Classic Azzurri Matches – Italy vs France 2000

Enzo Misuraca relives memories of classic Azzurri encounters, and describes the emotions of the European Championship final in 2000.

Certain things will always be sacred to Italians, especially southern Italians. In particular family, religion and for the men at least, football.

The European Championship final at the start of the new millennium brought all of these elements together in one big car crash of a match. Something that started out as joyful ended with a pain that, unbeknown to us, would last six years.

On the calendar, Sunday 2nd July had a thick red circle around it in magic marker pen. But the date had not been highlighted recently, certainly not moments after Italy had dramatically beaten Holland on penalty kicks in a nail biting semi final which had taken place just a few days previous The well dried ink on the calendar had been put their months ago and inside the roughly drawn circle were the scrawled words, ‘First Holy Communion’.

Unbelievably, with 365 days to choose from, the Church in its wisdom had decided to celebrate this holiest of Catholic rituals on the same day as the Euro 2000 final. Don’t these priests ever check the schedules when they arrange these things?

To complicate matters further, this was not just a friend or distant relative that was receiving the ‘body of Christ’, this was our god daughter. The relationship between god parents and their god children is a very sacred one, especially to Sicilians. There would be no way of feigning sickness or issuing apologies for not attending. This day was important, even more important than the match and we had to be there no matter what.

However, as suggested, the beautiful game runs family and religion very close in the hearts of Italians. So, imagine the beaming smile on every smartly suited male when the lavishly decorated hall that would host our celebration was coronated at the top table by a….television. We would not miss one single minute of the match, we could toast both our god daughter and, if the Lord intended, an Azzurri victory over arch rivals France.

After having consumed a plethora of typically Italian celebratory cuisine including meatballs, breaded chicken, aubergines, sliced tomatoes, mozzarella, every style of risotto imaginable as well as sampling the endless supply of wine, a hush took over the 100 or so strong ‘crowd’ as we all gathered around the heavenly television set to watch the second most important event of the day.

La Nazionale after having sung the national anthem, removed their tracksuits to reveal a pure white outfit, just like our god daughter. Surely proof that the saints in paradise were also supporting Italy.

Our team lineup was strong, only Gianluca Zambrotta missed out after seeing red against the Dutch and coach Dino Zoff had entrusted Francesco Totti and Marco Delvecchio in attack.

The first half was cagey, but with half chances falling to both teams. Totti was in fine form and could have scored with an early header as the entire congregation held their head in their hands as Roma’s golden boy steered his effort wide of the goal. Thierry Henry offered another heart stopping moment, as his shot hit the foot of Francesco Toldo’s post. The game was tight but Italy were playing well, both in defence and in attack.

Just before half time, a potential turning point.  Chelsea defender Marcel Desailly appeared to elbow Fabio Cannavaro in the face and the replays proved exactly that. But somehow referee Anders Fisk missed the incident and the French went in at half time with their team in tact.

However, we had played well in the first half and despite France being the favourites, there was very little between the two teams. Seven minutes into the second half, Zoff replaced Stefano Fiore with Alessandro Del Piero and the switch brought an almost instant reward.

On 55 minutes, a magical back heel from Totti wrong footed half of the French rear guard and allowed Gianluca Pessotto to cross for Marco Delvecchio. The young Delvecchio got in between the centre backs and guided the ball into the roof of the net….the room exploded!

The hired deejay honked his air horn as everyone, young and old, hugged and kissed. We were winning, deservedly so and had 35 minutes to defend this priceless lead, just like we had done against Holland.  And we did exactly that…well almost.

Incredibly we should have been home and dry as the game went into the fourth minute of injury time. Del Piero had blown not one but two excellent opportunities when through on goal. But on both occasions, the Juventus starlet missed his chance of glory when it seemed easier to score.

But never mind, there were literally seconds left on the clock. Our aforementioned deejay and dug out his huge tricolor and was already waving it from behind the television.  Perhaps that was the moment the saints in heaven had taken offence to, and the next few moments would cast a cloud on what should have been a day of double celebration.

With everyone willing Fisk to blow that whistle, the Italian bench ready to run onto the picth with their arms aloft, substitute Sylvain Wiltord dribbled the ball along the left hand side of the area after receiving a flick on from one of his team mates and arrowed a low shot towards goal.

Penalty hero Francesco Toldo could not get down quick enough and the ball ended in the back of the net. A deathly silence had now fallen over the hall, a joyous day had just taken a very bad turn. The equaliser had not only pole-axed those watching but it drained every last drop of what little energy was left in the Azzurri.

Fisk blew the whistle and the game went into extra time.

We all hoped that Italy could win, but deep down we knew the truth. Nobody could bring themselves to say it but this was not going to have a happy ending. The tarantellas that the deejay would play after the match would find it unusually difficult to get the guests up off their feet and take to the dance floor.

Extra time began and it was Les Bleues that dominated immediately. Toldo pulled off a miracle save from Robert Pires early on but could do little as in the 103rd minute, Juventus bound David Trezeguet rifled in a left foot volley into the roof of the net and broke the already cracked hearts of every Italian football fan.  The golden goal had been scored and France were champions of Europe.

The television was immediately turned off, the deejay began playing the aforementioned tarantella and more food and wine was brought out for the guests. But not even fried squid and party music could lift the spirits.

Fortunately, the events of the last 103 minutes mattered not a jot to the eight-year old who had now rightfully become the centre of attention, as she went on to open her presents and smile ecstatically at every photo opportunity.

If only all of us could have been eight years old again, just for that day.

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