I remember sitting in that cramped Madrid apartment, watching rain streak down the window while the television flickered with suspended play. It was June 2016, and I'd invited friends over for what should have been Portugal's triumphant march toward the European Championship. Instead, we were watching ground staff frantically pulling covers over the pitch as what the commentator called "a proper downpour" halted everything. My friend Carlos, who'd played semi-pro football before knee surgery ended his career, muttered something that stuck with me: "This is like that tennis match I saw where she went a break down, 2-4, when play was stopped because of a downpour on Monday but returned in much sharper form."

He was right - there's something about forced pauses that transforms competitions. As we waited for the deluge to pass, Carlos began pulling up old European Cup highlights on his laptop, and what started as rain-delay entertainment became my proper introduction to football history. We watched grainy footage of the 1960 final where the Soviet Union defeated Yugoslavia 2-1 in Paris, then jumped to 1976 when Czechoslovakia beat West Germany in the first penalty shootout finale. That evening essentially became my personal crash course in what I'd later call the ultimate guide to understanding Football European Cup history and winners.

The tournament's evolution fascinates me - how it grew from just 4 teams in 1960 to 24 today, how the trophy transformed from the original Henri Delaunay Cup to the redesigned version we know now. I've always had a soft spot for underdog stories, which is why Greece's 2004 victory remains my favorite upset. Nobody gave them a chance, yet they systematically dismantled football royalty - France, Czech Republic, then Portugal again in the final. Their 1-0 win in Lisbon was arguably the most tactically perfect defensive performance I've witnessed, though my German friends understandably prefer to talk about their own team's three championships.

What many casual fans don't realize is how dramatically the tournament's format has changed. The first five editions featured just four teams in the final tournament, which seems almost quaint now. The expansion to eight teams in 1980 made it more inclusive, but personally, I think the 16-team format used from 1996 to 2012 created the perfect balance between quality and representation. Today's 24-team setup makes for a more democratic competition, though I'll admit the group stages sometimes feel diluted compared to the knife-edge tension of earlier tournaments.

Germany and Spain share the record with three titles each, but Spain's back-to-back wins in 2008 and 2012 showcased what I consider the most dominant national team performance in modern football history. Their tiki-taka style wasn't just effective - it was beautiful to watch, something I can't say about every winning team. The tournament has given us iconic moments that transcend sport: Marco van Basten's impossible-angle volley in 1988, Paul Gascoigne's glorious failure in 1996, Cristiano Ronaldo's emotional exit followed by Portugal's 2016 triumph.

That rainy evening in Madrid eventually saw play resume, and Portugal did eventually win the tournament, though it took them until extra time in the final against France. There's a lesson there about resilience that applies to the tournament's history itself - how it survived the COVID-19 postponement, how it adapted through various formats, how nations like Denmark in 1992 could enter as last-minute replacements and emerge champions. The European Championship isn't just about crowning the best team - it's about these unpredictable journeys, these rain delays that transform narratives, these moments where history gets rewritten before our eyes.