This sporting life

The head-butt on Marco Materazzi by Zinedine Zidane, and his sending off did not overshadow the drama of the penalty shoot-out that gave glory to Italy and sudden death to France.

To the victor the spoils, and there is no bigger football award than the World Cup. It is the final outcome that is always remembered, not how it came about.

As it is, Italy were not clear-cut, worthy winners on the day, with the aging French team the better one on the Berlin field, remarkably no more so when down to ten men and playing scintillating, rapier-thrust football.

But the Italians had a very good tournament. They were strong in all the key departments, though technically no more so than in defence, and above all psychologically.

The team did not simply want and need to win, to counteract the spectre haunting the major clubs and their players as truth and reality caught up with them. They believed that they could do it.

They carried out their belief in the tensest, perhaps most unfair stage of a football match. It is ridiculous that the penalty spot replaces that careful strategy, shifting, intricate tactics and marvellous individual skills. In a final, I have always felt, a draw after extra time should lead to joint champions, not to a winner and a loser.

That is not a popular view and it's FIFA that calls the shots. The Italian squad brought the World Cup, glory and temporary relief to their country, and joy too to the thousands of passionate supporters in Malta.

France took away with them a profound sense of loss, a lot of pride and bewilderment that their icon got himself sent off in the most crucial few minutes of the whole four-year jamboree.

What made him do it? He did not spell it out to his fellow French people, and to the world. He only bared a part of his soul on live television on Wednesday night. The most important part of his message was his apology to the children who had watched his bad example.

For, no matter what he was retaliating to, the player ought not to have done it.

That the lapse was by a living legend, a role model, made Zidane's loss of grip all the more terrible, even more so than the fact that he blunted the remaining chance of his country regaining the World Cup he had so gloriously won for it in 1998.

There is no excuse, but there remains a lot of room for an honest explanation of the circumstances that led to the bad deed.

Zidane said that, in a verbal altercation after Materazzi tugged his shirt and, some newspapers alleged, twigged his nipple, the Italian giant and earlier hero had repeatedly used foul words in respect of Zidane's mother and sister.

Materazzi's comments bear close scrutiny. Before Zidane spoke on French television the international media speculated at will. Among other things, it was alleged that Materazzi had called Zidane a terrorist.

Materazzi denied that, according to one report in an English newspaper, saying that he was ignorant and did not know what the word meant.

The player did not go on to indicate straight away, however, what it was that he had said to Zidane. When the French player said on television that the Italian had used foul language in regard to his mother and sister, Materazzi denied that he had called Zidane's mother anything at all.

It was not reported that Materazzi also reacted to Zidane's claim that he had insulted his sister, too. Materazzi continued not to reveal what it was that he had told Zidane.

It will all boil down to one player's word against the other. So far Materazzi has not come out of it very well. Zidane has paid the price for reacting.

But he is not mad; he reacted to something that he felt was offensive. He played in Italy for six years and would have understood well enough whatever words were addressed to him in Italian.

Marco Materazzi has not clarified what those words were.

Does it really matter, now? It does, a lot. Football may have become a commercial enterprise, but it remains the leading international sport.

Billions follow it on television. What they see is not always sporting. Whereas in tennis and billiards, for instance, opponents rely on their individual skill, in football fouling is part of the game.

There are bad fouls, over-enthusiastic tackles or deliberate hacking down. And there are professional fouls.

There are players who excuse themselves, sincerely, like the true hero of Italy's triumph - Gennaro Gattuso - does, and others who are callous and unrepentant.

There can be a sporting stance, even when fouling. A highlight involved Luis Figo of Portugal and Zidane himself. Figo committed a professional foul on Zidane. He felt he had to, notwithstanding the huge friendship and respect they have for each other, as members of the all-time international elite and for years colleagues at Real Madrid.

Figo did not try to hide the fact that he did it deliberately, but ever so carefully so. He admitted it in the way he helped Zidane up. Real sportsmen send good vibes even in such circumstances.

Heaven knows, positive signals are required, in a context increasingly besmirched by foul language - read Wayne Rooney's lips, among others' - and racist abuse by players and spectators alike.

It does matter a lot what Marco Materazzi told Zinedine Zidane in the closing minutes of the 2006 World Cup final. Not to take anything away from Italy's merits, or Materazzi's own, overall, very successful performance when he stepped into the huge shoes of Alessandro Nesta.

It matters because the truth always matters, and because admitting mistakes to move on, to make mass sport better today, matters more than ever before.

Beyond the drama of the final match, the sporting life of the World Cup provided old lessons that go beyond the world of sports. A number of top-notch national coaches immediately went before their personal inner mirror to soul search after their team failed to advance in the competition.

In some cases failure was in considerable part due to the coach, to his wrong selection from among the mix of talents available to him, to a wrong game plan or an inability to change it as a game unfolds, or between games. In others defeat was simply due to the fact the other side played better, to bad luck, or to both.

Nevertheless, it is the coach who is ultimately accountable. And a number of coaches did not wait to be reminded of that brutal truth. They left, waiting for no one to prod them to do so.

Others remained. Raymond Domenech of France is the major example, though not a few attribute the fact that France did not run up a comfortable lead against Italy before Zidane depleted his side's strength to the probability that the coach was excessively cautious.

Exceptions aside, the principle of accountability runs strong in the football world, nowhere more so than at the very top.

The other side of the coin was displayed by Marcello Lippi, who in under two years since his appointment refashioned and dynamised the Italian national team, and would have been considered a success even if Italy had lost the penalty shoot-out on Sunday.

With the horns still blaring, and Italians and supporters outside the country continuing to go wild with delight at the achievement masterminded by Lippi, he called it a day. He declared he had accomplished his mission; it was time to move on.

Cynics attributed the decision to the football scandal in which Juventus, the club formerly managed by Lippi, is also embroiled. Yet he is not one of those investigated in that regard.

Even if his own son is under that particular cloud, with nothing proven so far, the triumphant coach of the Italian national team cannot be tarred by any brush.

Lippi stated he would not accept a fresh contract, I believe, because he understands life and the ways of the world. He has scaled the heights - he has nothing left to prove at a national level. Better leave on the crest of the wave, than work to build up a new one and risk being swamped in the process.

It is not at all easy to do it. It is difficult to let go of success, or at least not to bask in it for as long as possible, whether in football, other businesses, or politics. It is as wise to do so as it is to accept frankly the consequences of failure.

Life may not always be sporting, but proper behaviour comes from within.