France, falling to third place, has run into a 33 year old curse—but this time, the curse might be a blessing.

Key Progress

On June 4, Deschamps' face was gloomier than Lille's cloudy June sky.

In a friendly match touted worldwide as a "World Cup rehearsal," France fell 1-2 to Ivory Coast.

Mbappé pulled one back.

Not enough.

The second goal conceded laid France's midfield control chain bare for the world to see—an African team, using speed and physicality, ripped apart the rhythm-based play the French pride themselves on. Ivory Coast gave Les Bleus no breathing room; they were like a pack of starving wild dogs, getting to every second ball a step ahead of the French players. The double-pivot pairing of Tchouaméni and Camavinga was torn to shreds, and when Griezmann dropped back to his own half to receive the ball, the opposition had already set up a three-man encirclement. Deschamps' post-match comment that "the team lacked reaction" translated to: You played like a bunch of tourists who haven't woken up.

Then, FIFA updated the world rankings on the eve of the World Cup.

France dropped from first to third.

Who's first? Argentina.

After Messi's retirement, Scaloni's team hadn't held that spot since July 2025. Yet, just hours before the World Cup kicked off, they quietly crept back. How? By winning friendlies against Iceland and Honduras, inching up point by point. They don't play beautiful football; they don't chase dominant displays. They play actuary football—win when possible, avoid losing when not, never wasting a second on pointless risks. Their 5-0 thrashing of Zambia on April 1 was a warning letter to the world: Don't underestimate us; when we strike, our knives are sharper than anyone's.

What about France? They beat Northern Ireland, but the loss to Ivory Coast wiped out all the points they had painstakingly accumulated. FIFA's ranking algorithm is as cold as a vending machine—win, and coins drop out; lose, and you get nothing. This time, France watched helplessly as the coins they'd saved fell from the slot.

Spain sits second, thanks to a 1-1 draw with Iraq—a "neither won nor lost" move—but their points tally is still higher than France's.

This is an insult precise to two decimal places.

England is fourth, Portugal fifth, Brazil sixth. These traditional powerhouses sit where they belong, like loyal old fans who've bought season tickets but no longer feel the thrill.

Then—seventh.

Morocco.

Yes, Morocco.

This North African team, which sent Belgium and Portugal packing in 2022, has set a new historic high in their rankings since the system's inception in 1993, surpassing the Netherlands. An African team, in FIFA's numbers game designed by Europeans, has muscled its way into the world's top ten. This isn't a miracle; it's the fruit of two decades of effort by a generation of players—the sweat Ashraf and his peers poured into academies at La Masia and the Allianz has now ripened into a fruit called "seventh."

Another dark horse—Iran, breaking into the top 20 for the first time, sitting at 20th. Middle Eastern football has planted another flag on FIFA's map.

The World Cup hasn't even started, and the rankings have already reshuffled the deck.

But what truly sends chills down fans' spines isn't just France dropping to third.

It's this rule—

Since FIFA's ranking system was established in 1993, no team ranked world No. 1 before a World Cup has ever won the tournament.

Not a single one.

In 2022, Brazil was No. 1 before the World Cup and were eliminated in the quarterfinals by Croatia. That Samba squad, with pre-tournament odds of 3.5/1 to win, was led around the pitch by a 39-year-old Modrić for the entire match.

In 2018, Germany was No. 1 before the World Cup and crashed out in the group stage, making their flight home seem like a waste. Löw's German machine stalled against South Korea, and the shame of losing 2-0 to an Asian team remains the most glaring page in German football textbooks.

Go further back: Spain in 2014, Brazil in 2010—both were heavy favorites pre-tournament, but one was thrashed 5-1 by the Netherlands in the group stage, and the other exited in the quarterfinals.

This rule is like an invisible noose, tightening around teams that "look the strongest." It's unreasonable, it shows no mercy, and it specializes in bursting bubbles of "pre-tournament favorites."

The French know this best.

In 2018, their pre-World Cup FIFA ranking was seventh.

Seventh.

That year's French team lacked the "national idol" aura of Mbappé's 2022 World Cup campaign, had no "strongest ever" marketing hype, and even the draw didn't favor them—Argentina, Denmark, Australia in their group; who looked easier to beat?

Then they won it all, Deschamps grinning like a kid who just swiped some candy in the Moscow rain.

So this time, France dropping to third—is it bad news, or a script handed down by fate?

Deschamps' response was as cunning as an old fox.

"Rankings don't affect the game."

