Ils ne passeront pas/On ne passe pas), Dolores Ibárruri Gómez (¡No pasarán!) and Gandalf the Grey - the All Blacks would not budge today.
It was really, really tense and it was brutal to watch as the ABs battled to fight the quick-sand that the French put us in after half time.
Jacky and I joined up with some workmates at the Al Ain golf club (having got time off work from our respective schools to watch the final) and we agonised for 80 minutes and hoped and prayed that the French wouldn't take it away from us again.
A loss was unthinkable. The whole of Nu Zild would have been riddled with depression for another four, long years.
As we watched the French team turn into men possessed (a few of them even resembled the Balrog), we all wondered if the heights the team reached against the Wallabies in the previous game meant we had nothing left in the tank.
In the end our dread of losing transferred itself into a staunch kiwi resolve - our defense was immense against wave after wave of French attack. But still...the nagging doubts...it seemed we may not hang on. It seemed that we were again destined to lose to the dastardly French team in the dying moments.
I can recall a couple of times that I've wanted to win a game so much that it makes my stomach churn and my pulse race. This was the latest example.
In fact, it turned out to be quite special day elsewhere as well. Arsenal beat Stoke 3 - 1 and Manchester City humiliated and destroyed that damned United 6 - 1. Ouch! But it's early days in the premiership. A lot can and will happen before May next year.
That's for another time - it's the men in black that created so much pride in us kiwis in a far flung land. For the next four years we are the champions of the rugby world. Fantastic!