What a Night!

July 16th, 2018

Paris slept late yesterday morning, perhaps recovering from the fireworks at the Eiffel Tower and the Bals des Pompiers from the previous night.  (It was the Fête Nationale, or Bastille Day.)  Or perhaps they were preparing for the all-night celebration that would follow their win over Croatia in the final of the 2018 World Cup.  Whichever it was, Sunday morning was unusually quiet and calm.  

I spent the morning packing boxes.  Kate baked banana bread.  Glenn went running.  We played board games over cheese and crackers at midday.  I had made reservations at a nearby bar to watch the game, and we needed to prepare, though.  So, early afternoon, we all changed into our France soccer jerseys.  We also found a site on the internet which explained all of the chants and jeers and cheers and songs we were likely to hear during the game.  (We decided we would stick to "Allez les bleus," but it was nice to know what to expect.)  At 4:15, we headed over.  By then the streets were full of life, teeming with excited fans rushing to parties or scrambling to find a place to watch the game.  The bleu blanc rouge was everywhere, painted on faces and in hair, wrapped around shoulders and waists, flying from cars, hanging from buildings, signs, scaffolding.  

The bar was packed, of course, with all of the indoor seats with screen views taken, tables spilling out onto the sidewalk, and a sizeable crowd standing behind the sidewalk tables.  There was a wonderful esprit de corps as the pre-game show progressed, everyone excited and happy, if a little tense.  Cheers erupted as the French team was announced, the crowd's favorite being Mbappé.  A stirring (and off-key) rendition of La Marseillaise broke out.  The game was set to begin.

Croatia dominated early and the crowd stilled.  Around minute 18, France broke down field.  An own-goal by a Croatian defender resulted in an immediate wall of sound enveloping us:  cheers, screams, whistles, horns.  The bar was on its feet, everyone cheering, dancing, and hugging.  France was up 1-0!!  

France's fortunes ebbed and flowed over the evening, as did the crowd noise and demeanor.  An almost audible sigh of relief resulted from Mbappé's low, outside strike into the corner to put France up 4-1.  A few minutes after a ridiculous mistake by French goalie Lloris that tightened the game a bit, the whistle blew and France was the world champion!

Celebrations ensued.  And ensued.  And ensued.  We walked the streets of our neighborhood, witnessing the euphoria, for a couple of hours.  We finally made our way back home, falling asleep past midnight to the sounds of honking cars and roving, singing bands of revelers.  

     And here's a little video of the post-game revelry: