The Rise of Zinedine Zidane: From Promise to Legacy

Zinedine Zidane’s initial appearance in the French national team was almost serendipitous. His selection for the friendly match against the Czech Republic was a last-minute choice by coach Aimé Jacquet, motivated by an injury to Youri Djorkaeff and facilitated by the match’s location in Bordeaux, where Zidane was plying his club trade.

Upon entering the pitch, Zidane joined a squad still heavily influenced by the previous generation’s icons, such as Eric Cantona. The contrast was palpable; French football was struggling, and this young player, exuding an almost anachronistic elegance, seemed to rise above the prevailing gloom.

Zidane’s two goals ignited a wave of optimism. In a nation still reeling from the departure of Michel Platini’s era, Zidane was seen as the long-awaited successor—the figure capable of mending the wounds inflicted by the infamous defeat to Bulgaria.

However, the situation was more intricate than it appeared. While Zidane’s individual brilliance was clear, the national team remained a fragile assemblage requiring complete renovation. Jacquet was acutely aware of this reality. Rather than yielding to the surrounding euphoria, he refrained from immediately entrusting his young prodigy with a leading role. Following his explosive debut, Zidane found himself back on the bench for subsequent matches.

This careful approach conveyed a vital lesson: even extraordinary talent must integrate into a broader collective vision. Although the media recognized Zidane as an exceptional player, they still depicted him as inexperienced and not yet ready for leadership. The brilliance showcased in his debut created soaring expectations, yet that pressure would become both a blessing and a burden.

After the promise of his debut, Zidane encountered difficulties in finding consistency with the national team. His performances were often erratic, sometimes described as lackluster, with little influence on the game. This previously invisible genius struggled to assert himself, leading to discussions in the media about a potentially wasted talent, as initial hopes turned into disillusionment.

Euro ’96 in England was meant to be Zidane’s tournament, the stage for him to emerge as the technical leader of Les Bleus. However, he became emblematic of the challenges the team faced instead. Largely anonymous throughout the competition, Zidane failed to impose himself, earning the title of a major disappointment in the eyes of international critics. France, relying on a robust defense, reached the semi-finals, but Zidane’s playmaking contributions were minimal, leading to growing skepticism regarding his ability to elevate the team.

What few knew was that Zidane was battling injuries, having been involved in a serious car accident shortly before the tournament. His rented BMW suffered significant damage, and Zidane sustained a contusion and a painful hematoma after striking the gearstick during the crash. Despite this, he played the entire tournament at far less than full fitness, which reframed perceptions of his performance and turned a mere sporting setback into an act of quiet resilience. Jacquet’s unwavering faith in Zidane, which many deemed incomprehensible, was not reckless but rather a testament to his understanding of Zidane’s struggles.

Jacquet was more than a coach; he was a visionary. When he assumed leadership of the national team in late 1993, he had a clear objective: to build a squad capable of winning the World Cup on home soil in 1998. His approach diverged from the flamboyant football of the 1980s, emphasizing defensive solidity, collective discipline, and meticulous planning to minimize uncertainties.

In pursuit of his vision, Jacquet made the audacious and controversial choice to phase out the icons of the previous generation. Players like Cantona, David Ginola, and Jean-Pierre Papin gradually found themselves on the sidelines. Jacquet believed Cantona’s style clashed with his tactical plans and that Ginola disrupted the rhythm he sought.

This decision drew fierce criticism from the media, which accused Jacquet of stifling the beauty of the game. Nevertheless, the coach remained resolute in his conviction about the team’s future core.

Central to the new France was Zidane. Jacquet recognized in him not just raw talent but the potential for silent leadership and the ability to uplift those around him. He explicitly stated to Zidane, “It’s with you that I’ll prepare for these competitions.” The entire team structure was designed to provide Zidane with the security and freedom essential for his development.

Their relationship transcended mere professionalism; it had paternal qualities. Zidane, characterized as a sensitive young man in need of support and confidence, found in Jacquet the ideal mentor. This trust, often perceived as blind by critics, became foundational to the 1998 project. Jacquet understood that to win, France required not solitary stars like Cantona but a conductor.

On October 11, 1995, in Bucharest, France faced a critical challenge: a Euro ’96 qualifier against a Romanian squad that had not lost at home for five years. That evening, Jacquet’s vision truly began to take form.

In that hostile environment, Zidane delivered his first masterclass in the blue jersey. He was pivotal in the 3-1 victory, providing a magnificent assist for Christian Karembeu and later scoring the third goal with a stunning half-volley. This match marked a breakthrough, as the player of immense promise finally emerged as a decisive leader on the international stage.

If Romania highlighted Zidane’s individual brilliance, the new creative identity of Les Bleus was forged through his partnership with Djorkaeff. Jacquet’s intuition to center attacking strategies around this duo paid dividends, culminating in a historic 10-0 triumph over Azerbaijan, where Zidane and Djorkaeff contributed to seven of the ten goals.

