The moment Julien's exclusive interview with L'Équipe went live, it tore through France's social media platforms.
Mostly because Julien showed his face to the press so rarely these days.
"Julien! Go win that damn World Cup! We can't wait to see you lift the trophy!"
"That's right! Just fight! No matter who's across from you, we believe in you and in Les Bleus!"
"The title is ours, Julien—lead the brothers and charge!"
One fan wrote, he was clearly moved: "I grew up listening to World Cup stories. This time, please—bring the trophy home to France. Make all our dreams come true."
Beyond the fiery shouts of encouragement, even more fans were moved by what Julien had said—that he would fight for France's fans until the day he retired.
"Those last words of his—'until the day I retire—I'll fight for France, and for the French people'
—I actually teared up hearing that. Thank you, Julien, for giving your whole career to French football."
Of course —there was also the matter of "brotherhood football," which fans brought up again.
Ever since the concept of Les Bleus' brotherhood football had first caught fire, French fans had been deepening it ever since.
"Exactly. That's who we are—Les Bleus play brotherhood football. Everyone fights their heart out for the title. No individual heroics. Just brothers standing shoulder to shoulder."
"Julien, don't put too much pressure on yourself. Just go out there and play free. We'll be shouting for you from the stands, shouting for Les Bleus!"
"Messi's strong, sure. But we've got Julien, and a whole team that's united. What's there to fear? Let's go!"
"When you come back with that trophy, all of France will be cheering for you!"
That day, France and Argentina's pre-match press conferences were both held in Rio de Janeiro.
At the French press conference, facing reporters' questions, Deschamps said:
"Argentina is a world-class side, with a wealth of tournament experience, and a world-class core in Messi. Their counter-attacks are extremely dangerous. We have to stay fully focused—we can't afford to relax for even a moment."
When he was asked about his hopes for the title, Deschamps answered firmly, "Every team that reaches the final wants to lift the trophy, and we're no different. We'll be fully prepared, give everything we have to every minute of the match, and try our best to bring that title home to France to not let our fans down."
When asked about the Julien-versus-Messi angle, Deschamps offered only a few restrained response: "This is a contest between two teams, not between two individuals. We'll focus on our teamwork, and on the match itself."
Afterward, at Argentina's press conference, Sabella was equally reserved and cautious. Speaking of France, he made no secret of his admiration:
"France is a young and powerful side. Their attack has strong firepower, and their players are gifted especially Julien De Rocca. His performances at this World Cup have been stunning, and he's given our defence a great deal to worry about."
On Argentina's goal for the final, Sabella was just as resolute, "We've put in so much effort to get to this title. Every step, from the group stage to the semifinal, has been hard-won. We want this championship. We want to bring glory to Argentina. From here, we'll give everything, get every detail right, and fight to win the match."
He was asked whether Di María would be able to play, Sabella said in reply: "We've made full preparations. Ángel will be in the squad. Every player will give it everything he has."
After the press conferences ended, that night, Deschamps gathered the whole squad and made a point of stressing.
"For the time we have left, everyone stays away from their phones and electronics. Put the noise from outside out of your minds. Rest well, and get your body and mind into the right state. Finals are often decided by the details—proper rest and a steady mind matter more than any extra training session."
The players nodded, one after another, in agreement.
They handed over their phones and other devices on their own, then sat around chatting, playing cards, that sort of thing.
By nine o'clock that evening, they had all returned to their rooms on time to rest.
The night passed without incident.
On the day of the final, the players woke early. Over breakfast, greeting one another, you could see it on every face—a touch of the nerves that come before a big match.
Julien was no exception.
The more you want to win, the more you're afraid to lose. And the more afraid you are to lose, the more nervous you get.
That's only natural.
Time slipped quietly by. By three in the afternoon, only an hour remained before the World Cup final kicked off.
The Maracanã in Rio de Janeiro had already been set alight by the fans' passion.
Outside the stadium, fans from every corner of the world had gathered, their cheers and songs ringing out through the streets, carrying all the way to the inside of the stadium.
Gradually, inside, there wasn't an empty seat to be found.
