Professional Documents
Culture Documents
1
Two editorials summarize Sports Illustrated’s paternalistic attitude towards
soccer. The first trivializes the whole episode with a history of the “Yo Mama”
insult. The second evangelizes it, discounting one of soccer’s legends with this
holier-than-thou last line: “…Zidane didn’t acknowledge the trophy, much less
touch it. Good thing. He didn’t deserve to” (Grant Wahl, “The Surreal World,”
Sports Illustrated).
2
The Italian goalkeeper, and Zidane’s former teammate at the Italian club
Juventus, who first demanded Zidane’s expulsion and then comforted the
besotted Frenchman as he trudged toward the tunnel.
Never did I feel more gifted, more peaceful and content than
when, as I walked down the Munich streets in my France jersey,
strangers began to chant Allez Les Bleu! Allez Les Bleu! And never did
I feel so cheated, so abandoned and belligerent as when, after the
final, those cheers sinisterly morphed into Adieu Les Bleu! Adieu Les
Bleu! Whenever I heard these jeers, especially if they were uttered by
a gaggle of greasy-haired Italians, I would run headlong into their
midst and mock-headbutt them, half with irony and half with virility.
My time of gifts, by trip‟s end, had become a time of loss, and I
neatly stenciled in Zidane as my Indian giver.
3
Before the France-Spain second round fixture, the Spanish press had called on
its team to “retire” the arthritic looking Zidane (who had played very poorly, by
his standards, in the first round), turning that fixture and the rest of the
tournament into a vendetta for the Frenchman.
ceremonies (Vincour, The New York Times Magazine). He‟s Aladdin,
the pauper-turned-prince, he‟s married a sexy Jasmine figure, and
now he doesn‟t quite know what to do with his celebrity kingdom.
During his years playing for Juventus of Turin—Italy‟s hedonistic,
vaguely sinister4 version of the Yankees, famously backed by the
Agnelli family—Zidane confounded fans, teammates, and even
Gianni Agnelli himself by refusing to indulge in the “pleasures” of
the Turin night scene (Hussey, The Observer).
Strangely, this awkward reticence has given Zidane a unique
marketing appeal. Every time he appears on a billboard endorsing a
bottle of shampoo, or in an Adidas commercial trimming the grass of
a soccer field, his uneasy eyes and stilted smile become endearingly
self-effacing. By appearing in a commercial, Zidane automatically
becomes a parody of himself, doing something that he would never
do of his own volition. As he clumsily stalks the screen, his eyes
bashfully gravitating away from the viewer, Zidane looks like he‟s
been forced to market diapers or something equally preposterous,
making the commercials rather absurd and thus tremendously
popular in France.
Adidas and Dior are not the only ones who want Zidane as a
figurehead. After he led France to its first ever World Cup triumph
in 1998, on home soil no less, France decided it wanted Zidane to
symbolize its new and integrated multiculturalism. According to the
1999 French census, first generation immigrants totaled 4.3 million of
France‟s 58.5 million metropolitan population, or 7.4 percent. The
same census estimated France to be home to between four and five
million Muslims, with some three million of them from North Africa
(“A Question of Color, A Matter of Faith,” The Economist).
A glance at the 1998 French World Cup roster confirms those
statistics. The squad resembles a news anchor team in its diversity.
Team captain Didier Deschamps, sweeper Laurent Blanc, and
charismatic goalkeeper Fabien Barthez represent Francais de souche—
“of French stock”—meaning that that they are born of French
parents and grandparents (“A Question of Color, A Matter of Faith,”
The Economist). But the full-blooded Frenchmen are outnumbered by
an Armenian, a Senegalese, a Ghanaian, a French-Argentine, and a
French-Algerian by name Zidane. Zizou, as the French press cutely
took to calling him, became the symbol of this multicultural
revolution, both for his sublime skill and for his status as a beur, or
French-born Arab. Here was evidence that the wounds of the
French-Algerian war of the 1960s had finally healed, and that the
beurs had not only integrated themselves, but had enriched France. It
was like a Jew leading Germany to World Cup triumph.
4
Last season Juventus was convicted of match-fixing, resulting in the club’s
relegation to the second tier of Italian soccer, Serie B, where they started the
season with the handicap of negative seventeen points.
After the World Cup honeymoon, however, the national
consciousness gradually sobered off. Mouloud Aounit, a human
rights activist, described the multicultural spirit as “a roman candle
that lasted as long as the festivities” (Vincour 35). It was as though
America had been celebrating the predominant blackness of the
Dream Team as a triumph of affirmative action. But outside of
O‟Bama we have few recognizable black politicians, and France still
has no beurs in its parliament. The xenophobic, far right National
Front party of Jean Marie Le Pen (a Holocaust revisionist who has
dismissed the gas chambers as a “detail” of World War II) has
consolidated a disturbingly large contingency since the ‟98 triumph
(“A Question of Color, A Matter of Faith,” The Economist). In the
months after the ‟98 triumph, Mr. Le Pen also homed in on Zidane‟s
ethnic significance, diagnosing the superstar as a symptom of
France‟s multicultural cancer while Chirac praised him as the cure.
Zidane quietly soaked this in, neither rejoicing in his celebrity nor
retaliating against his critics, regarding both overzealous factions with
the vague distaste of a literalist disgusted by so many sweeping
metaphors (Vincour 34).
5
Another of Zidane’s predecessors in the French central midfield department,
Cantona never achieved Zidane’s success in the national team, and is held, along
with David Ginola, by many as a scapegoat for France’s failure to qualify for the
1994 World Cup finals.
displayed skill subordinate to purpose: art for the sake of goals.
Every time he did a spin move or juggled the ball over an opponent‟s
head he had a purpose. He quietly galvanized the French team from
the merely stylish to the beautifully effective. Consequently, France-
Brazil wound up looking like the „96 Bulls versus a makeshift
Globetrotters.
Works Cited
Vincour, John. “Just a Soccer Star, After All.” The New York Times
Magazine.
14 Mar. 1999: 32-35.