You can come out now. They're gone. In Marseille the World Cup said a tearless farewell to the Norwegians on Saturday as the least evocative team of the competition succumbed to the persuasive charms of the charismatic Italians.

Again it was Vieri who overshadowed several stars with bigger endorsement deals to see his team through. In the 18th minute Di Biagio spotted a crevice in the wall which the Norwegians had built across midfield. He slipped a pass through to Vieri, who galloped on to it hungrily and slipped it low to the right of Grodas.

It wasn't a great goal but it was well-taken and well-conceived and represented one of the few moments of planned penetration in the entire game. The Italians locked up the premises thereafter and the Norwegians lacked the finesse to pick the lock.

It is easy (thank goodness) to be hard on Norway but they will claim with some justification that, like Charlton's Ireland, they play to their strengths, that nowhere in the rule book is it deemed mandatory to play beautiful football. They had a case in 1994, when they came to the States woefully bereft of strikers and left the States woefully bereft of goals.

This time around, though, they were equipped to play more ambitious football. Tore Andre Flo, who spent much of the World Cup looming like a solitary lighthouse off the coast of the opposing penalty area, needed more support and in Solksjaer and Ostenstad the Norwegians had the personnel. Three premiership strikers on hand and they still contented themselves with boring us to death.

Not that their attacking riches come anywhere near those enjoyed by the Italians, who left Flo's Chelsea chums Casiraghi, Vialli and Zola to their own devices for the summer and left Roberto Baggio sitting on the bench all afternoon on Saturday.

Of course, Baggio might have known that his chances of getting on the field grew remote as soon as Italy took that early lead. Until then the Italians had done most of the pressing, moving the ball around thoughtfully as they looked for an opening.

Moriero on the right and Albertini in the centre of midfield were pulling out lots of ball from a crowded middle third and looking always for the best option.

After Di Biagio had set up Vieri for the goal, the reality of the situation was spelt out in neon for the Norwegians: score or go home.

Mykland wasted a chance four minutes later when he flicked the ball wide instead of shooting. Havard Flo had a snap shot after a cross from the left. Then it petered out.

The Italians, pretty sure that they had weather-proofed themselves against leaks at the back, weren't overly concerned about scoring more but still looked persuasive when they counter-attacked. Dino Baggio got over a header which brought a superb save from Grodas. Del Piero was slipped through but drove the chance at Grodas's chest and in injury time in the first half he almost chipped the Norwegian keeper after an impertinent move.

Up front for the Norwegians, meanwhile, Tore Andre Flo was having a hugely physical battle with Cannavaro. The Italian won out in the end, although Flo had a fine header, for which he rose above Bergomi, saved by Pagluica in the second half.

"I'm used to physical games like that in Italy," said Cannavaro. "But against a player of such dimensions you have to concentrate and anticipate all the time."

He did just that throughout most of a second half which saw the Norwegian desperation grow in inverse proportion to the time remaining. They eked out the possession they needed but never had the finish.

Indeed, on the 65th minute the key difference between the two sides was underlined yet again. This time Albertini threaded a lovely ball from midfield, Del Piero pounced on it wolfishly and then slipped a low drive tantalisingly past both Grodas and the far post.

With time wasting away, Solbakken hit the deck in the penalty area but lightning failed to strike twice for the Norwegians. The game ended with the Italians deploying two big men up front, Vieri and Chiesa. One fed the other and Chiesa thumped a shot over the Norwegian bar.

On the Veldrome stands the Norwegians stood in the southern sun and chanted "Drillo, Drillo, Drillo" in honour of Egil Olsen, who was in charge for the last time. He left as he came in: dourly pragmatic.

"We have been a difficult team to beat," he said. The subtext was clear: we might be ugly but at least we were here.

The Italians, of course, are always with us and their encounter on Thursday in the Stade de France with the hosts promises much.