I live in an Italian neighborhood and am part Italian myself, which naturally means I was rooting — hard — for France. As would you if you knew that an Azzurri win would mean being sideswiped for the next two day by morons with Italian flags taped to the hoods of their cars racing down the boulevard. Way to go on that red card, Zizou. Clutch.
Speaking of Zidane, I challenge you to make it through this essay by Bernard Henri-Levy with a straight face. Let me just toss some of the choicer words and phrases at you:
Pantheon of stadium-gods
Glory, then Exile, then Return and Redemption
blue angel dressed in white
cast him into hell
That’s from the first three paragraphs.
If this guy was any more jacked up he’d be sporting a rod. So much for French ennui.