"Julien! Go for it!"
In the Sunset Coffee tavern, a group of drunks forgot to pour their drinks down their throats, all staring mesmerized at Julien's movements.
Hope flickered in their eyes. Staring at Julien's figure on the screen without even blinking.
Saze also locked his gaze tightly on Julien, not daring to relax for a moment.
Without more time to prepare, he had to go hard.
His coaches' words echoed in his mind—he has no physicality, give him body contact, don't give him space.
Saze stared at Julien, thinking about how to get physical with him.
When he actually faced Julien with space opened up, Saze felt like he was playing in Ligue 1.
Julien was like that Belgian from Lille—elusive footwork that left defenders guessing.
As Saze hesitated, Julien moved!
Shoulder drop!
Saze's eyes lit up. He understood—this was Julien's change of direction. If he just didn't move, he could handle anything.
But when he thought he had Julien figured out, Julien's exaggerated body movement made Saze pause, unsure which way Julien would go.
Saze immediately made his choice—wasn't this the perfect moment to get close to Julien and use his body to stop him?
However, the next second, Saze felt like Julien was a gust of wind that blew past him.
Whoosh!
Along with this wind came the gasps of the crowd.
'Damn!'
Saze didn't have time to think—he immediately turned to chase.
When he turned around, he saw Julien swinging his leg to shoot.
Bang!
Saze could almost hear the dull thud of the ball being struck.
He saw teammate Farnole dive to make the save.
He saw the ball hit the net.
He saw Julien spread his arms wide and run toward the corner flag to celebrate.
He saw the wild celebration of the away fans in the corner.
Saze stood there in a daze, watching Bastia players run past him one by one toward the corner flag.
Bastia was wildly celebrating.
In just over ten seconds, Saze hadn't even seen clearly how Julien had beaten him.
He only saw the scoreboard showing 2-2.
He was somewhat bewildered.
"Julien!!"
In the away section, Bastia fans chanted Julien's name wildly. This attack had left them exhilarated.
"So beautiful!"
"Your dribbling is so beautiful!"
"Julien!"
The excited fans couldn't find more words—just a few simple phrases to release their passion.
The home fans responded with a sea of boos, completely drowning out Bastia's cheers.
Though outnumbered, Bastia's voice remained strong. They stubbornly withstood the stadium-wide boos and continued celebrating.
"Brilliant! That's exactly what we needed!" Roten rushed over and hugged Julien.
Other teammates joined in, everyone embracing together, with nothing but praise for Julien in their ears.
Julien was at the center of it all.
The star among stars.
After his teammates gradually dispersed, Julien faced the away section, pointing at the Bastia crest on his chest with one hand while raising the other in a triumphant fist.
Before leaving the corner flag area, Julien raised both hands, getting the fans to cheer louder.
The Bastia fans were ecstatic.
Clermont fans and the Gamblers hearts sank.
Especially the gamblers. If Clermont fans lost, they'd just be in a bad mood. If these gamblers lost, that was serious money!
"Damn, it's Julien again!"
"No way, is today's script the same as the French Cup? Julien with a last-minute winner?"
"I'm done—heading to the rooftop again. It's getting cold up there!"
"This kid is so weird. No way—next match I'm definitely betting on Bastia! This guy seems to have some kind of comeback talent."
Meanwhile, the TV commentator was extremely excited, talking non-stop.
"Brilliant! Look at that—the first touch, the consecutive dribbles to get free, the change of direction, the nutmeg... this is pure talent!"
"Julien—this football prodigy from Clairefontaine is back! Looking at his journey over these years, from Clairefontaine to Lille to Chelsea, then nearly disappearing from professional football, now returning to fans' view from Corsica Island.
He hasn't changed—he's still that genius. His past experiences will only become part of his life's foundation. He's still young, only 17, and his future remains bright. Ligue 2 coaches will need to stay up tonight studying how to deal with this teenage prodigy."
In the Sunset Coffee tavern, no one heard what the commentator was saying.
There were only cheers here!
"Fight!"
"Bastia!"
One voice after another emerged, mighty and strong, with beer spilled all over the floor.
"Châtaigner, brilliant! Where did you find this genius!" After the cheering, a fan shouted at Châtaigner at the bar.
