After parting ways with Deschamps, Julien found himself dwelling on the position change.
Playing as a right winger for so long had ingrained certain habits deep into his muscle memory. Every time the ball came to his feet, his instinct was to drive it into pockets of space, cutting inside with the singular focus of getting a shot away.
The thought of sending a through ball rarely crossed his mind when attacking centrally, his brain was hardwired for the final action, not the penultimate pass.
This wasn't about lacking the talent to play differently. It was simply the accumulated weight of habit, the kind that only comes from hundreds of matches played in one specific role.
It felt like being confined in an invisible cage which was comfortable, familiar, but restrictive. Now that the cage was being dismantled, he found himself momentarily uncertain, like a prisoner granted unexpected freedom who no longer remembers how to walk without walls beside him.
Still, Julien felt genuine excitement about this positional shift rather than anxiety. If he truly wanted to become the best player in the world, how could he limit himself to mastering just one position?
This versatility would only accelerate his development, push him into uncomfortable spaces where real growth happened.
More importantly, it confirmed what he'd already suspected—Deschamps was fully committed to building the French national team around him as the core.
Julien looked out across the sunlit grounds of Clairefontaine, breathing in the crisp autumn air.
"Still better weather than England," he muttered to himself with a slight grin.
The English climate had been thoroughly miserable.
Walking toward the canteen, another thought struck him. If he permanently moved to this new position, Griezmann would never become the player history remembered—that version of "Grizi" who dominated as a second striker.
But that was Deschamps' problem to solve, not his. The manager would find the right role for Griezmann when the time came.
Over the following days, Julien worked intensively with Deschamps to adapt his game to the new position. The manager put him through specific pattern work, adjusting his decision-making triggers and spatial awareness for playing between the lines.
However, the day before the friendly match, Deschamps surprised him with a different plan.
"You won't be playing the new position in tomorrow's friendly," He explained, his expression was clear and strategic. "I brought you back to train the new role with your teammates, to start building that understanding. But I don't want the outside world catching on to what we're doing with you just yet. So tomorrow, you'll play your familiar right-wing position."
Julien looked at him inquiringly, not quite grasping the reasoning.
Deschamps placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Next year's World Cup is what truly matters. Everything we do now is preparation for that."
Now Julien understood completely. They were keeping their cards hidden, building their hand in secret.
He didn't mind this approach at all. For one thing, he believed his current abilities weren't inferior to what the future Griezmann would become in that role.
More importantly, after genuinely breaking free from the winger's mentality these past few days, he'd experienced a sudden clarity where everything connected. Once you understood the vital principles, they applied everywhere on the pitch.
This sense of clarity had crystallized through his match experience and countless conversations with players like Deschamps and Zidane during training sessions. Those discussions had planted seeds that were now blooming into tactical understanding.
What was the essence of football tactics?
In Julien's mind, tactics always revolved around one core principle—breaking the balance. Creating asymmetry from symmetry.
On a pitch with eleven against eleven, the defending team would compress space through positioning, using lateral connections between players and vertical coverage behind them, knitting a restrictive net designed to suffocate attacks.
The fundamental objective of tactics was to tear gaps in that net through coordinated movement and passing combinations, ultimately creating numerical advantages in localized areas—moments where you outnumbered the opposition in a specific zone.
This numerical superiority wasn't about literal crushing numbers across the entire pitch. Rather, it emerged through dynamic adjustments, where the attacking team manufactured temporary local advantages in particular moments and spaces.
For example, during wide attacks, the winger would drift toward the touchline, dragging the opposition fullback with him.
At precisely that moment, an attacking midfielder or central player would make a darting run into the space vacated behind that fullback, while simultaneously the team's own fullback overlapped on the outside.
Suddenly, the wide area transformed into a localized three-versus-two scenario—winger plus fullback plus arriving midfielder against the opposition fullback and the covering center-back.
Or consider a central build-up sequence. One midfielder drops deep to receive, attracting the opposition's defensive midfielder to press forward. Another midfielder then drifts laterally into the space that defensive midfielder just abandoned, while the striker checks back to offer a wall pass option.
In that moment, the central zone becomes a three-versus-one situation—the deep midfielder, the drifting midfielder, and the dropping striker against the isolated center-back.
Movement and passing combinations were the keys to creating these advantages.
Off-ball movement served as the detonator.
Players making runs whether diagonal, wide, or dropping weren't moving without purpose. Every run was designed to manipulate the defensive structure, to pull defenders out of position or create hesitation.
So, when Julien operated as a free-roaming forward and dropped deep, the center-back marking him faced a dilemma.
If the defender followed him out, space opened up in the penalty area for Giroud to exploit. If the center-back refused to follow, Julien gained time and space in midfield to receive, turn, and orchestrate attacks.
In Julien's understanding, tactics were never static formations drawn on a whiteboard with arrows and dotted lines.
