Empty bottles and leftover pizza litter the floor. Sports trophies were thrown on the ground. Eric Cantona comes out of the shower. The look he gives to the mirror is hard. After buttoning his shirt, he carefully sticks a bandage to the base of his thumb and swallows a long swig of alcohol. While waiting for the door of a pavilion in the suburbs of Dax (Landes) to open, the colossus nervously scratches the gauze on his finger. A gesture that he already made as a teenager, curled up in his bed.
