Julien watched from the sidelines, pursing his lips. His eyes burning with intensity.
How desperately he wanted to fight alongside his teammates, but at this moment he could only sit on the substitutes' bench.
At 75th minute.
Ancelotti made PSG's first substitution, replacing Gameiro, whose stamina had severely declined.
He brought on the 6'4" tall striker Hoarau.
Julien knew this player.
If he remembered correctly, he would join Dalian Aerbin next year. Unfortunately, due to tactical incompatibility with Dalian Aerbin, he wouldn't perform well there.
PSG was now preparing for aerial bombardment.
Hoarau's hold-up play was excellent, with his back-to-goal ability being his trademark skill.
Since joining PSG in 2008, he had maintained a 20+ goal efficiency in most seasons.
Hadzibegic also made personnel adjustments. He substituted Mane, who could no longer make forward runs.
He brought on another center-back, Marchal—they were determined to defend to the end.
After PSG's substitution, they indeed focused their attacks on the penalty area, playing direct high balls.
Hoarau and Ibrahimovic wreaked havoc in the penalty box.
Marchal, Choplin, and Cahuzac repeatedly contested headers with them.
Three center-backs?
No—at this moment, Bastia's penalty area contained at least six or seven players!
Several others were positioned to prevent long-range shots.
Kanté had been pulled wide to defend, preventing PSG from crossing at will.
This tiny player had opened many eyes tonight. Perhaps height wasn't so important after all.
De Bruyne had abandoned the elegance of a midfield maestro—he wasn't passing, only intercepting and defending repeatedly.
Bang!
Ibrahimovic dropped back outside the penalty area and unleashed a powerful shot, the ball striking Choplin.
Despite the pain, Choplin continued defending. Only when the ball was kicked out of bounds did he collapse, raising his hand to signal for the team doctor.
The medical staff entered the field. Sidibe also cramped and fell due to his defensive sprints.
In the final ten-plus minutes, the medical team entered frequently, fragmenting the game.
The PSG players were furious about this. But there was nothing they could do—everything was within the rules.
Ancelotti continuously complained to the fourth official, claiming Bastia players were deliberately wasting time.
Time didn't stop.
The Bastia substitute players were already standing at the sideline, everyone was cheering for the team.
In the final minute of stoppage time, jerseys stained with mud, grass, and sweat danced wildly in the wind.
Bastia retreated entirely into their penalty area, like a pack of wolves driven to the cliff's edge, backs to the abyss, facing the storm-like barrage of crosses.
Ibrahimovic got one last chance. He turned and unleashed a powerful shot.
The ball flew through the gap between Cahuzac and Choplin.
Novaes made what might have been his most spectacular save yet. He flew through the air, denying Ibrahimovic's shot.
Pastore rushed in for the rebound. Novaes made a double save!
The retreating Kanté kicked the ball toward midfield.
The moment of clearance— Roars erupted to shake the heavens, making even the moonlight tremble.
PSG goalkeeper Sirigu rushed forward to control the ball, wanting to launch it toward the front.
But there was no time left.
Tweet!!!
The heavenly sound rang out. The substitute players rushed onto the field, celebrating excitedly with their teammates.
The players on the pitch were so exhausted they could only collapse to the ground.
Julien was also hugging Hadzibegic. This time, no one could remain calm—all passion, all enthusiasm was fully displayed in this moment.
"Miracle! Miracle! This isn't football—this is epic! Listen to these roars—'BA-STI-A!'"
The TF1 commentator's voice was breaking.
"Look at these warriors! Tonight, football's pure soul belongs to Corsica, belongs to every Bastia player! With sprint after sprint, tackle after tackle, they've proved that money can buy superstars, but it can never buy this iron-blooded romance that belongs uniquely to football."
"Julien's injury withdrawal may be regrettable, but this match was won precisely because he created three goals, giving Bastia breathing room in defense. This genius continues to shine with his own light on Corsica! Someday, this light will illuminate all of France and spread throughout Europe!"
"Angoula, Cahuzac and others have also used this match to prove that these players who came up from lower divisions also have their own place under the sun. Even if they fall to the ground, they'll clutch the dust in their hands and forge it into stars!"
They won.
Bastia won.
This was a result no one had expected—ten million euros defeating one hundred million euros.
The moment the whistle blew, Ancelotti actually became calm.
Having experienced the Istanbul night, his big heart allowed him to accept everything.
He shook hands with Hadzibegic and said, "You have a good group of players."
"Thank you."
After the match at Cesari Stadium, the fans still didn't want to leave.
Everyone remained immersed in the joy of victory.
The players thanked the crowd.
The fans sang song after song until the lights dimmed, until the waves crashed.
In the locker room, the smiles on the Bastia players' faces couldn't be suppressed.
Angoula laughed loudly, "That Ibrahimovic was hyped up so much, but in this match, he was like a wet noodle—his shots were completely powerless!"
"Haha, that's because you defended so well!" Choplin shouted.
Choplin also sat next to Kanté and said, "Don't forget the little guy's contribution this match! My God, Kanté, your lungs must be made of steel—you can run forever!"
Kanté showed an embarrassed smile. As long as the team needed him, he would keep running.
The players shared their feelings about the match.
Rothen looked at Julien and asked, "Can you play next match?"
Julien shook his head, "Not sure, we'll see in a couple days."
Julien's injury was the only gray cloud on this night.
After the match.
In his interview, Ancelotti didn't say much: "That red card changed everything. I don't think it was a clear goal-scoring opportunity—we still had Alex."
"Of course, Bastia deserves respect. They played very resiliently. We had many chances, many, many, but they were all destroyed."
"The most impressive thing about this match was perhaps their number 10 player. He has very strong feet. I've heard his name in Paris. I know he performed exceptionally for the French national team. Congratulations to him—I hope his injury isn't serious."
Hadzibegic's interview response was more brief: "We won because this is Bastia—we played with Bastia's fighting spirit!"
"Tonight, Paris's starlight illuminated Corsica, but was swallowed by Mediterranean waves."
"The football world never has 'deserved winners,' only 'worthy winners'—Bastia proved this point."
Finally, regarding Julien's injury and the Europa League match in three days.
Hadzibegic shook his head, "I'm not clear at the moment. We need to wait for further medical evaluation before making a final decision. Julien's health is more important than any match."
________________________________________________________
Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:
patreon.com/LorianFiction
Thanks for your support!