wc06: italy 1-1 france (italy win, 5-3, in PSO)
“However, I just don’t think Zizou is going to allow France to lose.”
Could I be any worse of a footie writer? Honestly, how did you guys manage to put up with my dross for the past month? I couldn’t have fared worse in analysing and predicting matches if I’d sat out in a pasture, surrounded by mounds of bovine dung and overseen by football-ignorant constellations, and simulated each of the 64 matches in this World Cup using dung beetles as players, frozen feces as the football, and LSD-induced hallucinations to choose my formation and formulate my strategies.
“Her moment of weakness cost me a lifetime of happiness.”
When Manigault wrote those immortal words about a woman he had once loved, those words could’ve been mine if I’d substituted Zizou’s for “her”, “me” with France, and “happiness” with glory.
I wonder how the French public and media are going to treat the near-deity Zizou–we’ve already seen that Raymond Domenech, his manager, “understands” Zidane’s as-yet inexplicable gaffe while not necessarily condoning it–but I’m not going to let him off so easily.
I have no problem with the headbutt, per se, as when I first saw it, I laughed my ass off, but I have a huge problem with the timing of it. How can the leader of the squad, the man to whom all of France looked to for inspiration and guidance, the man so lionised in all corners of global media for his recent resurrection on the pitch be so unequivocally boneheaded? I don’t care what Materazzi said to him, how long he may have been winding him up, or in what manner he was obviously provoking him, but you do not do something so asinine with ten minutes left before penalty kicks in a World Cup final, especially not when three of your teammates–the very three who, along with you, are the obvious first choices to take penalties in a PSO. If Henry, Ribery, and Vieira had not already been substituted for, I’d have less of a problem with Zidane’s momentary lapse of judgment; however, being your nation’s lone remaining grace brings great responsibility to keep your composure and Zidane blew it.
In one of the wackiest and most unusual World Cups I can remember, this ending couldn’t have been more fitting. I suppose if one cannot go out in a blaze of glory, scoring your nation’s winning goal in a world-championship-winning match, I suppose going out in such a ferocious and controversial manner is a close second for a grand exit.
We got to see the best of genius, all in a span of one hundred and eleven minutes: from Zidane’s cheeky and very ballsy chip shot penalty take to give France an early nil-1 lead to his ball-handling and clever passing to his rocket header on goal magnificently saved by Buffon early in extra time to his impossible-to-stop bullet header to Materazzi’s chest.
Ahh, but all of this obsessive writing about Zizou overshadows the fact that Italy are once again world champions. They move into second place behind Brasil for the number of stars (4) on their strips indicating the number of World Cups won.
Until Zidane’s act of lunacy, the outcome was still a toss-up. Italy dominated the first half, France’s early lead notwithstanding, but nearly capitulated several times after the restart and in extra time while Zidane was still on the pitch. Buffon rose to the occasion on several occasions to keep the Azzurri in it, while other times it was the defence, led by the sensational Fabio Cannavaro, who stymied the French attack.
Though France had lost Vieira and Henry to injury and Ribery to substitution, France were the better team for most of the last hour of play. Even when Zidane was sent off, France had the better of possession and the better chances, as Italy were content to sit back and wait for PSO, knowing that France were going to be without four of their penalty-takers in the shootout.
Italy’s decision to pack it in and wait for the shootout was typical Italy, but disappointing, especially given the fact that they had gone all out in the semifinal extra time against Germany.
In the end, however, Italy were the better side and, based on their play the entire tournament, were deserving winners. I may not like Italy, but credit and respect for their accomplishment must be meted out, even if the style in which they succeeded is not always welcome or respected.
This is the final World Cup post involving games in particular, but there will be shortly at least one more piece reviewing the tournament as a whole because, contrary to what I’ve read on some American sports web sites, this was an enjoyable and entertaining World Cup, to say the least. It deserves a recap…
Again, congratulations to Italy for winning their 4th World Cup.
Could I be any worse of a footie writer? Honestly, how did you guys manage to put up with my dross for the past month? I couldn’t have fared worse in analysing and predicting matches if I’d sat out in a pasture, surrounded by mounds of bovine dung and overseen by football-ignorant constellations, and simulated each of the 64 matches in this World Cup using dung beetles as players, frozen feces as the football, and LSD-induced hallucinations to choose my formation and formulate my strategies.
“Her moment of weakness cost me a lifetime of happiness.”
When Manigault wrote those immortal words about a woman he had once loved, those words could’ve been mine if I’d substituted Zizou’s for “her”, “me” with France, and “happiness” with glory.
I wonder how the French public and media are going to treat the near-deity Zizou–we’ve already seen that Raymond Domenech, his manager, “understands” Zidane’s as-yet inexplicable gaffe while not necessarily condoning it–but I’m not going to let him off so easily.
I have no problem with the headbutt, per se, as when I first saw it, I laughed my ass off, but I have a huge problem with the timing of it. How can the leader of the squad, the man to whom all of France looked to for inspiration and guidance, the man so lionised in all corners of global media for his recent resurrection on the pitch be so unequivocally boneheaded? I don’t care what Materazzi said to him, how long he may have been winding him up, or in what manner he was obviously provoking him, but you do not do something so asinine with ten minutes left before penalty kicks in a World Cup final, especially not when three of your teammates–the very three who, along with you, are the obvious first choices to take penalties in a PSO. If Henry, Ribery, and Vieira had not already been substituted for, I’d have less of a problem with Zidane’s momentary lapse of judgment; however, being your nation’s lone remaining grace brings great responsibility to keep your composure and Zidane blew it.
In one of the wackiest and most unusual World Cups I can remember, this ending couldn’t have been more fitting. I suppose if one cannot go out in a blaze of glory, scoring your nation’s winning goal in a world-championship-winning match, I suppose going out in such a ferocious and controversial manner is a close second for a grand exit.
We got to see the best of genius, all in a span of one hundred and eleven minutes: from Zidane’s cheeky and very ballsy chip shot penalty take to give France an early nil-1 lead to his ball-handling and clever passing to his rocket header on goal magnificently saved by Buffon early in extra time to his impossible-to-stop bullet header to Materazzi’s chest.
Ahh, but all of this obsessive writing about Zizou overshadows the fact that Italy are once again world champions. They move into second place behind Brasil for the number of stars (4) on their strips indicating the number of World Cups won.
Until Zidane’s act of lunacy, the outcome was still a toss-up. Italy dominated the first half, France’s early lead notwithstanding, but nearly capitulated several times after the restart and in extra time while Zidane was still on the pitch. Buffon rose to the occasion on several occasions to keep the Azzurri in it, while other times it was the defence, led by the sensational Fabio Cannavaro, who stymied the French attack.
Though France had lost Vieira and Henry to injury and Ribery to substitution, France were the better team for most of the last hour of play. Even when Zidane was sent off, France had the better of possession and the better chances, as Italy were content to sit back and wait for PSO, knowing that France were going to be without four of their penalty-takers in the shootout.
Italy’s decision to pack it in and wait for the shootout was typical Italy, but disappointing, especially given the fact that they had gone all out in the semifinal extra time against Germany.
In the end, however, Italy were the better side and, based on their play the entire tournament, were deserving winners. I may not like Italy, but credit and respect for their accomplishment must be meted out, even if the style in which they succeeded is not always welcome or respected.
This is the final World Cup post involving games in particular, but there will be shortly at least one more piece reviewing the tournament as a whole because, contrary to what I’ve read on some American sports web sites, this was an enjoyable and entertaining World Cup, to say the least. It deserves a recap…
Again, congratulations to Italy for winning their 4th World Cup.
posted by shaved wave at 18:14
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