July 12, 1998: Final of the soccer world cup

What a day, my friends!

Even if I was only 14 years old, I remember that day like it happened yesterday. On the day of the final, I was on summer vacation camping with my cousins in Gap.

During the whole afternoon, we have played soccer with young foreign tourists. There were English, German and Dutch people who used to spend their summer break in the French Alps.

At 7 pm, we decided to dress up then meet in front of Dede's mobile home, the oldest camper who had kindly invited us to spend the evening there. He was an old retired man of 65, bald with a huge mustache, which reminded me of Asterix. He lived almost all year long in the campsite although he owned a house which was only 2 kilometers from here.

After we had showered, we walked into the site towards Dede's terrace to meet a group of 25 people. The pressure began to rise in this small village which gradually became animated and colored in blue, white, and red, rocked by the cicada song that had planned to follow us throughout the night.

As soon as we reached our destination, Dede asked us to have a beer, which we took. He didn't know how old we were as we didn't want to tell him. It was the first time in my life that I drank alcohol, but the event made me feel tempted. I've had a few more since then, lol.

Our standing bodies were more and more excited as the game came closer. With the TV on, everyone was making comments and predictions while listening to Thierry Rolland and Jean Michel Larqué. There were chips, pizzas, cold cuts brought to us by a local producer, and many other things that would make us thirsty.

The starting 11.

At 9 pm sharp, the game finally got underway. All our eyes were staring at this old 50 centimeters big luminous screen which is not sold anymore in shops. We were a bit tense until the 27th minute until that magic header from Zinedine Zidane, which delivered us and set us on our way to success.

The first goal by Zinedine Zidane.

This headbutt caused a crazy explosion of collective joy and euphoria that location number 27 still remembers. Even olives, peanuts, and pickles jumped and danced on their plates, beers and other beverages asked us to drink them to celebrate the first goal of the evening. Yeah, yeah, I'm not lying! That's what has occurred, as shown in the picture.

Olives and pickles.

The pressure came down with this score, our group of supporters gained confidence. We told ourselves that we had to hold on to the result and thought that the team was quite capable of doing so. We were not worried by the few opportunities of the Brazilian players. A few minutes later, we have been taken over by frustration after Stephane Guivarch had failed the target alone in front of the goalkeeper, once again. We wondered why the coach insisted on playing him when he had failed at everything he had attempted. Then, as we were getting ready for half-time, our best player Zidane, jumped again and scored an unstoppable headshot that sent the whole camp to the stars.

All the spectators hugged each other, kissed each other, and congratulated themselves in front of this incredible show we had dreamed of for several weeks of competition. When the game resumed, the sausage and the ham did the ola at each touch of the French players' balls while the pistachios came off their shells, so much they felt the heat of this sweet July summer night. The referee's whistle sounded the break.

Zidane, after his second goal.

It was time for Dede, the nutritionist, to make some tactical changes regarding food and drink. It seemed very important to us to add new energy to the second half to keep the result we had acquired. For this reason, the snacks went out, replaced by the cheeses that we believed could improve the possession of the ball. As for the dead bodies of empty beers, they turned out to be substituted by red wine bottles, which we thought would be more effective on the counter-attack.

The second half began after the sun had turned to the moon in the immaculate sky of bright stars illuminated the top of the tiled terrace's trees on which we spent the evening. The first 20 minutes were to the advantage of the Brazilian players who tried to score to compensate for their deficit. Unfortunately for them, they faced Fabien Barthez, who was very successful, as on this close range shot of Ronaldo, who had had a medical problem during his nap in the afternoon.

The 67th minute gave us cold sweats when the referee sent off Marcel Desailly after he had tackled an opposing player. I was shocked and frightened by this stupid move that made us finish the last 25 minutes reduced in number. Today, I still wonder what was going through his mind to make something so silly at that moment.

In the last 10 minutes, Brazil's domination became more intense. We held our breath and waited impatiently for the referee to whistle at the end of the game, so much the opportunities of Brazil were more and more dangerous, like this shot (89th minute ) on the crossbar of Denilson. And then, further to a counter-attack (92nd minute), Emmanuel Petit, faster than the defender, scored the last goal with a left-footed shot and offered us to celebrate this great success.

We did it! We are world champions for the first time in our history. We extended the evening until 3 pm, before going to bed with our eyes filled with stars for having lived this unforgettable moment.

The French team celebrates the final victory.

Written by Lionel.