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FRA v NZL: An Autumn Spectacular

It’s almost here: the game that sends hearts racing, tensions flaring, and clichés pouring from keyboards and into commentaries across the land.
France v New Zealand at the Stade de France in the Autumn Nations Series. The whiff of déjà vu is so potent it practically arrives in waves. Think you’ve seen this match before? Maybe you have, in a way, but that doesn’t make it any less of a grandiose epic – an event that commands all the usual adjectives and then some.

First, there’s Antoine Dupont, an artisan of the unexpected, a man who can, in the space of a single pirouette, reduce entire defences to statues. He’s already issued a warning of sorts, admitting to feeling a “certain respect” for the All Blacks’ mastery of shifting gears mid-game. Dupont, wary of threats? It’s like Picasso being a bit wary of oil paints. Meanwhile, New Zealand brings their own symphony of menace. Will Jordan has been collecting tries like others might collect stamps, with his recent effort against Ireland putting him level with Jonah Lomu on 37 – enough to send shivers down any defender’s spine. But New Zealand’s X-factor is, of course, the one-man wrecking ball known as Wallace Sititi, the guy whose early-career reputation might make some opponents think twice about stepping onto the pitch. Scott Robertson has probably already tasked Sititi with a simple mission in Paris: hunt Dupont, break up the magic, do it with finesse.

As ever, France’s big-game presence is less an invitation and more a summons. They’ve got a psychological hold over New Zealand right now, having won the last two encounters (both in Saint-Denis), including that Rugby World Cup opener in 2023 that had the Stade de France vibrating with the collective roar of Les Bleus fans. To win three in a row over the All Blacks? That’s not just victory: that’s a statement, a rebalancing of the rugby world’s tectonic plates. Former international Richard Dourthe, the voice of sardonic realism in French rugby, didn’t mince words in his analysis, claiming, “The All Blacks can switch from one game system to another without the overall result suffering.” This isn’t just Robertson being flexible; it’s the All Blacks practically shape-shifting on cue on the pitch.

The All Blacks’ last two matches have been a masterclass in what can only be described as “pick-your-own-speed” rugby. Against England at Allianz Stadium, as tested as they seemed at times, they rolled through the gears with the easy charisma of a band playing their greatest hits. Then, against Ireland, they dialled it back, conserved energy, and scored when it counted. Their one moment of top-gear was evident in Will Jordan’s try. No wonder Dupont’s cautious: this is a team that can toy with tempo like it’s a cheap karaoke machine.

But France’s victory over Japan serves as a reminder of what makes them, well, them. It was a performance equal parts bulldozer and ballet, as their defence reduced the Japanese attack to polite, frustrated gestures rather than full-blooded attack. Ramos, playing out of his usual position but nonetheless the architect of control, marshalled the territory with quiet authority, while Paul Boudehent, the 110kg unit crushed through the line with increasing frequency. The whole French side, it seems, has gotten a little harder, a little faster, and, crucially, more synchronised.

In one corner, we have France, a team that can’t resist the romantic notion of rugby as art. In the other, New Zealand, pragmatic, terrifyingly efficient, a team for whom creative rugby is like an industrial process. And in the middle, we have Dupont and Jordan, two players who can break open a game with a single step or swerve, two minds seemingly always one play ahead. New Zealand have been programmed to win, recalibrated under Robertson to adapt to every whim and challenge, while France are unpredictable to the point of theatre.

So here we are, waiting for the lights to dim, for the clock to start, for the history and bravado to reach fever pitch. The Stade de France awaits, as do we all, for a match that will be equal parts gladiatorial contest, theatrical spectacle, and national referendum. Dupont, Jordan, Sititi, Ramos, and 80,000 fans.

Let the contest begin.

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