Châtaigner was beaming. "This is what I meant by the strongest signing of the season!"
"Good, good, good! This kid is something!"
"Very strong!"
"Julien has a completely different style from other players. That dribbling was so beautiful."
Châtaigner continued. "Other teams are willing to pay millions of euros for Julien, but I didn't agree to any of them."
Applause erupted at his words.
"Julien is Bastia's core—can't sell him!"
"Châtaigner, you did well!"
Châtaigner stood up and pointed to Pierre beside him. "Also, let me introduce everyone to Julien's father, Pierre De Rocca!"
Clap clap clap!
There was more applause.
Someone shouted. "Hey, pote (mate), you have a good son! Let's drink!"
"Cheers!" Pierre, faced with such enthusiasm, wasn't intimidated at all. He grabbed his glass and downed it in one gulp.
In today's atmosphere, the depression he'd felt over the past year or two was completely swept away.
Riding this momentum, he just kept drinking!
Gulp after gulp, Pierre became familiar with the fans.
One fan patted his chest and declared. "As long as Julien is at Bastia, if anyone gives him trouble, they're giving us trouble!"
Another fan said. "Look at Julien—this is what other people's kids are like at seventeen. My son is probably on top of some girl somewhere, he's completely useless."
"With Julien, we can definitely get promoted!"
"Hey, Châtaigner, make sure to watch Julien's injury situation. He's still just a kid, and with that height, the way he dribbles, you need to be careful."
Châtaigner waved his hand. "Don't worry, we do physical tests on Julien every week. We only let him play when we confirm he's in good condition. And for the short term, we won't start him... Oh! Fuck! That's a foul without a red card?!"
During their conversation, Julien was brought down from behind by Moreira on screen, but the referee only gave Moreira a yellow card.
"Straight red!!"
"That flying tackle on a kid—this damn defender is inhuman."
"Screw this garbage referee—he's been terrible all match!"
"Is Julien okay?"
While cursing the referee and Moreira, everyone was watching Julien closely, hoping he wasn't injured.
Finally seeing such a dazzling player at Bastia, they didn't want to see him get hurt.
Roten was first to reach Julien's side, checking on his condition, then quickly called for the team doctor.
Julien just felt his shin get kicked—it hurt quite a bit.
As the doctor treated him, the entire Bastia bench was protesting to the fourth official, with various curse words in their complaints. Auguste gave Dominique another yellow card.
The Bastia fans were furious.
But ultimately, there was nothing they could do.
Fortunately, Julien wasn't injured. After simple treatment, he returned to the field.
The game continued.
In the following time, perhaps Auguste was trying to balance things out, as he called several fouls against Clermont during their attacks.
This made the Clermont fans unhappy too.
The sweat on Auguste's face increased—how he wished the match would end quickly.
Unfortunately, it was only the 70th minute. Still early.
In the stands, Hadzibegic's expression was incredibly energetic—from excitement after the goal to continuous cursing during the subsequent play.
Up in the stands, he cursed without restraint.
On the field, after that goal, Julien was clearly being marked closely. Saze and Moreira flanked him on both sides.
Bastia found it difficult to get the ball to Julien's feet.
Julien chose to drop back.
This change made Der Zakarian somewhat uneasy. After being scored on by Julien, he had erupted in anger.
He had repeatedly explained before the match how to defend against Julien.
But in that goal, neither Moreira nor Saze had managed to do any of what was required.
Tweet!!
The referee's whistle blew again.
Clermont was called for a foul, but Der Zakarian nodded slightly.
When Julien dropped back and tried to dribble forward, he was directly knocked down by his player.
Der Zakarian returned to the coaching area and sat down, taking a sip of water. He said to his assistant. "There you go. Give him enough physical contact, and what can he do? That Messi in La Liga is so good at dribbling, but doesn't he get stopped when he's knocked down?"
His assistant nodded, though he felt something was off about what Der Zakarian said, but couldn't put his finger on it.
How did he just compare Julien to Messi?
Who was Julien anyway?
Could Julien even be mentioned in the same breath as Messi? The assistant felt Der Zakarian was giving Julien way too much acknowledgement.
