A Head Butt no Brain!

It comes but once every 4 years, a day that defines a time. A day that 4 weeks ago I dreamt I'd be watching England, a day, in fact that every man dreams he's watching his country play. For two nations that dream is realised today. France and Italy will play each other in the Football World Cup Final. Each team, with a Nations hopes and dreams resting upon their shoulders, life's ambitions a mere 90 minutes away from being realised.

England had long since departed the tournament, crashing out to Portugal in the Quarter Finals, the dream was over for another four years for the English contingent. The Americans had been a huge disappointment as well, failing to get past the group stages and now, here I was, and Englishman, in America about to watch France and Italy battle it out in Germany!

With Seattle my venue and Sandy by my side we set about finding a bar to watch the game. We settled on an Irish Bar around Pike Place Market, having failed to find anywhere else showing it, and joined the throngs within. I was surprised just how many people had turned out here to see the game, a two floor building, the ground floor was packed to the rafters so we settled on a spot in the upstairs bar, still 20 minutes before kick off.

As kick off approached, even the upstairs now was jammed up. Looking around me, hearing conversations it was obvious that people from nations spanning the globe had come together in one place to watch this game. We'd found ourselves chatting to a Frenchman and a Belgian as the game progressed and the beer flowed.

Tensions from those more intimately involved were becoming ever greater as deadlock remained and time ticked on. In extra time they boiled over on the pitch as Zinedine Zidane threw his head in the direction of Italian, Marco Materazzi. Shock at what we'd just witnessed reverberated around the bar, you could almost here the gasps from bars and homes across the world. Zidane, hero to so many, legend not only in his own country but throughout the lands had, in a moment of madness, ended his career. His final moments on the football pitch were to see red and leave the field, taking with him French pride and dreams.

The Italians went on to win the trophy on penalties, but it will be the Zidane head butt that remains in most minds when they talk about the 2006 World Cup Final. For me, watching this game for the first time abroad was an experience in itself. In a country where football means a totally different sport, I'd been able to share the experience with people from all nations, and clearly see in the eyes of the French and Italians just how much this game meant to them.

Sandy and I headed to a bar after the game to have a drink with a couple of the guys we'd met in the bar. A bottle of wine with a Frenchman after such an experience was quintessential in many ways but seemed so right in many many more.