James Lawton: Aragones hits gold with Fabregas show

Guus Hiddink and his Russian sorcerer Andrei Arshavin were supposed to have taken charge of this brilliant Euro 2008. But soon enough it was the wildest of suppositions as Spain struck out for the destiny that they always believed was theirs – a place on the high table of world football. No one could question that contention after a coruscating performance from a team who, when you thought about it, were merely re-exerting the mastery they displayed over the upstart Russians when they won the group game 4-1.

Yet it was almost as though Spain had stumbled on El Dorado when an injury provoked their coach, Luis Aragones, into a massive refitting of his team, bringing on Cesc Fabregas for yet another cameo of utterly bewitching football.

Fabregas may still be required to watch from the sidelines the start of Sunday's final against Germany, but then maybe not. Fabregas's impudence and self-belief helped turn what was supposed to be an intriguing contest into that which was ultimately hard to distinguish from outright slaughter. He made two goals with the easiest of touches. It was as though those days in the margins had stored up a great lust to express itself.

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Here it was rampant, along with the regained authority of the men whose places he has been growling after so ferociously ever since the tournament started. The intransigence of Spain's old hard-line coach Aragones in the matter of Fabregas, and his potential to reactivate the attacking instincts of a team descending into the predictable, did not survive fresh hints that the Russians were indeed a side who believed their time had come – or the invitation to compromise which came when striker David Villa pulled a muscle while taking a free-kick half an hour into the first half.

Aragones, oddly in one way, elected to leave Fernando Torres in a lonely battle with Russia's big but at times surprisingly adroit central defenders Sergei Ignashevich and the new man, Vasily Berezutsky.

Yet if this was a decision that didn't follow the veteran coach's normal pattern, it did give him the chance, at an early opportunity, to get the Arsenal man into the action. The need for Fabregas's inventive powers was plain enough – as it was in the laboured performance against Italy in the quarter-final – as once again the preferred Barcelona playmakers Xavi and Andres Iniesta failed to establish either snap or authority. Fabregas, a source of fresh life when he was brought on against the Italians, once again suggested that he may have been perhaps the most neglected talent in the tournament.

However, in one of the those sweet ironies of football, Fabregas's greatest gift to Spain may have been the new edge of effort he inspired in his embattled seniors. Whatever, Iniesta and Xavi combined to produce a superb sword stroke early in the second half, a one-two that covered half the length of the field and left Xavi free to strike home beautifully Iniesta's cross.

Meanwhile, Russia's supernova Arshavin was having his head banged in a collision Carles Puyol, a blow that contradicted the idea that he was about to fly above all rivals in the final stages of a tournament he had threatened to dominate. Certainly, Arshavin was overshadowed in terms of both power and creativity when Spain moved in for a matador's kill in the 73rd minute. This time Fabregas's role was both central and brilliant when Daniel Guiza, replacing once again the lauded, but in the last two games, dwindling Torres, ran on to his exquisitely chipped pass.

The Spaniards were now exerting an almost casual control as Arshavin failed to find the seam of brilliance that destroyed the Netherlands and the striking arm of Roman Pavlyuchenko became progressively limp.

It was an authority that was announced quite exquisitely in the 82nd minute when Iniesta and Fabregas sent in David Silva with passing so sharp it might have sliced through the Kremlin wall. Iniesta sent Fabregas down the left with a perfectly clipped pass and then the Arsenal man produced, at speed, another example of geometric perfection. Hiddink came to the touchline in a desperate attempt to reproduce the brilliant chemistry that brought his team surging back into the tournament.

But then the Dutchman is merely an excellent coach. He is not Merlin and it was the Spanish who had cornered all supplies of magic this night.