Jose Antonio Camacho resembled a bar owner, preparing to eject a particularly obnoxious drunk. His eyes narrowed, his shoulders stiffened and his voice descended an octave.

'You don't understand, do you?' growled Spain's head coach. 'It's only a game of football. Let's not fly the flags at half-mast.

'It is up to you if you want to make a tragedy out of it but this is not a disaster or a catastrophe. Look at pictures of earthquakes and famines on your TVs and you will understand.'

Kevin Keegan, confronted by identical scepticism, followed a similar script. Get a life. Accentuate the positive. Keep the faith.

Some hope. Camacho accepts his career will be in tatters if the unthinkable occurs and defeat by Slovenia in the Amsterdam Arena leads to Spain's early elimination from Euro 2000.

If Keegan is becoming increasingly paranoid about the posturings of the public prints, he should try dealing with Camacho's camp followers. Their arsenal of invective is unrivalled.

One pedant with a PC, on day-release in Eindhoven earlier in the week, infamously emphasised his contempt for David Seaman by referring to him as 'a piece of meat with eyes'.

These guys reduce a press conference to the level of a pub argument. Camacho, a rugged defender capped 81 times during a 16-year career with Real Madrid, obliges by getting his retaliation in first, if possible.

The 1-0 defeat by Norway was deemed a national scandal. 'On our knees - again' the headlines screamed. Camacho was blamed for everything from tactics to the timing of the game - Tuesday the 13th, a notably unlucky day in Spanish culture.

He was obliged to protest: 'I'm not superstitious at all. As for that unlucky 13 stuff, my Dad was born on Tuesday the 13th. He was also born in 1913. He's had a great life.'

Maybe so. But Camacho knew what was coming when his squad returned to Tegelen, a verdant village on the Dutch border with Germany, to plan for the Slovenians.

Players, cycling to training from the 14th century chateau they call home, were confronted by a roadblock of television cameramen. The initial inquiry in the inquest - 'Are you psychologically weak?' - set the tone.

'Everyone asks such questions,' sighed Camacho. 'They ask them day after day, week after week. My players are human. No wonder the pressure sometimes gets to them.'

Coaches at Euro 2000 are united by an abiding lack of respect for the bearers of ill tidings. Some, like Turkey's Mustafa Denizli and Germany's Erich Ribbeck, have the distracted air of natural victims.

The majority, best represented by France's Roger Lemerre and Camacho, exude defiance. They resent the ritual of self-justification and cope with exasperation as best they can.

'If you can't take criticism you should not be in the game,' Camacho rationalised. 'Deportivo won the Spanish League and people still criticised (coach) Javier Irureta. Vicente Del Bosque got the same treatment and Real Madrid won the Champions League.'

The point was well made but double edged. Camacho does not need another reminder of the renaissance of the Spanish game at club level. His team are in danger of being regarded as an unworthy intrusion on the national consciousness.

Real Madrid have signed three players, for a sum approaching £20million, since defeating Valencia in the Champions League Final in Paris last month.

They made Raul football's first nine-figure player on Friday. Anyone wishing to buy him out of his new five-year contract must stump up the little matter of £114m.

The agreement establishes his basic annual salary as £3.8m. Pocket money comes in the form of a £5.5m boot deal, which begins on July 1. In commercial terms, success with Spain is an optional extra.

Camacho understood the scale of the distraction and refused to allow the striker to reflect on the absurd price placed on his head until after today's game.

This did not go down well with the men who have up to 30 pages a day to fill with tales of derring-do. They were restricted to Raul's reflections on the difficulties of underachievement at international level.

'The worst part is that we are now on a knife edge,' said Raul. 'We cannot afford another poor performance. The key for us now is not to collapse.'

Gaizka Mendieta, valued at a mere £45m by Valencia, was also wheeled on to peddle the party line. The Basque midfield player, who justified criticism of his initial omission with an assertive substitute's performance against Norway, will replace Fran, the Deportivo playmaker, this evening.

'We have not become a bad team overnight,' he insisted. 'The spirit among us is still strong.'

Such comments would have been more convincing had not Josep 'Pep' Guardiola been simultaneously conducting his own briefing, in a corner of a sponsor's lounge. It was an abiding image of inescapable inequalities.

Barcelona's captain has his own press corps, a different cultural agenda. He admits his principal loyalty is to Catalan independence, rather than the greater glory of the Spanish state.

The pressure is acutely personal. Jose Francisco Molina was devastated when his elder brother telephoned to amplify public criticism of his goalkeeping mistake against Norway. 'Only God makes no mistakes,' he pleaded.

No-one was really listening. Camacho is, ironically, well liked. But the respect he commands will not protect him if his team fails to respond to La hora de la verdad - the moment of truth.

'What can you do?' he mused, with a sardonic gesture towards the Spanish media. 'If we win against Slovenia, these people will have us in the final already.'