Wally with a Brolly

Denmark surprised many by beating Holland in the first game of this Euro, probably the biggest 'shock' so far. Yes, I'm putting 'shock' in quotation marks because our surprise was mostly due to our lack of understanding and knowledge about that Danish team.

Whilst it is fair to say that Holland were the clear favourites, Denmark had come top of their group in qualifying, even overtaking a much-fancied Portugal team. Without so much as a defence to rely on (Heintinga and Vlaar, seriously???), Holland were always going to be vulnerable.

Their profligacy in front of goal was what killed Holland, but let us not underestimate a resolute performance by Denmark, led by the immaculate Daniel Agger, surely one of the best Premier League defenders when fit.

I've always liked Denmark, ever since discovering Brian Laudrup in 1996 and for Rangers. This led to an irrational man-crush towards the gorgeous Brian (have you seen that guy's hair? Impressive). This was further accentuated by Denmark's performance at World Cup 98, when they gave Brazil one hell of a fright in one of the most entertaining games of that tournament. The Laudrups and Schmeichel were world class players who seemed to have a good heart.

Brian Laudrup: class, elegance and unbelievable hair

Simonsen, Laudrups, Schmeichel. For such a small country, Denmark had produced winners who combined grace, elegance and efficiency on a football pitch.

Unfortunately, after World Cup 98, Denmark fell into footballing coma, also soon to be known as Torresitis for obvious reasons. Gone were the days of producing talented, exciting footballers.

We were now stuck with such luminaries as Stig Tofting, Thomas Gravesen and Christian Poulsen. The common denominator? An absolute lack of footballing skill combined with a reckless lust for 'tackling'. Again, we need to put 'tackling' in quotation marks, for these three players were the Danish Bartons: a desire to break someone's leg was always there.

Stig Tofting: Crazy

I particularly remember a friendly match between France and Denmark a few years back. At that time Gravesen and Poulsen had a certain pedigree. Gravesen had signed for Real Madrid, and had scared the hell out of everyone whilst being semi-productive. By 'everyone', I include his team-mates. Robinho had never seen anyone like Gravesen at training, and he still shudders at night when thinking of training sessions at Real. Poulsen had gone to Sevilla from Schalke, and had actually proven to be an effective shield protecting the runs of Navas, Alves and the late Puerta.

Gravesen at Real Madrid: Robinho still has nigthmares

Based on that knowledge, I was looking forward to a good competitive game for the French. What I witnessed was the equivalent of a pack of sheep sent to slaughter. Gravesen and Poulsen started the friendly scything everyone in sight, uninterested in playing the beautiful game of football. It was a monstrosity of a game, a friendly only in name. It was simply scary.

My love for the Danes had wilted, even with the introduction of the unparalleled Nicklas Bendtner, their only world-class player (cough, cough. That title belongs to Agger).

So, when I watched Denmark-Holland, I wasn't especially rooting for the Danes. I was just happy to see that Poulsen wasn't starting. The Dutch midfielders' legs were not to be broken, and that was a relief.

However, another Poulsen was playing. Simon Poulsen. And I was instantly captivated. And a new Danish man-crush had started.

As his name was mentioned, I had visions of World Cup 2010, where Poulsen had majestically headed a clearance onto Agger's back for a comical own-goal. No wonder I was happy to see him back in his left-back position at a major international championship.

To score an own goal from there is physically impossible. Enter Simon Poulsen. In memorable action at the 2010 World Cup

Now, let's make things clear: Simon Poulsen is not your average left-back. Tall, gangly, utterly uncomfortable with the ball at his feet, Simon combines a desire to burst forward with a total misunderstanding of what his defensive duties are, or more accurately, should be.

People scoff at Glen Johnson's supposed lack of defensive ability, but Poulsen takes it to a whole new level, often giving his opponent considerable time and space to turn, try a few dribbles and almost inevitably burst past him. I'm unsure as to whether the poor bloke knows the off-side trap.

So when I saw Simon Poulsen facing Arjen Robben, my pulse started racing. I was about to witness a professional footballer being torn apart in front of thousands of footballing fans and viewers. Think Arsenal's 8-2 defeat at Old Trafford this season, but for one man only.

It started ominously for Simon, with the inevitable burst of pace by Robben resulting in Agger and the underrated Kjaer often having to produce outstanding last-ditch tackles. Denmark were riding their luck, and Simon Poulsen was probably the luckiest of them all.

And then, all of a sudden, this all changed. Poulsen 'burst' down the left-wing, 'brushing off' the 'defensive attention' provided by Van der Wiel and Robben, and produced a world-class cross, by his own standards. His pinpoint cross was deflected into Michael Krohn-Dehli's path, and the little winger from Brondby took his chance wonderfully to stun the Dutch.

From there on, Poulsen was unbeatable, but often not on purpose. With Robben panicking and revisiting the Champions' League final every time he touched the ball, Poulsen managed to look like a decent left-back for the rest of the game, albeit with an element of luck.

Poulsen beating Robben: hope for all footballers out there. Notice where he's looking and where the ball is. Emblematic of Simon's skill.

He thus produced a beautifully unnecessary handball in his own box when surrounded by absolutely no Dutch players whatsoever. It was a moment of pure lack of technical ability, with Poulsen clearly misjudging the elementary flight of the ball. Or it was a pure moment of madness, with Poulsen simply taking a chance and pulling it off.

And an irrational man-crush was thus born. As the Danish players celebrated at the end of the game, I stared at the screen, hoping to catch a last glimpse of Simon Poulsen. And when I did, I thought that an 'unorthodox' (read 'rubbish') 'left-back' with no defensive qualities being able to shut down one of the most terrorising wingers in the world should give us all a little bit of hope.

And so my love with Denmark was rekindled, and my faith in football restored. If Simon Poulsen can keep a clean sheet against Robben and co, who's to say Bendtner won't score a hat-trick against Germany, and Dennis Rohmedahl won't earn a move to Barcelona?

So thank you Simon Poulsen for giving hope to every football fan and amateur player out there.