Only the World Cup is capable of arousing authentic global collective consciousness. It’s an event that every media-consuming entity is sucked into. Every four years, for just one month, the World Cup infiltrates the broadest possible sweep of hearts and minds on the planet. It conjures South African football experts from thin air and elicits football commentary from the least likely sources.
World Cup interactions are hinged on TV sets. From the belligerent outbursts of friends in bars with big screens to the distracted eyes of shop assistants with small ones, the World Cup assembles every variety of media congregation. When the immediacy of the events has passed, the Internet steps in to archive memorable moments.
This brings me to what must surely be the most powerful stream of images from the 2006 World Cup Final. The streamlined arc of Zidane’s cranium as it sailed through the air, his body bent behind the shiny orb as it found its mark on Materazzi’s chest. The limp body of the Italian defender dropping to the ground, the mouth that had spat an insult at the French captain twisted into a different shape.
The most extraordinary aspect of the Zidane’s rage was the manner in which he chose to vent it. Of all the appendages available to the football legend, he chose to use his head. Somehow a fist would have been a crass substitute, the very essence of football being hinged on the rule that you can’t use your hands. Moreover, Zidane’s skull mercifully targeted Materazzi’s impact-resistant ribcage. It would have been ungentlemanly to pit his bulbous rock against the Italian’s eggshell noggin.
Some may say that Zidane’s final act as an international footballer besmirched his otherwise glorious career. I beg to differ. Zidane’s headbutt was a contained physical response to Materazzi’s hostile invective. It could have been an ugly act if Zidane had sought to elicit pain, but this wasn’t the case. Zidane’s was simply a demonstrative gesture that turned out to be a swan song that defied the expected Hollywood ending.
In three years’ time, the nexus of World Cup media will shift to South Africa. Despite soapbox mutterings about 2010, Sepp Blatter recently assured us that “the only thing that will stop us from holding the World Cup in South Africa would be a natural disaster.” In four years’ times, a scattering of video clips and a handful of World Cup stadiums will be all that remains. No doubt our World Cup’s Internet footprint will include profoundly South African signs of divine intervention.
