WHAT WAS THAT STUFF COMING out of Zinedine Zidane’s mouth? Was he barfing in the box? If so, his recovery time was astonishing. He threw up, looked up and shot: 2-1 to France. I’d never have known about it had I been in Portugal last week. It cropped up on ITV’s Saturday lunchtime show borrowed, apparently, from Swedish TV. Every country had its own camera behind the goal. There’ll be no secret chundering in this tournament.
Still photos don’t do justice to it. He appeared to projectile vomit directly down into the turf next to the penalty spot. Twice. Or was it water? Can he hold a litre and a half in his cheeks? What a talent that would be, never mind the football stuff he can do. He’ll never have to leave his bottle of drink with a steward outside the ground.
I was actually behind that goal. I could see him bending down with his hands on his shins. It crossed my mind that he was not giving David James a clue as to where he’d put the pen by not showing him his eyes. Little did I know there was this oral enema going on. He then made sending the keeper the wrong way look like a skill as basic as kicking off.
I went out to Lisbon on the day of the game and travelled back that night so was home in time for the aftermath. People kept asking me how it was, as if I’d been in a plane crash. Shocking is how it was. Not as in bad, but a shock. But France had the ball so much, were in England’s half so much that it was more the time of night it all happened that was tough to take, rather than the fact that it did. We weren’t knocked out and we had played well, especially the back four, so that, afterwards, it was a case of a defeated boxer wanting a rematch after a split decision.
The England fans baited Thierry Henry throughout the match with: “Thierry Henry, you’re having a laugh,” which they thought was hilarious. This was cavalier but stupid. Henry is the Dr David Banner of football, for whom the phrase: “Don’t make me angry, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry” was invented. Only he doesn’t snap limbs and rearrange faces like The Incredible Hulk when he’s cross, he does things like sprint on to a tragic backpass like a greyhound after a hare and win penalties “deep in stoppage time” as they doubtless said on telly.
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Henry is not put off by booing. When Emile Heskey made his fateful tackle to concede the free kick, Henry was straight over to Zizou to discuss taking it. Zizou sent him away with, I assume, a remark like “I’ll take it Titi”. With hindsight it’s more likely he said “don’t get too close sunshine, I swear I’ m going to throw”.
I understand bringing a big quick forward on to gather clearances, hold the ball up and maybe make some inroads into the opponent’s half when you’re hanging on to a lead but that player ought not to be making daft tackles on the edge of your area. As Henry talked to Zidane, James tried to talk to his wall, who weren’t listening. Ashley Cole frantically passed on orders, having been told not to stand on the line. They were tense, tired and messy. Zizou lashed it in and Titi set off to discuss the equaliser with The Dambusters on three sides of the ground.
I’m glad I was there, I’ll never forget it, but be warned, if you’re going to the Estadio da Luz, have a pee before you leave, it takes hours to get out. Luz by the way, is a suburb of Lisbon adjacent to Benfica. I didn’t know that. I’m back there today for the Croatia game and I’m sure we ‘ll qualify. I can’t wait. We must go through, it would be a waste to blow it now that Germany, Holland and Italy are struggling and France are scared of us.
The last week has been spent in front of the telly. The pundits make me howl with laughter. When Gordon Strachan sits next to Peter Schmeichel I’m not even sure they’re from the same species. Is Strachan half a Schmeichel or is Schmeichel two Strachans? And what happens to them all when Jamie Redknapp turns up? Ray Stubbs starts unbuttoning his shirt as if aroused.
Jamie talks too much for eye candy but we never listen in our house, we’re too busy laughing at his rolled-back cuffs. Meanwhile Alan Hansen can’t start a sentence without saying: “When you talk about (anyone oranything) you’re talking about . . . etc”. All of them in boxfresh new shirts except Wrighty in mufti .
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I love the personalities on the benches. You can’t see them when you’re in the ground. Gene Hackman managing Portugal, John Wayne managing the Czech Republic. I’ve been writing this watching Holland v the Czechs. The shooting and the goalkeeping were fantastic. How does Pavel Nedved do that? Gary Lineker, Hansen and the rest are hysterical in praise of what was a corker.
Nice to see Gary enjoying himself on the day that the news broke that Harry Kewell is laughably suing him for remarks made in a newspaper article nearly a year ago about his transfer to Liverpool. I don’t know what Gary said but if it was something like “that greedy git has stitched Leeds up good and proper, he’s got all the loyalty of Lord Haw-Haw”, then I can’t see how Kewell’s lawyer will make a case. Not that he’ll care, his meter’s running.
I can’t help but think of Lineker’s advice to Wayne Rooney on the BBC on Saturday when he pointed out that you only get one chance at a career so concentrate on your football. Not bad advice for Kewell either. Just when Euro 2004 is hotting up and even Gary Neville’s been talking sense, a Premiership mercenary stinks out Ceefax with some prime money-grabbing Aussie whingeing. Silly sod, just ignore him. Now, come on England!