Just three days away from the eighth anniversary of that glorious evening when a certain Zinedine Zidane buried two headers into the back of the Brazilian net, Les Bleus tripped at the  very last hurdle. Having completely outgunned the Italians, having outplayed the Italians, outpassed them...they just couldn't repeat the heroics of 1998. There was no moment of magic such as David Trezeguet's dramatic overtime goal that sealed France's Euro 2000. Fate had already guaranteed Italy their Fourth Title, and Zidane's dreadful sending-off only relayed that message. It was just simply not meant for France to win.

Yet even having committed that ugly incident, Les Bleus can go home proud of themselves and of the imprint they left in Germany, proud of their accomplishments and fulfillment of their goal. They were digne de la victoire. Ever since that very day when a little-known astrology buff by the name of Raymond Domenech - a man with barely any coaching experience - took charge and vowed to take France to the Final, they have fought, struggled, rejoiced, and suffered together - they were a team, a unit, inseparable by defeat or hardship, unfazed by challenges or obstacles that lay in their path to the pinnacle of sporting glory.

And through this bond of brotherhood they sent the biggest guns in world football crashing out of the tournament one after another, first Spain, then Brazil, and finally Portugal. Once the machine was oiled and the components began to click, there was no way of stopping it. Like Napoleon's Grande Armee they conquered all that lay between them and magnificence, and spread the legacy of the Kings of '98 so that the sheer might of la patrie could reverberate around the world. It was a pity - not just a pity but a tragedy - that this golden period of French footballing history  must have ended in sorrow.

For the Italians, it was a victory long overdue. They were robbed of glory in '90, '94, and '98 on penalty shoot-outs. In 2002, poor refereeing decisions granted hosts South Korea passage to the quarterfinals, leaving frustrated Azzurri fans asking themselves in disbelief what more was needed to replicate the successful 1982 campaign. Once the Juve scandal exploded, people immediately sought the ghosts of '82 for guidance. And with defensive grit and deadly efficiency up front, the Italians too, like France, left opponent after opponent rotting in the dust. Ghana, the Czech Republic, Australia, Ukraine, Germany...all felt the brunt of Italian Calcio.

The best two teams of the tournament fittingly met in the World Cup Final, the match of all matches. After equalizing in the 19th minute the Italians lost control of the game and resorted to their demonic defending. The French attacked in waves, at times completely besieging that courageous defense, launching threats from both flanks, from the air, from Thierry Henry's pace and magical footwork. They pushed, they fought in sweat and blood, giving everything they had.

Yet in the end, that wall, so flawlessly marshalled by Fabio Cannavaro, never ruptured. On the few times where it did stumble, that goalkeeper of all goalkeepers, Gigi Buffon, was there to deny Les Bleus. Fate had decided to sink the French battleship, mere kissing distance from winning the World Cup. So simple,
So cruel.
 

There is no need to complain, that the referee was unfair and biased, or that the Italians took a few diving lessons from the Portuguese. The referee did the best he could, the Italians played their style. Rather, disconsolate fans out there should look to the future. They should look towards the new gems emerging from France's vast pool of talent. They should look to the new Zidanes, Thurams, Vieiras and Trezeguets. These veterans have handed down their experience, their legacy, to that new generation of French warriors, and have acted as role models for those eager youngsters.

Through the cherished era they left behind - the mazy runs of Zidane, the courageous defending of Desailly and Thuram, the sprawling saves of Barthez, the attacking flair of Pires and Djorkaeff, the impeccable tackles of Deschamps and Makelele, and the deadly finishing of Trezeguet - every Frenchman may say with the utmost pride, "Je suis Francais."