The answer was yes.
Trailing on the scoreboard, Simeone had brought on Falcao and Costa as a two-striker attack to intensify their offensive pressure.
This left their midfield stretched.
Bastia's counter-pressing would definitely weaken.
Julien didn't drop deep defensively. Instead, he stationed himself near the opposition's backline.
On defense, he trusted his teammates. Besides, even if he retreated, it wouldn't make much difference. His stamina didn't allow him to run up and down the wing for ninety minutes straight, much less one hundred and twenty, like those physical freaks.
Three minutes after Falcao came on.
He got a golden opportunity near the small box. Juanfran Torres overlapped on the right, combined with Suárez in a one-two, and sent in a cross.
Costa, holding off Choplin's challenge, flicked the ball to the far post.
Falcao struck decisively. A bullet of a shot that seemed destined for the back of the net.
Novaes was helpless.
Falcao was already celebrating when the linesman raised his flag.
Whistle!
The referee signaled offside.
Atlético players swarmed the referee shouting: "How is that offside?!"
The referee explained: "Number 19 received the ball from an offside position before heading it."
On the sideline, Simeone exploded in curses.
So close to a goal, and they call it back!
The Spanish commentators, reviewing the slow-motion replay said: "This looks like it could be offside, but I think it's a camera angle issue. Should be no offside. The ref seems off today."
TF1's commentator disagreed: "That's clearly offside. Costa's body was clearly ahead of Choplin's by almost half a body length. Definite offside. That said, Bastia shouldn't relax. If Atlético can score, they will eventually break through."
Hadzibegic felt like he'd been pulled from heaven to hell in an instant.
He'd dodged a bullet.
He immediately gestured to his players: bolster the defense!
Simultaneously, Hadzibegic's mind raced through substitution options.
But no matter what he considered, he couldn't find anyone to replace his current players.
Such was the reality: Bastia's bench was desperately thin.
The starting XI was strong, but when you needed replacements, there was no one to turn to.
Bastia played the ball out.
De Bruyne pushed forward from midfield. Julien waited on the right wing, ready to hit the accelerator at the first opportunity.
Positional play wasn't really his forte.
But there was no choice. The team's current tactics demanded he burn energy and rely on speed.
Fortunately, after his previous injuries, he'd built up resilience. Otherwise, he'd worry about re-injury.
Now? He could push hard without reservation.
But Atlético had him tightly marked. After De Bruyne was cut off, he twisted to find space and sent a diagonal long pass to the left.
Mané collected the ball.
Facing Mario Suárez's defense, he didn't accelerate immediately but probed first, then suddenly lifted the ball forward and exploded into full speed.
Suárez couldn't keep pace from that first step, and fell further behind!
Juanfran Torres cut off Mané's path.
Mané saw Lukaku ahead, with De Bruyne making a forward run.
Before reaching the box, he quickly crossed.
The ball flew toward Lukaku.
Lukaku saw it coming and his heart leapt.
His mind immediately flooded with fantasies: 'I'd use my speed to outpace Miranda, then feint out the keeper with a sudden stop-and-go, gently tap it into an open net, then celebrate:
What celebration should I do?
Maybe Julien's "I am the King" pose?
Yeah, that's cool, that's got swagger, I'll do that.
Wait... where's my ball?!'
Before Lukaku could execute his brilliant run, Miranda slid in with a pre-emptive touch, prodding the ball toward midfield.
It flew toward De Bruyne. But Gabi rushed up to block him. In the struggle for possession, De Bruyne lost the ball.
Atlético's counter-attack!
Hadzibegic saw this but remained relatively calm. Bastia had at most four players in attack, with everyone else dropping deep to defend. They had sufficient defensive cover whenever Atlético countered.
This approach had clear advantages.
Atlético couldn't build quick counter-attacks and were instead pushed into positional play.
In the stands, Mbappé grinned at Saliba. "See? I told you Bastia would win. You said Atlético was so strong."
Saliba shrugged. "Atlético really is strong though. They're unbeaten in La Liga. It's just that Julien always scores."
Mbappé's face beamed with pride. "Of course. Julien rarely has scoreless matches."
Then, Mbappé pointed at Mané retreating on the left wing. "Actually, I think I could play that position better. I wouldn't have passed—I'd dribble straight through, cut inside, and shoot if I could. If not, I'd find De Bruyne for a tap-in. That would've been the real chance. Mané wasted it."
Mbappé spoke with supreme confidence.
Never having played professional matches at this level, but trash-talking was a universal talent, right?
Looking ahead to his upcoming move to Caen's professional squad after New Year, Mbappé's smile grew wider.
"OOOOOO!"
Saliba hadn't responded when the Calderón crowd suddenly roared.
It was Falcao again!
Through intelligent positioning and movement, he created half a yard of space and unleashed a shot.
A natural finisher, even from a tight angle, the ball headed goalward.
But Novaes was well-positioned this time. He instinctively dove and touched the ball, deflecting it over the line.
The ball bounded toward the corner.
Falcao shook his head in frustration.
Bastia's players now genuinely felt their box was under siege, the pressure was suffocating.
Atlético corner kick.
On the sideline, Hadzibegic decided he had to make a change.
He immediately identified his next substitution.
Off: Mané.
On: Palmeri.
Mané was fast but defensively inexperienced. With Palmeri, Hadzibegic shifted to a 4-4-2 formation.
Lukaku and Julien up front; everyone else would hold the fort.
Soon, Atlético's corner came in. Costa got a header, but it struck Choplin and bounced clear.
The loose ball was quickly recovered by Atlético.
Pressure continued.
Bastia compressed into deep defense.
There was literally no space in or around the box, it was an iron curtain that seemed hauntingly familiar to Atlético's fans.
And Bastia players kept dropping to the ground.
