The match hadn't ended yet.
But no Bastia supporter could focus on the remaining seconds. They were lost in celebration.
Bastia's municipal leaders were already planning the championship parade, calculating how to maximize this moment, boost the city's profile, enhance tourism revenue.
When the clock struck 90 minutes, referee Kuipers made a merciful decision—he added no stoppage time.
It was an act of humanity, ending the match without further torture for Benfica's players and fans.
The whistle pierced the air!
FULL TIME!
In that instant, time froze before being swallowed by an emotional tsunami that had been building for thirty-five years!
As the whistle sounded, every Bastia player collapsed as if their bones had dissolved, or surged forward as if molten lava had been injected into their veins, throwing themselves at the nearest teammate!
Goalkeeper Emiliano Martínez sprinted from his penalty area all the way to the center circle, suddenly dropping to his knees and pounding the turf with both fists, tilting his head back to release a bestial roar before being engulfed by the tide of teammates.
Julien found himself sandwiched between De Bruyne and Lukaku, the three of them toppling to the grass like conjoined beings. De Bruyne laughed hysterically in his ear, repeating over and over: "You did it! You madman! You actually did it!" while Lukaku crushed them both beneath his massive body, yelling triumphantly.
Rothen didn't join the pile-on. He walked alone toward the corner flag, turning his back to the celebrating masses as his shoulders began to shake.
He sank to his knees, arms spread wide toward the sky, silent tears streamed down his face—but he was smiling.
In this moment, the player once labeled a wasted talent had made peace with himself.
His career was complete now.
Champions League runner-up, Europa League champion, multiple Ligue 1 titles—but most importantly, after years of wandering, he'd finally found himself on this Mediterranean island beyond the French mainland. He'd rediscovered the joy of football.
Teammates came over for celebratory embraces.
Elsewhere, Kanté was engulfed by substitute players, his trademark shy smile was replaced by overwhelming, bewildered happiness.
Hadzibegic swayed violently when the whistle blew, grabbing the dugout roof to steady himself.
He didn't rush onto the pitch. Instead, he slowly crouched down, covering his face with both hands.
His coaching staff could see his back heaving.
Seconds later, he surged to his feet, tears streaming from reddened eyes even as he laughed aloud, embracing his staff and pounding their backs.
Medical staff, physiotherapists, equipment managers—everyone poured onto the pitch, crying and laughing as one with the players.
An elderly team doctor found Julien and held him tight, his voice sounded choked with emotion: "Good boy! Good boy!"
Chataigner, after his wild celebrations on the pitch, finally felt his legs give way. He slid to the ground, burying his head in his knees, hands gripping his hair as his entire body trembled.
After a long moment, he lifted his head, face soaked with tears but radiating a brilliant, almost childlike smile.
He whispered to the air: "We did it."
Clauss, the young substitute who'd just provided the assist, stood frozen in complete shock.
He covered his face with both hands, watching the madness unfold through his fingers, his body was shaking with overwhelming emotion.
He couldn't believe that last season he'd been playing in the fifth tier, and now he was a European champion!
Rothen spotted him and strode over, pulling the youngster into a crushing embrace while roughly tousling his hair: "Kid! You're a champion now!"
Clauss finally broke, crying like a child as he clung to the veteran.
Van Dijk, Mané, and every other Bastia player drowned in their own overwhelming emotions.
This match would rewrite all their careers.
As players and fans celebrated, the commentator's voice rang out simultaneously:
"It's over! OVER! OVER! My God! History has been made! The miracle has arrived! Bastia are champions! They are the kings of Europe!
6-0!
A scoreline that will make every Bastia supporter tremble!
A European final!
A single-match showdown at the pinnacle of the game!
Bastia have demolished Benfica, silenced every doubter, and obliterated 35 years of heartbreak in the most brutal, perfect, and unbelievable fashion!
This has been an epic underdog story spanning an entire season!
But remember—this was no accident!
Let's retrace this blood-soaked path to glory: in the group stage, they trampled Atlético Madrid underfoot to finish first! In the knockouts, they marched over the corpses of Tottenham, Inter Milan, Basel, and Chelsea—European giants all! And tonight, in the final, they've pinned Benfica to the pillory with the most devastating final victory in history!
This isn't luck. This is power!
This is destiny! This is a king's coronation!
And there is only one name at the center of this epic—Julien De Rocca!
This once-rejected talent has completed football's greatest redemption arc!
Last season, in his professional debut, he scored 27 goals in half a campaign to lead Bastia to the Ligue 2 and Coupe de France double, miraculously returning them to Ligue 1!
This season, he's reached even greater heights!
