Unlike the Bastia locker room atmosphere.
At the end of the corridor, Tottenham's locker room was filled with a mixture of oppression, restlessness, sweat, disinfectant, and a faint premonition of defeat lingering in the air.
Villas-Boas was young for a manager, but having spent years alongside Mourinho, he understood what it meant to have a coach's presence.
After entering the locker room, he didn't speak immediately but remained silent, his gaze was sweeping over each player.
The brief silence was more oppressive than any roar.
After a moment.
Villas-Boas finally began to speak, his tone not as volatile as expected, only firm.
With his Portuguese accent, he said, "We controlled everything. 71% possession, 12 shots."
He pulled over the tactical board and wrote several numbers on it for comparison. "Look at this, now look at them? Three shots on target! Just three, and they fucking scored twice. Tell me, is that normal?!"
Villas-Boas's gaze swept over everyone again.
It stopped at Assou-Ekotto. "Facing an eighteen-year-old kid, he treated you like a training cone. Where was your speed? Your aggression?"
Ekotto's face instantly flushed red. His lips moved as if to defend himself, but under the coach's stare, he lowered his head.
"And you." Villas-Boas turned to Vertonghen, his tone gradually hardening. "Press up, I said press up! But not like a headless chicken giving away penalties! I need calm judgment! You left him a highway straight into the box!"
Vertonghen wiped the sweat from his face, not daring to make eye contact.
Villas-Boas's tone calmed slightly but remained firm as he shifted focus to the attack. The core was always that man.
"Gareth," his gaze turned to Bale, sitting silently in the corner. "I need you, now, immediately, to forget about organizing! Forget about dropping deep! I want you selfish! Extremely selfish! See that space between their fullback and center-back?"
He drew a heavy line on the tactical board.
"That's your corridor. Use your speed, your power, tear it apart! Attack them directly! They fear you! That 18-year-old kid is their protagonist? No! You're the protagonist here! Prove it to them! Prove it to everyone!"
Bale lifted his head, fighting spirit igniting in his eyes, nodding forcefully.
Villas-Boas surveyed the room, emphasizing again his tactical foundation, even though that foundation had shown massive cracks in the first half.
"The defensive line still pushes up, no retreating! Retreating means giving them our home field!" He waved his arms. "But—"
There was a ruthlessness in his gaze as it swept over everyone.
"You all need to give me 120%! De Bruyne! Mark him tight! Don't let him comfortably feed through balls to Lukaku and that Julien like in the first half! Cut their connection! This is your responsibility!"
He walked to the tactical board and began laying out specific adjustments, his movements rushed and somewhat stiff—
"Lock down that Julien, two-on-one! Don't let him get going! Don't let him turn! If he dares to cut inside, show him what Premier League physicality means... be ready to slide over and cover, block his cutting lanes! I won't allow him to wreak havoc on the right flank again!"
"Be decisive in attack! Adebayor, did you not sleep well last night? So weak today, hold up their young center-back for me..."
"And this match isn't over—it's two legs, 180 minutes of football."
A string of instructions poured out.
The entire tactical board was covered with dense lines. This was Villas-Boas's habit—he liked to explain everything thoroughly. He needed his players to earnestly implement his tactical arrangements.
In his mind, he had his own operational model for tactical play.
He even strongly agreed with the renowned manager Bielsa's approach of using extreme discipline and systematization to compensate for individual differences, pursuing the optimal collective solution.
However,
When he previously discussed this with Mourinho, the Special One had told him: "Football isn't science. If football were science, if players were robots executing everything you told them to do, that would be great.
But players are human, and humans have emotions, form, confidence, fear, ambition, jealousy... all things that science cannot control, so football is not science."
He didn't believe it. He believed more in Bielsa.
As Villas-Boas watched the halftime break dwindle, watching his players prepare for the second half, his mind evaluated the necessity of substitutions.
