Saturday 14 July 2018
Friday 13 July 2018
France 98 - Dispatch report from Paris, France
In early 1997, in Manchester, someone asked me: “So, how are
the preparations for the World Cup coming along? Is the tension mounting?” It wasn’t.
In fact, at the time it was dead calm.
Last Christmas a friend from London expressed his surprise that food
manufacturers hadn’t begun a huge promotional campaign for their products with
the tournament looming. “The peas, for example,
are really excellent in France,” he said.
Others were indeed making plans well in advance – my friend John had bet
on a French victory months before.
But personally, I didn’t really feel much. As a sociologist, perhaps I shouldn’t let
emotion cloud my view too much anyway, but simply analyse things. And since Euro 96, like many others, I had
frankly doubted the ability of the team to produce a style, on or off the
pitch, that we could identify with. We
are not like the English or Scottish, willing to dig around the grounds right
from the start of a campaign, with or without tickets, to support our national
team. French supporters need to feel that there’s something in it for them.
In the run-up to France 98, there were plenty of additional
factors which worked against any great upsurge of enthusiasm. There was the cost of the Stade de France and
the impossibility of finding a team worthy of the name to play there, as well
as a lot of fairly ugly manoeuvring by sponsors and the media. More significantly, perhaps, there was a
complete failure on the part of the organisers to involve marginalised groups
in the deprived suburban estates in any of the preliminaries. So for various reasons there was little sense
of anticipation until shortly before June 10.
 |
| Stade de France in construction - the cost totalled the equivalent of €290 million |
And then, a month later, with the French team victorious,
more than a million people were on the Champs Elysees, and all over France
there were scenes of wild jubilation. It
took me several days to return to reality, to get back into the swing of things
after a month spent on a little cloud, and to digest the implications.
As it turned out, this World Cup was indeed beautiful, even
taking into account the sometimes unpleasant reality of France and of
football. It had all the nice surprises
that you need to sustain the belief that football really is a beautiful game. Not necessarily great matches, but good
matches, rarely ruined by the high stakes, a little spoilt by refereeing that
was over-fussy or just plain wrong, but with a lot of great skill and technique
and fair play, and some great goals. The
extraordinary Japanese, like good school children, had bought the shirts of all
the French clubs to honour the host country.
There were classics involving Cameroon, Nigeria, Brazil and
Scotland. Away from the stadiums, the
atmosphere in the tower blocks for Morocco’s first match was electric. And in the streets and cafes something
extraordinary was taking shape for France too.
 |
| Scotland fans at Stade de France |
But there were also the classics involving English and
German hooligans. The former were
exactly what we expected: I mark my territory, I drink on my territory, I hit
whoever sets foot on my territory and I am helped by the opposing “fans,” in
this case the youths from the tough northern suburbs or Marseille and a few Olympique
Marseille ultras who took the opportunity to make their mark on their own town
centre.
The longer the tournament went on, the more the behaviour of
the French fans helped to foster an atmosphere of festivity rather than
aggression. But there again it took a
bit of time. When France met Denmark in
Lyon, any sense of occasion was limited to the station (the Scots were coming
back from St Etienne), the Place Bellecourt (where the giant screen was) and on
the road to the stadium. For the matches
involving Morocco, Tunisia and Iran, by contrast, there was a fevered
atmosphere in the districts where the majority of the inhabitants are north
African. Otherwise, everything was
normal.
But then the suburbs began to descend on the town centres to
watch the matches, and from France-Paraguay onwards things started to get very
exciting. At St-Denis there were two
World Cups. On one side there were those
who had tickets, those who wore ties and followed the signs held by elegant
hostesses bearing the names of the major sponsors, those who frequented the VIP
village. On the other side, all around
them, there was something like a carnival, made up of people who didn’t have
tickets but just wanted to be there to savour the big-match atmosphere, eating
sausages and chips and painting their faces, before going home to watch the
match on television or settling down in front of one of the big screens. The whole spectrum of people was to be found
in front of these screens: diehard football people, blacks, whites, Arabs, both
men and women, those who made the trip after congregating in the town square or
their usual café, all surrounded by traders selling exotic sandwiches and
T-shirts.
 |
| World Cup carnival - Brazil fans arrive for the final |
And things grew slowly.
