Chardonnay vs. Chianti

I was totally let down yesterday. First of all I had to wait all afternoon to watch the World Cup finals because I wanted to watch in the company of good friends who were TIVO-ing the game so that we could enjoy a civilzed evening of canapes and hors d'oeuvre while rooting for the French during such an impressive display of athleticism. This waiting all afternoon may not seem like alot but given the nature of the sporting event I basically had to disengage from all social activity. I couldn't turn on the television for fear of any contamination of score knowledge, same goes for the radio. I couldn't return any phone calls for fear of any sideline comments about the winner or loser. I couldn't even leave my house for fear of seeing fans either cheering or crying waving national flags. It was debilitating and the only thing that got me through it was my overwhelming capacity for laziness.
Then when I finally did get to watch the game I had to witness the disgrace of a legend. A legend who was the only reason why I was rooting for France in the first place since let's be honest, the Italians are way cuter. No video montage of World Cup highlights scored to U2 would be able to bring me back to the feeling of anticipation and excitement. I won't pretend to be a die-hard soccer fan having had my first taste of it only last year in Brazil. In fact, this was my very first World Cup and I felt cheated by such a disturbing display of un-sportsmanship. This guy may be an amazing player but what kind of asshole rhinos a guy in the chest?
I had the night to think things over and still this morning, I was bewildered. Who does that? What compells you, in over-time of the last game of your spectacular career, to pull a move that get's you a red card when you didn't even have the ball? Yeah, I read about the titty twister and the racial slurs against his mother, but aren't all these antics par for the course? I mean surely he has come across this kind of naked playground behavior on the pitch before. But then I realized who cares why he did it. Yes, winning the World Cup is a great achievement but at what stake? Honor? Dignity? How do the French say it? Liberté, égalité, fraternité, ou la mort!
And really I think he was showing a great deal of restraint. He could have headbutted him in the face - which would have been much more scandalous and bloody. He could have even punched him which would have started a scuffle if not an all out brawl. Instead he used his greatest asset: the head he scored with and seemingly the strongest neck muscles on the planet to make his point. And make it he did. Who cares if Italy won, all I talked about today was Zidane. Bring on the Brie!
Haven't you ever felt like doing this to someone and didn't because you knew you would get in trouble? Props.