"Players need to respond before the match against Senegal."

Translation: Am I panicking? No. But you need to show me something.

It's not stubbornness; it's genuine calm. A man who led a team to win in 2018 knows the mysticism in FIFA's numbers game. He's seen a seventh-place team lift the trophy, and he knows better—the moment players step onto the pitch carrying the "world No. 1" burden, the opponent already has half a step's advantage.

Follow-Up Observations

France's World Cup opener is against Senegal on June 16.

This is their first real test after losing the top spot.

Not a friendly, not a closed training session—it's the opening match.

Deschamps has cards to play. Mbappé, Griezmann, Tchouaméni, Camavinga. On paper, this squad is still World Cup semi-final material. But the Ivorian match exposed cracks in France's defense for the world to see—not just a crack, but a whole wall starting to peel.

An African team used speed and physicality to tear apart the midfield control the French pride themselves on.

In the official match, Senegal won't be gentler than Ivory Coast—Mané and his crew will only be tougher and more relentless. Senegal are the 2022 African Cup of Nations champions, with half their squad as regulars in Europe's top five leagues—Koulibaly, Sarr, Dieng, all hard currency. Deschamps isn't thinking "how to win"; he's thinking "how not to get overturned."

This ranking shift isn't just about pride.

FIFA rankings directly affect World Cup group stages—seeding in case of tiebreakers, allocation of third-place qualification spots, all depend on this list. France dropping from first to third means the "treatment" in the draw is completely different—the strength of same-tier opponents, the curvature of the knockout path, all change. Top-seeded teams pick opponents based on FIFA rankings; second-seeded teams calculate point gaps when jockeying for position. This isn't mysticism; it's a hard rule written into the handbook.

But ironically, this might actually help them.

Look at the top few.

Argentina. Defending champions.

Since losing the top spot in July 2025, they've been playing it safe—don't make mistakes, wait for others to. Their 5-0 thrashing of Zambia on April 1, and clean friendlies against Iceland and Honduras. Scaloni's team is like a cougar lurking in the grass, lazily watching others stir, only striking when it's time. The defending champion's biggest enemy is never the opponent; it's "feeling too good about themselves." The Argentines clearly get this.

Spain is second. A country of under 50 million people, relying on a bunch of teenagers—Yamal, Pedri, Gavi—to keep traditional powerhouses under their heels. The "ease" these kids carry is what French academies lack most. Spain could have snatched first place by beating Peru, but they chose a 1-1 draw.

These young players aren't in a rush.

This lack of rush is scarier than being rushed.

They have time, they have talent, they have ambitions for the European Championship, Nations League, and World Cup budding simultaneously. Yamal already showed the world at Euro 2024—this kid's ball handling in the final third is cleaner than many 30-year-old veterans. Give him a stage, and he'll play the lead.

Then Morocco.

Seventh. A historic high.

In 2022, they achieved "Africa's first semi-final"; this time, they want to add another line to their rankings.

In the draw, seventh place means the best treatment among second-seeded teams—they can avoid another strong second-seed team and get a relatively gentler path into the bottom half. The Moroccans are probably celebrating in their tents—but that celebration carries ambition. They won't be satisfied with "making history again"; they want to "rewrite history." In 2022, they proved an African team could reach the semi-finals; this time, they want to prove an African team can reach the final.

But celebration aside, on the pitch, they still face 30 matches of 90-minute battles.

France? Third.

Not first.

But in 2018, they won with seventh.

Deschamps might have said one thing in the locker room—

"In 2018, we were seventh. Nobody believed in us. And then what?"

"Now we're third. Low enough. We just climb up."

Whether he said it or not, outsiders don't know.

But in his heart, he's thinking it.

The World Cup kicks off on June 11 and ends on July 19. A 38-day war, burning from North American pitches into every living room's TV screen.

France's story has just opened its first page.

Sitting at third—curse or blessing?

The answer isn't in FIFA's servers.

It's on the night of June 16, Mbappé's first step onto the pitch.

It's in Deschamps' glance toward the bench.

It's whether the failure against Ivory Coast is remembered or turned over.

It's whether the "burden of being world No. 1" falls to the ground first in the locker room, or the "courage of being seventh" grows into their bones first.

No matter how precise FIFA's numbers are, they can't calculate a nation's fate.

No pre-tournament No. 1 has won in 33 years—is this rule a curse or a reverse law?

Deschamps broke it once in 2018 with his own hands.

Will he do it again?

Nobody knows.

But everyone is watching.