13 June 2004, Estádio da Luz, Lisbon. France 2–1 England.
By Hamish McTavish
A Sunday night in the Luz, the big bowl in Lisbon, the holders against the side that had already written the rest of the group as weather, and a boy from Croxteth who was supposed to be the new thing. Wayne Rooney was eighteen and already the story the English papers had decided would last the month. Ledley King was filling in at centre-half because Sol Campbell, Rio Ferdinand, John Terry and Jonathan Woodgate were various kinds of absent, a quartet of centre-halves on the treatment table or in the stand, and a Tottenham man asked to do the job of four. David Beckham had the armband and a penalty history that included Turkey. Zinedine Zidane had the other armband and the same club midfield in Madrid, a teammate for the photographs and an opponent for the ninety-three minutes. They walked out side by side, Real Madrid's pair, and the English end treated that as a good omen because they always treat a photograph as a plan. Sven-Göran Eriksson had come as the man who did not lose group openers. France had come unbeaten in eighteen. Frank Lampard had come as the player whose club form had demanded a shirt. The English end had come for the win a favourite is owed against a side the week had decided was old. Switzerland on Thursday. Croatia after that. The opener was supposed to be the statement. It became the three minutes they still show when anyone asks what added time is for.
Lisbon in June is a Luz that does not care what you promised on the way in. England had come as the side that had Rooney and a group that looked soft after France. France had come as holders, eighteen unbeaten, and Zidane still the man who decides nights after the ninety. The English end filled the bowl and treated a photograph in the tunnel as a plan. The holders treated the photograph as a tunnel. Group B still had Switzerland and Croatia left. A win here still looked like a statement. A loss after ninety-three, and the rest of the fortnight would know what added time is for.
They kicked off anyway.
It was France for a long first half, Henry and Zidane from range, Gary Neville escaping a handball, the holders looking like holders. Then, just before the interval, Beckham stood over a free-kick and Lampard met it with a header that had power at both ends of the sentence. One-nil, and the run of eleven matches without a French concession was over, and the English rooms had already started the song. Eighteen minutes from time Rooney won a penalty. Beckham stepped up. Fabien Barthez, who had shared a dressing room with him, saved it. The skipper left the night with that, and then with the rest. England hung on. Eriksson sent Emile Heskey and Owen Hargreaves on for Rooney and Paul Scholes, which is how you close a game you have not closed. Heskey gave away a foul on the edge. The clock had already gone ninety. Zidane curled the free-kick past David James. One-one, in the first minute of added time, and the penalty miss had a new colour. Seconds later Steven Gerrard rolled a back-pass without looking. Henry got there first. James felled him. Zidane put the penalty where Beckham had not. Two-one. There was barely time to kick off. Beckham left the field in tears. He was not alone. The Independent called it Hitchcock: France coming through the shower curtain. The Northern Echo had Zidane the man to break English hearts. Matt Dickinson, in The Times, feared the blows could send them into the depths. The Sun, in the morning, needed one word. Gutted. Beckham covering his eyes. The Mirror had Broken Lionhearts and the same picture. The Mail put little Romeo Beckham on the front, in a replica shirt, being comforted, which is a paper's way of writing the same word.
They were not out. Switzerland and Croatia were still to come. The Sun, in the comment column, told the flags to keep fluttering. They would beat both and then go out to Portugal on penalties, which is already filed. This is the Sunday that taught the rest of the fortnight what added time is for. A header. A saved penalty. Two from Zidane after the ninety.
Zidane had the free-kick, the penalty, and the night Beckham had been told was his. Lampard had the header. Barthez had the save. Rooney had the foul won and the substitution that took him off before the turn. Gerrard had the back-pass. James had the foul on Henry. Heskey had the free-kick given away. King had the shift. Eriksson had the closer that opened. Beckham had the tears, the miss, the eyes on the Sun. The holders had eighteen unbeaten and then two in three minutes. The English week had the old France. The morning had one word.
They said a favourite. They said the new thing. They said hang on. They said keep the flags up. They led after ninety. They lost after ninety-three. How cruel, how unfair, how brutal, one of the English mornings wrote, which is a lot of adjectives for a free-kick and a back-pass. Gutted is not analysis. It is the only word that would fit on the front. The skipper covered his eyes. The paper put a toddler on the page. The holders walked off with two from the man Beckham had stood next to in the tunnel.
The film is up. UEFA kept Lampard's header, Barthez's hand, the curl, the penalty. Do not review it. Watch the last three minutes of a one-word morning.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05ds1Q5vFEY
Related reading
- French fried — Al Khor 2022, France again, another night a penalty decided the exit
- At least there's no more Sven — Gelsenkirchen 2006, the Sven night that ended in tears and a Mail headline
If the nights sit right, the shirts and the wall are at /shop.
FAQ
What was the score when France beat England at Euro 2004?
France 2–1 England, on 13 June 2004 at Estádio da Luz, Lisbon. Lampard scored; Zidane scored twice in added time.
Why “Gutted”?
The Sun’s one-word morning front after Zidane’s free-kick and penalty turned a 1–0 lead after ninety into a 2–1 defeat.
Were England already out?
No. They still had Switzerland and Croatia, beat both, then went out to Portugal on penalties. This Sunday taught the fortnight what added time is for.