DIDIER Deschamps led France to a World Cup Final with a tough, resolute line-up. He did it as skipper in 1998. He’s done it again as manager in 2018.

His dour demeanour and his tentative style of play hasn’t particularly endeared him to either the media or the neutrals, but he’s a million miles away caring.

Spain, Argentina, Brazil and now Belgium all interpreted their version of the Beautiful Game. They all got handed their egos in a floppy World Cup hat. They’re all out, either embarrassed, humiliated or just plain awful. In their end, their attractive football proved less useful than a chocolate fireguard.

Deschamps deserves tremendous credit for denying the high-flying Belgians. For a few years now, N’Golo Kante, Paul Pogba and Blaise Matuidi have threatened to be the three Musketeers of midfield, unsurpassed in their industry. Much will be made of Kevin De Bruyne’s alleged lack of application, but he wasn’t allowed to play. Brazil granted him space. France didn’t. Their midfield trio were nigh on flawless.

France were always effective, but occasionally exhilarating too. Kylian Mbappe’s spin and back-heeled pass towards Olivier Giroud will be a much replayed World Cup highlight for years to come. It didn’t lead to a goal, naturally, as the move involved Giroud. He could be a striker who ends up winning a World Cup without scoring a single goal.

But Giroud very much defines Deschamps' France. The tireless striker knows he's an integral cog in the machine, very much a theme in this tournament, with England also reaching the semi-final as a collective rather than as a collection of glittering individuals.

Even then, there were moments of magic for France. An Mbappe dance through Belgium’s defence, an Antoine Griezmann flick, a deft headed goal from Samuel Umtiti and a couple of bendy saves from Hugo Lloris, the French are a team with no discernible weaknesses.

They’re beginning to look a lot like Deschamps’ France back in 1998 and we all know how that tournament turned out for the host nation. Indeed, that repetitive World Cup song is being sung everywhere, but perhaps in the wrong language. Twenty years after their triumph in Paris, the French believe football's coming home to France.

Based on Les Bleus’ form, pedigree and indomitable spirit, only mad dogs and Englishmen would bet against them now.

Neil Humphreys
Singapore’s best selling author and Football columnist