Somehow or other France managed to lose their opening qualifier 3-1 in Vienna. (This to the very same Austria who then went to Lithuania and the Faroe Islands on tour with Megadeath. The Austrians came home with only one point, but they make great party and met lots of pretty blond girls.) France has since only dropped two points, the result of a hard fought draw in Romania. Some would say a point gained. A 2-1 home win over Serbia was followed by two dour 1-0 home and away wins against Lithuania. Last week, France won 1-0 in Tórshavn in a game that could have been mistaken for a new age spiritualist retreat. Readers may begin to see a pattern developing here. Extracting thirteen qualifiers from this UEFA lot is not pretty. Even the French have become ugly.
FIFA’s website tends to accentuate the positive with respect to the current French outfit, noting their “potential” while reminding readers that “France has always enjoyed a more cyclical relationship with success”. We too could wax lyrical on the great goalscoring record of Just Fontaine, the “magic diamond” of Tigana, Fernandez, Giresse and Platini, as well as the champion achievements of Blanc, Desailly, Deschamps, Djorkaeff, Thuram, Zidane and Co. Thankfully, there is a more compelling story than the failure of a flaky French coach to harness France’s nouvelle vague. It is the story of the players themselves.