On the field, Julien was getting used to being frequently fouled.
This was the fate of players with his style.
Ronaldinho, Ronaldo, Messi, Neymar—on the pitch, they were all heavily marked targets, and being fouled was just part of the job.
The current situation hadn't improved because of Julien's deeper positioning.
Playing a man down, they were still at a disadvantage.
The only good news might be that this match's progression had Bastia's players playing like they were buffed— they were incredibly tough.
Meanwhile, Clermont's players, after their attacks stalled, seemed increasingly frustrated.
Especially playing at home with a man advantage, yet they'd been equalized.
Who could accept that?
Attack!
They had to attack hard!!
This was their mentality
In Ligue 2, technical teams were extremely rare—most played direct, physical football.
Clermont was no exception.
Get the ball on the wing, then smash it into the penalty area!
The home fans, caught up in this bombardment, were fired up and threw more smoke bombs, specifically targeting the away section to prevent Bastia fans from seeing the action.
Another wave of chaos erupted in the stands.
The time reached 76 minutes.
After another failed attack, Clermont reorganized their forward push. Alexandrini tried to play something clever with a through ball to penetrate the defense.
But his through pass was anticipated by Bastia defender Harek, who slid to intercept it.
The ball was picked up by Choplin, who was near Harek.
Julien immediately started his run.
Bastia might not pass accurately, but they moved the ball quickly.
Fortunately, both teams were now down a man.
There was plenty of space.
Inaccurate passing wasn't much of a problem.
Choplin quickly played the ball forward, and Roten received it looking for Julien.
On the move, Roten's pass went behind Julien.
Julien immediately stopped and prepared to receive with his back to goal.
Moreira was determined—knowing this counterattack had to be stopped, he charged forward intending to collide with Julien.
However, when he charged forward, Julien didn't receive the ball but let it run past him, turning and bursting past Moreira.
After Julien let the ball run and turned to beat Moreira, Clermont's fullback quickly tracked back to cover while Saze cut off Julien's path through the middle.
This time Julien wasn't fighting alone—he had corrected his predecessor's ball-hogging habits.
He played the ball decisively.
The ball went wide to Bastia's fullback Angula, who used his pace advantage to surge forward with the ball.
Completely stretching Clermont's defensive line.
Clermont had pushed too far forward in attack, and their defensive transition left gaps between the lines.
Julien looked around and chose to move toward Angula—he needed to provide support, as Angula alone would lose the ball.
Angula only had pace.
Straight-line running with no variation was relatively easy to defend.
Saze kept watching Julien's position.
As Julien moved toward the right flank, Saze immediately followed.
Seeing Julien approach, Angula immediately passed to him, then continued his run along the touchline, drawing away a defender for Julien.
Julien received the ball without hesitation. With no additional defenders yet arriving, he chose to cut inside.
Saze had just gotten into position when Julien charged at him.
Taking advantage of Saze's unstable footing, Julien faced him and poked the ball with his toe, nutmegging Saze.
Then he burst through the inside channel, completing his escape.
One characteristic of tall center-backs is their slower reaction time. By the time Saze turned around, Julien already had a body-length advantage.
Saze instinctively wanted to grab Julien.
But he immediately remembered he was on a yellow card, with over ten minutes left in the match. A red card wouldn't be worth it.
He stopped his hand.
Julien's inside cut succeeded, and the central defender immediately charged forward with a slide tackle.
Julien knocked the ball to his right foot, no time to switch to his favored foot, and unleashed a powerful shot with his weaker right foot.
The ball flew straight toward the near post!
Goalkeeper Farnole was ready for this, and with Julien's right-footed shot lacking angle, he flew out and managed to get to the ball.
Fortunately, Julien's shot was fast and powerful enough.
Farnole couldn't hold onto it!
Julien was first to react, completing the rebound!
Swish!!
2-3!
Julien had scored the go-ahead goal!!
BOOM!
The Bastia fans felt like their minds exploded with a thunderous roar, adrenaline rushing to their heads.
After scoring, Julien sprinted toward the corner flag below the away section.
He spread his arms wide toward the stands.
At this moment, Julien stood amidst the swirling smoke, glowing with light.