On the Clairefontaine training pitch, players gathered in small clusters around the water station, wiping away sweat. The sun had warmed the field to a comfortable temperature.
Deschamps walked over with his tactical board, gesturing toward an empty patch of grass. "Julien, got a few minutes? Let's chat. I want to hear your thoughts on this new position."
Julien screwed the cap back onto his water bottle and followed him to the sideline. His eyes fell on the tactical board where red marker circled the central attacking zone, with several arrows extending toward the flanks and into the penalty area.
"I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I've watched a lot of your matches," Deschamps began, starting from familiar territory.
His finger tapped the right side of the board.
"Since you broke through at the professional level, including this season at Liverpool playing right wing, your dribbling, crossing, and cutting inside have all been world-class. But whenever I watch you play, I can't shake the feeling that the right-wing position is somehow constraining you.
Your vision when dropping deep to receive the ball, your ability to link up with midfield and control tempo, your finishing instinct when bursting into the box, that awareness you have for drifting wide to create space for teammates—none of that can be fully expressed in a traditional winger's role."
Julien nodded thoughtfully, processing the assessment.
Deschamps rotated the tactical board and moved his marker to the center.
"I want you to try playing as a free-roaming attacking midfielder. You won't be fixed to the right wing. If you need to drop deep to help connect with midfield, move in behind Giroud.
If you want to attack the penalty area, push forward and become a second striker. If the opponent's flank is vulnerable, drift wide and take them on.
Simply put, you can play centrally or wide, drop deep or push forward—follow the rhythm of the game and your own instincts. Don't let a fixed position restrict you."
Deschamps looked up at Julien, adding further context.
"You've shown at Liverpool that you can combine with Gerrard to orchestrate attacks. With the national team, you can link Giroud and Ribéry in the same way. Your ball retention ability is the best I've ever seen in a player.
This capacity to hold possession while simultaneously creating chances for teammates—if we unleash that in central areas, it could bring our entire attack to life. I've always believed you shouldn't be just a finisher. You can be the engine that drives our offensive play."
He paused for emphasis. "Your talent shouldn't be limited to the touchline. Maybe take a look at Barcelona's Messi. I think you can do even better than him in this role."
Julien stared at the arrows on the tactical board for several seconds before breaking into a smile.
"A free-roaming attacking midfielder? I've never properly played that position before. Whether at club level or in the youth teams, I've always been fixed as a winger or occasionally filled in at central midfield. But hearing you explain it like this, I'm definitely intrigued."
Deschamps clapped him on the shoulder, there was definitely anticipation in his voice.
"No rush to find your rhythm. We'll work on it gradually over the next few days in training, then you can try it out in the upcoming friendlies. Start by finding your positional sense in unopposed training sessions. With your ability, once we get the positioning right, you'll definitely add a new dimension to our attack."
Julien smiled and nodded. "Alright, I'll give it my best shot. If I'm running into the wrong spaces, you'll need to keep correcting me."
Deschamps laughed heartily. "Knowing you, I don't think you'll need much guidance from me at all. Just do what comes naturally!"
The morning mist had completely lifted now, and sunlight made the Clairefontaine grass gleam.
The break ended, and it was time to begin the day's intra-squad match.
Deschamps divided the players into red and blue teams, and his assistants began explaining each player's positional responsibilities and duties.
Deschamps saved his instructions for Julien until last, though what he said was clearly meant for everyone to hear.
"Julien, today you'll be stationed here." Deschamps' finger indicated the top of the penalty arc in central areas, his voice was carrying across the group. "Free-roaming attacking midfielder. Don't lock yourself into the right-wing position. Read the game and act accordingly."
He turned to address the other players, his tone becoming more emphatic. "All of you need to synchronize with Julien's movement. Watch for when he drops deep, recognize when he's making forward runs. Don't just focus on your own play."
After giving detailed instructions, the teammates showed only mild surprise.
Given Julien's current ability and status, nobody questioned his claim to the team's most important attacking role. His two performances against Spain had already established his standing beyond any doubt.
The match began.
In the very first minute, Matuidi won the ball in midfield and immediately looked to pass toward Julien's position. Julien instinctively moved toward the right flank, and the pass ran away from him into dead space.
