Football can be cruel..ask Zidane!

By Roger Cohen /International Herald Tribune
Genius has a dark side.
How else to reconcile the divine smile on Zinedine Zidane's face throughout the
French victory he orchestrated over Brazil with the man, fist-clenched,
possessed, driving his head into Marco Materazzi's chest in the 110th minute of
the World Cup final and so concluding his career in shame?
Life is no fairy tale. Zidane was to lift the trophy and come full circle eight years after the French triumph in Paris, when he scored two goals in the final. That was the script. Instead, Italy won and Zidane came full circle to another moment in the 1998 tournament: the one in which he snapped, stamped on a Saudi Arabian
player's chest, and was sent off.
Rage resided in Zidane, somewhere deep in the soul of a humble man who had a gift, who could see what others could not, who caressed the ball and who took games and the people who watched them to unsuspected and lovely places. Rage cannot undo or lessen his gift.
We must accept the two together as, in the end, we must accept all the contradictions of life. Only in fairy tales does everything come out right.
Do not belabor this moment of madness. Of course, we want to know what the provocation might have been.
Our curiosity demands that we discover what Materazzi may have said to
spur such ugliness. But let us respect Zidane's silence. We know that he is
suffering. We may begin to imagine what it was like for him to walk off the
field, past the trophy he coveted, head bowed, to a silent pain. He must live
with the terrible ambiguity he showed the world in this tournament.
Football can be cruel. It was cruel at the end of a fine World Cup that Germany hosted with generosity. Yes, there were the dives and fouls and referees' mistakes and scoreless games. There was the general impression, especially in the later
rounds, that defenses dominated. If this competition is the death knell of the
4-1-4-1 formation, nobody will be sorry.
But there was also the beauty and the splendor, from Philipp Lahm's opening goal in the first match to Gianluigi Buffon's extraordinary save from Zidane's 104th minute header in the final.
A month, any month, must be made of highs and lows. This one was no exception. But
the highs prevailed.
Buffon was as close to perfection as anyone gets in this tournament. He conceded an own goal and a penalty in seven matches: no opponent scored against him in open play. Fabio Cannavaro in the Italian defense was also near impassable, a gladiator with a courage and timing that were awe-inspiring.
And so the Italians took home the World Cup for the fourth time, one less than
the Braziians. They won football's most coveted trophy with five powerful
penalties after 120 minutes of play had failed to separate two teams tied 1-1
since the 18th minute.
Italy scarcely deserved the victory on the night.
It hung on and seized it chance. But over the course of the tournament it had
earned the title. Its football was the smoothest and most cohesive, and its
defense was made of iron. If you do not see beauty in defense, you cannot
understand the essence of the Italian game.
Italians are sentimental about many things. But football to them is more serious than that. They carry the game in their blood as no other nation except Brazil. Four titles now demonstrate that. By comparison, the English and the French are parvenus when it comes to this sport. If you want to understand what it is to be unsentimental, just look at the five Italian penalties that won the match.
One after the other, steadying weary limbs, Andrea Pirlo, Materazzi, Daniele de Rossi, Alessandro del Piero and Fabio Grosso drove unstoppable shots high into the net. That was enough, for one Frenchman, David Trezeguet, had faltered, hitting the bar and seeing the ball bounce down on, but not over, the line.
The game had ebbed and flowed. The first half was Italy's, the second France's, with the match swinging like a pendulum after a frenzied start that saw a goal for each side before the final had settled into any sort of rhythm.
A goalless game, many had predicted,looking at two powerful defenses. That seemed reasonable. But the stakes and the charged setting in Berlin's Olympic Stadium always suggested this might not be a night for reason.
Within seven minutes of the start, Thierry Henry, the French
striker, had found time to get himself concussed and then recover to head on a
pass to Florent Malouda, stampeding into the penalty area. Down he went after
Materazzi's clumsy tackle, and the referee pointed to the spot.
Who else but Zidane to take it? Up he stepped to send Buffon the wrong way with a spooned shot that came down off the bar and bounced just over the line.
I said football is cruel. It is a matter of inches. One penalty, Zidane's, comes down off the bar and drops a foot over the line. Another, Trezeguet's, come down on the line.
I'm not enough of a mathematician to calculate the probabiliy and angles
involves in that, but they are head-spinning.
Zidane lost his head. It should not have happened. It did. We will speculate, because we are compelled to understand. Fatigue? Frustration? Fury? Let's leave the questions aside. It happened, just as it happened that two balls came down off the bar in the 2006 World Cup final in Berlin and one landed in the goal and one did not. To love this game you must love its mystery.
Zidane's early goal produced a new situation. The Italians had not previously been down in the tournament. They responded in style, sweeping forward with Pirlo once again conducting the blue-shirted orchestra. And in the 18th minute, there was Materazzi to atone for the penalty, hanging in the air to meet Pirlo's corner and send a powerful header into the roof of the net. A rerun of his goal in the group stage against the Czech Republic.
There are moments in a match. This was Italy's. It came searching for a decisive goal, and Luca Toni might have had it in the 35th minute, heading another of Pirlo's outswinging corners onto the top of the bar.
But the Italians could not force the issue.
After that, the game was France's to seize. Italy was weary. The 120 agonizing minutes played against Germany in the semi-final showed. But the French could not find a way through. The last time they scored a goal that was not from a free kick or penalty was in the second round against Spain. Thierry Henry was too isolated up front. And Raymond Domench, the French coach, was too stubborn in his defense-minded formation, as well as being graceless in defeat.
Frank Ribery went close. Henry went close. And Zidane forced that memorable save from Buffon. But in the end it came down to the lottery of penalties.
Italy lost the 1994 World Cup on penalties to Brazil. Tonight they avenged that defeat and the painful loss to the French in the final of Euro 2000. Marcello Lippi, the Italian coach, deserved the triumph.
He crafted a team whose skill was complemented by great mental strength at a
time when scandals at home might have sapped the focus and will of the side.
Italy, in the critical moments, had what it took. In the image of the lion of
their midfield, Gennaro Guttoso, the Italians were unrelenting.
This game is hard. It is unforgiving. It may seem capricious but it tends to reward the strong.
The Italians went wild as Grosso powered in the final kick. The French,
with Zidane gone, were desolate. The Italians danced and waved, overcome by joy.
But one Italian player, Mauro Camoranesi, had other thoughts. He went over to
comfort his Juventus colleague, Trezeguet.
That was the spirit of this World Cup. That is what I take with me from the end of this final, a game not of beauty, but of a terrible, exhausting power.