To understand how big a deal it is that France is playing the finals this weekend against Italy, imagine playing the Super Bowl and the World Series, except they'd only happen every 4 years, would involve 32 countries on 6 continents, and that the team's composition would not be based on money and trades, but only nationality.

In 1998, when we last played in the finals, the atmosphere in Paris was electric, even before we scored the first point. That's the magic of the World Cup. For one moment, everyone in the country is no longer white, black, Socialist, or Gaullist, but French. In a country where patriotism is seen as quaint and naive, those 90 minutes do more to unify that hours of debate in Parliament ever will. After what would qualify as an annus horribilis, between the riots, the rejection of the European Constitution and a Executive falling apart, France could use a bit of good news.

On Sunday, as incredible luck would have it, I will be in Paris. Like in 1998, it will be amazing. Imagine an entire city, of 12 million, cheering the same game. You can feel it, and you can actually hear it in the air, a distant roar.

Hopefully it will end up in cheers.

Labels: france