Antoine Dupont hoisted the trophy aloft and at last the Paris party could properly start. Not that the Stade de France had been subdued beforehand. It had been one of the great nights in the French capital, an expectant crowd whipped up to a frenzied, intoxicating din, this sporting shrine throbbing to the beat deep into the night. It provided the richest of soundscapes for a grand triumph and the first coronation of this joyous, diverse France side.
When the Eurodance had finally stopped pumping, Dupont wiped joyful tears from his eyes and basked in the glory. “We’ve created memories. We wanted to win for ourselves, for the staff and for our fans. We wanted to write our own history. You can use all the superlatives you want, but we just want to savour this together.”
