Delirium & ecstasy

I remember in the 80’s when we traveled in Greece, it could have been in Corfu, and the European Basketball Championships were shown on TV everywhere. Greece was doing well and was playing in the final.

We ended up in a café watching the final together with a crowd of Greeks and we were all very excited. Greece had always been a good basketball nation and when they won we all celebrated and there was a party in the small café. As we walked home there were crowds everywhere with Greek flags and cars driving around with honking horns, celebrating the victory.

Of course, this was nothing compared to what happened last night during the final of the EURO 2004 Football Championship.

On the small Greek island of Hydra where we spend our summers, there are some 2,500 inhabitants, mostly Greeks but a few summer visitors like ourselves.

When Greece qualified for the final round of the cup everyone got excited, and we talked about how the national team, which had never done well in any tournament, suddenly looked very strong, from the defense up to the forwards.

When the team reached the quarterfinals many of the tavernas and cafés brought out their TV sets out on the quay and people changed their dinner plans to watch the games.

Then suddenly Greece was in the finals and many people hardly believed it. Some of the Greek teams, like Olympiakos and Panathinaikos, had always been good but Greece never had a successful national team. What had changed was that Greece now had at least fifteen professional players in other European teams and they were used to playing against stars like Zidane, Beckham and Figo. They had lost their respect for the big names, and now their new German coach had them playing as a team.

The day of the final everyone gathered in the port. There are around twenty cafés and tavernas in the small harbor and they had all brought out TV sets. You saw people you had never seen in the port, people from small villages and from houses up in the mountains. You saw families that never used to go out together. All children had flags and their faces were painted with the Greek colors.

Chairs were brought out from everywhere so we all could watch the game. Shouts and screams and every move was scrutinized. Each referee’s whistle was discussed, and every time Portugal committed a foul, people screamed “Carta!” and demanded that the referee hold up the yellow card as a penalty. By the time the game had come down to the last minute of extra time people were happy and singing, just as it was as good as a victory to get to the final and play so well against Portugal.

When Charisteas suddenly stretched his head out to that ball and scored the goal, we all screamed and tables were flying in the air, glasses fell on the stones, people were jumping up and down and within seconds there were fireworks and bombas out over the water. Boats were sending up their emergence flares and blowing their horns. There was gunfire from the mountains and the little cannon in the port went off. As if everyone been waiting with the fuses lit.

The singing went on and the last seconds were just like a big carnival, and when the referee blew the whistle to end the match people were hugging and laughing. You saw people screaming and laughing into their mobiles, calling friends and relatives. You saw people crying.

It was the biggest festival on the island.

Crazy.

Just crazy.

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