Finito

Another World Cup has come to an end. Italy is the new champ. Can't say I'm happy about it since they were such thugs throughout the competition but I can say that the celebrations on the street can't help but make me smile. Over an hour after the game ended horns are still honking, people are whooping, flags are waving - it's pretty celebratory around here and I'm not even in Little Italy. That place must be a zoo.

It was unfortunate the way it ended in penalty kicks but worse, the fact that Zidane, a French football hero with a reputation for being a classy player, head-butted an Italian player right in the chest and got red-carded 20 minutes into overtime. Such a shame. Although as a half-Brit I should be genetically predispositioned to hating the French, I was routing for them nevertheless (once England was knocked out of course) because the Italians were such bad sportsmen. I had even grown to have a little crush on M. Zidane, largely because I admired the fact that he donned the jersey of the Portugese captain after France beat them in the semi-final. Now, since he is retiring, the lasting memory people all around the world will have of the great player is that one thoughtless, impulsive and violent gesture. Quelle damage.

It will be a little sad not having any more games to look forward to after a full month of enjoying so much coverage of a sport so neglected in this country. It's been so much fun to feel part of something bigger, something in which the whole world was also watching, cheering, supporting, enjoying. Now I have four years to forget everything I learned about this wonderful game.