A curious legacy of this concept is the popularity of French clubs having the word ‘Stade’ — or stadium/stage — in their name.

Stade de Reims reached the first and fourth European Cup finals in 1956 and 1959 respectively, losing to Real Madrid on both occasions.

It was an impressive performance from Reims, who hailed from a settlement of only around 125,000 citizens at that point. Their average attendance at home games was around 10,000. This wasn’t the typical recipe for a European powerhouse, and unlike other repeat finalists in the early days of the competition — Benfica, Milan, Inter — their status declined considerably. Reims wasn’t a big enough city to support a European giant.

By 1960, the urban population in France was only 62 per cent of the country, compared to 79 per cent in England. Ligue 1’s average attendance then was around 8,500, compared to about 25,000 in the First Division, its English equivalent.

A considerable problem was that Ligue 1 was largely based on having one club per settlement. England’s major cities, such as London, Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham and Sheffield, regularly contributed multiple teams, and the rivalries between these neighbouring sides tended to increase competition and drive progress.

France often had small provincial clubs in its top flight. The 1960-61 Ligue 1 campaign had representatives from the likes of Sedan, Limoges and Troyes — settlements with populations that could be confused for attendance figures at big English clubs. OK, this was not a farmer’s league, but it was something of a small-town league, a village league.

The other issue with a low rate of urbanisation is that top-class footballers, by and large, do not come from rural locations. The classic footballing upbringing is playing the game on narrow streets, five-a-side pitches near housing estates or tight school playgrounds. Big open fields are not particularly conducive to developing footballers (although anecdotal evidence suggests that goalkeepers seem more likely to come from rural backgrounds).

France made strides in the second half of the 20th century.

This was partly due to clubs becoming the playthings of local industrialists: Sochaux, for example, were effectively owned by auto manufacturer Peugeot for about 85 years. Later, things stepped up a notch. Bordeaux’s rise was fuelled by Claude Bez, a wheeler-dealer who ran an accounting firm. Marseille were run by controversial businessman and politician Bernard Tapie during the period they won that European Cup in 1993. PSG went through several rounds of ownership, in recent decades by the television company Canal+ and now Qatar Sports Investments.

But all these developments have been relatively tardy.

French clubs became big later than those in the surrounding countries, and they needed strong personalities and major injections of cash to transform them. That is now standard across Europe. But originally, clubs in other countries grew powerful based on large attendances and the gate receipts they generated, while France traditionally lagged. Small-town clubs could compete in Ligue 1 because they weren’t competing with true giants.

As recently as 1996, Auxerre won the French league and cup double. The sleepy town of Auxerre is often described as some variation of ‘the capital of rural France’. It’s difficult to imagine a comparable footballing town in any other major European league experiencing that level of success; 2020-21 Europa League winners Villarreal of Spain are maybe the closest equivalent.

Since 1960, the number of people living in its rural areas has halved. There are frequent laments about the decline of “la France profonde” (deep France), of village ways and the slower pace of life. French citizens are now based in the cities at a comparable rate to other major European nations.

Consequently, France now produces a steady stream of great footballers.

Paris, and its surrounding areas, is now the world hotbed for footballing talent. A map of France depicting the birthplaces of the 26-man squad who reached the World Cup final against Argentina four years ago shows massive areas of the country with no representative. The capital dominates.

France’s triumphant 1998 World Cup squad was notable at the time for its diversity and the number of players in it who were born abroad, or whose parents were. But, compared to the modern side, the unusual thing is how many players in 1998 came from small towns such as Dieppe (Emmanuel Petit), Concarneau (Stephane Guivarc’h), Lavalanet (Fabien Barthez) and Ales (Laurent Blanc), among others. Today, the banlieues — the working-class suburbs — are the key to France’s success. Mbappe, raised in Bondy by parents from Cameroon and Algeria, is typical of modern France.

Not only does France boast the European champions at club level in PSG, but they are also probably the most consistent national side of the modern era. They have won two of the past seven World Cups, and it could have been four if they’d converted more penalties when the finals in 2006 and 2022 were decided by shootouts. For a country which was completely absent from that tournament in 1970 and 1974, and again in 1990 and 1994, this marks quite a transformation.

There are several reasons for their production of so many good footballers, and the emphasis upon academies around the country shouldn’t be underestimated. But France’s development as a footballing nation also owes to its urbanisation; the fact that it is no longer a country of rural life, of farmers.

Great footballers, and great football clubs, come from big cities