He hasn't stopped. Instead, he's swept through the Trophée des Champions, the Ligue 1 title, and now tonight—this magnificent Europa League trophy!
Final hat-trick! Assist hat-trick! Six goal contributions!
He's the first player in Europa League history to achieve a double hat-trick in a final!
35 years ago, Bastia shed bitter tears on Dutch soil. 35 years later, in the same nation, they've completed the most glorious revenge with the most emphatic victory possible!
This trophy belongs not only to these warriors on the pitch but to every Corsican soul who never gave up!
From Ligue 2 to the summit of Europe—just two years!
From castoff to European competition's greatest-ever final performance—just two years!
This isn't a fairy tale. This is vivid, glorious reality written by Julien De Rocca and Bastia together!
Champions belong to Bastia!
Salute! To the greatest underdog miracle in football history! To the most brilliant redemption story ever told!
Goodnight, Amsterdam!
Goodnight, this insane, beautiful football night!"
The commentary reached every corner of the globe.
Interest in Bastia, particularly in Julien surged intensely.
This summer transfer window would be turbulent indeed.
The emergence of such a stellar talent in Ligue 1 would inevitably spark fierce competition.
Florentino Pérez finally made his decision. This time he wouldn't listen to Zidane's caution, he wanted in. He wanted to sign Julien.
The best players belonged at Real Madrid.
In Spain's other footballing capital, Barcelona, others were also watching Julien closely.
In England, the interest ran even deeper.
Many knew that Julien's father and agent had been operating in England which was thus interpreted as a signal that Julien would definitely land in the Premier League.
French league stars who succeeded in England weren't numerous, but those who did left legendary marks.
Especially that Invincible Arsenal side: Henry, Pires, Vieira.
And, of course, that controversial Manchester United King—Cantona.
Now, many believed Julien had every likelihood of conquering the Premier League.
The only question was: who would get him?
Holland. Amsterdam.
The stadium stands had transformed into a churning ocean of blue!
The singing of "Allez Bastia" had evolved from melody into the raw roar of ten thousand shredded vocal cords!
Old and young, men and women, children—every face mixed wild laughter with streaming tears.
Back in Corsica, at the Stade Armand Cesari, when the final whistle reached them through the broadcast, the stadium ignited!
The roar from the gathered fans drowned out even the PA system. Fireworks launched simultaneously from every section, painting the night sky blue!
Strangers embraced and leaped together. Beer and tears flew through the air. The entire island shook and boiled!
35 years of waiting, 35 years of regret—consumed, elevated, and detonated in this single moment!
Bastia, this team from a small island, had finally carved their name into European football's pantheon in the most glorious way imaginable!
After the initial frenzy subsided, Julien extracted himself from his teammates' embraces.
He walked slowly toward the Bastia ultras section, his footsteps steady, as if treading across the echoes of history. Blue light fell across his sweat-soaked shoulders.
He stopped near the penalty area, facing that boiling, tear-streaked blue ocean, and suddenly threw his arms wide!
The gesture acted like a silent command—the entire Amsterdam Arena erupted in unified, sky-splitting chants:
"JULIEN! JULIEN!!"
"WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!"
"BASTIA ARE EUROPEAN CHAMPIONS!!"
The broadcast camera locked onto his close-up.
Sweat dripped from his hair, mixing with the glint of tears at the corners of his eyes.
His lips pressed tight, jawline stiff, but his eyes burned with an almost searing light—exhaustion, release, and an unshakeable calm of total dominance.
He tilted his head back slightly, gaze sweeping across every inch of the stands, as if etching every ecstatic face into permanent memory.
His chest heaved violently as his left hand pounded the Bastia crest over his heart—each strike drawing a tsunami of response!
In this instant, he was no longer merely a player.
He was a living monument. A walking legend.
Back in Corsica, when Julien's face filled the giant screen at the Stade Armand Cesari, everyone simultaneously raised their arms, pointing at him, roaring in Corsican dialect: "Our Julien! Our king!"
In Fontaine-le-Puits, the small bar beside the gravel field where he'd grown up, everyone rose as one, hoisting their glasses—cheap beer foam flying—roaring at the familiar figure on the television: "Julien! Well done, boy!"
In this moment, Julien stood with arms spread wide like a crucifix, bearing the weight of all glory, all tears, all history.
His solitary figure unified a team, an island, a dream spanning 35 years.
In this moment, he was Bastia's past, present, and future.
He was Julien De Rocca—
A name that gained Europe's attention.
A son of France who'd walked from gravel fields to the summit of the continent.
________________________________________________________
Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:
patreon.com/LorianFiction
Thanks for your support!