World champion at 20 and now man of the final and European champion at 22, that ancient veteran Thierry Henry demanded no argument.

After inspiring a breathtaking triumph to conclude a breathtaking tournament, Arsenal's finest asked us to this time give credit where it was due. France, he said, were better even than in 1998, a great side and worthy winners.

Except for the Italians, who with a performance of skill and fortitude had chosen the final in Rotterdam to demonstrate exactly why they deserved to be there, nobody was about to disagree with the verdict of a young man who confirmed himself as the finest striker of Euro 2000.

Two years ago, Henry could remember people belittling France's World Cup win, going on about their home advantage, their easy group and how, without Ronaldo, they caught the Brazilians in self-destruct mode. Yet what could they say now?

'We didn't have any easy game here. A difficult group, then we won a great match with Spain and we were 1-0 down in both the semi-final against Portugal and here,' said Henry. 'Yet we came back again and again. Because, you see, we have a great mentality.'

It is a champion's mentality. Not only, for the large part, did France play the best football of arguably the most enthralling, expansive international championship since the 1970 Mexico World Cup but they also proved to have the fight to go with the flair and finesse.

These were qualities not only to be found among their starting 11 but throughout the 22-man squad and never was it better exemplified than the manner in which they snatched a golden goal victory when all seemed lost in the De Kuip stadium.

Roger Lemerre, their coach, had told them beforehand: 'If we're losing with one second to go, we must still play that last second at full power. No giving up.'

Still, even he was forced to grasp around for a word to describe how, 1-0 down and still running into Italy's magnificent white brick wall after 93 minutes and 10 seconds, his team found salvation with 50 seconds left on the clock.

'A miracle,' Frank Leboeuf called Sylvain Wiltord's equaliser. 'A miracle which came out of desperation.'

Ah, the M word. Wasn't that how the Italian football president had described their epic 10-man semi-final victory over Holland? Wasn't that how the Spaniards had greeted their impossible comeback against Yugoslavia? How Yugoslavia had hailed their fightback versus Slovenia? One more miracle, then, to seal three miraculous weeks.

There had been so many late, late shows in this event - don't forget France had got here thanks to Raul's penalty miss for Spain in the quarters and Zinedine Zidane's penalty amid the mayhem against Portugal in the semis - that there was no reason to be too surprised.

The real miracle was, perhaps, that after taking a brilliantly crafted 55th-minute lead through Marco Delvecchio - one of the goals of the tournament - the infallibility of the Italian rearguard, commanded so wonderfully by Alessandro Nesta, should disintegrate.

Henry had tried his dazzling best, often being forced to drift out to the left flank to use his searing pace to get behind them, but it had come to nought. By the end, there was only frustration left.

'Everybody thought we were dead,' he recalled. 'You could see the Italians were already thinking of victory, clapping hands and high-fiving, and I was annoyed. They should have known that with us it is never over.'

Sure enough, Fabio Cannavaro, hitherto hardly less brilliant than Nesta, failed to clear his ranks with a straightforward header. It went straight to Wiltord, who fired home beneath the inspirational Francesco Toldo from an acute angle. It was impossible for the Italians to take.

As if stung by all the lingering criticism about them being a sterile outfit, they had put on their Sunday best for last, revealing true class and no little ambition to go with their obvious solidity. They nullified Zidane, counter-attacked with direct verve and should have sealed victory if not for two awful misses from Alessandro Del Piero; one struck wide and the other kept out by Fabien Barthez.

'I'm destroyed,' said the poor Del Piero afterwards, contemplating another tale of unfulfilled promise.

Yet he and his team-mates had already looked like condemned men as they lay around shattered and disbelieving at full-time before, 13 minutes into extra time, another defensive aberration from Cannavaro and Demetrio Albertini allowed Robert Pires to shimmy down the left and cross for David Trezeguet to strike home a thunderous volley.

It was the 85th and most golden goal we had seen this past three weeks and, for all the Italian protestations about how they had been the better side, it was difficult not to share Lemerre's assertion that, not just on the night but for the sake of an enterprising tournament, this had been 'a triumph for attacking football'.

A personal triumph for the unsung Lemerre, too. For the last half-hour, he had trusted in three bit-part players Wiltord, Pires and Trezeguet, to come off the bench and find the key. That they delivered spectacularly was no surprise to Henry. 'I always said you need 22 players to win this,' he said.

Indeed, no side came close to France's remarkable strength in depth and quality. This was a team good enough to win, even with Zidane not firing.

Take their match winner. Argentine-born Trezeguet, whose reception in Italy should be interesting when he starts his new job at Juventus in a couple of weeks.

He can't get a regular place but is already enshrined as such a big-match player for Les Bleus at 22, having also scored the goal against Iceland which got them through the qualifying, that an old hand like Barthez was embracing him with the cry: 'You're always there when we need you, David.'

Amid the gold tickertape, it was time to say goodbye to the departing maestro Laurent Blanc while Lemerre took Didier Deschamps aside as if trying to talk him out of retirement thoughts.

Yet, the coach made it sound more like a beginning than an end as he surveyed all his 24-carat talent, from 'great generals' to 'young soldiers' and could not see the join. France's golden era just moves on seamlessly.