The 2006 World Cup adventure didn’t begin with an explosion but a murmur of anxiety. France, ageing and lacking inspiration, scraped through the group stage with two draws, provoking immense doubt in their title credentials.
This team was saved from becoming a shipwreck by the providential return of veterans Claude Makelele, Lilian Thuram and, above all, Zidane. Emerging from international retirement a year earlier, his return was perceived as messianic.
“God exists and he’s returned to the French team,” declared Thierry Henry, but this phrase revealed a structural flaw, the team’s almost total dependence on a single man.
The final at Berlin’s Olympiastadion was the perfect stage for the maestro’s ultimate performance. In the seventh minute, Zidane opened the scoring with an audacious Panenka penalty, an outrageous gesture encapsulating his genius and absolute confidence. France dominated, and Italy defender Marco Materazzi would later acknowledge, without equivocation, Les Bleus’ superiority that evening. In extra-time, Zidane planted a powerful header that Gianluigi Buffon miraculously deflected. This was the moment the dream should have become reality.
Instead, in the 110th minute, Materazzi found himself on the ground. The incident that caused him to be there occurred away from the ball, a verbal provocation about Zidane’s sister. The response was lightning-fast, animalistic, a violent headbutt to the Italian’s chest. The red card was brandished; the image of Zidane walking head bowed past the trophy as he returned to the dressing room became iconic as part of a tragic defeat. Deprived of their guide, the team collapsed psychologically and fell on penalties.
The reaction, a state of national shock, was immediate. This act didn’t destroy Zidane’s legend in France, it rather added a layer of human complexity that made his legend even more powerful. But for the French team, the consequences were profound. ‘The Zidane Generation’ was over. The departure of the only man capable of holding the edifice together created a gaping power vacuum. Nobody was prepared to inherit the torch, and the seeds of Knysna were sown on the Berlin pitch.