By the seventieth minute, they were already cramping.
Simeone raged at the fourth official: "They're stalling! Aren't you booking anyone?!"
The fourth official could only respond, "We're watching the clock. There'll be extra time."
Simeone shook his head repeatedly.
The match rhythm had been shattered into fragments. This style of play frustrated him immensely.
At the seventy-sixth minute, Bastia fouled again. Kanté brought down Bellerín just outside the box.
Atlético free kick.
Bang!
Gabi struck directly at goal!
But the wall blocked it.
The ball bounced back.
As Gabi reached to collect it, Julien positioned in the wall was faster, rushing forward to block him.
Gabi tried to shield the ball, but Julien's feet were quick. He poked the ball away.
At that moment, Lukaku was already sprinting forward at full intensity. His performance this entire match could be summarized as: constant sprinting and then, after losing the ball, grabbing his head in despair or giving thumbs up.
After Julien's poke, he unleashed his full power into a charge.
This interception was essentially a tackle resulting in possession.
Atlético's two central defenders weren't in position, they'd pushed up to mark set-piece deliveries.
Only Suárez and Filipe remained in defensive cover.
Lukaku's powerful surge drew Suárez away. Effectively, only Filipe opposed Julien. But this entire match, Julien had skinned Filipe in every conceivable way.
This time, it was almost trivial.
A touch, a second acceleration!
He powered through!
The crowd erupted!
Julien's explosive pace was simply unstoppable.
The TF1 commentator roared: "Julien! Clean through! Absolutely clear on goal!!"
Courtois raced out.
Julien, throughout his career, often trusted his dribbling over his shot.
Facing Courtois' charge, a direct shot would give the keeper regardless of other qualities, a massive target. The goalkeeper's frame and reach were elite.
So, Julien didn't slow down. He accelerated toward Courtois' left.
Courtois shifted quickly. Just as they were about to collide—
Julien executed a sudden stop-and-go, pushing the ball to his left.
Then he pushed off with one explosive stride.
Bang!
A left-footed push shot.
Courtois had already reacted, twisting to dive, but the ball threaded through his hands, destined for the net!
Whoosh!
The ball struck the back of the net, sending the white mesh rippling.
For Bastia fans, it was the most beautiful sight imaginable.
Like the white foam of waves off the Mediterranean.
"Julien!!"
Whether in the away section or throughout the stadium, Bastia supporters erupted. Their blood boiled, their bodies burned, their chests swelled with emotion, their only release was screaming Julien's name.
After shooting, Julien was brought down by Courtois.
He quickly got up.
"C'est moi!!" he roared, simultaneously peeling off his jersey and flinging it behind him as he sprinted.
He pointed toward the away fans, where ecstatic Bastia supporters cheered.
"C'est moi!!"
He roared again.
He jumped onto the barrier in front of the crowd, standing on top of it, spreading his arms wide toward the away section.
His physique alone wasn't striking, but his extremely lean, sculpted muscles appeared in every camera, every broadcast screen, visible to all.
Click! Click! Click!
The photographers on the sideline fired away, capturing the moment. This image would surely be etched into football history.
"A hat-trick! De Rocca's hat-trick!! Look at him! He's an absolute demon on the pitch! Another goal! This hat-trick—it's Bastia's first in European competition, across the entire hundred-year history!!"
The TF1 commentator roared: "De Rocca has rewritten the scoreline in the 83rd minute! Hadzibegic is dancing like a child on the sideline! The substitutes are embracing in celebration! Julien De Rocca stands on Madrid soil, arms raised toward Bastia, his silhouette framed against the sky! Tonight will undoubtedly be recorded in the annals of history!!"
On the pitch, Julien quickly jumped down from the barrier, it was too narrow to maintain balance as teammates swarmed him.
Once he was on the ground, Julien embraced his teammates.
"Brilliant!" De Bruyne hugged him, his emotions could hardly be contained.
Julien grinned and said, "I told you we'd win this match!"
"A hat-trick, man! So cool!" Lukaku came over, his tone was tinged with envy. He'd had chances too, but hadn't converted like Julien. He dominated the league, scoring freely, but in the Europa League? He had just one goal so far.
De Bruyne already had three.
It weighed on him.
From Madrid to Bastia, every Bastia fan celebrated wildly—their first European hat-trick in their club's entire history.
They celebrated delivering a fatal blow to Atlético!
With just ten minutes remaining, Bastia led by three goals. Impossible to lose now.
Three wins in three matches!
This outcome, when the draw was made before the tournament, seemed inconceivable to anyone.
Zidane turned to Deschamps: "I think your earlier assessment was correct—the future belongs to Julien. But I'd add: so, does the present."
Deschamps laughed heartily.
Zidane valued Julien highly. So did he, naturally.
France's current attack? Julien was the absolute core!
They glanced at the silent, head-down Simeone.
They understood. The match was effectively decided. In the final minutes, an Atlético comeback was nearly impossible.
After the celebration subsided and play restarted, Hadzibegic made his second substitution.
Off came the hat-trick hero Julien.
On: Marshall, a defensive player.
It was time to secure the result.
Simeone remained emotionally fired up, constantly shouting at his players to attack, to attack!
Meanwhile, in the stands, Atlético's president Cerezo and general manager Enrique Cerezo Jr. looked grim, as if attending a funeral.
Under their leadership, Atlético had been thriving.
They harbored even greater ambitions. But this match left them feeling the loss was somehow inexplicable.
After a long silence, Cerezo turned to Cerezo Jr.: "Perhaps we should consider it... Acquiring their right winger Julien? His counter-attacking style perfectly suits our current tactical system."
Cerezo Jr. looked at his president in shock. So... if you can't beat them, sign them?
But could Julien really be poached so easily?
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