The squad was littered with talent, both established or otherwise, with the Brazilian winger Malcolm and Valentin Vada being particularly fun to watch. Jeremy Menez continued to be an absolute nutcase occasionally capable of magic.
It seems that France really isn’t crazy about sport, certainly not year round, and the half empty stadiums I’ve been witnessing when watching the games stand in testament to that. Zizou’s projection onto a national monument was a powerful gesture; here was the son of Algerian immigrants who had made it to great heights from the roughest parts of Marseilles. A symbol for the secular post-racial republic France viewed itself as. But with a new dawn, the symbol is lost, the light from a single bulb struggling vainly to hold back the flood from a star.
Listen to the latest episode of the Coshcast below and subscribe on iTunes right here! Colin Crawford is a museum worker with a well cultivated taste for the arcane and unusual. Buy him a cup of tea and he’ll talk about anything to do with soccer. This season […]
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Under The Cosh 