A moving farewell for Presnel Kimpembe at Parc des Princes
On Sunday night, the Princes Park did not just vibrate for a victory. Yes, PSG beat Lens 2-0, with a promising double of Bradley Barcola. But this score, almost anecdotal, quickly disappeared behind the essential: a farewell. That of a kid from the club who became captain, soldier, world champion, and now expatriate to Qatar. Presnel Kimpembe's.
There were goals, songs, but especially a rare atmosphere. This impression that every minute, every image was loaded with memory.
A vibrant tribute to an iconic player
Quand l’arbitre a sifflé la fin, la vraie soirée a commencé. Le virage Auteuil s’est embrasé. Un tifo gigantesque s’est levé, Presko figé comme une icône, avec un simple mot en bas : « Merci ». Derrière, ses coéquipiers l’attendaient en haie d’honneur, maillots spéciaux sur le dos, floqués « Merci Presko ». Pas de chichi, pas de mise en scène forcée : juste la sincérité d’un club qui dit au revoir à l’un des siens.
Eight League 1 titles, a League of Champions touched but never forgotten, duels won against the world's greatest attackers. For more than ten years, Kimpembe was the soul of a defense, sometimes criticized for his excess commitment, but always respected for his honesty.
Luis Enrique, sobre mais ému, a résumé l’ambiance : « Cette victoire était pour lui. Il a marqué ce club d’une manière que peu de joueurs peuvent comprendre. »
A poignant speech by Kimpembe
Puis est venu le moment qui serre la gorge. Presko a pris le micro, ses trois enfants accrochés à ses jambes. Le Parc s’est tu. « Aujourd’hui est un jour difficile. Mais je voulais vous remercier. Merci pour ces années, pour les émotions, pour la force que vous m’avez donnée. » La voix tremble, les yeux brillent. On sent le poids des souvenirs, de l’histoire.
Pas de discours écrit, pas de grandes phrases préparées. Des mots simples, qui touchent droit au cœur. « Je suis fier d’avoir porté ce maillot, fier d’avoir défendu ses couleurs. Fier surtout de vous avoir rendus heureux, vous, ma famille, ma mère, et vous tous ici. »
At that moment, the songs started to look better. The Park has turned into a giant choir, chanting its name as if to anchor forever in these walls.
An end to the PSG
Kimpembe's departure is more than a transfer. It's the end of a cycle. Arriving at the training centre at the age of 10, he grew up in these spans, he knew Gambardella's iced evenings as the burning nights of Champions League. He shared a dressing room with Thiago Silva, Verratti, Ibrahimovic, Cavani, Mbappé. He saw Paris switch to another dimension, that of superstars and XXL ambitions.
And in the middle of all this, he remained that titi of Bondy, frank, sometimes clumsy, but always whole. Kimpembe, it was the anti-star in a world icon club. The player who threw himself without thinking about saving a ball, who was wailing as much as he encouraged, who vibrated with the audience as a fan in crampons.
His departure for Qatar SC is a career choice, perhaps also a breath after twenty years spent in the same place. But it's mostly a hole in the Parisian soul.
A forward-looking PSG
Now what? PSG is moving forward, as always. Bradley Barcola took advantage of the evening to offer a double, proof that the replacement is already there. Zaire-Emery is a future boss. Recruits adapt. The locker room is changing.
Luis Enrique has to find the right balance: keep the warrior DNA infused by players like Presko, while building a collective oriented towards tomorrow. Not simple, but essential. Because Paris always needs leaders, not just stars.
One evening engraved in memories
When Kimpembe made his last tour of the field, applauding each stand, many had their eyes blushed. Not just fans. His teammates, too. Because everyone knows: Presko wasn't perfect, but he never cheated.
And that's what's left. More than just a list, more than statistics. The image of a player trained at the club, who gave everything. A titi that grew up to become a home legend.
PSG won a game this Sunday. But Paris especially said goodbye to one of his children. And that, no score can erase.
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