A plague of Frogs

If you wagered on the French difecta for the weekend, the Saturday leg came through for you in style. Amelie Mauresmo became the first Froglady to win Wimbledizzle since Suzanne Lenglen did it a really long time ago. Quite a victory for Amelie, the Phil Mickleson of women's tennis. This was her Masters win, her true breakthrough, despite taking the Australian Open earlier this year. That triumph was tainted by Justine Henin-Hardenne's graceless withdrawal in the final. This time, the pesky Belgian did not waffle. She just got whupped. For Mauresmo, it was particularly satisfying in that mental toughness, which has so often been her weakness, was today her strength, as she came back from a miserable first set to win it in three. In the post-match on-court interview, Mauresmo said, "I don't want anyone to talk about my nerves anymore." Fair enough. Vive la France.

The second leg of the big French free-for-all weekend gets under way tomorrow afternoon, when Les Bleus try to recapture the spirit of '98 and win their second World Cup in three tries. Should they do so, and just a week before Bastille Day no less... fuhgeddaboudit. Look, here's what it boils down to - the French win the World Cup tomorrow, the whole France/America thing is officially over. France wins forever and all time. Just put on your beret, eat a lot of cheese, see a good movie for once and stop bitching about Parisian waiters. Because after Zidane and the boys run roughshod over Italy tomorrow, come Monday morning you're going to have a mime stuffed up your ass for the rest of your life.