This scene had countless French fans on their feet.
The trophy ceremony was broadcast around the world, and once the champagne had been raised and drained—alongside the congratulations and exclamations for France, the victors—there was also sympathy for Argentina.
Some commentator gave his assessment: "The final whistle has blown—5-0. Argentina could not fulfil their dream at the Maracanã. The Pampas Eagles have suffered a crushing defeat on the biggest stage of all."
"Many will grieve for them, will ache at the sight of Messi's tears. But we have to admit—they ran into a stronger France, into a De Rocca who came out of nowhere.
Look back over this Argentina side's World Cup campaign and you'll see they are no longer the flashy, hollow team of years past. Yet their disciplined back line, for all its rigor, was breached again and again by the French attack."
"This Argentina team lacked the grace of recent tournaments—no dazzling passing triangles, no eye-catching flourishes in attack. But they resembled, more than anything, the 1986 Argentina side: a defence built on discipline, carrying them forward, with the attacking spearhead of their captain, the number 10, the genius Messi, cutting a path through every obstacle in their way.
But the football pitch has always been a contest of genius against genius.
Messi is a genius beyond doubt.
He is the soul of Argentina.
But this time, he met an even greater genius—De Rocca, a young man who tore their defence apart with a four-goal masterclass on the final's grandest stage."
"The talents of every generation rise to meet their moment. Seeing Julien, Messi may well be reminded of himself in his prime at Barcelona—those years when he, too, burned this bright."
"This Argentina side believed in the most efficient path to victory. They did not come to play beautiful football. They came to win.
Argentina of old was steeped in tragedy—brilliant, yet never able to go the distance.
Time and again they fell at the point closest to the dream, leaving behind nothing but endless regret."
"This time, they grew weary of that story—the beautiful, doomed romance. They turned back toward something tougher, something forged through in iron. They revolted against their own instincts, abandoned the showy style, put away the romance in their blood, and fought their way to the final through sheer pragmatism and resilience.
Their defence was disciplined enough. Their counters were decisive enough.
But what they faced was France's first great talent, Julien De Rocca—a French side as strong in defence as in attack. The very back line that had carried them this far could not, in the end, hold against De Rocca's speed and gifts, against the counterattacks of France.
For the people of Argentina, they had hoped that the moment they lifted the trophy, every sacrifice, every act of self-reinvention, would finally be repaid."
"But that is football—it is always full of regret.
Argentine football's fate is like the tango A Step Away: their own faces already seemed etched onto the surface of the World Cup trophy; their breath had all but brushed against its base.
But in the end, they were still one step short.
That single step was Julien's four goals. It was France's counterattack.
It was the gap between geniuses—and it was, once more, a regret handed down by fate."
"But we need not grieve too deeply for them, because Argentina never stops moving forward. They march endlessly toward their goal, forever reinventing themselves, forever at war with themselves.
And that alone is enough to captivate us."
"To love something is never to love its victories or its defeats—it is to love its charm, isn't it?"
Meanwhile among football fans, Julien was without question the most dazzling figure of this World Cup, and the topic discussed most of all.
Above all, his tally of twenty goals in a single World Cup was hailed by countless fans as a performance worthy of GOAT title.
"Who could have imagined it? Julien storms to twenty goals, then drops a four-goal haul straight in the World Cup final!"
"Twenty years old, and he can deliver steady output at club level while also carrying the entire team on the biggest stage football has to offer, the World Cup final—that kind of talent, that kind of consistency, it's absurd!"
"Look across the whole history of the sport—no player has ever managed this. Julien is booking his place as the ceiling of football's future, right now!"
As these discussions slowly fermented, a new debate arose: could Julien be called the GOAT of Football?
Opinion split sharply down the middle.
Fans in his corner argued: "A four-goal haul in the World Cup final, leading France to the title, twenty goals in a single tournament—and that still doesn't count as being the GOAT? His talent and his dominance have already surpassed Messi and Ronaldo at the same age!"
