Two goals down.
In Bastia's locker room, Hadzibegić was naturally emotional.
Although he didn't vent at the players, his face was dark, and the players sat in tense silence, each resting carefully.
Hadzibegić was in a foul mood. Besides the score deficit, it was more because the team's attack had produced nothing—they'd been beaten up for the entire half.
This situation completely extinguished any flicker of hope he'd had for advancement.
No wonder he was in a bad mood.
"Just defend. Losing less is like winning. Everyone try to gain some defensive experience—opportunities to face Ligue 1 teams are rare."
Châtaigner entered the locker room, noticed the wrong atmosphere, and quickly tried to ease the tension.
Hearing Châtaigner's voice, Hadzibegić's expression softened slightly as he slowly spoke. "The tactics remain as planned before the match. Be more active in your running, keep up with their pace. You can play in Ligue 1 if you do that."
Hadzibegić continued arranging some second-half deployments.
Châtaigner gestured to Julien, having him follow him out of the locker room.
Outside the door, Châtaigner said to Julien. "Go warm up. Prepare to come on in the second half. We have no chance in this match, but you'll have plenty of time. Make the most of it."
"Okay."
Julien's gaze was determined.
Seeing Julien's expression, Châtaigner nodded with satisfaction. "Good boy. I can see you've taken my words to heart. Very good!
That's the spirit you need. I'll be watching you from the sideline. Let go of all restraints and give it your all. Nothing could be worse than the current situation."
Châtaigner patted Julien. "Go back in. Perform well later—many people will be watching your performance tonight."
When Julien returned to the locker room, Hadzibegić remembered his morning conversation with Châtaigner about putting Julien on.
Hadzibegić had already given up.
Since they were losing anyway, he might as well do Châtaigner a favor. Putting Julien on early wouldn't hurt.
"Julien, go warm up. You'll replace Vincent in the second half, play on the right wing. Use your dribbling to try to create some chances for the team." Hadzibegić pointed to the team's main striker Maolida. "Work more with Julien in the final third."
"Okay."
Maolida nodded. He'd had a very difficult match, fighting alone against the opposition's physical battles, unable to create any chances. Having seen Julien's performance in training, having such a teammate to help draw defensive attention would make things much easier for him.
"Alright, everyone else keep falling back and defending firmly. If you can maintain this two-goal deficit until the end, I'll consider giving you three days off!"
Hearing this, all the players perked up.
Vacation!
So rare!
Hadzibegić's training intensity was high, and vacations were precious.
Amid the players' excitement, quite a few secretly envied Julien.
Julien had only joined Bastia two months ago, with half that time spent in prison for robbery, and the first half dealing with injury recovery without participating in training.
Now, just after returning, he was getting a half-match substitute opportunity in the French Cup.
The comparison was depressing.
This inevitably made many diligent substitute players feel resentful.
But they also knew that geniuses never followed normal rules. Remembering that Julien had made Chelsea's matchday squad a year ago made it much more acceptable.
For them, Bastia's first team was a step up, but for Julien, this was a fall.
Soon, the second half was about to begin.
As Vincent followed his teammates out of the locker room, he said to Julien. "I thought the coach would give you twenty minutes at most, but I didn't expect him to give you the entire half. Play well—I believe you'll show everyone your talent."
Hearing Vincent's words, Julien couldn't help but look toward the tunnel exit.
That circle of light remained the same as always.
He seemed to hear the Valenciennes fans' disdain and mockery from within. This time, his emotions no longer fluctuated.
Julien smiled slightly at Vincent. "I will."
"Go on then."
Vincent felt no discomfort about being substituted. Instead, he increasingly felt that Julien was somehow different—he looked the same as before, but just... different.
Julien stood in the formation.
As the referee entered, both teams' players followed.
Julien walked among them.
When he passed through the tunnel exit, through the circle of light, it was like crossing between two worlds.
Whoosh!
The noise of Nungesser Stadium hit him head-on.
The tunnel sides still echoed with Valenciennes fans' cheers and shouts, mixed with contempt for Bastia.
As both teams stood in the center circle, the French Cup commentator noticed Bastia's substitution. "Oh, Hadzibegić has made a personnel change, taking off 19-year-old Vincent and bringing on an even younger player—17-year-old Julien De Rocca!"
"Is this a desperate substitution?"
"This player De Rocca once even made Chelsea's first-team squad, but due to character issues, was released by Chelsea last year."
