France’s sorry 0-2 defeat at the hands of Italy last night drew to a painful close an era in which they first strutted, then stumbled and, this year, limped through a succession of extraordinary major championship highs and lows.
The French got no more, or less, than they deserved for their lame participation in this year’s ‘Group of Death’. Only the most deluded
Bleu could claim otherwise.
A pitiful opener against Romania, followed by a 4-1 spanking by the imperious Dutch, and now this; a shambolic reverse in a destiny-deciding clash with their most familiar foes of the past decade.
Italy had failed to turn over their Gallic counterparts (without the aid of penalties) since the ‘78 World Cup. But from the moment makeshift centre-half Eric Abidal crudely clipped Luca Toni’s legs in the penalty box – conceding a penalty and a man advantage to the Italians – there was only going to be one winner in Zurich. In fact, you could make a convincing case that France’s last slim hopes of qualification had been extinguished some minutes earlier – with the departure, through apparently serious injury, of Franck Ribéry.
Ever since that glorious golden goal of David Trezeguet’s smacked decisively into the back of Francesco Toldo’s net at the denouement of Euro 2000, the French team has been in terminal decline. Sure, they miraculously reached the World Cup final just two summers ago, and were quite unlucky to lose, but they had ridden there on the coat tails of just one man. And it certainly wasn’t controversial coach Raymond Domenech.
No, it was the talismanic, charismatic last hurrah of their spiritual leader Zinedine Zidane which provided the impetus for that unlikely adventure. In the quarter-final, Zizou’s peerless display against favourites Brazil recalled his peak of some five or six years earlier. But, with his dramatic implosion in Berlin, the great man exited stage right; leaving a massive creative vacuum in the team, which was always going to be nigh-on impossible to fill.
But the other creaking elements of that French unit (namely Thuram, Makélélé and Vieira) were unaccountably retained for this current tournament, despite their rocky road through pre-qualifying.
The ‘revenge win’ over the Italians in Paris, just months after their Berlin loss, got proceedings underway with a swing, but, in the final analysis, could not disguise the fact that they succumbed not once, but twice, to a limited Scotland side.
It is, in fact, Domenech who is largely culpable for the depth of the French demise. He has manifestly failed in the task of marrying both old and new elements at his disposal. It was, undoubtedly, a task which even the most capable of coaches would have baulked at, but the obstinate astrologer has quite patently not made a good enough fist of it to stay onboard much longer.
Personality clashes with the likes of Phillipe Mexès and David Trezeguet significantly diminished the pool of talent from which he could choose, even if their exclusions were designed to reinforce his waning authority. OK, so neither player could be described as an angel who selflessly puts the team before all else, but it is hard to argue that either player’s inclusion would not have added an extra level of assurance and (in Trezegol’s case) firepower to an ailing side.
Similarly, the crazy omission of midfield energiser Mathieu Flamini – coming off the back of the season of his life, which earned him a profitable move to Milan – was indefensible.
For years now, even before his return to Serie A, Patrick Vieira has tangibly lacked the hunger and ferocious bite in his game – qualities which once made him the most imperious midfielder in the European game.
A clearly over-the-hill, perpetually-injured shadow of his former self; Vieira stumbled through Inter’s title-winning campaign and, when he reported for national duty injured, that should have provided Domenech with the opportunity to say ‘thanks for your fantastic contribution to the cause, but it’s time we moved on’. Instead, when Vieira ultimately declared himself available, poor Flamini was exiled – no doubt to a sandy beach somewhere in Mauritius.
Domenech’s ineffable persistence with another World Cup-winning legend -Lilian Thuram- was also a policy which returned to bite the coach in the nether regions this week. Thuram is a great professional; deeply admired in the French dressing room and, in his prime, one of the finest defenders of his era. However, the ex-Juve man has been in decline for some time now; his time at Barcelona characterised by a slew of judgment errors and spent mostly warming the bench.
To build a defensive unit around Thuram – relying heavily on the substantial talents of William Gallas to firefight his partner’s slip-ups – was a grave mistake. When, for whatever reason, Thuram declared himself unable to take part against the Italians, Domenech turned to left full-back Abidal to fill the gap. Thuram’s Barcelona team-mate looked every inch the fish out of water and received his marching orders essentially because his inadequacy in his adopted position was ruthlessly exposed by a simple Italian high, long ball. That his emergency replacement was one Jean-Alain Boumsong said it all about the coach’s baffling squad selection.
Last night’s calamity threw Domenech’s string of errors to light in the harshest, most unforgiving of arenas. So, they lost their playmaker early on and were a man short for over an hour, but the French could quite conceivably have lost by an even greater margin than against the Dutch. It was only the strangely off-colour performance of the Italian centre-forward - Beeb pundit Mark Lawrenson cutely dubbed his showing “more Swiss Toni than Luca Toni” - which spared France further humiliation.
By their palpably uninspired, disjointed efforts on the pitch it was easy to jump to the conclusion that what the French dressing room has lacked in harmony it has more than made up for in ego. Perhaps the ultimate super-ego himself, Monsieur Henry, could even have played his 102nd and final game for
Les Bleus, as his crippling sciatica problem can surely stand up to little further punishment. In any case, any new boss should welcome the departure of Henry and his fellow ’98 wonderboys, as their complacency has become perhaps the greatest impediment to further achievement.
Could ‘water-carrier’ extraordinaire Didier Deschamps return to the national set-up and re-install that
élan and
joie de vivre which so characterised the sides he captained to glory in both ‘98 and 2000? He is the pundits’ choice, though many still believe Jean Tigana should be given a long-overdue shot at the top job – but has the ex-Fulham boss’ chance already come and gone?
As something of a wildcard I’d suggest Marcel Desailly as a potential candidate. The former Milan and Chelsea giant has both the charisma and presence to instantly earn the respect of the upcoming Clairefontaine generation, and in his TV analysis (while sometimes a little one-eyed, it must be said) has proven he has learned much under the tutelage of Messrs Sacchi, Capello and, er, Ranieri. Sure, he lacks managerial experience, but with Jurgen Klinsmann, Slaven Bilić, Marco van Basten, and Mark Hughes numbering among Desailly’s playing peers that have gone on to (relatively)successfully coach their national sides with little or no senior experience under their belts, there are plenty of recent precedents.
Whoever takes charge – should Domenech take the bullet – they will undoubtedly face a mammoth rebuilding project, but can do so in the knowledge that the squad (hopefully) travelling to South Africa in 2010 will include stars such as Ribéry, Karim Benzema, Samir Nasri, Yoann Gourcuff and Hatem Ben Arfa.
From the stunning zenith of Euro 2000 to the stark nadir of this summer, the fortunes of French football have altered sharply. Nonetheless, hope lingers that a bright future might still lie ahead for the beautiful game in
La Belle Pays.
GK: Artur Boruc 
RB: José Bosingwa 
CB: Pepe
CB: Andre Ooijer
LB: Daniel Pranjic
RM: Darijo Srna
CM: Wesley Sneijder
CM: Torsten Frings
LM: Arda Turan
CF: David Villa
CF: Ruud van Nistelrooij 
