Zinedine Zidane
From ARFOPEDIA
A pretty good player who never quite managed to escape the shadows of his better France teammate Youri Djorkaeff. Entirely appropriate to describe his play as beautiful. Fuck off Wicks.
[edit] Trail of Arrogance
- 360 degree chest control against Portugal
- Sonning himself on the advertisement hoarding
- Fucking about for 90 minutes before deciding in injury time that he wasn't going to let England win
- Dismissing some dumb spick fans and their banner
- Winning goal against Neverkusen
- THAT penalty
- The headbutt
[edit] Some UTTERLY RETARDED Words
"Zidane's gesture wasn't pretty, it was sublime.
Ominous clouds over a bunker of a stadium in a city of apocalypses. And the man they wanted to be God refused his fate and shattered his dreams along with those of his worshippers. He would not be trapped in an icon but stepped down into the glorious imperfection of his humanity with perfect determination. He took all the sins of football upon himself, packed them into a neat ball of pure energy and hurled it straight back at the beast, aiming for the heart as it was there the beast was rotten. Payback for a lifetime of being hacked down, tugged at, spat upon, abused to his very soul. And on the sneak too. I would have loved it if he'd gotten away with it, loved it. A gesture learned on the back streets of Marseille and delivered on a stage worthy of the best Greek tragedies.
Zidane went though his career as he went through this world cup, a tight-rope walker, a bullfighter and a dancer all rolled into one, and with the globe at his feet. Glued to his feet. He teetered on the brink, let himself be carried, gave the "estoque" to the spanish bull that wanted to send him into retirement, taught the brasilians how to dance, gave the portuguese enough material for an eternity of fado, and told the world what he thought of those who seek to destroy the game.
The final image will not go away. Nor should it. Its true meaning will be revealed eventually. A figure cold as a blade and incandescent as the setting sun, an artist who taught a fool the true meaning of amok. And then went down a dark tunnel alone."
[edit] Some wise words
It was a wonderful headbutt
In the world of football, I suppose, Zinedine Zidane's legacy will always be controversial, forever tainted by his moment of madness in the world cup final. In the world of headbutting, however, he has secured a place in the gallery of immortals.
Oh, it was a great headbutt. Connoisseurs of the noble art of the headbutt have very few opportunities to see a genuinely world-class practitioner in action; it is a banned tactic in the Ultimate Fighting Championship these days. And Jimmy Nail isn't on the telly as much as he used to be. But Zidane's was a classic.
He just did everything right. There are many elements to the perfect headbutt, of which Zidane's size and strength were perhaps the least important. I was much more impressed with his technique, which was practically flawless. I am sure that Materazzi would agree with this assessment; perhaps for the first time in his life, he was left flying through the air and falling over because of actually being hit. I suppose the football fans will be less than pleased with the example that Zinedine set, but a young headbutter really could do no better than to emulate him in every detail.
Surprise is always an important part of the butt. Unlike a punch, the headbutt is set into motion without any big windup or chambering action. It's initiated simply by making the decision not to stop walking toward someone, with the final snap of the head simply ensuring that the targeting is right (as you can see in this clip, the power is all coming from his legs and waist). This is probably why Materazzi flew so far; he wasn't ready for it at all, and the impact of more or less the entire body weight of a big man is always going to send someone flying.
Zidane also showed a characteristic intelligence and subtlety by planting the butt in the chest, rather than following the more conventional "Glasgow Kiss" and butting head-to-head. Head-to-head butting is always a bit of a lottery, as the attacker is bound to suffer some damage himself, and you can never tell when someone has an unusually hard skull. Also, the conventional head-to-head butt is more suited to a situation where one is standing still, because it requires precise aiming (the idea is to make contact between one's own hairline and the bridge of the adversary's nose). As Zizou knew, his best bet given the distance he had to close was to select the large flat target of the chest and rely on sheer power rather than careful placement.
It was a headbutt not just for our age but for all time. Up there with the photographer who butted Jay Kay. It perhaps lacked the sheer destructive power of Duncan Ferguson in his pomp, but that can hardly be considered a criticism.
Perhaps nothing became Zidane's sublime career quite so much as the manner of his leaving it. The headbutt is perhaps the last vestige of the true Corinthian spirit in an increasingly sordid sporting world. Nobody gets rich from headbutts (even Mike Tyson started losing money when he began to rely on them). They are not even appreciated by sports fans, other than a small group of cognoscenti, so Zidane will probably never get the praise he deserves for "punching with the big knuckle" in his last professional match. It was a truly selfless gesture on his part. And I maintain that the motivation is far less likely to have been anything Materazzi said, and far more likely to be the simple joy of the nod, the crack of skull on sternum and the slow, arcing trajectory of a falling Italian striker. This world is truly not worthy of your genius, Zizou.
