After warming up and returning to the locker room to re-prepare, players from both sides lined up awaiting entry in the tunnel.
Julien saw many familiar faces.
Ibrahimović, Beckham, Thiago Silva, and national team teammate Matuidi.
Matuidi had briefly exchanged words with Julien. They were teammates on the national team, but at the club level, each served their own side and naturally gave their all.
Julien could tell Ancelotti was taking this match very seriously, this was PSG's strongest lineup available.
Bastia was the same. Though they'd battled Tottenham in the previous match, this game only required minor tactical adjustments.
For example, replacing Clauss and Rothen. Clauss was simply too weak defensively against Tottenham.
Rothen's body couldn't recover in time. He was needed against Tottenham, but this match would use Palmieri, who combined both defense and speed, in his position.
As Julien's thoughts wandered, several gazes focused on him.
To say Julien was currently the hottest French football player—absolutely no one would disagree.
PSG players saw Julien's name in the news every day. They definitely wouldn't underestimate Julien.
The last defeat at Stade Armand Cesari had already shown them how formidable Julien was.
"It's time. Enter."
The referee kept checking his watch, then waved them onto the field.
Whoosh!
The moment they walked onto the pitch, Julien felt like he'd broken through a water surface, hearing countless chaotic sounds rushing toward him.
Shouts from Paris fans lined both sides of the tunnel.
Everywhere he looked was Paris blue.
Like seawater surrounding the entire stadium. No—
In this ocean, Julien spotted an island.
In a corner of Parc des Princes. Surrounded by the "Parisian sea," it was just a small corner, easily overlooked.
If they weren't so conspicuous, even Julien standing at the pitch's center wouldn't have noticed them.
At this moment, they were utterly eye-catching.
Even the broadcast cameras instinctively focused on them. In this sea of blue, in this corner, only three hundred away fans from Bastia.
They had used jerseys to piece together a miniature TIFO.
Yes, they had assembled a TIFO at Paris's home ground with just three hundred people.
Bastia's away jersey was pure white.
So Modoso had slightly modified the jerseys, and all three hundred wore these custom jerseys into the stadium. They'd evaded Paris's strict security checks.
They'd successfully infiltrated.
When the players entered and Paris fans sang their anthem, they removed their jerseys. Each person held up their jersey, piecing them together.
There was no complex pattern. Overall, it was a white background with a black Moor's head.
The Moor's head was the symbol of Bastia and Corsica!
This was an element in their crest.
Below the image was Bastia's most common chant: "FORZA BASTIA!"
Modoso and the others didn't shout. They just quietly held up the jerseys.
In the stretch of blue, this patch of white was so jarring, yet so captivating.
Julien lowered his head slightly, composing himself. Other Bastia teammates showed various expressions, but all ultimately became resolute.
They would show all of France what Bastia was about at this away ground!
Show everyone what the Bastia spirit meant!
As captain, Julien went for the coin toss. Paris captain Ibrahimović wore a haughty expression. He didn't exchange words with Julien.
Only at the end, during the customary handshake, he applied slight pressure, eyes burning with competitive fire.
Julien remained unfazed, calmly facing Ibrahimović's so-called "dominance."
The TF1 commentator watched both teams' players move to the center circle for kickoff and briefly introduced the lineups.
"Paris in a 4-4-2 formation. Forwards: Ibrahimović, Lavezzi.
Midfield: Lucas Moura, Beckham, Matuidi, Pastore.
Backline: Jallet, Alex, Thiago Silva, and Maxwell.
Goalkeeper: Sirigu."
"For Bastia, compared to their lineup against Tottenham, there are slight adjustments, but still three center-backs.
Forwards: Lukaku, Julien.
Midfield: Palmieri, De Bruyne, Kanté.
Backline: Sidibé, Choplin, Van Dijk, Cahuzac, Angoula.
Goalkeeper: Emiliano Martínez."
Tweet!!
With the referee's whistle, the match officially began, and Paris's momentum reached its peak.