France-Paraguay: everyone had enough space to put their bottle down next
to them. France-Italy: those who arrived
late were a long way from the screen.
France-Croatia: the roof of the disused factory that overlooked the area
was black with people. For France-Brazil,
there was no more space by five o’clock in the afternoon, and no more tiles
visible on the factory roof. Little by
little, France came round to the World Cup, to the pleasure of football, and to
the intensification of that pleasure that comes from getting behind your team.
Support for France, however, was never unequivocal. In the first round we tended to support the
small countries against the big ones. In
the second we chose France, of course, but also Brazil and Nigeria. Even on the day of the final many of the
young fans were sporting Brazilian colours.
But the game had captured the imagination of France, and for many, the
final was the icing on the cake. We had
nothing against Brazil, in fact it was the dream final. But then came the glorious surprise. We won!
Yes, France too can win the World Cup!
We, too, can enjoy one of those liberating days when you shake hands or
kiss people without knowing who they are, buy each other drinks, stay in the
crowd out on the streets without fear, find common feelings with people we will
never meet again. We were just elated
that everything – nearly everything – had gone so well.
 |
| Nigeria fans cheer on their team |
Afterwards, there was plenty of analysis of the events of
July 12. We talked, of course, about
victory for integration. With tricolours
flying we talked of a rediscovery of national pride, one which didn’t automatically
imply aggression or exclusion. We felt
that victory in football was a symbol of a better self-image for France. We rejoiced in the new values embodied by Aime
Jacquet and his team; the work ethic in the absence of a creative genius,
solidarity, discretion, modesty, awkwardness in communication. And we beat the National Front. Or at least, if it wasn’t a total defeat for
Le Pen and his followers, it certainly gave them no pleasure whatsoever. They heard the Marseillaise sung by people who are, for them, foreigners. And that was a joy to behold. Those who took part in these events, allowing
themselves to become immersed in the peaceful crowds, lived an amazing
experience.
 |
| Ready for the final - Frnech fans on the Champs de Mars |
What can we expect for the future of French football? Many young children will join clubs. Perhaps we will surpass last season’s average
First Division crows of around 17,000.
But it is not certain that we will see a huge increase. Because supporting France in the World Cup is
a completely different experience – the French team belongs to everyone, even
those who are not passionate about football.
As for the clubs, many people are not ready to take up the habit where
the territory still seems hostile. Maybe
we will see groups of young fans inspired by the events of July 12. But the pro-National Front feelings that are
present in many grounds will not disappear immediately, and spectators of Arab
or African origin, under-represented in the majority of French grounds, won’t
suddenly be going to watch Paris St Germain or Racing Club Strasbourg. Equally, it’s not certain that the increasing
number of female fans noticed during the World Cup will be carried over into
domestic games.
The realisation of the hopes expressed on the evening of
July 12, 1998 will depend on political responses to schooling, youth
unemployment, the fight against racism and inner-city politics, but also to
football. But even if those goals remain
out of reach, the euphoria of July 12 should never become a bitter memory as a result
– it was an experience worth savouring for its own sake.
(Extracts from A Beautiful World by Patrick Mignon, in the book Back Home: How the world watched France 98)
Thursday 12 July 2018
Tuesday 10 July 2018
France 98 - Dispatch report from Mexico City, Mexico
Mexico went to the World Cup looking to their supporters, like the chronicle of a quick return foretold, but instead ended up with a heroes' welcome after their first qualification for the second round in a finals held in Europe. Patriotic fervor first turned sour in November 1997, when 110,000 fans at the Azteca Stadium saw the home side draw 0-0 with a ten-man United States side in what should have been a routine CONCACAF qualifier. The fans got what they wanted as their derisive jeers were answered with the departure of coach Bora Milutinovic. His replacement, Manuel Lapuente, at first fared little better, even though Mexico finished top of the CONCACAF group. The fans were less than impressed with draws against Costa Rica and against European league sides. In the run-up to the finals the film Titanic was doing the rounds of Mexican cinema, offering an obvious nickname for a team which many feared would founder even when confronted with South Korea, let alone the looming European icebergs of Holland and Belgium.
