Pele's final say reveals too much

The Final. The colour. The sound. The fury. The exhilaration. The passion. The courage. The desire. The tension. The splendour. The majesty. The . . . ah Jaysus, get on with it. Pulsating, marvellous stuff. Les Bleus were on fire but were hampered by a De Boer-like fear of the penalty; Les Blood and Bandages took their chances. But enough of the Munster hurling final, it was D-Day at Euro 2000 yesterday too. If Cork had, eh, ZineJoeDean Zidane to thank for their success in Thurles, then it was widely assumed his French cousin would light up the football final in Rotterdam, just as he had lit up the whole darn tournament with his very presence, despite sporting a Friar Tuck hair-do. As Telly Venables put it on ITV yesterday, "the lad, y'know, kind of gives feeling to his long passes rather than, y'know, being wicked with 'em, y'know". Hear, hear.

So old Pele, is Zidane the new Pele? The old Pele chuckled, when ITV's Gabby Yorath put the Big Question to him on Saturday's On The Ball. "It would be a little difficult to be the new Pele because my mother and father closed the machine," he said giggling, while making a snipping gesture with his fingers. Eh? Did this refer to (a) a vasectomy, (b) a divorce or, (c) did his Ma and Da have another boy, christened Johnny Hartson do Nascimento, whose lack of footballing talent brought shame to the family? Answers to Gabby, 'cos she looked even more puzzled than the rest of us. In short, the Old Pele concluded that there would never be a New Pele, a deduction reached with all the humility of your average Michael Flatley.

"You have one Pele and a lot of players," he boasted, nostrils flailing, chest pumping, lips pouting. "And you have one Frank Sinatra and a lot of singers." Back in the studio Red Hurley (aka Barry Vension) was humming Oh Lord it's so Hard to be Humble, to himself, while an Italian football reporter was asked if Italy wanted to win the final. We'd say: does the Pope poo in the woods? He said: "Yes, Italy now wants this title because, as we say, you cannot go to Rome and refrain from seeing the Pope." Classy bunch, the Italians. Build up time. The BBC gives us a Euro 2000 celebrity version of Ready Steady Cook, featuring George Best and Peter Shilton. After 20 tense minutes the audience holds up ever so slightly more red apples than green peppers, so Shilts wins.

This despite him leaving his tea towel sitting atop a switched on cooker plate, resulting in it bursting in to flames. Then it was time for the BBC pundits' favourite moments of the tournament. Hazel Irvine? "Discussing the merits of existentialism with Slovenia's Saso Udovic." "I don't know about you Martin, but I'm getting bored with players going on about existentialism," complained Gary Lineker. "Robbie Savage and I have had endless discussions about it," Marto Neill revealed. "At Liverpool the dressing room was split right down the middle between Jean Paul Sartre and Albert Camus," Alan Hansen chipped in. Mick McCarthy, meanwhile, was the star of Ray Stubbsie Stubbs' favourite moment. "Mick said to an Amsterdam taxi driver, `I don't know the name of the hotel, but it's by a canal'." Stubbsie thought this was a howl; you and me thought: our hopes of making it to the next World Cup rest on this man's shoulders.

RTE. Billo Herlihy shows us the French line-up. Sensation: Lilian Thuram has been dropped and "Thurman" has been selected at right back, according to the caption. The only "Thurman" I know is Uma, star of Pulp Fiction. Whether or not she'll have the savvy to mark Stefano Fiore I'm not entirely sure.

The game gets under way and, frankly, the Italian defence is as tasty as a Royale with cheese. And Uma's strugglin' with Stefano's pace. And then, some time later, Delvecchio scores. Later still, Italy are 30 seconds away from picking up the Big Cup. But Wiltord equalises. "What a big psychological situation we're now involved in," says Big Ron Atkinson. Then, when Trezeguet scored the golden goal winner, there was a lot of lower lip quivering in my living room for the Italians, the only team on earth who make defending look lovely, nay, sexy.

But, Allez France, fair play. Enjoyed your company the past couple of weeks. But, more than anything, Allez Apres Match. As one recent email said: "They even make the license fee worth paying." Thanks for the laughs, lads. Pundits of the tournament? Johnny Gilesie, Liam Chippy Brady, Martin Marto O'Neill and Alan Al Hansen. No contest. A wonderful, wonderful tournament, but what now? Damned if I know. Fresh air, maybe? Uggh.