Emperor of Football: Julien De Rocca

The stands of the Stade de France were a tale of two worlds.

One side was blue carnival,

The other side was white silence.

Lyon fans never expected that Julien would score such a goal.

For this player whose name they had often seen in newspapers over the past month or two, they were filled with helplessness.

On the pitch, the moment the goal was scored, Lloris angrily berated Gonalons, "I was already coming out, why did you still kick the ball! You're throwing away all our efforts!"

Lloris was extremely angry, choosing to pressure his teammate.

He came from Nice's youth system, showing extremely strong goalkeeping talent from youth teams to the first team.

In 2008, he also came to Lyon for a transfer fee of €8.5 million.

These past few years, if not for him, Lyon would have conceded many more goals.

So, he also had the right to yell at Gonalons.

But he shook his head, quickly calming down, thinking that since he was already in contact with Premier League team Tottenham, he didn't want to say much more.

Anyway, after the season ended, he would go to the Premier League to play.

He wouldn't waste time at Lyon.

Lyon's financial deterioration had reached a certain point. Players in the squad who could be sold for good prices all had to leave.

"Ah bon?!"

Mbappé in the stands was completely stunned seeing this scene. Was this even possible?

He gained a completely new understanding of Julien's ability, of what Julien had always said about football being more than just speed.

If it were him, in that instant, he really wouldn't know how to handle that ball.

Shooting directly, the ball position was too low, and at such close distance, it would definitely be blocked by the goalkeeper.

But if he tried to flick it up, he definitely wouldn't have connected as smoothly as Julien.

"Julien's technique is too good! My god, this kind of ball skill, I've only heard about from my dad and them. Back then, our family would often go to PSG's home ground to watch matches. That Brazilian called Ronaldinho had particularly strong ball skills!"

Momège beside him exclaimed in amazement.

Mbappé smiled as he looked toward Julien on the pitch, who was being celebrated by everyone like a star surrounded by the moon. Although he could no longer see Julien's figure, it was completely blocked by other Bastia players.

But in his heart, he had set a goal: train hard and strive to possess eighty percent of Julien's ability.

Mbappé no longer wanted to surpass Julien.

If he carried such a goal, the more he watched Julien play, the more his confidence would be shattered.

Instead, carrying the goal of approaching Julien's ability while watching Julien's matches gave Mbappé the illusion that the stronger Julien became, the stronger he would become too.

Blanc and Zidane sat together.

Seeing this goal, Blanc sighed, "This young man you recommended to me truly has amazing ball sense. The football under his feet is like it's glued on.

And at his height, to have such quick footwork is even more surprising. Look at this goal—if it were anyone else, the moment they flicked the ball up, it would have been intercepted by the goalkeeper. But he was able to quickly connect with the shot."

"After watching him play once, I already believed he would become the attacking core of the French national team in the next era. He possesses all the qualities a top player should have."

Zidane's eyes showed appreciation. At seventeen years old, not much older than his own sons, but unfortunately, he knew his sons were basically all hopeless.

"I will definitely bring him to the European Championship." Blanc quietly told Zidane.

Zidane smiled, "The problems with the French national team now, I believe you see more clearly than I do. This isn't a problem of lacking one Julien. Your European Championship is going to be quite difficult."

Blanc showed a bitter smile, "Sigh, if only you were still here."

Zidane remained noncommittal.

Blanc didn't continue saying much more. Of course, he knew what the problems with the French national team were, but the key was, he had no solution.

The Four Little Swans—he couldn't drop them.

And there was no one to replace them.

The more troublesome Nasri could be replaced by Julien, but someone like Benzema, who was a dressing room bomb, currently had no one in France who could replace him.

The key issue was that Benzema was the type who did things sneakily.

He rarely confronted you openly, but he did everything behind the scenes.

Blanc looked toward Julien, who was walking toward the center circle.

He sighed in his heart.

Blanc didn't think he could stay in the French national team job for long. The head coach position wasn't easy to hold.

What he could do was promote this player Julien for France.

Give the next French national team coach a core seed that could be used to build the team.

At the same time, Blanc had made some preparations in his heart.

No destruction, no construction!

He wanted to let all French fans see whether certain talented players they regarded so highly could really shoulder great responsibilities!

On the pitch, Lyon had already kicked off again.

After taking the lead, Garde had originally wanted to control possession and lure Bastia to attack.

But now, after the 1-1 score, Bastia retreated once again.

This left him very helpless.

Without space, Lyon found it difficult to break through, only able to keep pulling and waiting for opportunities.

Lyon didn't have a player like Julien to break the deadlock.

If they really had one, They wouldn't be unable to make the top four in the league.

Hadzibegic, next to Garde, quickly calmed down after the excited celebration of the goal.

He directed the players to maintain a stable defensive line.

From conceding to scoring, Bastia players were now completely in the zone.

They no longer had concepts of Ligue 2 or Ligue 1 in their minds.

They no longer feared Lyon, the seven-time champion team.

Now there was only one thought in their minds: "Hold on!"

"Hold on!"

"Must hold on!!"

Watching Lyon's siege on television, many fans at the Sunset Café bar felt their hearts tighten.

Bertrand looked at the sparse bar.

He still felt somewhat unaccustomed.

Most Bastia fans had already gone to Paris to support the team on site.

Bastia had a total population of only about one hundred thousand.

About twenty thousand had gone to Paris.

That was already quite a lot.

You couldn't compare small teams like Bastia with those big teams.

Bertrand also wanted to go to the scene.

But considering that many fans actually didn't have time to go to Paris, or had other reasons, he still chose to stay at the bar.

To give these fans a gathering space.

As for the remaining half barrel of pastis, it had already been taken to Paris by Modoso.

If they had a chance to win the championship,

This alcohol would be poured onto the grass of the Stade de France.

That was the final work of a lifelong Bastia fan who had been making alcohol on the distant island of Corsica.

That was also the best tribute to Bastia's football history—

On the day they won the championship in 1981, old Bell had made this barrel of alcohol. Thirty-one years later, on this night, the same French Cup, the same championship, the same pastis.

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