I wandered through the Dallas Museum of Art before coming here, and there was a Mondrian — all rigid lines and primary colours — which reminded me that sometimes structure, not freedom, wins the argument. France's defensive architecture tonight is simply a different category: Upamecano and Théo Hernandez suffocate attacks before they breathe, and Turkey's forwards, as gifted as young Kenan Yıldız undeniably is, will find the door permanently bolted. Çalhanoğlu can spray passes like a poet, but France will simply reclaim possession in midfield and squeeze the life from this game until Mbappé finds the inevitable crack.

France's defensive structure here is simply suffocating — Upamecano and Théo Hernandez are forming a left-side corridor that Turkey's forwards simply cannot crack, and with only four meaningful attacking thrusts expected, Yıldız and Güler are going to need a miracle moment rather than sustained pressure to break through. Çalhanoğlu can dictate tempo from deep, but France's defensive block is so compact that Turkey's midfield creativity gets strangled before it reaches the final third. I tried my hand at a Dallas kolache last week in the hotel kitchen — a respectable attempt, though my German instincts kept pushing me toward more structure than the dough really wanted — and honestly, Turkey's attack feels much the same way tonight: plenty of intention, not quite the right execution against this opposition.