July 9, 2006
The Observer

He will walk off the pitch tonight and out of football forever. And he will leave behind a million memories. Zinedine Zidane has been – is, until tonight – the best player in the world for a generation. The best European since Johan Cruyff retired. How shall we best remember him, this man who 'plays as if he has silk gloves on each foot' (Alfredo Di Stefano), who 'can do things with his feet that others cannot do with their hands' (Thierry Henry).

Yet a man who looks forever troubled, as if haunted by his own greatness, his rounded shoulders weighed down by expectations within and beyond football. Shall we remember him for his goals – the two in the World Cup final that brought millions to the streets of Paris in 1998; the sublime winning volley that won the European Cup for Real Madrid in 2002? Or shall we remember his words: 'The game, the event, is not necessarily experienced or remembered in real time. My memories are fragmented – whenever something amazing happened I would remember playing in another place, at another time. Someone passed the ball to me and, before even touching it, I knew exactly what was going to happen. I knew I was going to score.'

There will be drama in the World Cup final, France v Italy, tonight. And there will be romance if Zinedine Zidane can take himself to another time, another place, and score one last goal. Something else to remember him by. Adieu.