Paris est mythique. There was nothing understated, no obvious shades of faux humilité about the headline in L’Équipe after Paris Saint-Germain had been re-enthroned as Champions League winners on Saturday night. Mythical. Storied. Ultimate. Yeah. But are they, though?
In fairness it would be disappointingly un-Parisian not to consider your champion team the champions of all champions in the moment of victory. Give the people what they want. Play the hits. Nobody needs a polite Parisian waiter. Nobody wants to see an unstylish Parisian estate agent who has taken absolutely no care of his hair, or a Parisian bistro that doesn’t think it’s the VIP boarding lounge for the last arc leaving planet Earth. Hmm. Maybe there’s somewhere else more dismissive around the corner.