Wave after wave of cheers continuously washed over everyone on the pitch.
Naturally, this included the Parc des Princes traditional program.
The ultras section lit cold flares and threw smoke bombs.
Fanatical fans, some shirtless, climbed onto the protective netting.
The net's purpose was fully demonstrated at this moment.
They kept shouting.
On the Sideline, Hadzibegic looked grave, standing rigidly, almost perfectly mirroring Ancelotti's posture.
Both men stood like that.
The only difference was Ancelotti constantly chewing gum.
Hadzibegic pressed his lips together, frowning, watching the situation on the pitch.
For Paris's strength, Hadzibegic had contingency plans, so Bastia's tactics were the same as against Tottenham—defensive counterattack.
Even this three-center-back system, rarely used in the first half of the season, he was using to continue refining, preparing to deploy against Tottenham.
"Whoa!"
As the match intensified, Paris fans' exclamations came wave after wave.
Paris's offensive was quite fierce.
Up front, Ibrahimović and Lavezzi constantly stretched Bastia's defensive line, while their flanks sought opportunities through the half-spaces.
However, Bastia was prepared. Kanté and Palmieri specifically targeted Beckham and Matuidi.
These were Paris's distribution points. Especially Kanté—he kept marking Beckham. Whenever he got the ball, Kanté would immediately close in.
In just a few minutes, Beckham already felt Kanté's defensive ability.
After one pass, Kanté didn't quite pull back his force and slightly pushed Beckham.
Beckham was initially annoyed, but turned to see Kanté's apologetic smile.
Beckham shook his head slightly, saying, "If I were a few years younger, you couldn't stop me."
Kanté just kept smiling. He didn't understand English.
Beckham misinterpreted Kanté's smile, thinking he disagreed with his words.
Bang!
In a flash, Paris's attack reached the box. Moura crossed from the wing.
Ibrahimović and Van Dijk battled continuously. Ibrahimović had a slight advantage and barely got a head to the ball. But it posed no threat to Martinez.
After both landed, Van Dijk's hands still blocked Ibrahimović. Annoyed at not directing the ball properly, Ibrahimović angrily swatted Van Dijk's hands away.
Van Dijk waved his hands back.
Ibrahimović just felt irritated. These few minutes had been very uncomfortable. Van Dijk ignored everyone else and just marked him dead. The key was this kid had real strength.
Many times, when Ibrahimović tried to push him away, he simply couldn't.
One attack unsuccessful, Paris continued reorganizing from outside.
With Bastia willingly ceding possession, they completely controlled the attacking rhythm.
However, what made Ancelotti uncomfortable was that both flanks weren't creating threats.
Whether it was Moura or Pastore, facing Bastia's wing defense, they couldn't break through!
They couldn't beat their man one-on-one!
This was what frustrated Ancelotti most. If they had no one-on-one advantage, opponents could easily stack defenders against Ibrahimović and others.
What kind of winger can't dribble past defenders?
This scene made him involuntarily look toward Julien, who'd been strolling for these few minutes.
When PSG made clear their determination to sign Julien at any cost, Ancelotti completely supported that transfer.
Because Julien's individual wing ability—Ancelotti could hardly imagine what enormous benefits he'd bring to the tactical system once integrated into the team.
Unfortunately, Julien eventually released a statement that after leaving Bastia, he wouldn't join any other Ligue 1 club.
Such a pity. How great would it be if Paris had a Julien now...
As he thought this, a sudden realization flashed through his mind. Paris didn't have one, but Bastia did!
Ancelotti quickly looked toward his flanks.
Good.
Left-back Maxwell was listening to his instructions, not pushing up but consistently guarding against Julien's counterattacks.
Meanwhile, Thiago Silva's defense also shifted toward Julien's moving direction.
This put Ancelotti slightly at ease.
Time passed.
The commentator's passion, fans' expectations and tension—all emotions kept accumulating.
Like a volcano, building pressure.
Needing a goal to completely release them!
