Zidane 1998: The Rocky Rise of a French Genius

From humility to triumph, from doubt to lasting glory — this is the story of how Zinedine Zidane stepped out of the shadows to lead France to its greatest triumph. In 1998, the shy playmaker from Marseille became the face of a newly minted nation, turning pain into pride and silence into legend.

I’m Martin Taylor, and this tale — based on Naïm Beneddra’s article — is part of the Icons series, a Kooora podcast reexamining the last ten World Cups from fresh angles to keep the magic of the tournament alive.

From modest beginnings to historic glory, Zidane’s rise was a road paved with doubt and stubborn obstacles.

On November 17, 1993, the French national team collapsed in a shocking moment. At Park des Princes, a last-minute Bulgarian goal crushed France’s 1994 World Cup hopes and brought a national mood of mourning and humiliation.

The national team looked like a burned-out ruin — a fractured group, a betrayed fanbase, and a leadership vacuum. Coach Jean-Claude (Ah, wait) left, and his assistant Émile Jacquet inherited the wreckage ready for a rebuild.

Jacquet, seen by many as a transitional manager, faced a stark reality: France would host the 1998 World Cup, but would need more than a spark to light a fire. Then, nine months later, a beacon emerged. In 1994, in Bordeaux, a 22-year-old Zidane came on as a substitute against the Czech Republic and, in a matter of minutes, scored two breathtaking goals to salvage a draw from the jaws of despair.

That explosive cameo wasn’t a sign of instant superstardom, but the opening chapter of a four-year rollercoaster sprint marked by doubt, critique, and a stubborn inner belief in a shy young man from Marseille’s northern districts.

The Hidden Gem

Zidane’s first appearance for France, a late call-up for a friendly in Bordeaux after Yuri Djorkaeff’s injury, placed him among a veteran generation still reeling from the old guard. On the field, he stood out with a poise that felt almost otherworldly amid a squad struggling to find its footing. The young man’s elegance suggested a future beyond the chaos surrounding him.

Although his first flashes were dazzling, newspapers labeled him as a talent still rough around the edges — not yet a captain, not yet the armband holder. The hype was enormous, but the path ahead demanded patience and a team-first mindset to integrate his genius into a functioning unit.

Critics wondered if the prodigy could translate talent into leadership. The early signs were promising, but the road ahead would test whether the boy from Marseille could carry a national squad into the upper echelon of world football.

From Hope to Disappointment

After that sparkling debut, Zidane’s consistency wavered. His form flickered, and the press began to question whether the shy genius could truly shoulder the expectations of a generation. Euro 96 in England, meant as a coming-out party, instead exposed fragility. France reached the semi-finals with stubborn defense, but the star’s influence remained elusive. Critics wondered if the moment would ever come when he could define a whole era.

What no one anticipated was the hidden obstacle: Zidane played much of Euro 96 carrying an injury. A serious car accident before the tournament left him less than fully fit, and his performance was framed by quiet resilience rather than explosive brilliance. The coach stayed loyal, recognizing the potential that lay beneath the surface. It was a quiet bet that would prove decisive in the long run.

Building a Project

Jacquet was more than a coach; he was a builder. When he took charge late in 1993, his mission was crystal: craft a World Cup-winning side on home soil in 1998. The blueprint he chose was uncompromising: a solid defense, disciplined teamwork, and a meticulous plan that minimized risk while maximizing collective strength.

To realize the project, Jacquet took bold steps, gradually removing veterans who didn’t fit the evolving system. In particular, he moved away from a star-centric approach and reshaped the squad around a cohesive unit. The aim was not to suppress individual brilliance but to channel it into a strategic whole that could thrive on the biggest stage.

In the heart of the rebuilding stood Zidane — not merely as a gifted player, but as a quiet, unassailable leader. Jacquet understood that the team would be elevated by a maestro who could orchestrate the rhythm and uplift the performance of everyone around him. The relationship between coach and player was almost paternal, built on trust that would prove essential in the coming years.

Turning Point

On October 11, 1995, in Bucharest, France faced a stern test in Euro 96 qualifiers against a Romanian side undefeated at home in five years. That night, Zidane produced the kind of performance that signals a future captain: with Christian Carambot providing an assist, he created a sensational goal, and capped it with a strike of his own. It was the moment when the prodigy began to show what he could become: a decisive, influential leader on the big stage.

The pairing with Youri Djorkaeff forged the creative spine of the team. In Jacquet’s 4-3-2-1 system, Zidane operated on the left side, dictating tempo, while Djorkaeff acted as the clever forward who could both create and finish. The two connected brilliantly, and the media slowly stopped looking for a single “savior” and began to trust a strategic partnership as the engine of the attack. Between 1995 and 1998, Zidane and Djorkaeff played 34 times for France, winning 25, drawing 9, and losing none. They combined for 22 goals and 21 assists, embodying Jacquet’s philosophy: spread creative responsibility, avoid dependence on a single star, and maintain a team-first balance.

Downfall Before the Rise

The 1998 World Cup did not begin with Zidane as a crowned hero. In the opening match against South Africa, he contributed a meaningful assist but failed to light up the stage. France won, but the true spark was still to come.

In the second match, against Saudi Arabia, Zidane’s temper flared and his fate shifted dramatically: a red card for stamping on Fouad Anwar, the first French player ever sent off in a World Cup. The suspension meant two games of punishment, excluding him from the third group match and the round of 16. His place in the team became precarious, and the nation held its breath.

France advanced past Paraguay in the round of 16 thanks to a last-gasp goal by Laurent Blanc in the 114th minute, staving off elimination. The episode echoed the famous David Beckham crisis in 1998 and showed how close France was to disaster if Zidane hadn’t delivered when it mattered most. The setback, however, would prove to be a turning point that fueled the team’s resilience rather than destroy it.

From Shadow to Light

Winning in 1998 was not an endpoint but a launchpad. Zidane’s return after his suspension transformed him into a global icon, and he later admitted that the victory meant “everything” to him. Under his leadership, France would crown Europe’s golden era by lifting the European Championship in 2000 and returning to a World Cup final in 2006 after briefly stepping away from the national team. Zidane’s legacy extended far beyond the field—an emblem of a France evolving into a multicultural, inclusive nation that could rally around a shared dream.

His journey from a shy talent to a transcendent star is a classic tale of perseverance, trust, and teamwork. Had it not been for doubt, for the quiet confidence of a coach who believed in him, and for the missteps that tested him, the Zidane legend might never have crystallized in the way it did.

His story is a reminder that greatness is rarely a straight line and that sometimes the softest voice speaks the loudest when the moment arrives. And yes, the world still loves a good header from a corner to seal a dream.

This episode of Icons — the World Cup series — invites you to follow along on your favorite podcast platform… so you don’t miss a moment.

Sniper punchline #1: If football were a canvas, Zidane paints with headers—and somehow keeps the brush clean while the crowd goes wild.

Sniper punchline #2: Jacquet built a fortress, Zidane brought the key, and the opponents forgot to bring a locksmith. The door wasn’t just opened; it became the exit for every knockout round.