contraflow roads, giddy players, reserved places… The driver of the Les Bleus coach reveals his secrets

How many times has he already “do it again match” in his head, before this mWednesday, November 16? Mid-morning, François Castro will close the holds of his coach, and not of his “bus” since it is indeed a vehicle used for non-stop journeys. He will tickle the mirrors one last time, then engage the first of his Setra S516 HDH.

He will thus leave behind him the training center of Clairefontaine (Yvelines). Bikers will open the way for him, others will close the march. “And it will be like this” for 80 kilometers, to the terminus: Le Bourget airport, from where the French team players expected in Qatar will take off to defend their title. His own Mondial will stop there, on the tarmac: it is a driver from a local company who will then take the wheel, in the emirate.

If the route is established “at the last moment”, François Castro already knows the seating plan. The staff sits in front, and the elders behind. “Lloris and Mandanda always put themselves in the same placesays the driver. Antoine Griezmann puts everything, at the bottom. The new ones fill the holes”.

When Kylian Mbappé and his teammates have descended, François Castro will perform his traditional owner’s tour, because there are heads in the air among the players. Wireless headphones, headsets, even outfits, toiletry bags… “Presnel Kimpembe [forfait de dernière minute sur blessure] always forget everything, it’s a disaster”, laughs the driver. It is also possible that he finds “as usual” some remnants of leaves infused with mate, this traditional south american drink dear to Antoine Griezmann.

Seeing them go by, “maybe” will he allow himself to whisper to them all a discreet “good luck”. “Nothing more: you carry the Blues, anyway”. There are also strict “pre-match” guidelines, which David Hernandez, commercial and logistics director of the Sautomotive services company of the Chevreuse valley (Savac), passed him again. “Briefing on the schedules and program of preparations, with, above all, rest. Then review of the vehicle, mechanics and cleanliness”, he lists. In short: clean the windows, vacuum, polish the rims, clean the toilets, check that the 42 seats of the coach recline like beach deckchairs, as on the first day.

In reality, François Castro knows the protocol by heart. Hotel then Stade de France. Stade de France then hotel. Clairefontaine towards the Stade de France. Stade de France to Clairefontaine. For twenty-one years he has been the official driver of the Blues in France. Twenty-one years he hides a duplicate key in a place known only to him. To his credit, more than 100 “selections”, about as many as Zinedine Zidane (108), whom he also had “honor” to see in its 471 CV. The watchword is clear: “Make yourself small”. Driving must be flexible, always. With maximum concentration. “As we are escorted, we do things that we don’t usually do on the road.” Oh? “We take roads in the opposite direction in the middle of the day, we don’t respect the lights too much, we slalom between the lines of vehicles.”

“On the ring road, it’s hot, hot, hot. Sometimes I hear the staff behind: ‘Oh dear, it doesn’t pass, it doesn’t pass paaaaas’. And in fact, yes, it passes. “

François Castro, driver of the French national team

at franceinfo

All the drivers who sat before him at the wheel know it: the coach must never be stopped. Like an echo of the adventure of José Alégria, responsible in his time for bringing the Blues victorious 3-0 from Brazil to Clairefontaine, on the night of July 12, 1998. The peaceful village of Yvelin was then transformed into an epicenter of joy national: “I drove my bus like a snowplow. I pushed the gendarmes who themselves pushed the people. The hardest part was when we had to turn at a traffic light. I couldn’t see where the road was. People were hanging from lampposts. I was just hoping no one would end up under my wheels”confided in 2018 to franceinfo the veteran driver.

François Castro evokes another unforgettable journey, in a tragic context this time. “The return of the Stade de France, November 13, 2015 [jour des attentats près de l’enceinte sportive et à Paris]. I still have goosebumps. It was the hardest emotionally. Nobody was talking. We had an hour’s drive, it was endless.”

Even by being as discreet as possible, the father is part of the decor. The staff call him by his first name. For Steve Mandanda and Hugo Lloris, it is also “Francois”and no “Sir”. He took Didier Deschamps as a player, and does the same now as a coach. Between them, it’s “one-two”: when “Dédé” begins to talk tactics with his assistants, François Castro knows that he must reach out his right hand towards the car radio, and put on a light background music, “of the French variety often”, history that the conversation remains private.

Sometimes, he can also turn up the sound and turn into a room manager. In 1998, Henri Emile, then intendant of the Blues, had charged him with buying a tape of Gloria Gaynor to surround the journeys of the group of Aimé Jacquet. We were then at the start of the World Cup. Philippe Tournon, former press chief, keeps a precise memory of this scene in his book, about the heady I Will Survive: “We haven’t finished hearing it.” In fact, the song then became the anthem accompanying the triumph of the French players.

Twenty-four years later, François Castro hopes to find “his” Blues as late as possible. It would be a good sign. He and his coach are already available to pick them up at the airport.


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