Tactics were the living, breathing process of players using coordinated movement and passing to constantly search for and create localized numerical superiorities across the pitch.
Every off-ball run, every short passing sequence, every positional rotation—they all accumulated toward manufacturing those precious moments of local advantage.
When those moments arrived, goal-scoring opportunities emerged organically, almost inevitably.
The purpose of dribbling was never simply to beat your man for the sake of it. Dribbling was another tool to create that numerical imbalance, to commit multiple defenders and free up teammates.
This was the fundamental logic underlying all football tactics, the foundational principle guiding every decision he made—every dribble, every pass, every movement off the ball.
The day before the match, the French national team held their media open day.
As captain, Julien couldn't avoid the obligations, though he was grateful that national team press conferences were far more civilized than what he endured in England.
The French media wouldn't engage in the same malicious editing and quote manipulation that English tabloids treated as standard practice.
Still, Julien kept his responses restrained and didn't entertain too many questions.
Initially, reporters asked about Liverpool matters, but Julien offered only bland, diplomatic answers. He had no intention of providing substantial commentary about club issues while on national team duty.
The conversation quickly turned to national team topics.
"Now that you're back with France, training alongside world-class teammates like Giroud and Ribéry, how does the collaborative atmosphere here compare to Liverpool? Is there anything you've had to specifically adapt to?"
"Honestly, the adaptation has been quite smooth," Julien replied, his expression warming slightly when discussing the national team.
"Franck is an incredibly experienced senior player. During training breaks, he'll voluntarily chat with me about match details—how to find pockets of space in the penalty area, how to read defensive positioning and anticipate where gaps will open."
He paused briefly, organizing his thoughts before continuing.
"Compared to Liverpool, the national team brings together players from different clubs, each with their own distinct playing styles. But everyone clearly understands our collective goal with France, so the chemistry develops naturally.
Just yesterday during training, Giroud and I executed a give-and-go sequence. Even though we've never played together at club level, I could immediately sense his movement patterns and preferences. That kind of unspoken understanding is probably what makes the national team special."
Julien's eyes lit up slightly as he added, "I've always believed in playing 'brotherhood football'—treating my teammates as genuine friends and brothers. When you have that bond, everyone plays more freely and expresses their abilities more fully."
Another journalist raised the question of next year's World Cup. "As France's youngest-ever captain, next year's World Cup is obviously the priority. What do you think this French squad needs to focus on most to prepare? What are your expectations for how far we can go?"
Julien's expression became more serious, his posture was straightening slightly.
"The World Cup is every player's dream. For France, the first priority is perfecting our team coordination. We have many talented individuals, but World Cup matches are incredibly intense, and every opponent will be formidable. We can only go far by integrating individual brilliance into our collective tactical system."
He leaned forward slightly, his captain's mindset was evident.
"The other crucial element is mentality. In a World Cup, you'll inevitably face adversity—falling behind, dealing with injuries, absorbing pressure. In those moments, someone needs to step forward and steady the team. As captain, I'll do everything I can to fulfill that role and help us push through difficult moments together."
Julien's tone softened into something more restrained.
"As for our prospects, I don't want to make grandiose championship declarations. Right now, what matters most is playing each friendly seriously, refining our lineup rotations, and taking it step by step. Of course, our ambition is definitely to advance as far as possible and bring joy to French supporters."
The final question touched on individual honors.
A reporter smiled as he asked, "Right now, the media considers you one of the frontrunners for this year's Ballon d'Or. Some outlets are saying you and Ribéry are the French players most likely to feature on the podium. How do you feel about these expectations? Does it create additional pressure? Who do you think will ultimately win the award?"
Julien shook his head gently, his tone was restrained and tactful.
"I'm grateful that people recognize my performances, but the Ballon d'Or is an individual accolade, while football is fundamentally a team sport. Without the support of my club teammates, without the guidance of my national team coaches and the quality of players around me, I couldn't possibly produce the performances I have.
So I don't pay much attention to external discussions, and I certainly don't feel pressure from them. For me, the priority right now is simply playing well in every match and helping both my club and national team achieve better results. As for the Ballon d'Or, I'll let it unfold naturally. If I do end up nominated, it's recognition of the entire team's work, not just my individual contribution."
Regarding the final question about who would win, Julien's face broke into a genuine smile, his eyes were carrying a glint of calculated intention. "If the Ballon d'Or criteria emphasize individual honors and statistical dominance, then I believe this year's award absolutely belongs to Franck."
As national team captain, he naturally needed to publicly support Ribéry. Whether the gathered journalists grasped the subtle implication in his phrasing—the conditional "if" didn't particularly concern him.
Soon enough, people would understand exactly what he meant by that carefully phrased statement.
The Ballon d'Or had always been about more than just votes and numbers.
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