WHEREIN IN A USELESS ATTEMPT TO REMIND MYSELF WHY I EVEN LIKE FRANCE, I AM REDUCED TO A GIRLY, NOSTALGIC MESS

[Ah, 1998. You've got to know it's gotten particularly bad when you find yourself

awake at 2am watching an endless stream of 98 World Cup clips. You know it's

gotten WORSE when you catch yourself looking fondly at Petit's ponytail, thinking

irrationally nostalgic tripe like 'they don't make pony-tailed footballers like that anymore...*sigh*']

France play their second group match this afternoon against Mexico and I'm dreading it. It feels like I've got an appointment with the dentist or something: I know I've got to go, and I will, but I don't particularly want to. Please just let them score a goal, or at the very least manage not rip each other to shreds, even as the likelihood of the latter happening is becoming more and more of a real possibility with each sh**y infighting rumour that pops up. 'I weel not pass to eem!'. Behave like grown men, please.

Figure that I, and those who find themselves in a similar predicament today, might need some reminding why we even like this side.

[Henry: It's hard isn't it, baby? I know everyone hates you right now -- with good reason, unfortunately. Handball mentions made by commentators can practically be reduced to a drinking game at this point... one that would get drinkers pretty damned sloshed, mind.]

[Zidane: A little angry with you. You made some unhelpful and truly cuntalicious comments about France's opening match. Yes, I know they were true but still, why now and why on national television? And you didn't even come to watch them play... you went to watch Algeria instead. I could headbutt you right now given the chance.]

[Vieira: Nothing but love. Come back.]

[Barthez: Oh, you baldy nutball. You did spoil us with your brand of

awesomely outlandish behaviour, didn't you?]

[Petit: The hair. The hair! For better or worse, the beginning of my

(not so)mini-obsession with footballers' hairstyles.]