Clairefontaine awakened on an April morning.
Julien and Giroud went to the restaurant for breakfast together. Over the past few days, he had grown closer to Giroud.
Giroud himself had no foundation in the national team and was Benzema's substitute, so naturally he felt more comfortable with De Rocca, who was similarly a fringe player, especially with Julien's deliberate efforts to build their relationship.
The two had almost become brothers from different mothers.
Julien thought that if possible, he should also find Kanté, but he had no idea where Kanté had played before joining Leicester City.
"Forget it, I'll take it one step at a time," he thought.
Julien knew that Kanté was also a good person and wouldn't be difficult to approach.
Reading the morning paper during breakfast was a habit among the players.
However, when Julien saw today's newspaper, his brow furrowed tightly.
Le Figaro had published an interview with Nasri, in which he said with subtle mockery, "I'll say it again, the current French team is not united. Some people are constantly trying to create divisions. The national team is a place where we need to produce results for this country, not a training ground for young players. We need ability, not potential."
These words stopped just short of naming Julien directly.
Julien sneered coldly. He hadn't settled accounts with Nasri for his previous underhanded moves, and now he was at it again?
Julien silently put down the newspaper and followed his teammates to the training ground to begin the final day of training.
Tomorrow would be the squad scrimmage, and after that, everyone could go home.
The April training camp would come to an end, with one more friendly match in May.
By the end of May, the final 23-man squad for the European Championship would be determined.
On the training ground.
Although almost everyone had seen the report of Nasri's interview, no one seemed to care.
Only Blanc's eyes kept wandering over the players, seemingly deep in thought.
"Hey, Julien, do you think you can make it to the Euros?" Giroud asked after training.
Julien shook his head. "I don't care whether I make the Euros or not. That's not something I can control. What I can control is helping the team score when I'm on the pitch, and training hard when I'm not. Everything else—thinking too much about it only brings unnecessary worry."
After saying this, Julien asked in return, "What about you? Are you worried about not making the squad?"
"Yes," Giroud didn't avoid the question, nodding. "I'm almost 26 years old, and this is my first possible experience with a major tournament for the national team. I'm genuinely worried about being left out."
Julien shook his head. "Don't worry, you'll definitely make the squad. You just might not have stable starting opportunities. That guy from Real Madrid will occupy the starting position."
"Karim? Yes, he gets to play alongside world-class players like Cristiano at Real Madrid."
When Giroud said this, his tone was slightly dejected.
He had never considered himself a genius. Everyone said he was a late bloomer, but wasn't this something he had accumulated bit by bit through time and sweat?
Julien patted Giroud's shoulder heavily. "Compared to that arrogant guy, you're the player the team needs most. The French team can still become world champions without Karim Benzema, but without you..."
Julien shook his head firmly. "It just won't work."
This was why Giroud liked Julien—this kid, despite his young age, always knew exactly what to say to touch people's hearts.
However, Giroud didn't think what De Rocca said was necessarily true. France's world championship still seemed a distant dream.
Giroud wondered if he would see it in his career.
He looked at Julien.
A thought emerged in his mind: "Could he be the future of the French team?"
He didn't have an answer yet.
The next day.
At Clairefontaine's French national team training ground, there were only two or three reporters scattered about.
This kind of internal scrimmage wasn't open to the public—these were just beat reporters.
Even if they filmed something, they wouldn't release it without the national team's permission.
The players wore red and yellow training bibs and began warming up.
Blanc divided the 33 players into teams A and B, with each team having several substitutes.
He didn't divide them according to the conventional first team versus reserves.
Instead, he divided them based on the relationships between players—for example, Giroud was Team B's starting center forward, with De Rocca as his right-wing partner, and the defensive line included Rami and Debuchy.
On the other side, the four young stars were all present.
When both teams stood in the center circle, Nasri's gaze fixed on Julien, with a hint of mockery at the corner of his mouth.
In his view, De Rocca, who hadn't even played in a top-level league, was purely there to be cannon fodder.
Beep!
The assistant coach acted as referee and blew the whistle to start the match.
Internal scrimmages usually had a slower pace, focusing on coordination and familiarizing players with the coach's tactics.
But this French team scrimmage was different.
Both sides were going all out.
Shortly after the start, Nasri and Ben Arfa completed a combination on the right flank, charging into the penalty area with feints and turns, shaking off defenders before unleashing a powerful shot.
Fortunately, second-choice goalkeeper Carrasso reacted quickly and parried the ball away.
The attack was neutralized.
In response, Team B immediately launched a counter-attack down the left flank, with Ribéry quickly advancing with the ball.
However, Ribéry, whether out of form or because he thought the match wasn't important, tried to cut inside but had the ball tackled away by Clichy.
Initially, Team A dominated the attack, with the four young stars showing their technical skills.
Nasri and Ben Arfa were particularly active.
Blanc watched from the sideline with a furrowed brow.
The stronger they performed, the smaller his chances of dropping them, even though few club coaches could completely control team selection, let alone national team coaches.
"Defend!" Matuidi suddenly shouted.
Debuchy made a big clearance from the penalty area, Giroud won the header, and played the ball to De Rocca's side.
Ménez immediately moved to defend, trying to steal the ball from Julien's feet.
But after receiving the ball, De Rocca simply flicked and pulled it, completely shaking off Ménez.
Julien accelerated!
His top speed wasn't particularly fast, and Ménez could still keep up, trying to grab him, but De Rocca suddenly stopped, dodged, and then passed the ball to Giroud who had come to support.
Julien continued to accelerate, charging forward.
After reaching top speed, Julien suddenly found another gear!
He completely shook off Ménez.
At this moment, Giroud also saw the opportunity in front of De Rocca and played a horizontal pass.
Meanwhile, Nasri had tracked back to defend. In fact, most of the time Nasri didn't defend, but this time he deliberately wanted to give De Rocca a hard time.
Seeing the ball passed toward Julien, he immediately blocked the passing lane.
Evra also closed in from the other side.
However, De Rocca didn't slow down or stop the ball. Instead, he poked it forward, and the ball went through Nasri's legs.
With his explosive boost, Julien was incredibly fast, suddenly bursting between Nasri and Evra.
In a flash.
Neither Nasri nor Evra had time to react.
De Rocca burst through, and though the angle was tight, Giroud was following up in the center.
A reverse pass.
Giroud threw himself at the ball, taking the defending Mexès down with him. Both players stretched out their legs.
Giroud's was longer.
Swoosh!
Mandanda had no time to react.
Team B took the lead.
Julien caught his breath slightly, then excitedly ran toward Giroud, who was sprinting toward him after getting up, shaking his finger. "Well done! Olivier!"
"Haha! Your pass was brilliant!"
The two embraced in celebration.
Other teammates also rushed over to join the group hug.
Blanc beamed with satisfaction.
Looking at Nasri, who was gesturing helplessly toward his teammates, his mood improved greatly and he thought in his heart. "You think no one can replace you?"
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