"The former De Rocca was called a super talent from Clairefontaine. After leaving Clairefontaine, he joined Lille with a bright future, but now he can only play for a Ligue 2 team. His form has declined, his talent no longer evident. This is even his first-team debut—all his previous club experience was only in youth teams."
"Two months ago, De Rocca was even imprisoned for robbery! Oh my God! This is a problem child! A young man who chose to fall into corruption..."
"What consideration could Hadzibegić have for putting such a player on the field? Even if he once had talent, does he still have the ability to compete now?"
The commentator's questions made many Valenciennes fans watching the broadcast laugh. "Haha, they put on a criminal? Looks like they're giving up."
"Giving up is normal. Bastia's strength is just that. They don't have the ability to fight on two fronts. I just checked—they have hope of promotion this season, so of course they want to focus on the league. So, this match uses many substitutes. They never planned to fight to the death anyway."
Some betting enthusiasts had already placed their bets.
Even though the odds were extremely low, large numbers of players still chose to go all-in on Valenciennes.
A sure-win match—it was a guaranteed profit!
Nungesser Stadium was now in complete celebration, with Valenciennes fans seemingly already seeing the moment of advancement.
The cheers were deafening.
Among the celebrating fans, Elion watched Julien appear in uniform for the first time in a year, feeling somewhat moved.
Chelsea and Lille had collaborated multiple times, and Julien was considered a major loss in their dealings.
But for a wealthy club like Chelsea, it didn't matter much—consider it an investment in maintaining good relations with Lille. Chelsea's focus this summer window was on Lille's current star player: Hazard.
This was a player Abramovich specifically demanded they acquire.
When Elion saw Hazard, he would always think of Julien. Of course, Hazard was more reassuring than Julien.
Hazard was a proven mature player, while Julien back then was just an unscratched lottery ticket.
Tweet!!
The referee's whistle brought Elion's thoughts back.
The match on the field began.
Bastia's 5-4-1 formation remained unchanged, and they were immediately pressed by Valenciennes from the start.
In the first ten minutes, there wasn't much difference from the first half.
Whether it was Bastia players putting in extra effort for the promised vacation, or Valenciennes players becoming somewhat complacent after their two-goal lead, the home team had chances but didn't score.
This made some betting enthusiasts panic.
"Score! Stop passing around the perimeter and just launch balls into the box! I bet on over goals!"
"It's over. I bet on goals, but the home team won't score in the second half, will they? No way—they won't stop attacking after a two-goal lead, right?"
Some even angrily posted comments on forums. "Ligue 1 should be renamed Ligue Fake! Damn it! Controlling the scoreline when they're heavily favored?"
The fans at the stadium continued their enthusiastic cheering, not finding it dull just because there were no goals.
For a full ten minutes, Julien didn't even have a chance to touch the ball, just running around following the opposing players.
He was getting somewhat anxious.
But his teammates just couldn't get the ball out.
In the stands, Elion kept his eyes on Julien. Although Julien hadn't touched the ball, his running during this period gave Elion some comfort.
Elion knew Julien well.
The old Julien would never run like this.
Julien was the type who trusted in his own talent—he would only wait for the ball in the final third, then use his circus-like fancy moves to beat opponents. In training matches, he would even wait for opposing defenders to come back, then beat them again.
He would even call out to opponents before youth team matches. "I'm going to rainbow flick past you."
Arrogant.
That was also his former label.
But now, Elion felt a familiar yet strange sensation. Same person, but he had completely different aura.
Whoosh!
Suddenly the surrounding fans gasped, and Elion's eyes immediately lit up!
Julien!
Julien's instant nutmeg upon receiving the ball made everyone gasp and brought a smile to Elion's face. That sticky feel for the ball was exactly what he had valued most about Julien.
Back then, many called Julien "Ronaldinho"—that wasn't empty hype.
Julien had finally received a pass from a teammate on the wing. Facing the pressing of opposing defender Matt, Julien didn't choose to go head-to-head, but instead pushed the ball with his foot, then turned to the other side—a classic nutmeg.
Catching Matt completely off guard.
This very scene made all the home fans gasp.
Throughout this match, Bastia's players had given Valenciennes the overall impression of being rough, physical, and crude.
Now suddenly seeing such a technical, elegant player was a bit shocking.
Valenciennes was playing a 4-3-3 formation this match, besieging Bastia, which left their defense somewhat vulnerable.
After beating Matt, Julien quickly analyzed the situation in front of him. In an extremely brief moment, almost relying on this body's instincts, he chose to cut inside.
Using speed to break through wasn't his strength. Continuing to push hard down the wing would only lead the ball into a dead end.