The stadium announcer had already begun reading out both teams' lineups. Every name drew a wave of frenzied cheers from the corresponding fans, the atmosphere growing more intense with each one.
Just then, the players of France and Argentina stepped out through the tunnel, one after another, and came onto the pitch for the pre-match warm-up.
The moment Julien walked out onto the Maracanã wearing the number 10 shirt of France, the stand packed with French fans erupted in thunderous cheers.
"Julien!"
They chanted his name as if singing praise to a god.
On the other side, Messi's arrival sent the cheers from the Argentine fans to their peak.
Both sets of players warmed up in earnest—passing, shooting, stretching while up in the stands, the fans kept up their chanting, waving their flags without pause.
As the players warmed up, the atmosphere in the stadium climbed, bit by bit, toward fever pitch.
Everyone was waiting.
Meanwhile, in France, fans across the country who couldn't make it to the stadium were watching the broadcast through every channel available to them.
Some watched in public squares, in bars, and other places like them.
Others gathered with a few close friends, or with family, to watch the broadcast together at home.
Over the broadcast, the voice of commentator Alphonse came through. "Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to France Télévisions. We're live from the Maracanã in Rio de Janeiro, about to bring you the ultimate showdown of this World Cup—France versus Argentina..."
"This is a match that needs no extra elaboration. Both teams have weathered trial after trial to stand here today.
Argentina beat the Netherlands on penalties in the semifinal, showing tremendous mental strength and more importantly, they have Lionel Messi, a superstar who has won every honour the club game has to offer, and who now wants a World Cup title to complete his career..."
"Our own Les Bleus are a young side, full of energy, with a squad at full strength and no significant injury concerns—that's one of our biggest advantages.
Deschamps' tactics are pragmatic, his players combine seamlessly, and the sudden rise of Julien has given this team a soul all its own.
He is, without question, the single biggest storyline of this World Cup, and his head-to-head with Messi will be the biggest thing to watch in this match.
On one side, a star rising fast in the football world. On the other, a legend already enshrined among the greats.
Their direct confrontation will decide more than just the result of this match—it will shape where the landscape of world football goes from here..."
Alphonse paused, then continued,
"I have to be objective—Argentina's counter-attack is a strong threat. Their back line, led by Mascherano, is rich in experience, and Romero's saves in the penalty shootout left a tangible impression.
And according to the squad list announced before the match, Ángel Di María—Argentina's wing-play core, who missed the semifinal through injury has finally made the substitutes' list. It's still not certain whether he'll actually take the field, or whether, in whatever limited time he gets, he can make a difference for Argentina.
But his presence alone gives Argentina's attack that much more possibility.
Right now, I believe every French fan feels the same question I do, sitting here—can we finally make up for the heartbreak of 2006?
Do you remember the 2006 World Cup final in Germany? We lost on penalties to Italy—Zidane's red card, Trezeguet's spot-kick off the crossbar—it became a wound that so many French fans have never been able to heal.
Eight years have passed. Once again, we stand on the field of a World Cup final. This time—can we seize the moment, lift the trophy, and make peace with that old heartbreak? Can we bring long-overdue glory home to French football?"
Alphonse's commentary went on. And at that moment, the broadcast camera began to sweep slowly across the stands of the Maracanã, one familiar face after another was coming into view.
There were legends from both teams, legends from Brazil, and a scattering of other celebrities who had come to watch.
As the camera kept sweeping across the stands, one familiar face drew a roar from the French fans.
Zidane.
The tragic hero of the 2006 World Cup, his expression looked calm now.
Elsewhere, Maradona was in the stands too, drawing his own wave of cheers from the Argentine fans. This was their football king.
Their national hero.
In that era, in that context, even though Maradona hadn't won that many titles across his career, beating England alone had been enough to send the Argentine people into a frenzy of adoration for him.
Soon, the pre-match warm-up came to an end.
Both teams of players returned once more to the locker rooms to get ready.
The French locker room.
As captain, Julien was the first to rise and speak.
His gaze swept over every teammate, one by one.