Paris fans continuously sang their support songs.
The smoke gradually cleared.
Paris's attacks showed no signs of stopping.
Wave after wave.
The good news for Bastia was that Paris's truly threatening attacks were few.
Beckham and Matuidi kept moving, occasionally getting decent passing opportunities.
Most of the time they were marked to death.
Especially Beckham.
His mood, like Ibrahimović's, grew irritated.
The TF1 commentator laughed, "The English star should experience Kanté's defensive intensity now. This isn't Major League Soccer!"
When Beckham tried to forcefully dribble past Kanté on the left, Kanté predicted it and swept the ball away with a sliding tackle.
Beckham was knocked down in the process. He immediately got up.
Angoula recovered the ball.
Bang!
He played a direct through ball, sending it to Julien who'd dropped deep.
After getting up, Beckham rushed toward Julien.
Seeing Julien make no immediate move, he felt relieved the opponent wasn't sprinting forward with his head down—otherwise, with his current speed, he definitely couldn't catch up.
However, when Beckham rushed over, just as he was about to apply pressure on Julien, Julien suddenly pushed the ball forward and accelerated explosively.
Almost instantly, he completely shook off Beckham.
Beckham was stunned. If you have that kind of speed, why didn't you sprint earlier?
The next moment, he understood.
Maxwell and Thiago Silva's positions had changed.
Just moments ago, they were quite compact.
When Julien received the ball, Maxwell instinctively rushed up to block Julien.
Creating a gap between him and Thiago Silva.
Julien wasn't waiting for Beckham. He was waiting for this gap!
After bursting forward, Julien exploited this opening, charging ahead.
Both Maxwell and Thiago Silva were a step away from him. At high-speed sprint, this step was very difficult to close.
This was the opportunity Julien saw.
Whoosh!
Paris fans were stunned by Julien's speed. That fast?!
Silva's experience was very seasoned. He knew the danger of letting Julien through.
Finding the right moment, he went for a sliding tackle!
However, Julien suddenly stopped sharply, pulling the ball horizontally.
Lukaku!
The "Beast" nickname wasn't given lightly. When he charged, he was ferocious!
While Julien attracted everyone's attention, he kept charging forward. Alex was giving his all to track back but remained slightly behind Lukaku.
Julien's horizontal pass.
Lukaku smoothly knocked it forward—this was his favorite attacking style!
Charging bull!!
Lukaku thundered forward with the ball. On the other side, Julien didn't stop after passing—he continued sprinting forward, pulling defenders away from Lukaku.
Also distracting goalkeeper Sirigu's attention.
After getting up, Thiago Silva sprinted toward Lukaku's position. Maxwell kept chasing Julien.
De Bruyne, Palmieri, and others' forward runs also drew Paris players back in defense.
This was the 11th minute—Bastia's first attack.
But more threatening than any Paris attack!
Commentators broadcasting the match already had excitement in their voices.
Bastia fans had already stopped all other thoughts, fully focused on the screen.
Their blood seemed to be heating up.
Every cell was screaming: Goal, goal, goal!!
Alex and Silva desperately closed in from both sides.
Sirigu had already come out.
"Romelu!!"
Julien from the right shouted loudly!
Lukaku understood. He knew he was trapped in a three-man press. He wanted to shoot, but before the match he'd been repeatedly reminded that opportunities would be scarce—he couldn't be selfish.
Give it to the player with the best chance. His role was more as wingman.
Bang!
Lukaku played a diagonal pass, sending the ball to Julien's forward run on the right.
Behind him, Alex hadn't expected the sudden pass. Unable to slow down in time, he collided directly with Lukaku.
Both fell to the ground.
As he landed, his gaze remained fixed ahead.
From ground-level perspective, Julien charged up at extreme speed, completely shaking off Maxwell. Facing a near-empty goal, he slotted it home!
The ball hit the net!
At that moment, Lukaku crashed heavily to the ground. But in his mind, he thought, 'Coach, I've completed my mission!'
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