Originally written on June 20th.
So, there I was, drinking a Guinness in downtown Toulouse with my nemesis, in a moment of detente after a hard day of shooting at each other as we ran through the streets and slid over car hoods, watching Toulouse lose to La Rochelle by 3 points in the French Rugby Championship. Seconds remained in the game and the mood was glum.
Then we heard a roar rolling down the streets, thousands of voices raised in joy. Then our TV, which must have been 30 seconds behind those enormous screens set up in Place Capitole for the benefit of the public, showed a magnificent play, as a Toulousain broke free from the melee and ran the entire field to score a touch. Toulouse had just snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, one didn't need to understand rugby to understand that.
Despite ourselves we jumped for joy and hugged strangers and yelled yayyyyy. And true to the rugby spirit, said consoling words to three young women supporting La Rochelle. Rugby is, after all, a sport for brutes played by gentlemen.
In the aftermath, President Macron visited the victorious team and was offered a beer, which he proceeded to down cul-sec: "dry bottom." That is, to say in English, to gulp it down in one go. He chugged the fucker like a champ. Fast and clean. No dribbling chin, no gagging.
Of course, the (mostly) left wasn't having it. "Puerile" someone said. "Toxic masculinity!" cried another.
Hogwash. Anyone who can chug a beer with such elan deserves a freaking thumbs up. So, well done Manu. Just do a better job of being President and get a handle on the current retirement age-related turmoil and you'll get a real cheer.
