In Another Life, Your Time Will Come.

You could’ve ruled the world, but it wasn’t your time. 

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They say "heavy is the head that wears the crown." They were right — just ask Marco Matterazi following July 9th, 2006. 

When skull met sternum beneath the Berlin night sky, Zinedine Zidane — for real this time — parted ways with the beautiful game, and like the death of any ruler, sent his kingdom into mourning. 

Eventually, France sought a successor. An impossible task, it seemed. 

Many tried, many failed, but few came as close as Yoann Gourcuff. 

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Now and then, I think of the prodigy from Ploemeur. 

Part of my childhood was spent under his spell, his box of tricks documented on YouTube in 240p and soundtracked by non-copyright EDM. Soon enough, I became enchanted with a man I’d never heard of — worrying words if said aloud, granted. 

The similarities between Gourcuff and his predecessor were striking: the gait, the arms, the pirouette — the regen Football Manager players long for. Both were artists of their time. Impressionists: spontaneous, radical, yet elegant. Their control was smooth, brushstrokes dancing along a green canvas. 

So, when France called for an heir to the throne, Gourcuff answered. 

But a short reign it was. Though anointed "Le Successeur" that label became imprinted on a career unfulfilled. Where Zidane was delightful, Gourcuff was desultory, with expectations weighing heavy on shoulders unfit to bear the mantle. 

It’s never that simple though.

I like to think of Gourcuff as a man in the right place at the wrong time. Ten years earlier, he’d have ruled the world. Ten years later, he’d have done the same. But instead, he inherited a poisoned chalice, tainted with the downfall of a dominant dynasty amidst its own French revolution - Domenech playing the part of Louis XVI.

In short, he could’ve been the jewel in the crown but instead became the diamond in the rough. 

Sure, he could’ve been more ambitious and tried a little harder but sometimes things just aren't meant to be. Like the rebound after a breakup, you leave doubly heartbroken, pining for what you once had and what could've been.

Truthfully, I still feel that Zidane retiring is an axe wound yet to heal. But Gourcuff was undoubtedly the one that got away. Though aptly regal in play style, he had the burden of expecting to succeed when all else failed. His legacy, therefore, sadly leaves him as one in a long line of heirs unfit to fulfill the duty of their predecessor, when really, it just wasn’t his time.