Parerile sunt impartite. Doua tabere: tabara pacifistilor si educatorilor cu pilda si vorba buna si tabara celor care fie au crescut pe maidane, fie ca au dat de greu si au invatat sa-si apere drepturile si onoarea cu spada sau cu pumnul gol.Probabil ca adevarul(?) e undeva la mijloc -si, si.
L-am urmarit cu mare atentie pe ZIDANE cand a vazut cartonasul rosu. Un muschi nu i-a tresarit pe fata. Se vedea ca este deplin impacat cu acel gest care avea sa-l coste mult.
Fac parte din a doua tabara, am crescut (si) pe maidan- norocul meu- si am avut partea mea de greu in viata. Instinctiv simpatia mea se duce spre Zidane...
Marele ZIDANE
2 comments:
Hullo Cismigiu
Here's something to give you and your friends a laugh. Rama
The Washington asks readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are the 2005 winners.
1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject fiancially impotent for an indefinite period of time.
2. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an a$$hole.
3 Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to begin with.
4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign
of breaking down in the near future.
6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.
7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
10. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
11. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)
12. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
13. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
14. Glibido: All talk and no action.
15. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
16. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
17. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
18. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.
Dany Laferrière is a francophone novelist from Haiti now living between Montreal and Miami. His commentary on the Zidane "header",
on the blog of Alain Mabanckou, a wonderful Congolese novelist is radical and fascinating:
http://www.congopage.com/article.php3?id_article=3791
I didn't sleep much last night for trying to understand Zidane’s
gesture, especially since all the opinions I heard resembled each other so much it was as if only one person had watched the match. The more there are of us, the more we seem to have the same opinion. I am always suspicious of a crowd that speaks with one voice. And it seemed that everyone was feeling sorry for Zidane: an unworthy end to the career of
a great champion. It’s strange, but this version seemed just too
bourgeois to me. In fact people weren’t really sorry for Zidane: they were only speaking about themselves. Zidane was just a character from the fairy story they told themselves each night before going to bed.
Hardly a month ago, Zidane was only an old, tired player. Now he’s a fallen knight.
In the old, more bloody fables of the Brothers Grimm, a red card ending was acceptable. But today, in this strange epoch when everyone seems to have drunk Disney milk in their childhood, no one tolerates anything but
rosy endings. Everything must finish happily. Our heroes must be loveable before we will file them away in the cupboard of our happy memories. So what does that leave for Zidane? Zidane, the exemplary father, the discreet man who has led a faultless career? These are the epithets people have stuck on him like medals.
Maybe it’s true, but what gets lost? What did he have to swallow before that fateful moment? What did he have to endure silently before deciding to take his life back again? Before becoming once again the proud young boy who played in the streets of Marseille? The one whom
one could never insult with impunity about his mother or his race?
Marseille is not a joke. The National Front is not far away. And Zidane is a child of that epoch. Has Zidane ever believed in the adulation of the crowd, that monster that kills what it loves? There will come a moment when he knows he will find himself looking at a man he abandoned long ago for money and fame, and that man is himself, Zinedine Zidane. I don’t believe that the Italian player said to him anything that he couldn't stand to hear. Simply, he felt that this was
the moment. His last match, the finale of the World Cup, at the very end. It was this moment or never. Otherwise, he had sold himself for ever.
Don’t speak to him of lost dignity. This gesture was precisely about dignity, and he made it to recover some of his honour. This was his moment. He had already given everything to his team. Now it was for
himself. Eight seconds out of a career of nearly twenty years. Because if he didn’t do it then, it would all be over. Anyway, he was exhausted, and the team could do without him.
I think that there are some moments in life which belong only to those who live them, and to no-one else. The moment when one refuses to play always appears stupid in the eyes of others. But what value has the pride of the collectivity when compared to the intimate pride of the individual? Just because there are many people watching a game, they all believe that it’s only a game. Zidane’s act was the intrusion of weighty reality into the game. Zidane is not playing anymore. He breaks the codes with a blow of his head.
I remember the moment of Charlebois’s death-blow, when he threw his drums at the French public. In France, everyone was astonished by such behaviour, and yet in Quebec, Charlebois instantly became a counter-cultural icon. They sensed something liberating in his gesture.
For Zidane, it will be the same thing. Young rappers will surely
introduce into their video clips the eight seconds where Zidane left the game to re-enter their stifling reality. For once, Zidane, who was legendary for never allowing his temperature to rise, embraced all those
who do not know how to behave in public. His brothers from the street whose blood is still boiling.
**********
Comment by "Sami"
“If there were any doubts about the fact that Zidane was one of the best players in the history of football, after the final there can be no more!” wrote the popular Russian daily, Komsomolskaia Pravda, before
adding, “Only an epic hero, a titan, a Hercules could depart like that.”
Dany Laferrière’s very personal commentary echoes that of many
journalists around the world. Nine seconds which make an absolute human out of a being whose shoulders would have been crushed by the image of a
god hung on him. The beauty of that gesture and its deep meaning are worth more than a gold trophy. For me, this entire World Cup could have been organized only so that we could see this astonishing culmination:
this header that sought not the goal but a chest from which poisonous words flowed. For that alone, Zidane deserves the immortality that had
already been predicted for him. As for the disappointment of others, they can do with it whatever they wish. They are truly some moments when others come after yourself, for they are not the essential. Especially when you understand their talent for condemning their instrumentalised heroes to absolute solitude.
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