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Amandine Henry's face said it all.
As the clock ticked into the 95th minute of France's 2019 Women's World Cup quarterfinal against the USA, American winger Tobin Heath won a soft free kick near the corner flag.
Henry, the veteran France captain, shook her head and muttered something under her breath as she slowly walked towards where the referee was standing.
You could tell from the way her shoulders caved inward, her eyes falling to the grass, that she knew her nation — the host nation — was done.
"Are France going to live up to their reputation of choking whenever they get to major tournaments?" the commentator had asked minutes earlier.
So they did. As the whistle blew to signal full-time, the USA winning 2-1, Henry looked out into the stands at the Parc de Princes in Paris and was met by thousands of quiet, empty faces staring back.
Did they crumble under the pressure of the moment? Were their opponents simply too fierce, too hungry, too good? Was it the World Cup quarterfinal curse coming back to haunt them? Or maybe all three?
Some of the French players who were there that day – Wendie Renard, Kadidiatou Diani, Eugenie Le Sommer, Amel Majri — will not have forgotten how it felt: to not only host the World Cup, but to tumble out of it earlier than what their home fans had hoped.
Tony Gustavsson was there that day, too, pacing around the coaching box of the USA team where he was assistant coach under Jill Ellis, flailing his arms about as the game crawled to a close.
It's poetic, then, that this French side that hasn't qualified for a World Cup semifinal since 2011 is here, now, desperate to redeem itself against a host nation in exactly the same position as it was; a nation led by the same man who helped torpedo its own dreams four years ago.
And here is the thing about history: it can help or it can hinder. It can be a sail or an anchor, depending on how you carry it.
For Le Sommer, France's all-time leading goalscorer, the quarterfinal exit to the eventual champion in 2019 seems to have oscillated from one to the other.
"That game has helped us," she told media yesterday.
"And in any case, I think every game and every competition is something that helps us learn, and we need to use this knowledge to face whatever comes.
"[From] players to staff, lots of things have changed [since 2019], so we feel a new energy and a new dynamic. We also come with more freshness … we come with confidence.
"Anything can happen. To play with the pressure, and to know that the stadium will be against us, it's also motivation: it pushes us forward. We do have pressure.
"Every time you have pressure and have to face big players, this means you're facing big games. You need to go beyond your abilities.
"But this is why we play football; these are magical moments that we can live and hope the magic can go on."
The same can be said for the Matildas, who come into this game wanting to wrench themselves free from the straightjacket of their own history.
Never before has Australia progressed to the semifinals of a senior World Cup; the best it has ever achieved has been this step right here, the final eight, which it has reached three times before (though, granted, there were fewer teams back then).
Further, it's been 20 years since a host nation qualified for the final four of the tournament (USA in 2003), while only once in the history of the Women's World Cup has a host nation actually gone on to win the whole thing (USA in 1999).
There is big history, then, that Australia is up against, but there is also a smaller history between these two sides on the field.
These countries have played each other eight times, with the results falling pretty evenly both ways, with the games always a tight arm-wrestle.
Only twice have the games been decided by two or more goals, with the majority ending with a single goal's separation, including the last meeting just three weeks ago when the Matildas defeated France 1-0 in a final warm-up game.
But how much can be read into games like that? Are friendly results just red herrings that we get distracted by when performances in tournaments are what we should pay attention to? When are friendlies just friendlies, and when are they not?
Ellie Carpenter, who plays alongside several of France's top players at Olympique Lyonnais, doesn't really care.
"This is a World Cup, anything can happen," she said yesterday.
"Yes, we beat them three weeks ago, but it's going to be a completely different game. Yes, we have that mentally over them, but tomorrow, all that is out the window.
"We know that they'll show their toughest team. We know the strengths and weaknesses they have. But tomorrow is going to be completely different."
While the game may be completely different, so much about these two teams desperate to write a new chapter in their own respective histories is the same.
Each has experienced the weight of hosting a World Cup, and the realisation that a whole nation — from the tens of thousands in the stands to the millions more beyond them — is now watching their every move.
Each has felt the line wobble between pressure and motivation, between suffocating expectation and billowing belief.
Each has suffered setbacks to their squads, from tournament-eve calf injuries to tournament-ending knee ones.
Each is led by charismatic head coaches who acknowledge their small roles in this bigger story, and who speak equally of the "spirit" that their players are driven by.
Each has been motivated by two iconic captains; the pinnacles of their positions, the finest gems in the "golden generation" of players that surround them.
And each of them is now staring at their own past and their own futures at once, standing on opposing ends of a bright green field, ready to whisk them onwards or pull them down into the depths.