Misc

Paris – Day 2 – les bleus, les bleus – A nation lost?

So here I am in France and what an intriguing time. Not one month ago the city was in almost civil revolution, flags were in short supply as on every corner and street a group of French youths would be burning their flag to ashes with pride.

Yet one month later and who would of thought? It seems not even the French believed that they would be in the World Cup final. What an achievement and an accomplishment, who would have thought? The story line was set all along Zinadine Zidane was to complete his football lifting up the world cup, who would have thought otherwise?

Paris was vibrant all day, the city is in a state of euphoria, suddenly the thoughts of burning French flags are as far gone as the worries of France not getting through the group stages. There are flags ever where, the champs lesay is completely covered with people face paint all over blue, white and red everywhere. The nation was united, and the politicians praying for a victory to put it all behind.

I guess the day was somewhat a mess, hundreds of thousands descended down to the centre of Paris in search of a place to watch the game. The bars were full, the restaurants were full, and even the tiny 14″ TV screens had a crowed of at least 100 people surrounding it and watching every kick of the ball.

I guess being an England fan, this is the closest feeling I will get to my country playing in the world cup final. Its electric. But I am certain the French could have done more to accommodate their nation in watching this game.

So as I strolled the streets of Paris, with people going in every direction and time ticking for everyone to find a place to watch the match. Stopping people doesn’t help, no one knows! Finally a saviour, a French lady who spoke good English was also looking for a place and had a good idea where we can go – from bar to bar we go, until eventually we manage to sneak into a restaurant, strategically crewel between crowds of people, stand at the bar and get prime position for the game!

All around people are full of opinions about the Italians, “they are masters at dramatics”, “they belong in the theatre”, “they are all thieves” – they were all united in their hatred for the Italians, it seemed to be personal – Italians non! France oui!

This surly would be ZZ’s day? and what do you know, after just 7 minutes France get a penalty and ZZ steps up to start the inevitable historic ride of winning another world cup. As he kicked the ball, for a moment a brief moment, you could hear the silence as the ball floated, was it in, and was it out? The whole scene was in slow motion – then suddenly as the net ripples the crowed ignited in cheers, whistles, screams, and hugs! But to be honest I think everyone was surprised by the goal that the celebrations seemed a little confused – we’re winning?! Already?! Really? Fuck it – Vive Le France!

But then the stats come to mind, Italy get to the final every 12 years, and win every 24th….this is the 24th! Yet France has never lost a world cup final? history is going to go wrong somewhere…question is where, well Italy provide a powerful clue not so long later by a very well scored goal which shocked the whole city. Silence – MERDE!!!!

Then the story takes a nasty turn, it’s no longer going to plan, Italy start to dominate, and France just can’t score. Then…? Well in spectacular fashion, if one man will never be forgotten, he certainly won’t now. ZZ, the man whose story this is, stamps his seal on this, after a spell of verbal abuse between metarazzi and zidane; it seems the French captain loses his head – literally by throwing it at metarazzi’s chest – knocking him straight of his feet!

So what on earth could possibly cause a man such as ZZ, Captain of his country in the world cup final, in his last game ever in professional football, to do what is so obviously an offence that will send him off when his country needs him the most? Is this going to be the story of what ifs? England comes back to mind….Rooney anyone?

But where as in England Rooneys sending off was followed by despair and shock, the French gave no care, shouts of ZZ we love you, and zidanes name rang unanimously through out the whole of central Paris. This man was loved no matter what he does – he shall not be forgotten – he made sure of that.

It even seems that the penalties that ensued are somewhat of a side show to the question of – what did he say to ZZ?

As France loses the penalty shoot outs, silence, sadness, and shock – but then a lovely sight of the place clapping – clapping for Italys win, great sportsmanship by the fans – I was extremely impressed.

Then me and my guide go for a stroll through the area, no one seems to know what to do, everyone is either sad or shocked, somewhat speechless, the flags are no longer raised, and are suddenly dragging along the ground – the party had ended – rudely – suddenly Rome was the place to be.

The champs lesay is a river of people, all not quite sure where to go, this nation had defiantly lost, and lacked any form of direction for the night. All that was left to do was to hold your head in your hands, look up at the sky, and ask “what the fuck did he say?” – Time to go home.

p.s. London is so much better than France by night, at least we can get home, in Paris after 1am you are stranded, no more transport – somewhat disappointing should you wish to visit a nightclub.

Another night comes to a close – an active day, a real rollercoaster of emotions through the day.

Tomorrow we will look at something more cultural – the Louvre!

Until then – Au rouvoir!