I Wish.

This is a diatribe.  I've been saving it for last for a reason.  Fasten your seatbelts.  There will be no pictures, no links, just straight up rhetoric.

Engage.

WHY I HATE YOUR TEAM - FRANCE EDITION



Dear France-

God fucking dammit, I hate you, Raymond Domenech, you're a stupid piece of shit and the worst kind of coach, a scientologist, a new age, power crytstal loving, level seven praisebringer, a waffly little stereotype in glasses who couldn't manage to see that he was too old and out of touch to manage one of the best teams in the world, instead leading your group of whiny underachievers to a limping second place finish and a referee aided birth into the World Cup where I hope to any God any person has ever believed in you fail, you utterly fail, you fail fail fail fail so fucking hard that the earth shakes and it sets off a chain reaction where there's a reverse earthquake and every single thing that has gone wrong over the course of the last year rights itself and the oil peels off the gulf an all the people in Haiti and Chile and the Gaza and Afghanistan push the dirt off their graves and hug each other and hug their enemies and Thierry Henry, who I will never stop loving, is suddenly absolved of his sins and I don't feel like an asshole for defending him and Hugo Lloris wipes that stupid smirk off his face and gets a different haircut from the one my older brother had in 8th Grace, which inspires Bakari Sagna to take out those fucking braids and learn to score so he can dance with Eric Abidal, who takes the stick out of his ass and stops threatening to leave Barcelona, while Djibril Cisse acts like a normal human being for once and no longer needs pins in his leg so he can run after Franck Ribery and convince him not to go to the underaged brothel, which allows the newspapers in France to run a more positive story they'd been planning about Steve Mandanda and how he deserves to be the number one goalkeeper and that it's racist he hasn't been given chance, and Florent Malouda applauds him in the clubhouse, the first genuine gesture the man has ever made, causing Nicolas Anelka to smile and think that maybe it's okay to have a few friends in life, so he calls up Abou Diaby and say let's hang out when we get back to London and Diaby suggests they call up Patrice Evra, but he's too busy giving heartfelt apologies to school-aged players for being a bad role-model on the pitch which makes Yoann Gourcuff reconsider how he feels disappointed about where his career has taken him, despite his obvious talent and decides to just play because he loves it and in training, he and Anthony Reveillere play juggle in while sitting on the ground and talking about their childhoods as Gael Clichy calls up his mother for the first time in two months just to ask her how her day is going, and Alou Diarra waits patiently for the phone without rolling his eyes or pointing at his watch for the first time in his life because he and Mathieu Valbuena just got done having a conversation about how wonderful it is to be young, to travel to beautiful cities and to play football for a living, which made Cedric Carrasso cry as he listened from the other room, but not the same tears he cries over sitting on the bench, tears of happiness and realization, so Andre Pierre Gingac walked over from the training table and held him as he laughed and sobbed, and they watched William Gallas hold a press conference on TV, saying that he was sorry for behaving like a selfish child for most of his life and that he was giving all his money to AIDS research, to which Sebastien Squillaci stood up and shouted that he would match every Euro given by the assembled crowd, inspiring Marc Planus to quit the team because he'd rather see someone else get the chance to be there that wanted it more, as he really wanted to move to Bali and open a dive shop, while Sidney Govou leaves training early to walk around in the slums of Johannesburg, asking residents what basic services would most aid their communities and Jeremy Toulalan smiles because his secret wish for the world is suddenly coming true, and your COMPLETE AND TOTAL FAILURE, France, brings about a new age of peace, understanding and responsibility where overpopulation is curbed and consumption is made responsible and all nations love one another and the earth is made clean, once again and we send emissaries into the heavens proclaiming that all life is welcome on earth, and somewhere, in the most remote Mongolian village, the first child is born into this world without any fear, without any malice, with only a hopeful world before him.

But that will never happen, France.  Because you're all a bunch of selfish assholes.  And even if you knew what I wrote above would come true, you wouldn't do it.  You love yourselves more than you love the world.

That is why, this year, I hate you most of all.

-ZGS