Those who disagreed offered a different read: "No denying Julien is ferocious, and his performance is legendary enough. But calling him the GOAT is still a stretch—he doesn't have a Champions League title yet, doesn't have a European Championship either. His trophy case isn't heavy enough. Once he's added those two, then talk of a GOAT will carry real weight."
"Julien is still young—it's too soon to call him GOAT now. But his potential is immeasurable. If he keeps this up, it's only a matter of time before he collects the full set—World Cup, Euros, Champions League, every major honour there is—and becomes the GOAT."
Having finished debating Julien, the fans could not help but feel for Messi.
"Messi really is so unlucky. He has every honour there is—Ballon d'Or, Champions League, league titles—the only thing missing is a World Cup. This 5-0 rout is probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life."
"This Argentina side already gave everything they had. They gave up the beautiful game, went back to rough football—and ran straight into a Julien hot in form. Call it bad timing, nothing more."
Beyond the individual players, what left fans even more in awe was France's future.
Many fans said outright, "France is going to stay terrifying for years to come!"
"Just look at France's lineup—Julien, Pogba, Griezmann, Kanté, Varane—every one of them is world-class and young, most of them are still on the rise. A squad built like this is basically unbeatable!"
"This World Cup, they proved what they're made of with a 5-0 demolition job. In the 2016 Euros, I doubt anyone's going to be able to stop this France side. They're absolutely terrifying."
Some fans went further, predicting that France was about to launch a dynasty of its own.
"Look at France right now—young starting eleven, stacked with talent, deep bench too, and a core player like Julien on top of it all. For the 2018 World Cup, odds are they will defend the title without much trouble! From this World Cup to the Euros, then the next World Cup after that—this France side could well build a dynasty of their own, become the new rulers of world football! Just like Spain did—it's insane, holy sh*t!"
"It's frightening just to think about. Julien's only twenty. Odds are France is going to rule world football for years to come."
Discussions like these were playing out, over and over, on social media in every country on Earth.
Only France and Argentina felt it in its purest form.
One in wild celebration.
One in profound regret.
France.
Night had long since fallen, but not a single city was quiet—every one of them had been set blazing by the frenzy of the World Cup title!
The joy swept across the entire nation.
At this hour, whether on the Champs-Élysées in Paris or along the Old Port in Marseille, whether in the streets and alleys of Lyon or the corners of the squares in Lille, crowds cheered everywhere, blue flags flew everywhere, fireworks shot into the sky and lit up the night.
Even at this late hour, the fever of celebration hadn't cooled in the slightest.
Corsica especially was all madness.
Bastia had become the epicentre of the frenzy.
Every few minutes, dazzling fireworks launched up from the streets and squares, blue bursts blooming across the night like shooting stars, brilliant beyond words.
They dyed the whole sky the colour of champions.
People embraced each other, raised glasses and drank deep. Some even climbed up onto the railings lining the streets, waving flags, pouring out the joy in their hearts.
An old man held his grandchild's hand, pointing up at the fireworks, gently recounting the glory of France's 1998 title, recounting the brilliance of this year's team.
Others kept telling and retelling the story of Julien's deeds at Bastia.
Leading Bastia, then still in Ligue 2, to a Coupe de France title.
Leading the club to a Europa League trophy, a Ligue 1 title!
Shattering the club's own records!
Countless stories, one after another... and young people held each other close, wild with joy over France's and Julien's win.
That wildness crossed every age, crossed every region, flowing through the heart of every Frenchman and Frenchwoman.
This was their captain.
Meanwhile, inside the Maracanã, the celebration was still going strong.
It hadn't cooled in the slightest, even after the ceremony had ended.
The French players were still gathered around the World Cup trophy, celebrating without restraint, taking turns holding it, posing for photo after photo with their families.
Some lifted it high overhead. Some hugged it and kissed it. Others stood beside their families, hands together on the trophy, freezing this moment in history.
