
Poor France. Seriously, I feel for their fans. I haven’t always felt so. Back in 2002, I lived in the south of France when they were champions of the World, Europe and the Inner Solar System. Public opinion prior to the Japan/South korea World Cup was that you could have Pele, Maradona, Puskas, Cruyff, anyone out there and France would still win without breaking a sweat. The player’s faces were on every yoghurt carton, every soda bottle, every TV advert; Zidane was a god whose image was omnipresent; and that awfully catchy song by ancient Franco-Belgian pop star Johnny Halliday, “Allez les Bleus!” Such was Gallic confidence, you could buy their shirts with the second golden star already sewn on.
And then they went to the far east, and failed to score a single goal. They came home stunned; nobody could quite believe it. The bubble burst. Never again would the previously soccer-cynical French public let themselves get so carried away with expectation. Therefore, it was a bit of a surprise that they came within a headbutt of winning the trophy in 2006. Even more of a surprise, retrospectively at least, is that the manager that took them so close four years ago is the same one who is so universally reviled now, Raymond Domenech, who I attempted to draw above in my football journal.
What happened? I recall their pitiful display at Euro 2008, when he held a press conference not to explain the dismal defeats they had suffered, but to propose to his girlfriend. France had no confidence in him, and yet kept him on, knowing he’d be replaced after the World Cup with former player and favourite, Laurent Blanc. They scraped through a qualification play-off, thanks to a Thierry Henry handball, but in South Africa it all went ventre-up. Player revolts, Anelka being sent home, training ground bust-ups – other teams would give their right leg to play in this tournament and this is how they all behave? And then against host nation South Africa, Domenech refuses to shake the opposing manager’s hand. French football is in chaos. The French president himself is demanding answers from this shambles.
“Allez les bleus, en est tous ensemble,” sang Johnny Halliday, “allez les bleus, en est tous avec vous.” Not any more they’re not.