Holding the World Cup aloft is the highlight of a life. But Italian captain Fabio Cannavaro was a world champion long before Sunday. Now he simply has the medal to prove it. The cherub carved from stone should also have been named player of the tournament, because he wasn’t just the image of Italy, but of the World Cup.

From soon after birth in Naples 32 years ago, Cannavaro cultivated a peculiarly Italian ambition: to be a defender. The man-marker is a peculiarly Italian profession, like gondolier or fashion designer. The most enjoyable thing in football, says Cannavaro, is marking: “Marcare, marcare, marcare!”

He is scornful of strikers. They can play terribly and be praised for one goal, but defenders are hanged for one mistake. Cannavaro belongs to the Italian school that says the perfect match ends 0-0, because there were no errors.

Had he been born in Britain, he would probably never have found employment as a centre-back: he is only 5ft 9in tall. To compensate, he built up his upper body and arms. A defender needs his arms, Cannavaro says, because he must constantly touch his striker, put him where he wants him. The Italian loves the details of his craft.

He understands his worth. Asked at the 2000 European Championships to name the best defenders there, he said: “After myself and Nesta, I think the Frenchman [Lilian] Thuram.” But Cannavaro’s sole mistake of that tournament allowed France’s Sylvain Wiltord to score the equaliser in the final. France won.

On Sunday there could be no repeat. Going into the final, Italy’s defence had conceded once in six games, and that an unstoppable own-goal. Cannavaro sets high standards for his men. When his colleague Marco Materazzi permitted a German shot in the semi-final, Cannavaro stood beneath the giant, lectured him, and then slapped him in the face. Cannavaro believes a defender does not permit shots – he throws out a limb to block them – or corners, free-kicks or even throw-ins.

The Italy captain was the tournament’s best gymnast, ahead even of Miroslav Klose. He routinely outjumps much taller men, or clears by overhead volley. So agile is he that he can defend side-on, forcing the striker into a particular direction, because he can always stretch to tackle.

He can even break the rule that says defenders should not go to ground. Cannavaro can, because he rises instantly. On Sunday he performed three sliding tackles on Florent Malouda in just over a second, possibly a world record.

His battles with Thierry Henry were everything a World Cup should be: the best against the best. Henry managed a shot, and once dribbled past Cannavaro, but was eventually substituted drained and scoreless, like dozens of Cannavaro’s opponents before him.

Cannavaro did not man-mark Henry. He and Materazzi had the flexibility to mark by zone. Cannavaro is both marker and libero: he probably had Malouda covered when Materazzi fouled him for France’s penalty. For that Materazzi may have taken a pounding worse than anything Zinedine Zidane did to him.

Cannavaro watched the penalty shoot-out unsmiling, his massive tattooed arms folded. Goals are not his business. He has scored one in 100 internationals. Italians don’t care. They admire defending. During Sunday’s game, their fans applauded him more than any other player.

We should do likewise, because if you cannot appreciate defending, this World Cup was rather empty. But when Europe’s Footballer of the Year is named in December, he will be an attacker as ever – perhaps Cannavaro’s victim Henry.