As soon as the victory of France over Morocco in the semi-finals of the World Cup was acquired, horns, fireworks and cries of joy resounded on the Parisian avenue, in a good-natured atmosphere including among the losers.
Standing in the cold, strategically positioned in front of the bay windows of a modest bar located a stone’s throw from the Champs-Elysées, Raphaël and Samy are stamping their feet, their eyes riveted on the television screen inside. Only 3 minutes left and France, which dominates Morocco 2-0, will be in the World Cup final. So as not to miss any of the latest game facts, the two high school students from Asnières-sur-Seine contort themselves to find a satisfactory angle of view while several flags hide part of the screen. “Go whistle”, Raphael breathes as if the referee could hear him. A few seconds later, his wish is granted. The Blues get their ticket to their second final in four years. “They did it, we did it”, scream the two young men, jumping into their arms. In the rue du Colisée (VIIIth arrondissement), we hear the cries of joy of the French supporters through the windows of the various bars. But also, a Moroccan fan, mad with rage who insults his players: “It’s beautiful on Instagram but it’s not capable of making its people proud”he belches.
On the Champs-Elysées, 100 meters away, the first car horns are heard. Just like the police sirens activated for a few seconds to celebrate the qualification. Small groups of people flanked by jerseys from France, Morocco or Algeria go up the avenue towards the Arc de Triomphe. Still relatively silent, happy or disappointed football fans meet a few tourists who are going the opposite way. «What’s going on ?»asks an Austrian couple to two men made up in blue-white-red. “We are in the World Cup final. Final, World Cup! You understand?», the two respond tac-o-tac in broken English. It is 9:58 p.m., France has been officially qualified for three minutes and the first fireworks have already started.
The crowd gathers in front of the Cartier boutique, a few dozen meters from the Arc de Triomphe. In front of the protected storefront of the luxury boutique, we hop singing the traditional “We’re in the final”. Several hundred young people huddle together, shouting. Some launch new fireworks. Which obviously does not please the police who then lead a first charge without it degenerating. But enough to convince some young supporters to move away a bit. “I was a little scared but it doesn’t seem like much”, reassures Lydia, 21 years old. After watching the match quietly at home with three friends near Pigalle, the law student came to celebrate the victory on the Champs. “Every time I watch TV and I tell myself that there is a great atmosphere, so this time I came”she says.
The minutes pass. The crowd grows. In front of the jeweler’s shop which turns out to be the nerve center of the celebration, we chain the Marseillaise, or the famous “Lalalalalala” from I Will survive. At this hour the atmosphere is good-natured. Moroccan supporters, red jerseys on their backs, celebrate the qualification of the Blues. Among them Ali, a 26-year-old Franco-Moroccan. He explains : “I am binational, in any case I won tonight”. Moreover, the baker has planned to return to the most beautiful avenue in the world on Sunday for the final. But with a France jersey this time.