There are matches that reveal tactical trends. Others expose technical quality. This World Cup third-place play-off exposed something far more uncomfortable: the changing mentality of elite football.

The 6–4 scoreline may entertain those searching for spectacle, but beneath the goals lay an alarming absence of collective responsibility. This was not a match defined by attacking excellence as much as it was by defensive indifference. It was football stripped of one of its most fundamental principles: obligation to the team.

Throughout football history, the greatest teams have been built on a simple idea. Talent wins moments; responsibility wins matches. England and France possessed the former in abundance, but for long periods abandoned the latter. Defensive organisation, concentration after losing possession, sacrifice for teammates and collective discipline all appeared secondary to individual expression.

The irony is that both teams had spent the tournament demonstrating the exact opposite.

Much has been written about tactics, pressing structures and positional play, yet this match suggested that none of those concepts matter when internal motivation disappears. Tactical systems only function when players are emotionally invested in carrying them out. Once that commitment fades, structure quickly dissolves into chaos.

The responsibility does not belong solely to the players.

Both Thomas Tuchel and Didier Deschamps approached the fixture as though its competitive value had already diminished. Squad rotation, team selection and even their pre-match messaging reflected an acceptance that this was no longer part of the tournament’s true story. Inevitably, that attitude filtered onto the pitch. Players rarely treat a match with greater importance than their managers do.

This raises a broader question about the direction of elite football.

Modern football increasingly resembles the entertainment industry. Every season demands more matches, more content, more television audiences and more commercial value. Yet the more football becomes a product, the greater the danger that its competitive identity weakens. Matches become events to consume rather than contests carrying genuine sporting significance.

The third-place play-off illustrated that shift perfectly.

For previous generations, wearing a national shirt implied an unconditional obligation to compete regardless of circumstance. Winning a bronze medal was never equivalent to winning the World Cup, but representing one’s country demanded the same professionalism, concentration and collective sacrifice.

That standard appears increasingly fragile.

This is not a criticism of talent. Football has perhaps never possessed more technically gifted players. Nor is it nostalgia for a mythical past where every generation was flawless. Rather, it is a concern that modern football increasingly rewards individual expression while asking less of the qualities that historically defined great teams: discipline, accountability and collective responsibility.

Ironically, the match delivered exactly what modern entertainment demands. Ten goals. Endless transitions. Constant drama. It was captivating television.

Whether it was a worthy representation of elite international football is a far more uncomfortable question.

Perhaps the most appropriate cultural reference is not a tactical manual but Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck*. The match often looked as though both teams had unconsciously embraced its title. The objective was no longer to fulfil every competitive obligation that comes with representing a nation, but simply to get through one final evening before leaving the tournament behind.

If that interpretation feels harsh, it is only because football has always represented something greater than entertainment. At its best, it reflects commitment, resilience, accountability and the willingness to fight for teammates regardless of circumstance.

The third-place play-off suggested that those values can no longer be taken for granted.

And that may prove far more significant than the scoreline itself.