Older French people will remember the shame felt by the nation when it had to wait until the very last day of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics to hear the Marseillaise played at a medal ceremony, thanks to the show jumper Pierre Jonquères d’Oriola. It had been even worse in Rome four years previously, with a mere five medals to bring home, none of them gold. We were good at organising and regulating sports. We loved creating competitions and setting up international federations. No one came close to us in that regard; but, as to the rest – fighting for titles and medals – we were resigned to our fate of admiring victors from afar. We were Monsieur Hulot. Winning was someone else’s game.
Then the miracle of Atlanta 1996 happened. The French delegation collected 15 gold medals, 37 medals in total, which placed the country sixth in the rankings, higher than at any time since the 1940s. It was not by chance. General de Gaulle had been stung by the lamentable showing of France’s representatives in Rome and Tokyo and decreed that the state – that is, himself – should intervene.
