Football Fever

I've never been much of a sports fan. But I can well understand why it means so much to a lot of people. I am moderately fond of cricket because I'm Indian and any self respecting Indian is supposed to love cricket.

I also quite enjoy watching football, but only with my dad or TPF because all through the match they're always giving me random and not to mention useless factual information about the players. They only do this because they know how much of a sucker I am for useless and random facts. Therefore as you can see, I'm not overly testostrony about football like most of the people I know, but I have to say the World Cup is a completely different issue.

I like football mainly because I get to watch overly cute men running around in shorts for 90 whole minutes. Additionally, I like it because the teams sing their national anthems before every match and that for some reason makes me cry. Superficiality apart, I'm also in it for the sportsmanship, team spirit, also obviously for an opportunity to watch a good game and blah blah blah.

TPF and I had been following the first round of the World Cup rather badly because we were in India when it began. This does not mean that we don't have television in India or that one can't watch football in India, but means that we were invariable not at home when the matches were aired. So we almost missed most of the first few matches, including Italy's first match against Ghana. But we've been religiously following the rest of the World Cup ever since we've gotten back, ahem...well except from the Portugal-Netherlands match because that evening Harry and I thought it would be a good idea to go swimming in the sea at 11 at night without towels when were were staying at her grandparents house near Genova (But that's a different adventure which shall be put up here in due course)

As I said, even though the World Cup fever was not lost on me, I was still unprepared for what I saw last Sunday at the finals. The Italy-Germany semi finals match was great. Michael Ballack (he's the German captain) looked so ahem... hot when he was crying after the match that Germany lost, that I almost want to re-watch that match only to see him crying at the end of it all over again. Alright, I agree, I'm a horrible person, but he is rather pretty.

Sometimes I forget I live in Italy because I'm rather absentminded and not to mention unaware of the world around me. But ever since Italy became the World Cup finalists, the fact that I'm actually living here has been brought to my notice with celebratory screams and these horns that are so loud that you jump every time somebody blows them, around the city for a few days before the actual match.

The frenzy in Milan right before the match was absolutely crazy. There were more than 10 thousand people in the city centre who had come to watch the match on a tiny screen that had been put up there. Most of these 10 thousand people had flags with them, which they found necessary to wave around wildly all the time. This also meant that whatever little one's view was of that tiny screen was completely obstructed.

As you may have already noticed from the picture at the side which was taken by Pan before the match started that she was one of these 10 thousand idiots at the main square along with her dad and TPF. Thankfully we thought it prudent to return home for the second half of the match and watch it like civilized people in front of our flat screen television. This has to be one of the smartest decisions that Pan and her father might have actually made together in their entire lifetime.

Anyways, I did spend most of the second half and the extra time with my head into a cushion on my couch because I just couldn't bear to see what was happening. I was too nervous to watch most of the match. But surprisingly enough I gathered my courage and watched all the penalty kicks. Normally, as a principle I don't watch penalties, but this was with World Cup finals with Italy playing, so I just couldn't have missed that.

My dearest wish for the outcome of the match was wanting Italy to win, but also wanting Zidane (the captain of the French side, who also happens to be my favourite football player in the whole world and mind you, extremely attractive too) to score. And score he did on a penalty kick. Anyways I'm never going to forgive Materazzi for for being an asshole and making Zidane headbutt him. No, nothing anyone says is going to convince me otherwise. Zidane is like Eric Clapton, he's God!

After the match we went out to the main city centre. After all, that was where about 10 thousand people saw the match. By 'we' I mean, Pan's mum, Pan's dad, TPF, TPF's 10 euro Italian flag (which was completely worth it) and your fabulous and extremely modest narrator, Pan. The pictures posted up here are all taken from my Dad's exceedingly old cell phone and so they don't portray even half the atmosphere or emotions in the air before and after the match. Although, you can see from the picture below, there were naked people dancing around in the city's main fountain, which was just plain ewww because I suspect that the water in those fountains is slimy and unclean. For once, even your prissy narrator, Pan looked upon these barbaric people with a fond eye because Italy had won the World Cup after all and certain allowances had to be made for the night. Of course, Pan did get wild when the dirty fountain water was splashed by fat, naked guy on her beautiful shiny tresses reminding her of the wild night where there was a lot of cocktail throwing in the air and her hair had gotten stuck in the cross fire.

It was a great match and Italy deserved to win, not because they were a better team, but because Pan supported them and because they were prettier than the French side.