I'm still in a daze. It's one of the most dramatic, even tragic, conclusions to a major sporting event, ever. Has anyone ever gone from the heights of hero status to the depths of ignominy in the blink of an eye the way Zinedine Zidane did yesterday in Berlin?
I'm straining for a comparison to Zidane's circumstances yesterday: starring for and captaining France in the final match of the World Cup. He has announced he's retiring and this is his last game, ending his brilliant career with an unforgettable resurgence in the sport's biggest tournament. The match is tied 1-1 (Zidane having France's goal), it's late into overtime, and hundreds of millions of people are tensed and watching Zidane, destiny's man, sensing that in the next few minutes he will write soccer history.
And boy, did he ever. It's hard to find a comparison this side of "The Natural." I recall that in 1969 Bill Russell won an NBA Finals Game 7 with the Boston Celtics in the last game of his career, against the vaunted L.A. Lakers of Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, and Wilt Chamberlain. Now imagine if in the fourth quarter, Russell had gotten mad, hauled off and kicked Chamberlain in the gonads.
Only Zidane's head butt was bigger, worse: Zidane whaling Italy's Materazzi while play was stopped. Why did he snap? Maybe because he was exhausted and in pain, and Materazzi insulted him in a way calculated to make Zidane snap. That's the only explanation I can bear to consider. (Why a head butt? His shoulder may have been separated, for one thing. Also, Zidane can deliver more force with a snap of his head than I can behind the wheel of my car.)
I'd like to state a couple of things that may go unsaid in the furor over Zidane's gaffe. France outplayed Italy. Granted, it's possible that a bad offsides call cost Italy a goal, but if Italy had won on that goal, it would have been a flukish result. In overtime, both teams were fatigued, but France had made a couple of late subs and seemed a little fresher, seemed to be have the upper hand. Until the moment Zidane was red-carded, at which point did Italy press its man-up advantage? No, Italy stalled, playing for the cheap way out, penalty kicks, where France seemed without hope with Zidane out, and France's Barthez considered a weaker goalkeeper than Italy's Buffon. And not to attack anyone, but Buffon did not win the PK contest for Italy, David Trezeguet lost it for France, and if kicks had gone on more than five deep, France's chances would have steadily improved.
Thanks for letting me get that on the record.
I love the World Cup to an immoderate and absurd degree. I've been sneaking out of the office, watching matches, reading everything I can get my hands on. And much as it pains me to say anything nice at all about the New Republic, given my blogofascist tendencies, I have thoroughly enjoyed the World Cup blog captained by TNR editor Franklin Foer. I recommend reading through its archives, for the writers' various takes both on soccer and on the national cultures of the Cup contenders, notably the aspect of American exceptionalism that makes us uniquely immune, sometimes even hostile, to "the beautiful game."
Even the intrepid TNR bloggers were struck dumb for the better part of a day by the climax or anti-climax of the France-Italy final. This morning, though, they have posted some videographic evidence of what a dirty player Materazzi is, plus some juicy speculation about what Materazzi may have said to set Zidane off. Could it have had to do with Zidane's Algerian parentage, with overtones of postcolonialism, culture clash, etc.? (Late breaking news: Materazzi denies rumors that he called Zidane "a terrorist.") In some part of his heart, Frank Foer sure hopes so, because it would vindicate his 2004 book How Soccer Explains The World. (Not that the book needs lot of help -- I finished it recently and found it enjoyable and informative as hell.)
I think I'm going to break my train of thought and hold some quasi-intellectual soccer geekery for another post. More later.