The Perfect Ending to a Perfect Day

Above is a picture of the statue and the flagpoles in Place Kleber. Hang with me and I'll explain why I include this picture.

Theresa's birthday had already been jam packed with the Tour de France. First the Caravane and then the Prologue and then the birthday party. However, as if that weren't enough, the entire nation of France was just killing time until 9:00 pm. That is when France played Brazil for the right to go to the final four of the World Cup of soccer.

The set-up for this story requires that you understand two things. First, the Brazilian team is far and away considered the favorite to win the tournament. Second, the French team is a bunch of old men (in their mid-thirties) who have had one foot in the grave in every game they've played. On paper, Brazil should have massacred the French team.

Though not necessary for the story, I want to make one more observation. American sports fans need to sing more. Soccer fans burst into song spontaneously whereever you find them. The Brazilians and the Spanish dance in the streets as they sing snappy latin songs. The Germans can't spend 15 minutes on the street or in a bar without bursting into a rowsing chorus of "Deutchsland" or some other beer-drinking song.

The French aren't the best singers but they still put Americans to shame. This year, the chorus is "allez les bleus"....basically translated as "go blue". Blue, of course, is the color of their team's uniforms. They also burst into singing their national anthem, Le Marseillaise, at the drop of a hat. (I suspect that folks from the USA would do the same if we had a national anthem that could be sung without opera training.)

But I digress. The key point is that the French won the match 1 - 0. David beat Goliath. Do you believe in miracles......yesssss.

So as I said before, the opening picture is of the statue in Place Kleber. When we left Place Kleber at around midnight Saturday after the game, there were about 15 people climbing on the statue. They were part of the thousands of elated "bleus" who came to the square to celebrate. There was a conga line of about a hundred folks. Railroad flares were being waved around. Cars were being bounced (but not overturned). The last of the four French flags was being ripped from the flagpoles for the crowd to parade with. If it wasn't a riot, it was getting close. The riot police were taking up positions and putting on their shin-guards. Time to leave.

This victory, mind you, was only to get into the final four. On Tuesday, Germany plays Italy. On Wednesday, France plays Portugal. If France wins, the country will go crazy. If Germany wins, the country will explode into song. Should either France or Germany (or both) get into the final game, then it will be very interesting indeed.