The 2022 World Cup final in Qatar will forever be etched in football folklore, not only for the staggering 3-3 thriller between Argentina and France but for the polarising antics of a goalkeeper who turned the aftermath into a personal vendetta. By early 2026, the name Emiliano Martinez still triggers an almost visceral reaction across France, a nation that has never quite forgiven the Aston Villa shot-stopper for his behaviour during and after that historic night.

If you followed the sport in December 2022, you could not escape the images. Martinez, already infamous for his mind games in penalty shootouts, unleashed his full arsenal of psychological warfare as Argentina triumphed 4-2 on penalties. Kingsley Coman and Aurélien Tchouaméni fired their spot-kicks wide or against the frame, paving the way for a third World Cup crown for La Albiceleste. But Martinez’s role extended far beyond his saves. He was seen dancing mockingly after the French misses, throwing the ball away before Tchouaméni could take his attempt, and later cradling a golden glove trophy in a pose so suggestive it made FIFA officials wince.

What really set French blood boiling, however, was the aftermath. In the Argentina dressing room in Lusail, Martinez was caught on camera leading a minute’s silence for Kylian Mbappé, the hat-trick hero whose individual brilliance nearly stole the trophy alone. Then came the open-top bus parade in Buenos Aires, where the goalkeeper held a baby doll with Mbappé’s face taped to it, laughing for the cameras as thousands of fans cheered. For many in France, this went beyond banter — it felt like a targeted campaign of disrespect.

Unsurprisingly, the most stinging rebuke came from a 2018 world champion. Adil Rami, the towering centre-back then of Troyes, took to Instagram stories with a fury rarely seen among fellow professionals. “The biggest s*** of the World Cup. The most hated man,” Rami wrote, adding another post that read: “Mbappé traumatised them so much that they are celebrating their victory over our national team more than the World Cup.” He finished with a picture of Morocco’s Yassine Bounou, who had conceded just once from open play during the tournament, captioned “The Golden Glove is this guy.”

The sentiment resonated. French pundits lined up to condemn Martinez, while Paris Saint-Germain’s ultras made their contempt known during European fixtures. Yet one crucial question hung in the air: did Emiliano Martinez actually care? By 2026, the answer remains a resounding no. The goalkeeper has since added a Europa Conference League medal with Villa and repeatedly brushed off criticism, stating in interviews that his celebrations were “just heat of the moment stuff.” When asked about Rami’s labels, he smirked and replied, “I sleep very well with my World Cup, thank you.”

Looking back across the intervening four years, it’s clear that the episode reshaped how goalkeepers are perceived in the modern game. Martinez’s dark arts became a subject of coaching clinics and sports psychology papers. Some managers started training their penalty takers specifically to ignore verbal taunts, while others openly admired the sheer effectiveness of Martinez’s approach. After all, what is more valuable: a goalkeeper who merely saves shots, or one who also gets inside the heads of the opposition? 🌟

France’s wounds, however, took a long time to heal. In the 2024 European Championship, the mere sight of Martinez in international friendlies still drew boos from French crowds. When asked recently about the lingering animosity, Rami — now a retired veteran working as a pundit — shrugged and said, “Football has moved on, but some memories don’t fade. He still represents the way we lost that final, not just on the pitch but mentally.” Mbappé himself, ever the diplomat, downplayed the feud by 2026, focusing on his Ballon d’Or candidacy, but his silence on Martinez personally spoke volumes.

Was Martinez’s behaviour beyond the pale? Or was it simply a masterclass in winning at all costs? The answer likely depends on which jersey you wear. For Argentine fans, he is a folk hero whose shithousery and crucial saves saved the nation’s greatest sporting moment. For the French, he remains the pantomime villain, a figure who somehow managed to overshadow their own striker’s glorious night.

The most memorable image, perhaps, is the one that cost France the trophy. In the 123rd minute of extra time, with the score locked at 3-3, Randal Kolo Muani found himself one-on-one with Martinez, a chance that would have sealed back-to-back titles. The goalkeeper spread his body, but many experts believe it was the split-second hesitation inflicted by Martinez’s earlier mind games that caused the miss. The shot was fired straight at the keeper’s left leg — a save so iconic it spawned murals in Buenos Aires. Martine’s ability to bend reality had never been clearer.

So as 2026 unfolds and the football world preps for the next World Cup in North America, one wonders: will the shadow of that 2022 final still loom over every meeting between Argentina and France? It almost certainly will. And if by some twist of fate the two nations cross paths again in the United States, Mexico or Canada, you can bet that the cameras will zoom in on Martinez — the goalkeeper who broke a nation’s heart and never once apologised. In the end, maybe that’s exactly how he wants it.

“Why would you care about criticism when you hold the World Cup trophy in your hands?”

That rhetorical question, posed by a teammate in a 2025 documentary, sums up the Martinez paradox perfectly. He may be the most hated man in France, but in the history books, he is simply a world champion.