Leaps and bounds

Well, France may or may not make it past Brazil, but tonight I find myself alone with the tv in a posh hotel room in South Africa, jumping up and down, waving my arms high above my head in pride and glee, trying not to cheer too loudly.

For the first half of the game, I tried to pretend I didn’t care, and watched half-heartedly whilst packing my bags. By the second half, however, I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, nervously rocking back and forth and mumbling incoherently into the pillow clutched tightly to my chest. What is it about the football World Cup that invariably makes people revert to bare nationalism?

Speaking of which, I would like to thank my compatriots and the French press for making it so patently clear that they did not believe France had a chance in hell of beating Spain, and thus ironically helping France win this game. I firmly believe that French performance, in football and elsewhere, is inversely proportional to expectations. Perhaps this explains why we are a nation of cynics?

So please, let the predictions be that Brazil will be curtains for France, let’s not mention 1998, or if we do let’s remember that the team was on rather better form back then, not to mention considerably younger. There’s always time to be pleasantly surprised.

(Note: Photo courtesy of BBC News website)