Paris savours France team worthy of gracing the city of light

A little after 11pm at a euphoric sweat-sodden Stade de France, the lights finally went out on this remarkable French side. The stadium was plunged into darkness, fireworks danced across the Paris sky and in the stands 75,000 fans danced with them. Through the pitch-black night, Antoine Dupont and his teammates peered upwards to enjoy the spectacle. The song playing over the speakers was Freed From Desire, and after 12 long years France have finally been freed from theirs.

It was brutal and it was draining and perhaps we should have expected nothing less. France’s grand slam was not just a victory for the 23 men in blue, or even for the nation they represent, a nation that has shed its thick cloak of scepticism and indifference and learned to love this team again. In many ways it was a victory for modern rugby itself, for valour and entertainment, for the idea that a team can be both art and science, discipline and invention, structure and chaos, past and future.

Yet the real gift of this side have been to escape the burden that has weighed down so many of their predecessors: the noise, the comparisons, the chain-mail of nostalgia. It was not a perfect performance by any stretch of the imagination. It was downright scruffy in parts, pock-marked by errors and missed opportunities. But through it all France never really seemed to relinquish their control or their composure. They counterattacked with purpose, trampled all over the rucks, largely succeeded in playing the game in the areas where they wanted to play it.

They slowed and quickened the game to their own liking. There was no better example of this than their crucial try just before half-time, when they pounced on an England side already going through the motions