So there is no miracle-worker, no saviour; not in sports, nor in politics. Yet Prime Minister Jean-Pierre Raffarin promised after France lost to Senegal: "As soon as Zizou is there, it will be okay." Zizou, the familiar nickname. The world champion's injured thigh obsessed the country until yesterday morning, when 5,000 people stood in front of the Hotel-de-Ville to watch France's third and final World Cup match.
They cheered when Zinedane Zidane appeared on the giant screen. They booed the coach, Roger Lemerre, like an unpopular head of government. How could he have risked Zidane in a friendly match with Korea, just five days before the World Cup started?
What a contrast with the spirit of 1998. The France of winners, that integrated its minorities, was "a beautiful dream", one supporter told me.
"It lasted as long as the match; maybe a week after," said Alain (53), a policeman who trains amateur football teams in his spare time. Erell (16) and Ondine (17), lycée students with tricolours painted on their pretty faces, thought it lasted a lot longer. "We were on the Champs-Élysées. This was a different country. We talked about it all the time."
But between missed goals yesterday, supporters talked about arrogance, racism, the old who refuse to make way for the young, irresponsible media and the "rotten" power of money. By a fluke, the World Cup coincides with French election season, and the mood among sports fans parallels the political malaise.
"The problem with the French is their superiority complex," said Kodjo (28), an unemployed computer programmer of African, West Indian and English origin. "They don't have that mad desire to win, like they did four years ago."
"I can't stand all the publicity about the players," said Kodjo's friend Bob (26), an accountant born in Haiti. "The only thing I like about Zidane is his modesty. He remains modest despite the propaganda."
Modesty is in fashion. "The message tonight is favourable," Prime Minister Raffarin said when the centre-right UMP won the first round of legislative elections on Sunday. "But it does not affect our modesty."
"A lot of young people feel French because of the multi-racial team," Kodjo admitted. "But if you take away football, there's not much left." He resented being railroaded into what he called "a facile, simplistic consensus". "Nationality doesn't impart a culture overnight. It confers rights and duties; that's all."
"Insecurity" - the top issue in the presidential campaign - was a euphemism for immigration, Kodjo said. "When I go for a job interview, or when I go to the countryside on holiday, that's when I feel it," said Bob, who is tall and black. "People stare at me. The World Cup didn't change people's mentalities."
Half-time, and the screen is filled with advertising for sports shoes, batteries, an insurance company. "It kills the dream," says Simon (16), an aspiring football player. Kodjo mocks a Coca-Cola advert in which four black teenagers sing, "Show me your ticket". "In France, if you're black, they say, 'show me your [identity] papers'."
The Danes sing, wave their flag and burn flares to celebrate their 2-0 victory. Among the French, there are good losers and bad losers and sad losers. Socrate (33), a sailor, says he hopes Denmark will win the World Cup, "because they're really a good team".
The France that wins, that integrates its minorities, still exists, he insists. "The problem is that when she wins, everyone is with her, and when she loses, they jump ship."