The Gazzetta dello Sport's account of England v. Argentina in the 1998 World Cup Finals was magnificent, and doubly so this English version as rendered by Altavista's Babelfish translation program.
SAINT ETIENNE - England puts endured David Beckham on the dock. They are all furious ones, the journalists, the tifosi, the leaders of the English Federcalcio. This will not never pardon it to the " Spice Boy ", the child who with its stupid fallo of reaction on Simeone, has compromise the chance of England to pass to the quarters of end.
While all the players of England complete a mesto turn of honor, applauding the tifosi that have encouraged them for all the 120 minuteren of game, Beckham is alone in the dressing rooms, it does not succeed not even in sfogarsi, even if the tears fill up it the eyes. It is looked at to sgattaiolare via, the berrettino from baseball decreased on the eyes, while Daniel Passarella, the c.t. about the Argentine who is itself tax to the rigors, speaks to the most driven in platea of the average of all the world. Not, firm Beckham not not even a moment. And it is asked to us, now, and with much seriousness, which it will be its future in English soccer...
Candid Cannavò
After the great battle, the rigors: invention of the devil. Fifth it marks it Ayala and it mistakes it Batty. The tears are British. Beautiful, burning, cruel and civil (to part one cretinata of Beckham, expelled), the challenge England-Argentine sentence one large of Europe, but delivery to world-wide soccer the last star. Michael calls itself Owen. Its light already had ignited the evening in which English they lost 0-1 with Rumania. " But it throws in field ours campioncino, devil of a Hoddle, if you do not want to lose the place ". Therefore, to furor of people, it entered in the scene of France ' 98 which seems the greatest talent of the soccer generation post-Ronaldo.
Beautiful, elegant, very combed, the boy of Liverpool put us some minute for presentarsi hardly. Then, the beautifulst goal and a pole. In those diciott' athletic and harmonious years there was a predestined one. Holder of the role in national was Sheringham, a sacred monster. He was exactly, was: for next the fifteen years, not there will be space for nobody. With therefore, not there is the risk of dazzle. He goes himself on the sure one. But for the increduli, the doubtful ones, the skeptics, here the challenge more wait, the night of fire, infested from the guerreschi memories of the Falkland-Malvinas, the anathema " animals " of the ' 66 and the mascalzonesca " hand of God " of Maradona in the 86.
England-Argentine is cruelty concentrating, but Owen stretches itself like an angel on the fray: before power of attorney a rigor, then invents a worthy goal of the best Ronaldo. A its race, therefore co-ordinate and powerful, approaches those champions of the athletics who come christened " of of the stages ". With he England, under of a goal, tastes the ebbrezza of the advantage and lives one largeness feeling. The Argentine catches up it in the end of the beautifulst first time, but on the field the palpitante wait of a larger England of the previewed one remains. Until to when, " Spice " Beckham, the beautiful one figures, it is not made to expel. Then of large it remains only the ability to resistance of this British square, dinanzi to which the Argentine rimpicciolisce. The rigors, after 120 ' of learn fight, are for English a yearned for goal. But the devil of the floppy disk has decided to reward who, frankly, has deserved less.
The evening is even this. Beautiful air does not pull one. Other than tension of one match in the second round of the world cup. Dramas and mournings, anger and deceits, of decades, that they become a century, have given appointment here. As you make to leave the history in the dressing rooms. Impossible. And also useless. England feeds on history. History means to watch behind in order to find the force to go ahead. The history fills the English with a special adrenalin. That one that transformed also a mild and good-natured gigione like Butcher into a forsennato lion. History and anger, settling of scores. The penalty of Batistuta, to cold, is a tremendous blow, also because it seems of those of the type: England cannot win and appear in the quarters to Marseilles, for all that it has succeeded in the first game, and that it could succeed again. Multiplied by hundreds. The penalty of Batistuta is one tremendous blow, how much a wounded lion. It is called the spirit of Dunkerque. That's what the English call it. Like transforming one defeat into triumph. To revive a moment before being hunted in the abyss, and to force the fate to change of field. Like at Dunkerque. On the beach, at the beginning of the Second world war, between the sea and the German armies that were advancing. The man of destiny does not delay. His name is not Churchill but Owen. He is a child with the stamp of a hero. Ayala remains struck by lightning, from wriggles, from the dive, from the whistle that it wants to say penalty. Shearer settles the account. And history at his heels. The shadow of Diego, the ghost of Gascoigne, the glory of Owen, when dance between skittles that Chamot and Ayala are called, and hoax of Roa. Perhaps it is the evening. Even if Zanetti restores the Argentine to the dignity of the draw. And even if Beckham betrays. With a kick to Simeone. Roba from one that instead of Dunkerque, the Falkland, the Aztec, thinks of the underwear of his " Spice Girl ".