But the newspapers were left clutching at new metaphors when Luis "Matador" Hernandez suddenly refound his killer instinct against Korea. Previously Hernandez's biggest contributions to the World Cup campaign had been the billboards plastered all over the country with his reclining figure and dyed blonde locks advertising underwear.
If Hernandez's two goals got the crowds roaring in front of the big screens in downtown Mexico City's baking colonial-era streets, the Korea match was also memorable for the unveiling by Cuauhtémoc Blanco - named after the last Aztec emperor who refused to surrender and was tortured to death by Spanish conquistadors - of which English-speakers now call the "Blanco bounce." As it turned out, Blanco's trick of grabbing the ball between his ankles and hopping over opponents' feet proved about as effective when it mattered as the flamboyant displays of defiance by his famous namesake.
Nevertheless, Mexico's bright start whipped the country into full-blown World Cup fever. Bars advertised special two-for-one offers to entice customers, although the time difference with France meant not a few arrived late for work and unsteady on their feet after liquid breakfasts. However, they did so in the almost certain knowledge that no one would mind, or even notice. Dealing on the battered local stock market slowed to a standstill as brokers took a break from dumping shares to watch the national side, the normally smog-laden air cleared as motorists forsook the 18-million strong capital's streets for safer havens by TV screens, and building-site workers downed pneumatic drills and piledrivers to hear the radio commentary.
However, not everyone in Mexico was enjoying the tournament. The night before the Korea game saw the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Mary Robinson, express concern over the "alarming situation" in poverty-stricken Chiapas, a state with a largely indigenous population at the southern tip of Mexico, near the border with Guatemala. Robinson spoke two days after a bloody clash between the army and alleged supporters of Zapatista rebels, who rose up against the government at the beginning of 1994. Eight Indians said to be Zapatista supporters and a policeman died in the clash at the village of El Bosque, adding a new atrocity to a conflict that has killed hundreds over the past four years. Several press columnists were of the view that the government deliberately upped the ante in Chiapas while the public's attention was diverted on the World Cup. Another clash earlier the same week between security forces and alleged guerrillas killed 11 in Guerrero, another poor southern state where many often do not have electricity, let alone televisions for watching football matches.
Whatever the government's intentions, the team were certainly doing their best to keep Mexico's mind off such uncomfortable reminders of reality for as long as possible. Their 2-2 draw with Belgium, after being two goals down, was widely seen as a moral victory, but still left the prospects of reaching the second round about as certain as clean elections back home - something you can occasionally glimpse in the distance, but never believe will be achieved.
Parish priests around this traditionally devoutly Catholic country began to call on divine help before the final group game against Holland, by dressing wooden figures of baby Jesus in Mexico's green, white and red strip. Many statues of Mexico's most revered religious icon, the Virgin of Guadalupe, wore a No 12 shirt to indicate her symbolic presence on the bench for the national squad. The Guadalupe fixation is significant, not simply as a religious symbol, but is also closely identified with Mexico itself - banners of the home-grown cult led Mexico's fighters for independence from the Spanish in the early 19th century. She is therefore the natural first port of call for payers to assist the national team.
The prayers seemed to be answered when Luis Hernandez scored his last-minute equalizer against the skeptical, rationalistic Dutch, and Mexico went collectively berserk. President Ernesto Zedillo was granted an almost instant post-match interview with manager Lapuente and his "matador"," courtesy of the pro-government Televisa network, which has a monopoly on broadcasting Mexico's international games. Zedillo, in a phrase more than slightly tinged with machismo proclaimed that Mexico's team had shown "they had size" to deal with the competition and that, once more, they had shown the conquering spirit with which Mexico could overcome its problems.
