SAINT EMILION, FRANCE—Finally, some drama. Unfortunately for the residents of Saint Emilion, a village of 2,800 in the southeast of France and quite possibly, pound-for-pound, the greatest winemaking centre in all the world, half of the drama came at the expense of their beloved Bleus.

OK, maybe “belovedâ€? is a bit strong. I watched Romania battle France to a surprising 0-0 draw (surprising only to those who didn’t tag the Romanians as their tournament dark horse—doh!) at a small bar downwards from the église on the hilltop in the centre of town, and caught Holland’s destruction of Italy in the second game at a lovely restaurant near the centre of town, where most diners and the entire staff rejoiced at the 3-0 thrashing handed the Azzurri by the Dutch.

I have two embarrassing admissions to make, and I will consider it entirely fair if, having heard them, you refuse to read this blog ever again:

The first is that I misrepresented myself on Saturday. I pulled a Mitch Albom against myself, if you will. I wrote that Mlle. Sportstrotter had gifted me a number 9 Karim Benzema jersey for my birthday. Unfortunately, when we stopped by the Adidas store on the Champs Elysées to pick up said jersey, they informed us that off all the players on the French team, Benzema’s name and number were the only ones that hadn’t arrived to press onto a blue FFF jersey. So we’re going back this afternoon to try again. I apologize to myself for misrepresenting the reality of my life, and promise not to make the same mistake for at least seven whole days.

The second admission is even more shocking: I only watched the last thirty-five minutes of the France match. How, you ask, could such a thing come to pass, given the long ramp-up period leading to this match, the Sportstrotter’s stated passion for all things French football, and the fact that watching every minute of the Euro is sort of his job?

I assure you, dear Trottermaniac, that the only thing standing between me and fifty-five minutes of reportedly dull, scoreless football was a fierce thunderstorm—that, and the accompanying ten-glass tasting session of some of the region’s greatest wines that ran into extra time, culminating in this writer’s better half springing for a make-up birthday present (after the Benzema plan was delayed): a full 9cl glass of a 2002 Yquem Sauternes, the greatest vin liquoreux in all the world. The Rolls Royce of sweet white wines, as our guide in dégustation put it. According to our bar man, the Yquem represents “the full orchestra playing, with every instrument hitting every note, with precise pitch and timbre, all in time.�

The analysis extended to a three-dimensional pyramid structure, at which point I tuned him out and focused on the delicious elixir passing over my lips, a perfect combination of acidity and sweetness that puts the best Ontario ice wines to shame. At €35 for the glass, it was a once-in-a-short-lifetime tasting one hesitates to undertake lightly, but also the kind of decision one tends to make after tasting nine other wines (“Sure, pull out the wine that cost more than a steak dinner. Who wants a piece of me? You?!�). Needless to say, it was very, very tasty.

So, France drew the Romanians, looking solid but lacking a certain je ne sais quoi in the finishing department, while Romania mostly rope-a-doped and were probably happy with the point. Thierry Henry didn’t play, and the game ended with Bafa Gomis manning the sole striker position. It’s a bad sign when the Saint Emilionais are calling for the manager to remove all eleven players on the field and replace them with ten-years-retired Frenchmen.

And with apologies to my editor, a strong supporter of the Nazionale, it has to be put truthfully: the Netherlands whupped up on the Italians, who clearly missed the injured Fabio Cannavaro in defence.

Today the Sportstrotter returns to Paris to catch Spain versus Russia and Greece versus Sweden, on a train running three hours earlier thanks to a strike (or, as they call la grève here, “the national pastime”). Hey, if it means waking up three hours earlier with a wicked wine hangover to express my solidarity, I’m all for it. Who’s striking this week? Remind me?

Recap:

Winners: Netherlands, France/Romania draw

Top Player: The Dutch fans, out in full orange force and propelling their side to victory. Sure, it’s easy to cheer when you’re destroying the current world champs, but an elderly gentleman in the restaurant where I ate dinner was wearing bright orange pants. I asked. Yep, Dutch. They’re intense.

Goal: Since only one match produced goals (Hello, France? Anybody home?), we’ll go with Wesley Sneijder finishing a beautiful head pass from Kuyt off the van Bronckhorst cross for the Dutch side’s second goal. Beautiful.

In-game beverages: Whoa – not to bore you, but to keep this list simple, I drank red wine, then white wine, then a bunch of red, followed by a €35 glass of Sauternes (2002 Yquem), a rosé, more red, a Kir, still more red, and an Armagnac to round out the night. Put it this way: if you’re an Advil or a Tums in my travel kit today, I pity you. I really do.

Final note: I find it surprising that in The Walrus Straw Poll at right, only 3 percent of readers picked the French to take the title, the same percentage backing the Austrians and the Romanians. I should also note that two of the posted votes for France came from this writer. At least Switzerland is still at zero support (Alright, who voted for the Swiss?)

Tags: Euro 2008

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Posted on Tuesday, June 10th, 2008 at 11:28 am. Follow comments through the RSS 2.0 feed. Comment or trackback.