Iniesta.

He starts in the centre of it, as he usually is, from the corner of his eye he spots Busquets and flicks an impudent back-heel into his path. He carries on. Spain press, two passes later he is in Villa territory, that little pocket between the penalty spot and eighteen yard line. Dutch squirm over their shoulders, “Do you have him?” A panicky swipe of a clearance sends it to Fabregas. He looks up. Andres Iniesta has moved only slightly, about the distance of his back-heel to stay onside. The ball is played to him. The world stops just for a millisecond. Control and shoot. World champions. Many blink, many panic but this is Spain, this is Iniesta. Instant control but the ball rises a little too much. No matter, adjust, get over it. Laces lash against the ball. World champions in a moment of beautiful simplicity.

It is simple because the little man makes it so. For if Holland were best summed up in Nigel de Jong’s karate kid moment then Spain are best encapsulated by the technique of Iniesta. Wide left or right? Through the middle? No matter. That deftest of first touches that lures you in. Makes the defender think he can take it before it is snatched away. Iniesta is that rare breed, a footballer who stirs up your own memories as a child knocking it about. He has that innocence, that carefree manner on the pitch. He was rattled briefly last night. Van Bommel twice tried to force him off the pitch but thankfully to no avail.

For a player who has had such an injury-disrupted season as he, Iniesta’s bravery last night must also be applauded. Not in darting out of the crude challenges, he does that every week but in demanding the ball despite the attention. Winners want the ball.

It has been a dour world cup apparently, one suffocated in defensive tactics and strategic fouls. Perhaps so, but I’ll remember his side foot against Chile, him dancing past Paraguay, me screaming Villa’s Open! Only for him to slide in Pedro. I’ll remember countless times thinking he was boxed in only to see him scuttling off with the ball. I’ll remember his winner for all time but most of all I’ll remember him. Andres Iniesta. In the centre of it.