Critics were quick to point out that the Zedillo administration had not been conspicuously successful in showing the same conquering spirit, wallowing as it was in a controversy over $65 billion bank bailout and repeated budget cuts due to dwindling income from oil exports. Political columnists wondered whether Zedillo was trying to wrap himself in the national team's colours in a bid to bask in a brief glimpse of glory and recover some kudos for his party, which is struggling to retain the office it has held since 1929. On the very day of the Holland match, police admitted he had taken hundreds of thousands of dollars in bribes from drug gangs for protection. On that same day, police arrested the family of Daniel Arizmendi, head of a kidnapping ring which gained notoriety for slicing the ears off its victims and sending them to relatives to speed up ransom payments.
But who was going to stay at home worrying about the budget deficit or trivial cases of mutilation when there was a World Cup triumph to celebrate? Thousands poured into the city squares in a mad party as the war cry "yes, we can!" started by a TV station became "Yes, we could!" But the festivities soured in Mexico's central avenue, Paseo de la Reforma, when crowds battled with riot police blocking the way to the nation's Angel of Independence monument, the traditional site for celebrating national victories. Three press photographers had to be rushed to hospital suffering from head wounds after they were trapped under a barrage of missiles thrown by rioters.
The prayers of the faithful proved ineffective in the second round, as Mexico tempted fate by taking the lead and ceded the role of comeback kings to the ever-willing Germans. Still, Luis Hernandez came back to Mexico with four goals from as many games and a feeling that he might yet make a more successful excursion from Mexico than his recent inglorious time at Argentina's Boca Juniors.
With a little more nerve, Mexico might have claimed the prize that fell to Croatia of humiliating the Germans. On the other hand, they earned the thanks of a grateful football world by eliminating the dreadfully negative Belgians. And for the vast majority of Mexican fans, that was enough. Their team went down fighting and honour was restored. Or, as Manuel Lapuente put it: "We leave with out faces to the sun."
(Extracts from Onward Virgin Soldiers by Mike Mitchell, in the book Back Home: How the world watched France 98)
But the newspapers were left clutching at new metaphors when Luis "Matador" Hernandez suddenly refound his killer instinct against Korea. Previously Hernandez's biggest contributions to the World Cup campaign had been the billboards plastered all over the country with his reclining figure and dyed blonde locks advertising underwear.
 |
| Luis "Matador" Hernandez |
If Hernandez's two goals got the crowds roaring in front of the big screens in downtown Mexico City's baking colonial-era streets, the Korea match was also memorable for the unveiling by Cuauhtémoc Blanco - named after the last Aztec emperor who refused to surrender and was tortured to death by Spanish conquistadors - of which English-speakers now call the "Blanco bounce." As it turned out, Blanco's trick of grabbing the ball between his ankles and hopping over opponents' feet proved about as effective when it mattered as the flamboyant displays of defiance by his famous namesake.
 |
The "Blanco Bouce" in action against Germany
|
Nevertheless, Mexico's bright start whipped the country into full-blown World Cup fever. Bars advertised special two-for-one offers to entice customers, although the time difference with France meant not a few arrived late for work and unsteady on their feet after liquid breakfasts. However, they did so in the almost certain knowledge that no one would mind, or even notice. Dealing on the battered local stock market slowed to a standstill as brokers took a break from dumping shares to watch the national side, the normally smog-laden air cleared as motorists forsook the 18-million strong capital's streets for safer havens by TV screens, and building-site workers downed pneumatic drills and piledrivers to hear the radio commentary.
However, not everyone in Mexico was enjoying the tournament. The night before the Korea game saw the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Mary Robinson, express concern over the "alarming situation" in poverty-stricken Chiapas, a state with a largely indigenous population at the southern tip of Mexico, near the border with Guatemala. Robinson spoke two days after a bloody clash between the army and alleged supporters of Zapatista rebels, who rose up against the government at the beginning of 1994. Eight Indians said to be Zapatista supporters and a policeman died in the clash at the village of El Bosque, adding a new atrocity to a conflict that has killed hundreds over the past four years. Several press columnists were of the view that the government deliberately upped the ante in Chiapas while the public's attention was diverted on the World Cup. Another clash earlier the same week between security forces and alleged guerrillas killed 11 in Guerrero, another poor southern state where many often do not have electricity, let alone televisions for watching football matches.
