Somewhere in Europe Crowds loudly cheer For twenty-two men Chasing a sphere

A sea animal that closes a deal? A singer who needs closure? Or a navy force that secures letters?

I'm an artsy sort, You can finish me with ball or brush, Or start me with finger or face, What am I?

I hold the bird that sings no more, Yet warriors clash behind my door. Prizefighters test their might, In my squared ring, day or night. What am I?

It's piling up, it's on the chair, oh my gosh, I no longer wear underwear. Commando I go, though clothes are there.