The locker room, which had been a little noisy, fell silent at once. Every pair of eyes turned to him.
This twenty-year-old had already become the spiritual backbone of this French team.
Julien took a deep breath and said, slowly,
"Brothers, this is it—the battlefield we're heading into. I know everyone's got nerves, and everyone's got hopes riding on this. But here's what I want to say: don't overthink it. Just play like yourselves. Out there, run more, pass and cut more, bring out the chemistry we've built in training. Don't get rattled over one mistake, and don't force it just because one chance comes your way.
If you're ever out there and you don't know what to do—don't hesitate. Just pass it to me.
I'll create something for us."
Hearing this, everyone burst out laughing.
Pogba even laughed and said, "Relax, Julien—even if you hadn't said it, we'd have done exactly that. None of the rest of us has the kind of confidence it takes to go one against many, the way you do."
Julien nodded and went on, "We're a team. We're the kind of team that plays brotherhood football. No matter what happens out there, we stand together, we trust each other.
Remember—we're not fighting alone out there. There are hundreds of thousands of French fans behind us, supporting us. We're playing for them. We're playing for France!"
As Julien's words fell, his teammates all looked up, nodding firmly in response.
"Yeah!"
"No question!"
At that, Deschamps stepped up beside Julien and gave a few short instructions: "Remember what we set out before the match—pull back and cover on defence, stay flexible with your runs on attack. Focus on every pass, every defensive action. Don't let outside noise get to you. Stay calm, and give it everything. I believe in you. I believe in this team."
The players nodded again.
Then, Julien reached out first, palm down, and said to everyone, "Come on, brothers. Together. For France!"
Griezmann was the first to step forward, laying his hand on the back of Julien's. Right after him came Pogba, Kanté, Valbuena, and the rest, crowding in one after another.
Hand after hand stacked tightly together.
The mood in the locker room caught fire in an instant, every player's eyes burning steady as they looked at one another.
"One, two, three—France!"
Julien called it out first, his voice loud and clear.
"Let's go!"
Every player answered as one, the shout deafening.
"Allez, la France!!!"
Soon after, the players of France and Argentina, led by the officiating crew, walked out through the tunnel one after another and stepped onto the Maracanã pitch.
At that moment, the roar from the entire stadium hit its peak all at once!
The match was about to begin!
Both sides went through the pre-match rituals, step by step, as protocol demanded.
Afterward, the two captains came out for the coin toss.
As Julien walked toward the referee, he caught sight of Messi.
This was the first time he'd ever gone up against him.
The man in front of him was the idol of countless fans and, right now, his greatest opponent.
There was only one thought in Julien's mind: this was a World Cup final, and he did not want to lose even with Messi across from him, even knowing this contest was bound to be a hard one.
Across from him, Messi's expression was just as serious.
He didn't want to lose either.
The referee walked up to the two of them, coin in hand, and signalled that the toss was about to begin.
The referee flipped the coin. It spun through the air, carrying both teams' hopes with it, and finally landed.
Julien won the toss. He thought it over briefly, then chose to kick off.
Messi chose ends.
The two of them shook hands lightly, exchanging a faint smile.
With the toss finished, both men returned to their teams to wait for the match to begin.
Meanwhile, Alphonse had already begun walking fans through both lineups: "...Argentina are set up in a 4-2-3-1. Their starting eleven: in goal, Sergio Romero; the back four made up of Rojo, Garay, Demichelis, and Zabaleta; the double pivot in midfield is Mascherano and Biglia; and at the front, Enzo Pérez, Messi, and Lavezzi, with Higuaín as the lone striker up top..."
"France line up in a 4-3-3. Their starting eleven, as follows: in goal, Lloris; the back four made up of Evra, Varane, Sakho, and Debuchy; the midfield three are Pogba, Kanté, and Cabaye; and the front three—Giroud, Griezmann, and Julien..."
Inside the stadium, the moment both sets of players stood in place, the moment the eyes of the entire world settled on them, the moment the clock hit the mark—
Peep!!!
Referee Nicola Rizzoli blew the whistle that started the match!
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