Whoops, I'm falling off the no-Zidane wagon

But only to quote a couple of paragraphs from philosopher Bernard-Henri Levy on Zizou. I love this bit:

"The man's insurrection against the saint. A refusal of the halo that had been put on his head and that he then, quite logically, pulverized with a head-butt, as though saying: I am a living being not a fetish; a man of flesh and blood and passion, not this idiotic empty hologram, this guru, this universal psychoanalyst, natural child of Abbé Pierre and Sister Emanuelle, which soccer-mania was trying to turn me into.

It was as though he were repeating, in parody, the title of one of the very great books of the last century, before the triumph of this liturgy of the body, performance and commodity: Ecce Homo, This is a Man. Yes, a man, a true man, not one of these absurd monsters or synthetic stars who are made by the money of brand names in combination with the sighs of the globalized crowd."

(In the past two days, I've realized that it's a lot more fun to obsess endlessly about Zidane than it is to try to understand the Middle East. I may continue to use Zidane Therapy to avoid utter despair at the state of the world.) (My blog, my therapy.)