Was there ever any chance that this occasion would pass quietly? The red flags were clear from the moment France and Argentina were, against expectation, paired in the Olympic quarter-finals. At full time the tensions that had been bubbling during a frantic closing spell boiled over and the past three weeks’ enmity crystallised in a seething brawl that spread from pitch to tunnel, players from both sides running to continue the argument inside.

France had won, and what a sweet victory it was. Maybe it was their obvious joy, partly manifesting itself in a post-match red card to the midfielder Enzo Millot for seemingly goading the opposition bench, that so enraged Argentina’s players. By then all hell had already broken loose, barely any member of either contingent uninvolved and Alexandre Lacazette needing to be physically restrained from going back for another confrontation. Unpacking who said what to whom would take a crack squad of detectives but the bottom line was that France had made a point they felt needed to be hammered home resoundingly.

Related: France v Argentina: Olympic Games men’s football quarter-final – live

“Argentina wanted to kill the party but they made the party even better,” said Jean-Philippe Mateta, whose early header proved to the match-winner. Mateta joined his teammates in bounding back out to celebrate after the hostilities had died down, their delight clearly enhanced by the losing team’s reaction.

The song sung by several of Argentina’s Copa América-winning side last month, singling out France’s players of African heritage, sparked an international incident and justifiable hurt throughout a country whose diversity is a superpower. Its footballers knew the importance of defending their homeland, its predominant values and, not least, themselves.

“It was an important match because we felt insulted, all of France felt insulted, and we ended up as winners of the game”, said Loïc Badé, the Sevilla centre-back. As proceedings geared up towards a wild 10 minutes of added time, Badé muscled the Argentina substitute Lucas Beltrán off the ball and leaned over him as he fell, aiming clearly-meant words towards his face. By then something was clearly brewing and it was no shock when chaos erupted.

“It was nothing, we just celebrated and they didn’t like it,” Badé said, keeping a straight face. “They insulted us throughout the game. I don’t know what they were saying because they were speaking Spanish, but they were gesturing.”

Afterwards Millot, who will be suspended for the semi-final against Egypt, said the game’s grim context had “given us a pep”. France certainly began like a train and so did their support, who whistled through Argentina’s national anthem and booed when the visitors’ names were recited. Julián Álvarez and Nicolás Otamendi, two of the three players spirited straight into this group from the Copa, came in for particular attention.

Both were helpless when that whirlwind from kick-off, led by a possessed Michael Olise, brought rich reward. Olise won a fifth-minute corner and whipped it perfectly to meet the run of Mateta, until recently a teammate at Crystal Palace, who flashed a fine finish across Gerónimo Rulli.

Maybe it was appropriate that Mateta, whose father was born in Democratic Republic of the Congo, applied the blow. He is as French as anybody; so too the rest of a team that covered every blade of grass, the midfielder Manu Koné setting a ferocious tone and barely letting up.

Argentina spurned chances to equalise, notably through a first-half sitter for Giuliano Simeone and a spooned effort from Beltrán that left their manager Javier Mascherano, booked for his own bit of needle in a throwback to the past, holding his head in his hands. In a bizarre, basketball-like finale that saw VAR chalk off an Olise goal, they threatened continually but an equaliser would have been undeserved on balance.

Then came the scenes that will dominate any reflections on this encounter and it was all a stark contrast to earlier in the day, when a version of this fixture had been contested on the handball court 300 miles away in Paris. It was little surprise to hear a ripple of boos when Argentina’s names were read out there but perhaps it was no shock, either, that the public address announcer sought to dampen any enmity in a deliberately family-oriented atmosphere.

“Handball is not the sport to boo, handball is a fair sport,” he preached. “So make some noise for Argentina, come on!”. A few onlookers obliged, albeit mutedly, before France won 28-21.

The biggest noise was made in Bordeaux nine hours later. Henry had few observations to make about the pitch’s transformation into a battleground, chiding Millot for involving himself with such consequence. He felt his players could have kept cooler heads in trying to protect their lead. But perhaps this was never a night to be dampened by moderation. France offered their statement loudly enough for everyone to hear.