After playing the ball backward, Julien frowned, mentally reviewing what had just happened.
From the sideline, Deschamps shouted, "Don't think about the wing! Move centrally!"
Over the next ten minutes, Julien's performance felt disjointed. His combinations with teammates lacked fluency and precision.
Knowing what to do intellectually was one thing, but executing it was another matter entirely. Years of playing as a winger had ingrained habits that ran bone-deep. Changing them in a short period was difficult.
"Don't rush it!" Giroud jogged over and patted Julien's back reassuringly. "Make your runs in behind me. I'll screen defenders for you, and when I get the ball, I'll play it back to you as a wall pass."
Julien nodded his understanding.
Soon after, Matuidi intercepted another pass. This time, instead of drifting wide, Julien made his run into the pocket of space behind Giroud.
Matuidi sent the ball through perfectly.
With his back to the defender, Julien flicked the ball with his heel toward Valbuena, who was overlapping on the flank. Julien then spun and sprinted toward the inside channel of the penalty area.
Valbuena read the movement instantly. When he returned the pass, Julien had already created separation from one defender.
Rather than forcing a shot, Julien lifted his head and scanned the box. He spotted Giroud making a run between two center-backs.
Now!
Julien's ankle flicked delicately, sending the ball skimming across the turf. It eased between the blue team center-back's legs, arriving perfectly at Giroud's feet.
Without letting the ball settle, Giroud turned and side-footed a shot toward the far corner. The ball kissed the inside of the post before nestling into the net.
The red team's substitutes erupted in celebration.
Giroud sprinted over and wrapped Julien in a bear hug, pounding his back enthusiastically. "Beautiful! That through ball was perfection!"
Ribéry joined them, ruffling Julien's hair with a broad grin. "If you're not a genius for adapting this quickly to a new position, then who is? Ha ha ha!"
Julien watched the ball resting in the back of the net, the praise from his teammates washing over him. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease considerably.
The free-roaming attacking midfielder role, he was beginning to find his rhythm.
From the sideline, Deschamps stood with his arms folded, a smile hidden at the corner of his mouth. He gave Julien an approving thumbs-up.
Sunlight bathed Julien's kit, the blue fabric with white "FFF" logo seeming to glow.
After a short time, the training session concluded.
Just before lunch, Deschamps made a point of finding Julien. "You adapted to the role faster than I anticipated."
Julien smiled and nodded. "At the beginning, I definitely had some ingrained winger habits that were hard to shake off immediately."
"The willingness to break old habits is what matters." Deschamps' tone took on a slightly teasing edge. "Honestly, watching you here at Clairefontaine, I can't help but think that Liverpool's manager hasn't truly understood how to use you."
Julien paused, he was caught off guard. He didn't respond, just simply watched Deschamps carefully.
"Fixing you as a right winger—sure, you can produce excellent dribbling and crossing from there, but it feels like something's missing." Deschamps didn't hide his assessment, and continued candidly.
"Your vision when dropping deep, your ability to help midfield control tempo, your instinct for suddenly bursting into central areas—none of that can be captured by the word 'winger.' Like today, when you dropped in behind Giroud and played that through ball, wasn't that more efficient and less exhausting than beating your man repeatedly on the touchline?"
He paused, his tone was shifting from teasing to more objective analysis.
"I'm not saying Liverpool's manager is incompetent. It's just that within his system, there doesn't seem to be room for you to express yourself freely. Your operational space is limited to making runs down the right flank, delivering crosses from deep positions, or cutting inside to create shooting opportunities.
For a player with your ability, being locked into such a rigid tactical role is a waste. You must have felt it yourself today—when you're not confined to the wing and you can drop deep or push forward freely, doesn't it feel more natural?"
Julien rubbed the back of his head, unable to suppress a smile. "It definitely feels more liberating."
"Exactly. Liberating is the right word." Deschamps squeezed his shoulder. "Maintain this form going forward, not just for the upcoming friendlies, but as preparation for next year's World Cup. As for the situation at Liverpool, just keep it in mind."
With that, Deschamps tilted his chin toward the cafeteria. "Come on, let's go. If we wait any longer, the hot soup will be cold."
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