Never has the dancefloor of Splash been so filled with passion, tears, love and bad dancing.

When David Trezeguet?s penalty rebounded off the crossbar onto the wrong side of the line, the Italian frenzy that had been threatening to explode all afternoon was unleashed.

A passionate people at the best of times, Bermudiana Road saw enough waving of arms in anger/frustration/delight/bewilderment and unadulterated joy in two hours yesterday to last it a lifetime.

Once the result was sealed, crazed fans from both the Wine Bar and Splash ? which was packed upstairs and down ? funnelled into the street where their flag-waving, singing and general hugging could be conducted over a wider area.

Some two hours earlier, there were no nerves, no tension, just lots of face-painted latins banging drums and getting excited.

They prepared to watch their Azzurri heroes full of hope and positive thoughts ? although, just for luck presumably, they also felt the need to pass a toad trapped by cellophane in a small, pink washing basket around the bar, no doubt some kind of comedy racial slur against the ?Frogs? of France.

The noise level dropped once kick-off time arrived, although the first shouts and general wild gesticulations of disbelief arrived with Zambrotta?s fourth minute yellow card.

This simmering of discontent worsened when the Argentinian referee gave a somewhat dodgy penalty, with hands being run through dark, curly hair all across what is normally the dancefloor in front of the giant screen at Splash.

There was unbridled joy when Zinedine Zidane ?missed? the penalty, with plenty of enthused Italians still hugging each other when the scoreboard had already ticked over to 1-0 ? the less drunk among them having to explain that the ball had actually gone in off the underside of the bar.

A cloud hung over the bar until Marco Materazzi headed home an equaliser, the drums beginning again almost straight away and continuing all the way through until half time.

Rather than listening to Nick Jones? analysis on ZFB, the Italian faithful instead chose to jump around the dancefloor, the normally fashion-conscious race not stopping to worry about spilt beer on their designer clothes or smeared face paint ruining their traditional chic.

As the game wore on, more and more headed to the nightclub, filling up all available space very quickly ? even Shaun Goater appeared to be having trouble finding a safe place to watch one of the many TVs and screens dotted around the Bermudiana Road hotspot.

There was a confidence emanating from the fans, boosted perhaps by Heineken ? fortunately served in plastic bottles as one of the less intelligent fans in the room thought it would be great to bang her drink against the wall only to be hit on the head by it on the rebound ? and defeat appeared simply not to be an option.

For the second time that afternoon, the fans went crazy when the Italians ?scored? midway through the second half, the exuberance continuing long after the French had taken their free kick for offside and, once again, some explanations were required to those giddy with excitement that it wasn?t actually good news for their team.

Like everyone else in the world, there was sheer confusion following the Zidane chestbutt ? even after the replay confirming his obvious guilt, no-one felt the need to shout abuse at a player bowing out in the worst possible way from a distinguished career ? although hopes of victory increased with the disappearance of the French talisman.

As the inevitable penalties approached, there was supreme confidence in the bar. No one even mentioned the possibility of defeat and ? even those clearly not Italian ? chose to follow the ?when in Rome? approach and wholeheartedly support the men in blue.

With the Italians shooting first, the tension didn?t last long, with every penalty scored being treated like the winner ? and then the real winner was fired home.

Tears the like of which Splash normally only sees from drunken, wronged women were pouring from the eyes of a variety of waiters from a variety of Italian eateries as the enormity of what their countryfolk had achieved became apparent.

This was Italy?s day and ? as everyone who dared venture into Hamilton or order takeaway pasta within a few hours of the final whistle would have realised ? they were determined to celebrate in style.