Centrally, relying on his first-class dribbling ability to muddy the waters was where he had a chance.
As he cut inside, teammate Maolida also quickly made a forward run, pulling space and drawing away opposing defenders.
Julien faced center-back Gil, who had come over to cover.
Julien had noticed Gil when he first came on—he had a strong impression of this Brazilian center-back.
In the height of big spending era of Chinese Super League, Carlos Gilberto Nascimento Silva had joined team Shandong Luneng, becoming their defensive anchor. Shandong fans called him the strongest defender in Luneng's history, even the top defender in Asian leagues at the time. Fans made various defensive highlight reels of him.
Most importantly, Gil had incredible durability!
Playing fifty to sixty matches each season, he kept going until age 37. Fans called him "Gil doesn't rest unless Earth explodes."
These thoughts flashed by in an instant.
Julien held the ball facing Gil. He knew the opponent's physical qualities were excellent, but he felt no fear.
He directly faced Gil's defense.
Gil watched Julien's footwork, but the more he watched, the less confident he became about making a tackle. For safety, he just blocked Julien's advancing path.
But Julien wouldn't give him such a safe opportunity.
Seeing a gap, he immediately accelerated through it. Gil immediately followed, even using his hands.
But this was just Julien's feint. As Gil charged forward, Julien immediately stopped.
Then he flicked the ball to the other side, pretending to break through from there. Gil hurriedly stopped and turned to defend.
But Julien pulled the ball back again and nutmegged Gil.
In one-on-one situations, the attacking player always has the initiative.
Gil's center of gravity was disrupted by Julien's movements, leaving him powerless to continue. Moreover, Julien's starting speed and action transitions were incredibly smooth—Gil couldn't keep up at all!
Whoosh!
Julien's series of moves with the ball stunned the stadium fans, but Julien's performance wasn't over.
After beating Gil, Julien entered the penalty area. Opposing goalkeeper Penato rushed out to block him, but Julien didn't panic.
He dropped his shoulder toward the left side while also moving his hips in that direction, feinting a breakthrough. Goalkeeper Penato took the bait and moved left.
Julien quickly changed direction, using Penato's momentum to shake him off.
Facing an empty goal, Julien gently pushed the ball home.
2-1!
One goal back.
Julien ran into the net and picked up the ball. He didn't celebrate, just kissed the ball.
On his way to the center circle, he raised his arms toward the tiny group of Bastia fans in the stands.
He wanted to win!
Victory points required winning.
With time still remaining, he wanted to see if he could score again.
Julien's goal left many people speechless.
Valenciennes fans were completely unprepared for this goal. A 17-year-old who had been silent for ten minutes had just torn through their defense?
Even with their full attacking approach leaving the defense extremely thin, it shouldn't have been this easy!
Valenciennes manager Montanier's face turned dark.
He shouted instructions to his players from the sideline, telling them to strengthen both their attack and defense going forward.
Especially the defense against Julien.
Montanier had overlooked Julien before the match but wouldn't ignore him now.
One side in hell, one side in heaven.
Everyone at Bastia felt a surge of energy. Julien didn't celebrate, but his teammates on the field and bench were all cheering for him.
Being able to score against a Ligue 1 team was proof enough of Julien's ability!
Seeing this, Hadzibegić couldn't help but smile, his prejudice against Julien was dissipating somewhat.
Châtaigner was even more excited, and clapped vigorously in the stands and shouted Julien's name. He said to the Pierre couple beside him. "See? I told you Julien's talent was fine. The prison experience helped him mature—it's actually a good thing."
Pierre was pleased, looking satisfied, but his wife Bruna was already in tears.
Beside them was their younger son Loup De Rocca. At this moment, Loup looked up at his older brother with complete admiration.
Loup was ten years younger than Julien, and under Julien's influence, had also taken up football.
He was currently in Paris Saint-Germain's youth academy, just beginning to learn football systematically—still just a little kid.
But he might never forget this moment.
So, this was how elegant football could be.
The French Cup broadcast commentator was quickly proven wrong by Julien's goal. Just two minutes earlier, he'd been saying that Bastia putting on Julien was useless—he couldn't even get the ball.
But two minutes later, Julien used a stunning goal to make him change his tune.
"Definitely a genius, very skilled with the ball. That goal was beautifully scored!"
"Julien doesn't play like a 17-year-old at all. This goal was very mature!"
"Who said Hadzibegić's substitution was useless? I think it was extremely useful!
Now the score gap is just one goal, with thirty minutes remaining. Bastia isn't without chances!"
Commentators—shameless adaptability is their nature.