"How the hell did France win the World Cup?" Dawn asked as we were stuck walking amongst a sea of French fans after the match. "You know that's what everyone's saying all over the world right now. In many different languages on many different continents. It's really a beautiful thing. The world coming together as one in their dislike of the French."
Well, okay, perhaps she was just a tad bitter there. And it may also be my fault, since after the match I dragged her past the French Institute on East 60th Street in Manhattan. "I'm not going down there." She said when I asked if we could walk down a street crowded with French fans.
"But maybe I can write about it."
"Okay. We can go, but only for your humor column."
It was an amazing scene, as hundreds of French people came together to celebrate their victory. Well, hundreds of people who claimed to be French came together to celebrate their victory. I certainly didn't see any of these French people before the match. It's amazing how many New Yorkers suddenly became French at around five o'clock on Sunday. At one o'clock, every fan I saw was wearing the green and yellow of Brazil, but by five they were all shrouded in French colors yelling out "Vive La France" every twenty seconds.
"Did we win?" A teenage girl who was standing in front of the institute asked in the most American of accents.
"No." I wanted to turn around and say. "Actually, France lost. They're just happy for Brazil. That's why hundreds of cheering French people are dancing in the street proudly holding up the French flag."
When someone eventually nodded yes, she squealed, "OmaGawd, we won! I can't believe it." It was truly a beautiful moment, as she came in touch with her obviously extensive French heritage. And the rest of the supporters were equally suspect. I don't expect all French fans to be speaking French, but they do lose some credibility when almost all the chants you hear are in English. Dawn and I considered quizzing them to see if they were really French.
"Quick. Who's the Prime Minister of France?"
"Um. . . I don't know, but like, dude, we won!"
Four television news vans were there as well, and I almost stumbled over a woman with a Fox 5 microphone who happened to be standing in everyone's path. As we walked past her, some guy was hectoring her to put him on television. "Come on. Just put me on TV. I'll give you a worldwide exclusive."
Actually, I was a bit disappointed that she didn't ask to interview me. I could have then taken a moment to display my complete repertoire of football knowledge. "Well, it was just an excellent match. But I have to say that the French scoring more goals than the Brazilians was really the deciding factor."
Yes, like many Americans, I know very little about the game, but I am learning. At one point in the second half, I turned to Dawn and said, "You know, Brazil really has to play better. They're playing as if they're the ones who are a man down. . . . Wow, I almost sounded like I knew what I was talking about there."
"Yes, you did. Very well done."
"Um, what's offsides again?"
For an American, watching soccer can be somewhat surreal. Perhaps the most amazing thing is to see a sporting event simply end. You just know that if the sport had been invented by Americans, the match would probably still be going on as each side managed to take 57 different time-outs in the last three minutes.
"And Brazil takes its final full time-out, though they do still have a 20 second and a 40 second time-out left. Only 0.02 seconds left in the match. Wait, no, the referees have now put some time back on the clock. There are now 0.03 seconds left."
"Well, that's a big difference, Seamus. With 0.02 seconds left, the Brazilians would only be able to score off a header, but with 0.03 seconds they should have time to set up a play. . . . And now the French use their last time-out. We'll be back after these messages."
It is a great sport to watch, but without time-outs during which to get beer and snacks from the fridge, I'm still not sure how anyone expects soccer to catch on in a country as vibrant as America. Perhaps in time we will mature as a nation and learn to build our refrigerators next to our televisions. Then and only then, I suspect, will the sport finally catch on here.
©1998 Joe Lavin