Their complementary playing styles flourished within Jacquet’s 4-3-2-1 system, with Zidane positioned on the left to dictate the tempo, while Djorkaeff operated as a direct and incisive finisher on the right. Despite media attempts to create a rivalry, Zidane firmly rejected the notion of their incompatibility.

Between 1995 and 1998, Zidane and Djorkaeff appeared together in 34 matches for France, achieving 25 wins, nine draws, and no losses. Combining for 22 goals and 21 assists, this partnership exemplified Jacquet’s philosophy. By distributing creative responsibilities between two players, he avoided reliance on a single star and maintained the collective balance he valued.

Zidane did not begin the 1998 World Cup as a lionized figure. His performance in France’s opening match against South Africa was decent, highlighted by an assist from a corner, yet he was not yet the standout player everyone anticipated.

It was during the second match against Saudi Arabia that tensions escalated. While Les Bleus held a comfortable 2-0 lead, a frustrated Zidane stamped on Saudi captain Fuad Anwar, receiving an instant red card. This incident revealed a darker aspect of his temperament, making him the first French player to be sent off in World Cup history. Following the match, he was publicly reprimanded by captain Didier Deschamps, though this volatile side would resurface infamously eight years later in Germany.

The punishment was harsh: a two-match suspension, meaning Zidane would miss the final group match and the round of 16, jeopardizing his standing within the squad.

In the knockout stage against Paraguay, France struggled against a staunch defense, achieving qualification solely thanks to Laurent Blanc’s ‘Golden Goal’ in the 114th minute. Had that goal not materialized, Zidane would have faced the wrath of the nation, potentially becoming the scapegoat for a humiliating exit on home terrain.

His situation echoed that of England’s David Beckham in the same tournament; sent off for a rash act against Argentina’s Diego Simeone, Beckham’s team suffered elimination and he found himself the target of national vitriol, including death threats. The Daily Mirror’s infamous headline—”10 Heroic Lions, One Stupid Boy”—underscored the fate Zidane narrowly avoided, where a single goal separated triumph from disgrace.

This trial, paradoxically, fortified the France team, which demonstrated its resilience in his absence, paving the way for his eventual redemption.

On July 12, 1998, the Stade de France anticipated a coronation, though not for the home team. Brazil, the reigning champions led by the legendary Ronaldo, arrived as the favorites for the final.

The atmosphere was electric, charged with the hopes and anxieties of a nation, especially following Ronaldo’s mysterious seizure hours before kickoff. By full time, however, the headlines belonged to one man.

Zidane, returning from suspension, chose this stage to etch his name into legend, utilizing an unlikely tool: his head. In the 27th minute, he soared from an Emmanuel Petit corner to send the ball into the net, causing the stadium to erupt. In first-half stoppage time, the script repeated, this time from a Djorkaeff corner.

In just 45 minutes, Zidane had sealed both the match and his own legacy. The player known for his inconsistencies had evolved into a commanding leader, delivering his most pivotal performance at the most critical juncture. Unsurprisingly, he was named Man of the Match.

Petit’s late goal secured a comprehensive 3-0 victory, marking France’s first World Cup triumph. At the final whistle, jubilant crowds flooded the Champs-Elysées in a national celebration, rejoicing in a team that mirrored the diversity of French society. Zidane’s image, projected onto the Arc de Triomphe, became a symbol of a triumphant France, with two words immortalized: “Merci Zizou.”

The essence of his goals was significant; they were not individual feats but the result of collective effort, epitomizing Jacquet’s philosophy. The greatest soloist had reached glory through the strength of his ensemble.

Zidane’s 1998 victory was not an end but a new beginning. On that historic night, the once-reserved player transformed into a global icon, a leader whose authority and charisma were now firmly established. He later reflected, “It changed my life, completely.” This triumph marked the true inception of his reign.

Under Zidane’s stewardship, French football entered a golden era. They followed their World Cup success with another title at Euro 2000, where Zidane was named Player of the Tournament. In 2006, Zidane, having come out of retirement, propelled a seemingly unremarkable team to the World Cup final, showcasing his enduring influence.

Zidane’s legacy transcends the football field. As the son of Algerian immigrants raised in the La Castellane estate of Marseille, his triumph became a potent symbol for a multicultural France in search of role models. He emerged as an intergenerational icon, a near-mythical figure capable of uniting a nation.

His journey from 1994 to 1998 imparts a universal lesson: genius is not an innate endowment but rather a quality forged through challenges, nurtured by trust, and tested by adversity. Absent the doubts of his early years, Jacquet’s unwavering confidence, and the near-disgrace of the red card, the legend of Zidane may never have been realized.

The shadows cast over his ascent were not mere obstacles but essential components of his journey. In a world demanding instantaneous, flawless success from prodigies, Zidane’s narrative serves as a powerful reminder that greatness often stems from gradual, arduous, and profoundly human endeavors.