Bravo Italia!
FIFA World Cup Champions 2006




It was a glorious summer's evening in London. Warm, sunny and breezy; but the citizens were holed up in pubs and bars across the sprawling city. The moment we had been waiting for for over a month had arrived. The World Cup Final. Unexpected by most, it was Italy vs France. Blues against Blues.

I was rooting for Italy as I had drawn them in the office sweepstakes, and because I'm distantly Italian. And they just generally annoy me alot less than the French do.

Tim and were in the basement of the fridge-like Zoo Bar in Leicester Square. There was a mixture of French and Italians in the bar, but the Italians were outnumbered.

Immediately, my support for Italy was reinforced. The French national anthem was played first. The Italians stood in respectful silence but when the Italian anthem came on afterwards, the French did not return the favour. The booed and hissed with gusto.

The Italian supporters cheered their team on, chanting "I-TA-LIA! I-TA-LIA!" and waving their flag about, basically ignoring the French contingent. The French sang annoying songs, jeered at every opportunity and shouted angrily at the Italian supporters everytime something didn't go their way. One French supporter had to be very forcefully removed after picking a fight with their opponents. He was going pretty much psycho on the bouncers who were trying to eject him.

The match was tense and exciting. France's Zidane was on form but Henry was floating out in the wings. Meanwhile, the Italian's reminded everyone why they are famous for their defense.

The game went into extra-time, then 10 minutes from penalties...the shocking moment Zidane ramming his head into Materazzi's chest like a demented goat.

At first there was confusion. No one knew what had happened or why Materazzi was down. It hadn't happened live on screen. Then the replay was shown and everyone gasped in horror. Could this be happening? In the Final? The biggest stage in the world?The best player of his generation?

I think disappointment is the best way to put how everyone felt. Regardless of which side you were supporting, everyone has enormous respect for Zizou, and to end his utterly distinguished career like that was shocking.

It all went to penalties. Knowing Barthez is bit of a loose canon, and that Buffon is a great keeper, made me feel confident that Italy was about to break their curse. And so they did.

And as soon as Italy won, the fucking bar started showing DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince singing summertime but the audio was still on the world cup. People rushed upstairs to see Italy lift the cup...but the bloody sound was off there. At least we witnessed it and the Italians danced away.

We left the Zoo bar and walked towards Soho. As we crossed Shaftsbury Avenue, Italian's were pouring out of the Curzon Cinema (which must have been airing the game)and running into the street, stopping traffic and dancing. We got onto Frith Street and it was demented. Thousands, and I mean THOUSANDS, of Italian supporters had brought Soho to a noisy "standstill." We may as well have been in Milano or Roma. Soho wasn't that crowded even during Pride.

There was cheering, horns, whistles, flags, and general happy mayhem. Half a million Italians in London, and all of them seemed to be in town. Almost every car had Italians leaning out of them waving their flags, shirts and screaming.

"So this is what it's like to win" Tim mussed in his England Rooney top.

We briefly hooked up with Andreea, Adam, Simon and Francis and slowly walked across Old Compton Streeet as Italians threw themselves in our path dancing, screaming and jubilating.

Maybe next time....it will be us...