Really? Are you kidding me?! That is the way you want to go out?! I'm fine to lose.... To a greatly fought game. To a poorly fought game. To a blow out even. But to a dirty foul? In your last game ever??? The hell?!
Nothwithstanding my retirement fund, and the fact that I now have to make dinner for an overly smug Italian, while coveting the entire Italian World Cup Team, it's just really unsatisfying to come this far, without expecting it, and then to lose, especially to such an... an .... ugly circumstance. I mean, really?! How do you continue after seeing your captain, your moral compass, lose focus and commit such an ugly foul?! How do you go on, knowing the heart and soul of your team has lost his way?
Its not that I begrudge Italy. Please don't think that it's that. I would have been delighted with either outcome. If it had been clean, that is. But really, when it all comes down to it, how do you feel knowing that when it comes to winning in penalty kicks, your best player, and really, your best hope of winning the shoot-out, took himself out of the game because another player was giving him shit? That's part of the game! Unless you threaten my family, all is fair. That's sports. Especially professional sports.
When it comes down to it, it was a hard fought game, and I'm willing to concede that it was harder fought on the Italian side, but. But. Your last game ever. You came out of retirement to play one last tournament. You've come father than anyone thought you could and in the last moments of both the hope of your county and the last moments of your illustrious career, you decide to end it all by because some young hot thing makes a smart ass comment. And you react. In the worst possible way. Do you let it pass? No. Do you yell back at him? No. You decide, in front of millions of people, to take him down. Knowing you'd be sent off the pitch. Which is fine had the score been in your favor. But it was tied. And you, my hot headed friend, are their saviour in penalty kicks. You are the reason France is in the finals. You are the one to take every penalty kick for the team because you are the one they can rely on. So why, Why? WHY?! did you think it a good thing, in overtime, with the score tied and the time running to a close, that you and your temper wouldn't matter? It would have been so glorious to see you in your retirement photos holding the World Cup over your head instead of a red card.
I'm so disappointed. I can only imagine that you are the same.
And what disappointments me most is the fact that you robbed me of the chance to root for my one true love, Italy. I drew you and you were my one true chance in this competition. Ye TIA refused to believe in you. And you proved me wrong. Everytime I declared that I couldn't rely on you, I was shown the shortcomings of my faith. you moved, against anyones expectations, steadily toward the finals. And after you finally won me over to your side, promising not to let me down, promising that it would be nothing short of glorious to forsake that which my gut instinct told me to cleave to, you lost. In the worst way possible; a dirty foul. I don't know what to say. I should be on the other side of town, celebrating with my heart, raising my glass to those men who refused to let me down, marveling in the good fortune of this world cup team, even in the midst of disgrace. And yet. Here sit I, disappointed, bitter, and unexpectedly ashamed.
So now what?