HOLLAND, it was assumed by people who should have known better when predicting them to win Euro 96, have had a disappointing tournament. To a point that is true, but the real disappointment at Anfield on Saturday were the French. Frankly, they're a tease.

After all, they have a shot at winning Euro 96, but Holland didn't, certainly not after taking aim at their own feet with their customary, unerring accuracy.

This was a nice game, no more than that: One for the connoisseurs. Without wishing to describe myself as one, I enjoyed it, but I'd pay to watch the Dutch play five a side in training.

It was too nice in some ways, lots of neat passing along the deck and hardly a bad tackle, despite what the frequently error prone Antonio Lopez Nieto may have thought. Tactical switches and interchanges in personnel abounded - several Dutch players operated in three different positions at stages. But there were no goals, and no real ooomph.

Even allowing for a more focused, more disciplined Dutch display, the French were singularly lacking in ambition. Sure, they weave some pretty triangles when in the mood. Sure, one could readily see why the presence of the brilliant Youri Djorkaeff makes Eric Cantona redundant in Aime Jacquet's plans.

Djorkaeff has a sublime first touch, pace and vision, which he uses in Cantona like fashion by dropping off into the space between midfield and attack to create opportunities for others. Zinedine Zidane does the same to lesser effect, but has a greater eye for goal, albeit from distance.

The loose link in the chain is Patrice Loko, who appears too much of a soloist to complete the triangle. Christophe Dugarry looks more the part, but ominously for the French he lasted only 18 minutes as Loko's replacement before damaged knee ligaments put him out of the game and the tournament.

At least his replacement Reynald Pedros provided some badly needed, if not entirely convincing, width on the left. On the right, the elegant Christian Karembeu and the powerful right back Lilian Thuram linked promisingly early on.

However, Karembeu (suspended for the semi final) is essentially a midfielder playing wide rather than an attacking winger, while Thuram and the left back Bixente Lizarazu don't overlap often enough. Indeed, there's the rub, the midfield quartet and the back four seem to regard incursion into the opposition area as something that requires a passport.

It's all a bit too functional, too un French. Beyond Laurent Blanc at set-pieces and the front men, no one else ever looked like scoring on Saturday. Apart from his brilliantly brave save to defy Zidane deep into injury time, Edwin Van der Sar was relatively unemployed.

Dammit, they don't gamble enough, not for a country that has traditionally espoused Gallic flair. From them we want the beautiful game, the legacy of Platini et al. It's as if the psychological scars of missing out on the World Cup finals in injury time in Parc des Princes in November 93 have made them too afraid of failure.

It's easy to see why they have remained unbeaten in 27 games since that catastrophic night. The defensive pyramid offered by the Blanc Marcel Desailly partnership with Didier Deschamps in front is almost impenetrable.

Goalkeeper Bernard Lama also erased many of the doubts surrounding him, not least with the saves from Clarence Seedorf two minutes from the end of normal time and in the penalty shoot out. Thuram is some player too, he and Lizarazu keeping the latest lightweight Dutch offerings along the flank, Jordi Cruyff and Philip Cocu.

But you want more from them and you feel there must be more. This French team could yet win Euro 96 but they are the ultimate sadists of the tournament, giving you a few tantalising tastes of what they are capable of, but not enough to satisfy. Teasers.

Surprisingly, Jacquet seemed pleased enough. "When you get into the knock out stage there are periods in the game when you do well and others when you do not so well. It is quite natural that there are these shifts in rhythm. We will now go into the semi final with the same conviction as awe had this evening."

They could well have gone out: too to a galvanised if limited and still under strength Dutch team. They too only gave glimpses of what they are capable of fleetingly against the Scots early on when the Ajax system was in fully flow, and latterly against the Swiss. That it came down to one: missed penalty by Seedorf was both a fitting finale to another self destructive Dutch tournament and an achievement of sorts for Guus Hiddink's team after the debacle at Wembley.

Indeed both of Saturday's games put the merit of that 4-1 English win into perspective. They should have been rightly ashamed of themselves for that moody, disharmonious, stand off performance. It was good to hear Hiddink was, and that his players appeared to be.

"I was very angry (by last week's performance) and too ashamed for myself to go out in the streets in case I was recognised. Although we lost here I must compliment my players on how they reacted."

Much of the previous disruptions emanated from Seedorf (and perceived racial, elder younger divisions) who would want to cop himself on. The moody 19 year old is probably not helped by the obtrusive presence of his agent and father, who threatened that his son would go home if he was dropped.

Bravely, Hiddink did just that on Saturday, only to undo that decision by selecting him for the penalty shoot out. Seedorf's set pieces had been truly horrendous in regular play and he was far too laissez faire with a penalty too close to Lama - in contrast to a perfect nine elsewhere.

Still, you wouldn't wish Seedorf's experience on anyone. Significantly or not, his fellow black players were the first to console him, though in fairness, everyone else did too.