Finally, conservatism prevailed. 'Now is not the time.'
Time was up.
The Tottenham players walked back toward the tunnel.
However, Though they appeared resolute, the air carried a fragile determination forcibly condensed under high pressure.
In the tunnel, Ekotto spotted Julien at the front of the Bastia line and felt annoyed.
Julien sensed it and turned to meet Ekotto's gaze.
As he exited the tunnel, he mentally made a note.
Ekotto was no saint. Julien had some impression of him.
Most memorably from the 2014 World Cup in his previous life, when Ekotto had fought with his own teammate during a match.
Ekotto and striker Moukandjo had first argued verbally, then Ekotto headbutted Moukandjo, who swung his arm in retaliation.
That Cameroon team was absolutely absurd, making themselves a laughingstock worldwide.
Besides Ekotto fighting his teammate, Cameroon had also refused to participate in the World Cup beforehand due to dissatisfaction with the federation's bonus distribution plan.
Later, though they came, Cameroon's star player Alex Song inexplicably earned a red card in the group match against Croatia, he simply threw a punch at Mandžukić during a defensive play.
Boom! Boom boom!!
The roar of White Hart Lane fans pulled Julien's thoughts back to reality.
He had expectations about what might happen in the second half, just as Hadzibegic had said: "They'll likely foul you maliciously, after all, this is only the first leg."
Soon.
With the referee's whistle, the second half began.
Commentators around the world resumed their work.
Some discussed one topic: would Bastia score again in the second half?
But on the sideline, Hadzibegic wasn't pondering whether they could score more goals, but whether they could hold on.
Honestly, Bastia going up 2-0 against Tottenham in the first half was completely beyond his expectations.
But Bastia had actually paid a heavy price.
Physical exhaustion.
This wasn't the slow Ligue 1 pace, Tottenham's attacks under Villas-Boas came in waves.
Even Julien was dropping deep to defend. One could imagine the defensive pressure.
Tottenham found the scoreline unbelievable, but only Bastia insiders knew this lead was fragile.
Indeed!
Just five minutes into the second half, Bale cut inside, received the ball, and unleashed a powerful shot.
Martinez had no chance to react.
CLANG!
White Hart Lane's crossbar saved Bastia, the ball striking the bar and bouncing back.
Van Dijk quickly cleared it with a long kick.
Whoa!
Tottenham fans were startled by Bale's cold shot, while also lamenting that it didn't go in.
Seeing Bale's shot, Julien's first reaction was that he was being selfish—Lennon actually had space nearby, but Bale didn't pass, choosing instead to shoot himself.
Julien sensed Tottenham had made halftime adjustments.
Just three minutes later, Bale forcefully squeezed past Julien on the wing, combined with Dempsey in a one-two, shook off Clauss and Angoula's defense, and sent a low cross into the box.
Fortunately, Martinez's height and reach allowed him to dive and smother the ball.
Adebayor was following up in the center.
Dangerous!
Less than ten minutes into the second half, Tottenham's two attacks nearly resulted in Bastia conceding.
Tyldesley commented, "Two goals down, Tottenham are attacking more decisively, which may not be good news for Bastia. Moreover, De Rocca's defensive duties are increasing, his position dropping deeper,
Can Bastia still launch counterattacks?"
This was also Hadzibegic's concern.
When Julien finally got a counterattack opportunity, he experienced the "friendship" of Premier League defenders.
As Julien received the ball before he could make a move, Ekotto charged from behind with a pushing motion and a sneaky move—pressing his hand into Julien's lower back.
Julien immediately went down, not giving Ekotto the chance.
However, while falling, he feigned losing balance in the physical contest and slapped Ekotto's side waist—the "kidney" area.
Both fell to the ground.
Ekotto was in pain, Julien was pushed.
The referee didn't call a foul.
His threshold was quite high in this match, which was actually good for Bastia, because Angoula and Van Dijk's defense on Adebayor could be described as hand-to-hand combat.