Whatever the government's intentions, the team were certainly doing their best to keep Mexico's mind off such uncomfortable reminders of reality for as long as possible. Their 2-2 draw with Belgium, after being two goals down, was widely seen as a moral victory, but still left the prospects of reaching the second round about as certain as clean elections back home - something you can occasionally glimpse in the distance, but never believe will be achieved.
Parish priests around this traditionally devoutly Catholic country began to call on divine help before the final group game against Holland, by dressing wooden figures of baby Jesus in Mexico's green, white and red strip. Many statues of Mexico's most revered religious icon, the Virgin of Guadalupe, wore a No 12 shirt to indicate her symbolic presence on the bench for the national squad. The Guadalupe fixation is significant, not simply as a religious symbol, but is also closely identified with Mexico itself - banners of the home-grown cult led Mexico's fighters for independence from the Spanish in the early 19th century. She is therefore the natural first port of call for payers to assist the national team.
 |
| The Virgin of Guadalupe |
Critics were quick to point out that the Zedillo administration had not been conspicuously successful in showing the same conquering spirit, wallowing as it was in a controversy over $65 billion bank bailout and repeated budget cuts due to dwindling income from oil exports. Political columnists wondered whether Zedillo was trying to wrap himself in the national team's colours in a bid to bask in a brief glimpse of glory and recover some kudos for his party, which is struggling to retain the office it has held since 1929. On the very day of the Holland match, police admitted he had taken hundreds of thousands of dollars in bribes from drug gangs for protection. On that same day, police arrested the family of Daniel Arizmendi, head of a kidnapping ring which gained notoriety for slicing the ears off its victims and sending them to relatives to speed up ransom payments.
But who was going to stay at home worrying about the budget deficit or trivial cases of mutilation when there was a World Cup triumph to celebrate? Thousands poured into the city squares in a mad party as the war cry "yes, we can!" started by a TV station became "Yes, we could!" But the festivities soured in Mexico's central avenue, Paseo de la Reforma, when crowds battled with riot police blocking the way to the nation's Angel of Independence monument, the traditional site for celebrating national victories. Three press photographers had to be rushed to hospital suffering from head wounds after they were trapped under a barrage of missiles thrown by rioters.
The prayers of the faithful proved ineffective in the second round, as Mexico tempted fate by taking the lead and ceded the role of comeback kings to the ever-willing Germans. Still, Luis Hernandez came back to Mexico with four goals from as many games and a feeling that he might yet make a more successful excursion from Mexico than his recent inglorious time at Argentina's Boca Juniors.
 |
| Mexico 'keeper Campos in action against Jurgen Klinsmann |
(Extracts from Onward Virgin Soldiers by Mike Mitchell, in the book Back Home: How the world watched France 98)
Saturday 7 July 2018
France 98 - In Vision: Brazil v the Netherlands
"The stage couldn't be bigger, and he stands right at the centre of it now. Twenty-two seconds into the second half, Ronaldo makes it 1-0 to Brazil."
Thursday 5 July 2018
France 98 - A postcard from Paris
Dear Mum,
I'm loving life exploring France 98. Paris, where I am based, has been the perfect host, and the locals here are ecstatic about the competition. Footix, the World Cup mascot, is everywhere, and the French population have really taken the little cockerel to their hearts. Of course, it doesn't hurt the mood that the national team is doing so well, despite being taken to extra time by Paraguay in the second round, and all the way to penalties by a plucky Italy team in the quarter-finals. There's a feeling here that it's France's year, and they're all looking forward to the semi-final showdown against Croatia, the conquerors of Germany.
Naturally, you can't walk down a single road in Paris without some reminder of the tournament, and this is the same in all the other host cities, for this is a tournament that spans the length and breadth of the country - although sitting in my little Montmartre apartment, it's funny to think that 400 miles away on the balmy French Riviera, the people of Marseille have been enjoying the same spectacle.
So what next? Well we're moving into the semi-final stage now, and whilst the competition hots up, it's also tinged with the sadness that soon, this fabulous occasion will be at an end. Never mind, there are still four big matches to go: Marseille will see the mighty Brazil take on the Dutch on 7 July, whilst here in Paris the French take on Croatia on the 8th. We'll then see the last two matches on my doorstep - the third place play-off at Parc des Princes, and the final itself at the magnificent Stade de France.
