PARIS—The withdrawal symptoms have graciously abated. It’s been twelve days since I went cold turkey on international football. I’ve been following the advice of my doctor, taking each day as it comes, and keeping in mind that—however strong I might feel in the weeks and months and years to come—it would take me just a careless channel-flick past an ESPN Classic broadcast of the 1970 West Germany-Italy match to fall off the wagon.

Like a smoker who succeeds in quitting, only to find himself addicted to a replacement crutch, Diet Coke or chewing gum or coffee, I’ve found a new fix: the Tour de France. I’ve never been much of a cycling fan, but then again I’ve never lived in France until this year. When I mentioned the other day to an old friend that I was excited for this year’s Tour and he replied, “Oh, yeah, you always loved watching that back in the day” (not true), I realized that my sports obsessions are fertile ground for all kinds of dangerous revisionist history.

For the record, I’ve never:

1. Bet an unborn child of mine on the result of a Kansas City Royals spring training baseball game.

2. Won the New York marathon by cleverly riding the entire race in a yellow taxi cab to within twenty metres of the finish line (as if I’d have the kind of money to pay for a scheme like that—twenty-six miles is a hell of a fare!). (more…)

BARCELONA—As I awoke this morning from uneasy dreams, it took me a couple of minutes to figure out exactly where I was, and how I’d gotten here. Turns out I was on the couch of my man in Barca, Lizou.

“David, I’ve just had the strangest dream. I dreamed that Spain beat the Germans, and we partied in the streets of Barcelona till dawn.”?

For only the second time, Spain are champions of Europe. But judging from the wild celebrations that followed Sunday’s 1-0 victory over the Germans in Vienna, the victory songs somehow haven’t gathered too much dust in the intervening 44 years. They sang them all, and then sang a few more, and are probably still singing them out there somewhere, though I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave the apartment to find them with this pounding headache I’m nursing. (more…)

PARIS—And then there were dos. Or zwei.

Spain beat Russia 3-0 last night to reach their first major final since 1984. They’ll play Germany on Sunday in Vienna, at the Ernst Happel Stadium, for the title of Champions of Europe 2008.

A pretty sexy match-up, no? And beyond that, there’s the fact that, quite improbably, the two betting favourites heading into the tournament are the two last teams standing.

Seriously, the punters knew it all along? Why, exactly, were we wasting our time these last three weeks, playing all these meaningless games, if some lout in Brixton with twenty quid to burn already knew what was going to happen? (more…)

PARIS—What a finish in Basel last night, a wild ending to one of the most exciting Euro semifinals ever played! Or so we’ve been told.

Didn’t see Miroslav Klose’s go-ahead goal in the 79th minute? Missed Turkey’s last-gasp injury-time charge, and the final whistle? Yeah, you and me both.

Apparently I was wrong to diss the copyright zealots over at UEFA. They so desperately need us to wire them money to watch those oh-so-precious match highlights on my tiny laptop screen, because they’re clearly too broke to disseminate live images directly from Basel. The entire world (save Swiss viewers in Zurich and anyone watching on al-Jazeera – wha?) missed two or three significant chunks of the second half due to what UEFA’s calling electrical storm interruptions in Vienna, some 800km away from the stadium itself. My suspicion is that UEFA conked its signal out purposely, so that we’d all have to go online and pay to see the Klose goal. Nice try, UEFA, but TF1 showed me the replay during the third blackout! (more…)

PARIS—So what the hell am I supposed to do with myself tonight?

For the first time in 17 days, this evening’s slate of high-drama international football matches is empty. I’ve really enjoyed the last two-and-a-half weeks for not having to decide what to do to entertain myself on a given evening. The answer was automatic: I’ll watch the Euro.

Now? I don’t know, maybe I’ll go for a bike ride, or plant a tree, or hug a homeless man. What is it that people do to fill the hours of the day when they’re not watching football? Sometimes I feel like I just wasn’t made for these times. (more…)

CHAMBOURCY, FRANCE—The Germans sunk Portuguese hopes of Euro glory last night in Basel with a 3-2 victory high on fireworks and drama. Or so I hear.

I didn’t actually watch the match, which by all accounts was a classic, and another triumph for attacking soccer in this gloriously offensive edition of the Euro. I was out in “rural Paris,” in a suburb a half hour from the city, playing the witty, charming writer boyfriend at Mlle. Trotter’s summer office party. Hey, it’s what I do.

Luckily for me, my friend Lizou was watching from Barcelona, and he was only too glad to keep me apprised of the goings on in Basel by SMS. Here’s what transpired: (more…)

PARIS—Vi ses, Sweden, and khairete, Greece.

While we’re at it: zbohem, Czech Republic; uf widerlüge, Switzerland; pfueatti, Austria; do widzenia, Poland; la revedere, Romania; and au revoir France.

Oh, and a very belated cheerio to England. Can’t forget them!

With Russia’s impressive 2-0 victory over Sweden last night, the final eight (or The Group of Seven and Russia) of Euro ’08 is set. Guus Hiddink’s boys (and is there a better international coach in all the world than The Goose? Over the last ten years, he’s taken overachievers the Netherlands, South Korea, Australia and now Russia to the knockout stage of a major international), clad in an eye-popping red, dominated the Swedes in a game that could easily have finished 5-0. Andrei Arshevin, the Zenit St. Petersburg striker who sat out the first two Euro contests with a suspension, scored the insurance goal early in the second half after point man Roman Pavlyunchenko had opened the scoring in the first.

Pavs, as I’ve taken to calling him, is for me (along with Turk Arda Turan) the surprise breakout of the tournament to this point—a big, blonde beast up front for the Ruskies, always smiling, blessed with an excellent first touch and a finisher’s mentality. (more…)

PARIS—“Viva España! Viva España!”

That was the chant echoing around the Place de la Contrescarpe after the Italians eliminated the French from Euro 2008 last night with a 2-0 victory in Zurich. The supporters of Les Bleus filed out of bars and choked the square, but there were still a few seams where packs of obnoxious Italians waved their own tricolore and hooted with joy. (more…)