And now, perhaps, we have to consider ripping up everything that we have told ourselves was undeniable.
That great teams need great strikers in their prime. That football can be condensed down to tactics and systems.
Perhaps, even, the biggest footballing "truth" of all, the one that whole generations have grown up being told by their parents and grandparents.
For years the question was asked, with only one answer.
The best team of all-time? Simple: Brazil 1970. Pele, Tostao, Rivelino, Jairzinho and the rest.
Only it's not that simple any more. Not after this, after history was made in the Olympic Stadium.
Three tournaments in a row, an unprecedented achievement.
Each one won with style, class, sheer footballing joy. By a version of the game that has surely not been seen before, not even by Mario Zagallo's Samba stars.
This was more than just a monstering, the biggest Final win in European Championship history, as even the brilliance of Andrea Pirlo and the heart of Cesare Prandelli's men counted for absolutely nothing.
It was unforgettable, magnificent, football from another dimension, as Del Bosque's men demonstrated they had merely been conserving their energy, doing just what they required, to ensure they got to the ultimate stage.
And when it mattered, they did not just deliver. They dominated. They destroyed. They gave an exhibition that will live long in the memory.
The understanding between Xavi Hernandez, Cesc Fabregas and the utterly peerless Andres Iniesta was telepathic, breathtaking.
More importantly, too, this time, all that mesmerising passing and movement, the ever-revolving circle of possession, had the cutting edge that was the hallmark of the 2008 incarnation.
Four stunning, sensational goals, surgically removing Italy's hope and then, finally, their incredible heart, summed up the essence of Del Bosque's footballing vision.
The coach ignored the calls for an out and out frontman, trusted in Fabregas to play as the "false 9".
But there was nothing false, fake, about his team. Nothing that Italy, in truth, could do about it.
Once Xavi, Inesta and Fabregas got going, there was a thrilling inevitability, a sense of destiny about the evening.
Those goals, too, were things of beauty, majesty, incisions that were deadly in intent and execution.
Just 14 minutes of Spanish pressure, of angles and exhilarating vision, had elapsed when Iniesta's slide-rule ball through the inside-right channel found Fabregas far too strong and determined for Giorgio Chiellini and when the former Arsenal skipper pulled back from the dead-ball line, David Silva had the goal at his mercy to nod home.
Italy, orchestrated by Pirlo, tried to respond, Antonio Cassano twice testing Iker Casillas but before the break the die was cast, with a goal that even surpassed the first.
Casillas pumped up to Fabregas on half-way, who laid off to Jordi Alba.
The full-back showed why Barcelona have landed him for next term as he found Xavi and hared forward, an express train, burning off Leonardo Bonucci with a run matched by Xavi's pass and the quality of the defender's finish, Gigi Buffon utterly helpless again.
Italy rallied at the start of the second period, Antonio De Natale, on for Cassano, wasting two chances either side of a blatant penalty shout at the other end when Bonucci batted down Sergio Ramos' header.
But when Prandelli's final substitute, Thiago Motta, lasted just seven minutes before his hamstring pinged, Del Bosque went for the jugular, as Italy were simply passed to death, swamped by the Spanish tidal wave.
Fernando Torres had been on for just seven minutes when he was slid through by Xavi to steer home, expertly.
And when the Chelsea striker then teed up club-mate Juan Mata to finish it with his first touch of the entire tournament, it meant Torres had earned the Golden Boot as well.
A fitting finish, for a fantastic team. A team that will be talked about for decades to come, the role model for the rest of this century to seek to emulate.
Rightly so - and they probably will not be emulated.
Glorious. Simply the best. Better than all the rest. All hail La Furia Roja. It is a privilege to watch you.