ODE TO SALIF DIAO

In 2002, You and Bouba Diop score the first goal
of the World Cup against France, which had won it
in 1998 with that head-butting stalwart Zidane.

This was much akin to the reversal of fortune
Cameroon gave the Argentines in 1990. In Cameroon's
case: they had not really controlled the balon
(and Pumpidor should have really been able to neutralize
that slippery header before it vanished under the crook
of his confounded arm).

But, Diao's case is different. In his forward ascension
there has been little to stand in the way of his hunger.

In fact, Diao mercernaried with Monaco for a year, even
going as far as Ardennes before maturing with Liverpool.

In 2002, the Senegalese were coming with players conditioned by scrimmage
for swanky European teams. In effect, Diao outplayed the French,
perhaps even outcolonizing, overcolonizing them.

By 2002, Diao had managed to rig resources of their host teams to train
in absentia of their integral, national unit.

Diao was able to purloin Rebel sparring acumen from within the bowels
of the Imperial rank and file--had outmaneuvered the futbol pedagogues
of finesse. In short, after beating Denmark 2-1 in 2002, Diao established

himself as black star, legion to millions, and the reigning champ
of the intuitionless foot slice (which he perfected in that match against Denmark).