A couple of World Cups ago, Zinedine Zidane, one of the legends of the game, had a moment of madness. In the face of taunting from Marco Materazzi, an Italian defender, Zidane head-butted Materazzi and was promptly sent off from the final match. It has always been inexplicable to me that a seasoned athlete who must endure verbal abuse on a regular basis would, at such an important moment, undertake an act that could only end in one calamitous way. Adrenaline, sure. Terrible words, almost definitely. But you have to think that such a player as Zidane could temper his reaction and keep on playing. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it and, for that reason alone, I’ll never forget it. So, color me astounded, astonished, dumbfounded as I watched the ghost of Zidane inhabit Portgual’s Pepe for one more moment of madness before my very eyes.
We were sitting behind the Portugal goal, watching a match billed as one of the best in the group stage. The stadium was packed, the day muggy and hot. The Germans were in full throat from the opening whistle, jeering Cristiano Ronaldo’s every touch and savoring an early two-goal lead thanks to a Thomas Muller penalty and a thumping header from Mats Hummels. It looked a difficult task for Portuguese, but still not impossible. And then it all came unraveling. Pepe’s arm hit Muller as the two tangled. Muller went to ground, feigning injury from the lightest of touches. The referee was uninterested, letting play continue, but instead of jogging forward with his team in possession, Pepe turned back to Muller, leaned down, and put his forehead against Muller’s. Not really a head butt, but FIFA instituted a rule some years ago that made Pepe’s action an automatic red card. So, how do you explain it? Pepe clearly knows the rule and he clearly understands the implications for himself and his team. Yet he proceeded to turn away from live play and undertake an act that could only end in one calamitous way. Just, wow.
Through the eyes of this American fan, that moment and pretty much everything that followed was bliss. Portugal ended the day with one center-back suspended for the game against the US, two important players injured and unlikely to be fit against the US, a goal differential of minus four, and their superstar reduced to his whining and moaning. Indeed, as much as I wanted to see Ronaldo put on a show in this marquee match-up, it was almost more fun to see him mope around the field (I’ve never been a fan of his). And then, to watch John Brooks seal an incredible, heart-stopping win for the US on the grainy television in our rented beach house a few hours later, I went to sleep knowing that I could spend the next four days taunting fans Portugal, Spain, and all the other countries who are three points behind us in the standings. But, no head-butting. I promise.