The legacy of the 2006 World Cup final between France and Italy continues to captivate, and a new deep-dive documentary from L'Équipe, "9 juillet 2006," sheds fresh light on the unforgettable night in Berlin. Among its many revisited moments, Zinédine Zidane's audacious Panenka penalty stands out as a career-defining gamble—one he now confesses he would have repeated if fate had allowed.
In the seventh minute, after Marco Materazzi fouled Florent Malouda, Zidane stepped up to face Gianluigi Buffon in what was already billed as his final professional match. With the weight of a nation on his shoulders, the French icon opted for a chipped penalty that kissed the underside of the crossbar before dropping over the line. It was the first and only Panenka of his career, executed with a calm that left teammate Fabien Barthez mouthing "He's crazy!" from the halfway line.
In excerpts from the documentary, Zidane provides rare insight into his thinking. "I did it in an important game because you feel things on the pitch, and I had Gigi Buffon opposite me," he recalls. "He knows me, I know him perfectly—he knows exactly how I take penalties. I made that gesture because I knew it was how I would score, even if it hit the bar. It was tight, but it went in!"" He stresses the move was born not from disrespect but from an intimate understanding of the goalkeeper's tendencies.
The Panenka itself entered football folklore, but the documentary also highlights lesser-known details, such as Zidane playing through a shoulder injury sustained in the 80th minute following a collision. Despite the pain, he remained on the pitch, driving France forward in search of a winner. That physical toll only adds to the mythos of a player who seemed to transcend normal limits.
Of course, the final is infamously defined by what came next: Zidane's red card for headbutting Materazzi in extra time, which ruled him out of the penalty shootout. Italy went on to win after David Trezeguet's miss. What haunts many fans is the thought of Zidane taking a spot kick in that shootout. The documentary reveals the man himself has considered the scenario: he flatly states he would have attempted another Panenka.
Such an admission offers a fascinating glimpse into Zidane's psychology. To risk ridicule twice in the same game—the first having only narrowly succeeded—speaks to his unshakable self-belief. It also underscores how deeply he had read Buffon, a keeper renowned for his preparation. In their final duel, Zidane trusted instinct over convention, a philosophy that defined his entire career.
From a tactical standpoint, Zidane's explanation challenges the narrative that the Panenka is merely a showman's trick. It was a carefully calculated decision against a familiar foe, executed at the highest possible stakes. The fact that he would have gone back to the same well in a shootout suggests he saw it not as a one-off gamble but as a repeatable tool—one that could have changed the outcome of the tournament.
Beyond the individual drama, the documentary reframes the 2006 final as a mosaic of critical incidents: tense national anthems, Thierry Gilardi's iconic commentary, Buffon's stunning save on Zidane's header in extra time, and Trezeguet's fateful miss. Each piece contributes to the sense that this was more than a football match; it was a cultural event that still resonates in both France and Italy.
Zidane's legacy is, of course, secure, but the what-ifs linger. Had he stayed on, a second Panenka might have sealed back-to-back World Cup titles for Les Bleus and cemented his status as the undisputed greatest of his generation. Instead, the miss is left to the imagination—a phantom moment that the documentary boldly brings into the light.
In revisiting that night, "9 juillet 2006" does more than recount history; it invites a reassessment of Zidane's final act as a player. The Panenka, once seen as a moment of madness, now reads as the epitome of his genius: a synthesis of nerve, intelligence, and technical mastery. And the revelation that he would have dared it again only deepens the legend. Based on reporting from L'Equipe.