Same old story but Deschamps' France march on
Manager At The Wire Match Arena 16 Dusseldorf France Pic: Potts/pa Round Nick Didier The Deschamps Following Of
A classic? Never in a million years. But most certainly a classic of the Deschampian genre.
A game which you wouldn’t dream of watching again but one we’ve all seen before. In Brasilia 2014; we all saw it close up in Bordeaux in 2016; the Belgians had got a first-hand look in St. Petersburg six years ago; the absurd Bedouin tent in Al Bayt saw it too. France, with all the riches in the world, mealy-mouthing their way through another knockout phase. You don’t have to love it. You probably don’t even have to respect it. But you have to live with it.
Kylian Mbappé and his team have yet to score a goal of their own from open play. But now just have three games to play here, a quarter-final against Portugal in Hamburg next on Friday night.
Where to start? Where Deschamps starts. All the way back. Defences win championships and in William Saliba and Dayot Upamecano he has what look the tournament’s best, probably the best remaining goalkeeper too, Jules Koundé and Theo Hernandez rounding out the rock solid foundations.
It ended five minutes from time but it all started with Saliba, sturdy as a load-bearing wall as Belgium’s maroon sofa tried once more time to roll back into him, Romelu Lukaku getting nowhere most of this Monday against the Arsenal defender, who was again imperious. Saliba stuck a toe in and won the ball and France broke. By the time it was on the edge of the other box Belgians were backing off and it would be fatal.
For quite possibly the only time all day, France had five men inside the Belgium box, Deschamps surely uncomfortable. Jan Vertonghen’s 37-year-old legs were unable to get him close to Randal Kolo Muani as N’Golo Kanté’s simple ball found the substitute. And that was enough, Vertonghen getting the final touch.
As the country back home appears perched on a precipice, there was nothing revolutionary about this version of France. Same old Deschamps.
A new week, a new month, Euro 2024 had stepped languidly into July. The bottom had reportedly fallen out of the ticket resale market. A stadium where Albania fans had bid multiples of face value to see their side against Spain last time out was now hosting its first knockout game but the tickets weren’t shifting. Smart money don’t burn money.
After a week of blissful tournament weather in the high 20s, temperatures had dropped significantly, trousers and even a jacket reached for. The atmosphere, decidedly Monday vibes amongst a middle class clientele, wasn’t great although the Belgians were doing their best to lift it. Overall, none of this felt promising.
But, come on — France, Belgium, Mbappé, De Bruyne. Surely were we in for a goal or two? The trends weren’t great, between the two of them just three scored from open play in six games here. The eyes scanned for omens. During warmups Mbappé curled three beauties up and over the bar, sailing into the sea of bleu behind the goal. At the other end Lukaku received a rapturous cheer for tucking a daisy cutter past back-up keeper Thomas Kaminski, who was concentrating on his stretches.
France had stretched out of bed Monday morning and into a national crisis, consumed by a gamble which had backfired spectacularly, Emmanuel Macron’s snap election call opening the door to Marine Le Pen’s far right who dominated the first round of voting Sunday, the urgings of a series of French players (all of them, pointedly, Black or mixed race) for their public to reject the hate-mongers clearly ignored by many.
It left Macron and his allies calling for tactical voting, withdrawing candidates, desperation moves ahead of next Sunday’s second round. Deschamps’ players may help play a part in underlining the urgency of it all. But only if they’re still here, still culturally relevant.
Deschamps is not a gambler. Know when to hold ’em? Je ne sais pas. He folded three central midfielders into his engine room and watched Kanté, Aurelien Tchouameni and Adrien Rabiot mostly suffocate anything which smelled like urgency.
A nation staring at a future without a political centre got another pretty good look at an attack without one too. Marcus Thuram and Mbappé were hanging on the tramlines, Antoine Griezmann too deep. For 20 minutes they would string together 30-odd passes and then reach for increasingly bizarre, trickshot final balls. A Griezmann nine-iron into a space that wasn’t there, a Koundé looper to the last lick of paint on the back post, where no one was.
Was this was Belgium’s revenge for 2018 when France sat deep for an entire St Petersburg semi-final night and ground out a 1-0 win with a set-piece goal? Perhaps. But they looked good when they broke, which was all too rare, De Bruyne’s deep role keeping him on the edge of the wrong box.
Beside the ’s perch in the press box, an impossibly French man bellowed "Joeur, jouer, peut être! Sacre bleu.” Central casting? Yes. Spot on? Also yes.
But this is the stuff that has got France back to the promised land. Deschamps assembling his team of rich, young and varied talents, moulding and repressing them into Les Utterly Misérables and bringing them a World Cup triumph and two other major finals.
Now, another A familiar quarter-final is theirs. In the immediate aftermath some were reaching for the comparisons with Gareth Southgate and his English jail-breakers. No, no. This was all Deschamps. And Saliba too. We can expect more of the same.