much of a boost to ticket sales for the next World Cup, played on his home turf.

But actually, beyond the bother and the brawling, the tear gas and the riot shields, out on the field of play this Euro is shaping up to be the most memorable of football competitions. After the first round of matches have been completed, we have seen already seen sufficient great goals to fill the most demanding of show reels. Strikes from Eric Dier, Wes Hoolahan, Dimitri Payet, Luka Modric and Graziano Pelle are now all seared on to the collective retina. We have seen the triumph of collectivity in the efforts of Wales, Hungary and Iceland. We have seen magnificent support from the Welsh, the Irish (from both sides of the border) and the Icelanders.

And above all we have been witness to the finest single midfield performance I have seen this century.

Andres Iniesta used to be defined largely as part of a double act. Mind, it was a pretty good one. While Lampard and Gerrard were the Hale and Pace of world football, Iniesta and Xavi were the Laurel and Hardy, but with even better punchlines. Unrivalled kings of all they surveyed, the pair bestrode the club and international game, winning every gong known to man, out-passing, out-foxing, out-flanking every opponent on their way to a decade of sustained glory.

When Xavi headed to the middle east and Iniesta went solo, however, the assumption was the heart had gone out of the enterprise, that we had witnessed peak Spain. Iniesta without his mate was reckoned likely to be about as effective as Ernie Wise was funny.

And then came his display in the opening game against Czech Republic in Toulouse on Monday.

He was not simply good that afternoon. He was as close to flawless as you will see on a football field.

This was Paul Scholes with a turn of pace, Paul Gascoigne with a strategy, Mesut Ozil with sticking power. Not since Roy Keane won the 1999 Champions League semi-final have I seen one man so totally boss a game as Iniesta did in Toulouse. This was not so much as masterclass as a vision of perfection.

Everything he did was the right thing to do. Not once did he mislay possession. Every pass was perfect in its weight and timing. One 25-yard switchback ball to Juanfran, tearing into the Czech area, appeared somehow to find its way untouched past every other outfield player on the pitch. It wasn’t merely good, it was laser-guided.

Nor did he eschew the grunt work, leaving others to do his fetching and carrying while he supplied the Hollywood passes. No, he was tackling and harrying with the best of them. On one occasion, Tomas Rosicky (who went against all recent type by managing to make it through the warm up without succumbing to injury) broke from the edge of the Spain area when a corner was cleared. Iniesta hunted him down, keeping pace for twenty yards, before shoulder charging the Czech captain out of possession. Then – quite magnificently – he came away with the ball, turned, ran back towards the opponents’ goal, and laid a pass at the feet of a team mate.

What was brilliant about watching him in action, what made him such a role model for any youngster with aspirations to play the game, was that he did the simple things so well. More than well, actually. He made them look sublime. And he did it largely alone.

Because it wasn’t as if all those round him were shining. Cesc Fabregas had one of those games familiar to Chelsea followers in which he quickly drifts into anonymity. David Silva was over-complicating things, taking five touches and turning back on himself when one might have put him in a position to shoot. And if Harry Kane had been on the end of some of Iniesta’s passes rather than Alvaro Morata, he would have had a hat trick. At least.

But that did not deter Iniesta. He simply took the responsibility on himself to deliver three points for his country. As he said after the game, he thrives on such responsibility. That is what gets him up in the morning. That is what drives him through a game. At 32 years old he may have won everything available to win, but that doesn’t mean his appetite is sated. He wants to be part of a Spanish team that becomes unique in the annals of the game and wins the Euros three times on the bounce.

Unfortunately for him, for that to happen he will need better support than he had on Monday. Beating the Czechs on his own might not be beyond his abilities, but there will be far more substantial challenges ahead. And with Germany looking ominous, with France filled with match-winning talent, with Italy’s coach Antonio Conte making Chelsea supporters salivate with the excellence of his tactics, the threat to Spain’s continuing hegemony is shaping up to be some battle for supremacy. And no, I haven’t forgotten to mention England.