(Google all but ignores this tag DONT STUFF IT!) (Google all but ignores this tag DONT STUFF IT!)

Sunday, July 09, 2006

A dream will come true. Both Italy and France know the dream, and for ninety minutes nothing matters but the location of a soccer ball on a field in Berlin. Either France or Italy will fall down from the most eminent dream level, and receive a four-year lasting heartache. Tonight it will be a night not to forget in Berlin. Rome or Paris will cry while the other city will levitate into ecstasy. Seventy-two people watch in the stadium. One billion people watch, like me, in front of the television.
My screen shows the cup, the conveyance of soccer.
Italy kicks off and tangles, off the bat, into the French defense. An Italian striker dribbles into a swarm of defenders inside the box. France answers fast with swift passes. They deliver the ball forward to Henry, their top striker. However, Henry is knocked out after a collision with an Italian defender, he needs the smelling salt to count the fingers, held in front of his nose.

Italy takes advantage and they invade French territory. Still, France twists the plot on a counter. A striker dives, and fools the referee.
Zidane will take the penalty. He shoots the ball of the bottom of the crossbar, the ball bounces behind the goal line in the grass, back up to the bottom of the crossbar, out of the goal. The ball was in, and the referee saw it.

"A remarkable turn of events," shouts the commentator, only six minutes into the game. “The fastest goal since the penalty of the Dutch in 1974," he ads.
He forgets to mention the Dutch lost the final in 1974.
Italy taunts the French defense, and earns a corner in the nineteenth minute. An Italian striker crosses it textbook in front of the goal, and a teammate who reads the same book, jumps, and heads the ball into the back of the net.


"That was absolutely perfect," shouts the commentator.
Italy thrives on the momentum, but the French resistance holds until halftime.
"The French are getting very luck," says the commentator, voicing his opinion.
The battle continues in the second half. Henry, for France shows his abilities, however cannot dribble past the complete Italian defense.
In the Fortieth minute, a French striker runs the ball over the left, dribbles past a couple of the defenders into the Italian penalty box, and crosses the ball in front of the goal. His teammate made to much haste, and the ball passes behind his heels.
Italy retaliates with a deep pass through the middle. An Italian striker beats the offside trap and heads the ball into the French goal.A Nation burst into calibrations before it becomes clear the lines man has raised his offside-flag.

"Erase that goal," shouts the commentator.
France and Italy take turns in edging millions of patriots into mass pauses of breathing. Zidane crosses the ball a couple of times in face of the goal, however no teammate can match his timing and the balls are wasted.
In the seventy-seventh minute, Italy takes a free kick from thirty-five meters. The ball curves away from the wall, wide of the target. The players of both teams reach their cardio vascular threshold, they are dog-tired.
Zidane is show sitting on the grass, holding his shoulder, signaling to be substituted. He sucks it in and resumes the match, which goes into overtime.
The players do not seem to refresh of the five-minute break. Ribery, for Italy, carves out a position in the penalty box and takes a shot.
"Just missed it," shouts the commentator while Ribery is substituted.
Zidane, for France, drives the ball long to the deep left, opening the game. A teammate crosses the ball back to Zidane in the middle, who heads it onto the Italian target.
"Zidane cannot believe that did not go in," shouts the commentator while The Italian keeper tips the ball over the crossbar.
The referee whistles for the overtime break, and several players collapse on the grass. Henry is out of air, and one minute into the second half of overtime, he is subsituted.
France bears a dark end to the match. Zidane cracks under the nerves, or suffers a stroke. Something snaps in the head of the French hero, and he head butts an Italian defender into the chest. The ball is on the other side of the field. However, after consultation with the fourth fifa official, the referee shows Zinidine Zidane the red card. He ends his career in shame.

I am shocked.
"No air for nobody left in the tank," says the commentator while the match resumes.
Penalties is the nations destiny, drama is inevitable for one of them.

Italy kicks first.


"The first one is good."
France is next.


"We are tied at one."
Barthez, the French keeper chooses the right corner, but cannot reach the Italian strike.


"Into the corner."
Then France repeats Zidane's penalty of the first half, and shoots the ball of the bottom of the crossbar onto the grass. Only this time the ball bounces in front of the goal line.


"No goal," shouts the commentator.
Italy stays cool and scores the next one.


"Into the corner."
France makes no more mistakes.


"Sticks it."
Italy stands strong.


France must now score to stay alive.


"He makes it," says the commentator. But his voice switches, "Now Fabio has the world cup at his feet," he says, while Fabio steps back for the fifth and final penalty for Italy.


Italy takes the cup. France tumbles into disbelieve. Zidane, their hero, lost his head. France lost the dream.
Congratulations to Italy, the new world champions.