It's funny now that I sit and write this, to imagine the festival of humanity that we've seen in the last few weeks. The sounds and colours of the whole world have been brought straight to us, and it has been a privilege and honour to celebrate football with so many others. In many ways, I feel like this particular World Cup will be so fondly remembered over the coming years - it may even be the best tournament of them all.
I'm loving life exploring France 98. Paris, where I am based, has been the perfect host, and the locals here are ecstatic about the competition. Footix, the World Cup mascot, is everywhere, and the French population have really taken the little cockerel to their hearts. Of course, it doesn't hurt the mood that the national team is doing so well, despite being taken to extra time by Paraguay in the second round, and all the way to penalties by a plucky Italy team in the quarter-finals. There's a feeling here that it's France's year, and they're all looking forward to the semi-final showdown against Croatia, the conquerors of Germany.
Naturally, you can't walk down a single road in Paris without some reminder of the tournament, and this is the same in all the other host cities, for this is a tournament that spans the length and breadth of the country - although sitting in my little Montmartre apartment, it's funny to think that 400 miles away on the balmy French Riviera, the people of Marseille have been enjoying the same spectacle.
So what next? Well we're moving into the semi-final stage now, and whilst the competition hots up, it's also tinged with the sadness that soon, this fabulous occasion will be at an end. Never mind, there are still four big matches to go: Marseille will see the mighty Brazil take on the Dutch on 7 July, whilst here in Paris the French take on Croatia on the 8th. We'll then see the last two matches on my doorstep - the third place play-off at Parc des Princes, and the final itself at the magnificent Stade de France.
It's funny now that I sit and write this, to imagine the festival of humanity that we've seen in the last few weeks. The sounds and colours of the whole world have been brought straight to us, and it has been a privilege and honour to celebrate football with so many others. In many ways, I feel like this particular World Cup will be so fondly remembered over the coming years - it may even be the best tournament of them all.
Wednesday 4 July 2018
France 98 - In Vision: Netherlands v Argentina
"After the second touch I knew this can't go wrong... You're in the moment. That's the feeling. After the first two touches... that moment. It's like your life had led up to that moment."
Dennis Bergkamp
Dennis Bergkamp
Tuesday 3 July 2018
France 98 - Quarter-final: Germany v Croatia
Saturday 4 July 1998
Stade de Gerland, LyonAnd so the quarter finals bring us here - perennial heavyweight Germany versus one of the world's newest countries, Croatia. Fresh from second-round victories against Mexico and Romania respectively, the two teams ran out at Lyon's Stade de Gerland, for what looked like being a juicy little affair.
40 minutes
Towards the end of an even half, German defender Christian Worns sees straight red for a high-studded challenge on Coratia's Davor Suker. Could this be a game-changer? Germany up against it now.
45+3 minutes
Germany on the ropes and desperate to keep it level as they claw through to half time. It is not to be. The ball is squared across the German box, and Robert Jarni takes one touch, before hitting a left-footed peach of a shot into the bottom right hand corner of the German net. The Croatian bench erupts.
80 Minutes
There have been great chances at both ends of the field, but the Croatian defence holds firm to maintain their lead. Oliver Bierhoff has a fairly good penalty appeal turned down, and Dietmar Hamann is denied by the post, before Croatia break away four-on-three, spread the ball right to Goran Vlaovic, whose low shot across the goalkeeper finds the bottom left hand corner for 2-0. Should German 'keeper Andreas Kopke do better?
85 minutes
An iconic goal from the Croatian legend Davor Suker! He picks up the ball on the left of the Germany penalty area, beats Ulf Kirsten and takes it to the byline, cuts back inside, and hits a low shot through the legs of floundering defender Jorg Heinrich. 3-0.
the final whistle signals the end of the greatest match in Croatian football history, as the newcomers waltz into the semi-finals in the most comprehensive fashion. No doubt Germany will come back far stronger next time around.
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