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Spliffman's Blues.
It had all started off so well...
We went into the World Cup determined to prove our worth, and avenge the débâcles of 2002 and 2004, which had brought ridicule and shame upon French football. Several of my selection choices were criticized, such as the inclusion of young Franck Bertin (who didn't have a single cap to his name) or Jérémie Bréchet rather than Philippe Mexès. I made up some bullsh*t reason at the time, but the truth of it was that he called me a 'f***ing c***' when I took him off during one of the pre-competition friendlies. Instead of butting him in front of the TV cameras, I crossed his name out on the World Cup squad list. Not as satisfying, perhaps, but the pleasure of it lasted longer as the little tw*t moaned on and on in the press about it. Loser.
Pretty soon it was time to cross the Rhine and take on the world's finest. Our first encounter was going to be the toughest in our group, I knew. Our old enemies the Croats were in good form, and still smarting from the 1998 defeat and Lilian Thuram's first two goals for his country.
As it turned out, we were pretty lucky in that game. The teams seemed evenly-matched, but within 25 minutes we were two up thanks to a William Gallas penalty and a Pires header -yes, I was shocked too...Govou added a third on the hour and the team began to sit back. Within four minutes Bilic had made it 3-1 and the Croats were pushing hard. But to no avail -in the 74th minute a well-executed counter-attack ended with Zidane slamming the ball home, and it stayed 4-1 til the final whistle.
I was more relieved than delighted, and had a word or two with some of the players about not letting opponents dictate play. Anyway, we had a whole week til our next game, and plenty of time to work on our tactics. My tactics. A diamond 4-4-2, with Zidane allowed to roam freely in that attacking midfielder's position. The players seemed to take to it, and the balance of the team was good, so I refrained from tinkering with it.
Up next were the South Koreans, who no doubt had hopes of making it out of Group G. An unpredictable and hard-working side, but I was confident that we could outmaneuver them and make our chances count.
It started off pretty tensely, but the last third of the first half proved crucial. David Trezeguet celebrated his return to the team with two good goals, in the 33rd and 45th minutes, effectively forcing the Koreans to throw themselves forward in the second half. They came close a few times, but Zidane added a third after 55 minutes, and Henry eventually bagged a fourth in the 85th. 4-0 then, and eight goals scored in two games. It felt as though we were heading in the right direction, and it was good to be qualified already with a game left to play in the Group Stage.
So four days later I played the second string against Tunisia, and although things were a bit more sluggish than when Zidane and co. were running things, I couldn't complain. A Bréchet penalty on the hour, and a good strike by Stéphane Dalmat twelve minutes from time, gave us a comfortable, if slightly laborious, 2-0 win. We were going into the second round with three wins, and ten goals scored to the one conceded. Portugal would be a tough opponent, but there was no point in worrying myself with them overmuch. I sent one of the physios to spy on them, but he didn't tell me much that wasn't already obvious.
The Group Stages had been exciting; the unlucky Belgians, who got four points but just failed to make it through; the valiant Scots, who picked themselves up after a defeat to Brazil in their first game, and went on to qualify; the arrogant Germans, who thought they had it made and crashed out at the last minute, causing widespread dismay in the host country.
27th June. Second Round tie against Portugal. The atmosphere was electric, and the game started off at a very high pace. We edged forward in the 35th minute, David Trezeguet scoring his third of the competition. Portugal fought back desperately, but Sébastien Frey was equal to anything they could throw at him. The breakthrough came after 58 minutes, when Robert Pires put us two up. Portuguese heads went down, and we controlled the game until the end. 2-0 the final result, a good performance and another step closer to the dream.
The next side we would play was Holland, who had also been scoring quite freely. Their manager Chris de Bruijn was certainly getting excellent performances from Patrick Kluivert, which spoke volumes regarding his competence, and I had no doubt that for us the key would be to make the chances count.
On the day, however, the dice rolled against us. We started the game brightly enough, with good chances on both sides, but Holland went ahead when Kluivert scored in the 29th minute. Louis Saha got a good equalizer just before half-time, and coming back out onto the pitch for the second half, I felt we had a great opportunity to go on and win the game. More chances came, but we couldn't capitalize. I threw on Zidane and Pires, whom I'd rested and probably should have played from the start. But it was Holland who grabbed the winner, a clear penalty slotted in by Robben, after Frey had brought Davids down. Despite our frantic efforts to get an equalizer, Van der Sar put in an excellent performance and the Dutch defenders kept their heads. The game ended at 2-1 for Holland, and although I felt we'd deserved better, I couldn't really find it in me to berate any of the players.
Holland went on to win their first ever World Cup, beating Croatia in the final. If I had some regrets about the fact that we beat one of the finalists, and perhaps should have beaten the other, overall I felt my team had played some good football, and I derived a lot of pleasure from the experience of participating in a World Cup. It might be a while before I get another chance to win one, but winning isn't always the be-all and end-all. Or is it?...
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