Most of the time, Julien was off the ball, so opponents couldn't foul him even if they wanted to.
"He's very smart."
Florentino Pérez Rodríguez, in his office at Real Madrid's sports city, watched the Europa League match between Bastia and Tottenham with Zidane and Morientes.
Perez was mainly evaluating Bale, but after halftime, his attention had shifted to Julien.
Zidane smiled. "Yes, he's shed those bad habits from his Chelsea days, becoming more composed. Last season at Bastia, he practically carried the team alone as the main ball carrier, but this season he's quickly transformed into playing more off-ball, not clinging to possession."
Perez looked at Zidane. "You rate him highly. Do you think he could perform at Real Madrid?"
Without waiting for Zidane's response, he continued, "I've already tested Tottenham's position. Bale, valued at just 42 million euros, they want over 80 million pounds transfer fee and insist on waiting until season's end for formal negotiations. So, tell me, for De Rocca, who's currently valued at 60 million euros and five years younger than Bale, how much should we pay?"
Zidane considered, preparing to respond. Deep down, he didn't want Julien at the Bernabéu yet.
This was absolutely not a place for youngsters to develop.
Too many talents had fallen at the Bernabéu.
Including Real Madrid's own youth products—very few could play for the first team.
However, just as he was about to speak.
The Spanish commentator's exclamation came from the TV: "GOOOOOL!!!"
He shouted until nearly out of breath, then gasped and continued, "Bale descends like a god!! Look at this earth-shattering thunderbolt!! The ball flies like a cannonball straight into the top corner! Young Martinez helpless! Can only watch in despair!"
The commentary was passionate.
And Perez didn't continue asking about Julien. He saw Bale's Premier League performance. Compared to a potential star, what he needed most now was a super ready-made force.
Real Madrid needed to make some changes. Someone needed to challenge those who thought too highly of themselves.
White Hart Lane.
Tottenham fans erupted in cheers as Bale once again used his unstoppable individual ability to breach Bastia's defense with a thunderous shot, pulling one back for Tottenham.
Julien took a deep breath.
Exhausted.
Defending really drained stamina. He could understand why most forwards were reluctant to track back, defending massively consumed attacking energy.
He felt like he couldn't run anymore.
Mainly too many forced accelerations. Both the speed enhancement's additional effects and the berserk effect were bonuses gained by drastically consuming stamina.
If he only focused on attack, perhaps he could play the full match.
Once defense was involved, it became impossible.
Watching the celebrating Tottenham players, Julien thought he still needed to improve his stamina attribute.
He glanced at the time, around 70 minutes now.
On the sideline.
Hadzibegic also noticed Julien's fatigue and made a decisive decision.
He substituted Palmieri for Julien.
Adding another wide defensive player, with Lukaku as the lone striker.
Lukaku was on loan: use him hard.
Julien must be protected!
In Hadzibegic's view, even if they ultimately lost this knockout round to Tottenham, it would be acceptable, but Julien absolutely couldn't get injured, because currently for Bastia, the probability of winning the league was far greater than the Europa League.
Therefore, they must prioritize ensuring the core player's health and stabilize the league.
Now Bastia only had the league and Europa League left with championship hopes.
If Julien got injured and both Europa and the league collapsed, failing on all fronts would be a massive loss.
As Julien came off, Bale said something to him.
Julien didn't hear clearly. But judging by his lip movements, it was probably "See you next week."
Next midweek's second leg would be the final showdown.
Julien didn't respond.
After hugging Palmieri, he walked to the bench.
Hadzibegic also hugged Julien. "Rest well, trust them to hold on."
Julien nodded. Like the other substitutes, he nervously watched the remaining twenty or so minutes.
Fortunately, When the final whistle blew, the score remained 1-2.
They took a victory from White Hart Lane.
After the match ended, Julien also said to Bale: "See you next week."
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