Julien was the same sharing the joy together with his family.
Around the pitch, journalists from media outlets across the globe had already set up their cameras, camcorders raised, flashes firing without pause.
They crowded around the players, shutters clicking away in a frenzy, capturing every precious instant.
Soon, on the sidelines, a reporter with the French national team found Julien and asked loudly:
"Julien, congratulations! Tonight you became the first player in World Cup final history to score four goals in one match, and led France to the title, and picked up the World Cup Golden Ball on top of it all. How does it feel right now? Had you ever imagined yourself producing a performance like that in the final?"
Julien's face was still lit with a bright smile. "Thank you. Honestly, what I'm feeling right now is beyond words. There's excitement, there's pride, but more than anything, there's gratitude.
To be honest, I never imagined I'd score four goals in a World Cup final.
This isn't down to me alone—it's my teammates working together with me, it's every fan who supported us, and that's what made a performance like this possible.
Being able to bring the World Cup home for France with my brothers here means more to me than winning any individual award ever could."
The reporter followed up: "We all know you came up through Ligue 1, and at a young age you'd already won a Ligue 1 title and a Premier League title, and now you've claimed a World Cup on top of that. A lot of fans are already calling you the GOAT—do you accept that title? And what's next for you, at club level and with the national team?"
Julien shook his head gently at that. "I don't think I'm the GOAT right now. Being called that takes more honours, and a much longer career of holding your standard—I still have plenty I'm lacking.
Right now, I don't have a Champions League title, and I don't have a European Championship either. Those are exactly the goals I'm chasing next.
Next season, back at Liverpool, I'm hoping that under Jürgen I can push for the Champions League and complete the club treble.
At the national team level, I'm hoping to prepare for the 2016 Euros together with my teammates, and fight to create more glory—not let everyone's expectations down."
The reporter went on to ask, "In this World Cup alone you scored twenty goals—it's an absolutely staggering number. Looking across the whole history of the sport, almost no one could match it. What's your take on that record?"
Julien's smile stayed just as bright. "I'm honoured to have set this record, but I've never thought about whether someone else will be able to break it—because I want to be the one who breaks it myself.
Football has no ceiling, and neither does my growth. Next World Cup, next major tournament, I'll work to score even more goals, to surpass who I am right now, and bring more glory to France with more goals still."
The reporter also asked about Argentina.
Julien answered, "Leo is one of the greatest players in the history of this sport. Tonight, Argentina gave everything they had too, and he is still that great player. But we controlled the match. And I suppose we got lucky in one way—Argentina only has one Lionel Messi. In France, there will always be more Juliens."
Finally, the reporter said, "Last of five questions. This France squad's starting lineup is incredibly young this World Cup, and you're all still on the rise. A lot of fans are predicting France is about to open up a dynasty, the way Spain once did. Do you think this team can go on to defend the title, and win the Euros and the next World Cup too?"
Julien smiled, glancing toward his teammates celebrating not far away, full of confidence. "This team really is young, and everyone here has talent, and we're united—that's our biggest strength.
But there's no such thing as a guaranteed win in football. Every match demands everything we've got.
The 2016 Euros, the 2018 World Cup—we'll give everything we have to both.
But we won't get arrogant. We'll take it one step at a time, take every match seriously. I believe that as long as we stay united, there's nothing we can't do."
Last of all, Julien said, "But right now, we just need to enjoy tonight's win properly."
With that, Julien rejoined the celebration with his teammates.
A World Cup title!
No amount of celebrating could ever be too much!
The whole night through—whether it was the French players in Brazil, or the fans back home in France, that night no one slept, and the party never stopped.
And with a performance like Julien's, Abdullah called David Dein that very night and said, "Buy. Keep building up Liverpool's squad—I want a Champions League for Julien next season. This France squad has some good players there. Ask Jürgen who he wants, and go get them."
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