Certezo and Cerezo Jr. sat contemplating the feasibility of signing Julien, their minds already made up in many ways.
Both men had been thoroughly convinced by this single match. They had witnessed firsthand the caliber of the player playing—the kind of talent that, if the price was reasonable, one would be foolish to pass up.
The question was no longer whether to pursue him, but rather how to outmaneuver the inevitable competition for his signature.
As they exchanged knowing glances, the same thoughts were being entertained across Europe.
In Turin, scouts and executives were analyzing match footage. In Dortmund, ambitious plans were being drawn up behind closed doors. In Manchester, telephone conversations were taking place, weighing options and resources.
The entire continent seemed to have awakened to Julien's presence simultaneously.
But before Bastia's stunning Europa League demonstration, the third round of Champions League group stage matches had just concluded—a round that could only be summarized as "an upset masterclass."
Real Madrid's 1-2 defeat at Dortmund came as little surprise to those knowledgeable about football history. After all, the Galácticos had managed only a single victory in their previous twenty-four away trips to Germany, and Dortmund, as the defending Bundesliga champions, was a formidable obstacle where any result remained unpredictable.
However, other results were starkly different. Chelsea's 1-2 loss to Donetsk Miners in an away fixture raised eyebrows.
Manchester City's 3-1 thrashing by Ajax, a humiliation by any measure left observers in shock. And then there was AC Milan's 0-1 defeat to Málaga.
Yet even these shocking outcomes paled in comparison to what Arsenal endured this round.
At home, in their own stadium, Arsenal suffered a devastating 0-2 defeat at the hands of Schalke 04. With that loss, three legendary records built over seasons of excellence fell simultaneously.
Their sixteen-game unbeaten home streak in the Champions League was obliterated. Their forty-five-game unbeaten home record against foreign teams evaporated. And their six consecutive home victories against Bundesliga sides became history.
For champions that managed to avoid defeat, the night brought no comfort either. Juventus drew 1-1 away to Bursaspor, granting their opponent their first-ever Champions League points while simultaneously setting a new club record—their ninth consecutive draw in European competition, surpassing the streak the Zebras themselves had previously established.
Manchester United and Barcelona, two of world football's greatest powerhouses, both found themselves in dire straits this round. United, however, orchestrated a miraculous three-goal comeback, staging a turnaround so incredible it seemed to defy the script.
Barcelona, meanwhile, endured anguish until the 94th minute, when finally, mercifully, their decisive strike arrived.
Had fortune smiled differently, both titans would have joined the upset club themselves.
After this apocalyptic round, only three elite clubs occupied first place in their respective groups. Dortmund topped their standings, ahead of both Real Madrid and Manchester City.
Barcelona held first in theirs. And Manchester United was the same in their group.
The message was clear to every executive in Europe: this season was different. The months since August had exposed fundamental weaknesses in nearly every club. The time for self-examination had passed. Now came the season of acquisition and adjustment.
And Julien, who had shone with almost supernatural brilliance in the Europa League, had become the target of choice for numerous elite clubs.
Juventus
Marotta had consistently and forcefully pushed for Julien's acquisition. He saw in the young winger something excellent, the very future of Juventus written in his movements, his decision-making, his raw potential.
This season, under Conte, Juventus had drawn all three Champions League group matches. A puzzling outcome that gradually revealed an uncomfortable truth: Conte had a weakness in knockout competitions. He was a league strategist, a tactician for the marathon of domestic football, not the single-elimination pressure cooker of European cups.
Moreover, Juventus lacked what every championship-contending club requires: that decisive spark in crucial moments. They needed a player who could produce magic when everything hung in the balance.
Marotta believed Julien was precisely that answer.
After witnessing the Bastia-Atlético Madrid match, his resolve hardened into something unshakeable. He wanted to secure Julien at almost any cost.
Yet he was pragmatic enough to recognize one critical obstacle: behind Julien stood numerous other ambitious clubs, all reaching for the same prize.
His only concern was whether the Agnelli family possessed sufficient will to commit the resources necessary to outbid rivals. The Agnelli dynasty, like all powerful families, carried complications and internal entanglements.
He would need direct support from Andrea Agnelli, the club's current chairman. After considerable deliberation, Marotta resolved to approach Andrea directly, to gauge precisely how far Juventus was willing to venture for this French winger who would celebrate his eighteenth birthday within weeks.
Dortmund
Klopp had mostly abandoned all thoughts of signing Julien. The financial situation simply didn't allow it. Acquiring a player of Julien's profile would stretch Dortmund's carefully balanced budget to the breaking point, introducing complications that neither the club nor its accountants could absorb.
But then something changed. When he learned that Julien would be in the Europa League rather than remaining within Ligue 1's provincial borders, an impulse seized him.
On an evening that should have involved routine rest, Klopp turned on the television, tuning to the Bastia broadcast, his curiosity overriding his better judgment.
One viewing was sufficient to undo his resolution.
Julien was perfect. Not merely good, not simply talented—but perfectly attuned for Dortmund's young, vibrant, dynamic style of play.
Under Klopp's guidance, the club had conquered the Bundesliga, yet his ambitions extended far beyond domestic supremacy. He craved European glory. He wanted the Champions League. He wanted to plant Dortmund's flag on top of the continent.
In Julien, Klopp perceived the possibility—no, the probability of achieving exactly that. This teenager possessed the ingredients necessary to elevate Dortmund from regional power to European giant.
But then Michael Zorc's words echoed in his memory, and Klopp deflated.
Did Dortmund genuinely cherish the "young and vibrant" philosophy? The truth was considerably less romantic.
No.
Pure financial necessity drove their approach. Lacking sufficient capital to compete for established superstars, they were forced to play a lottery of youth, purchasing promising teenagers in hopes that potential would mature into excellence. They simply could not afford the instant, ready-made quality that truly elite clubs could deploy.
Julien, strictly speaking, remained at the age where such categorization applied. Yet his performances had already surpassed the hypothetical. He was delivering elite-level output now, in this moment, not merely promising to someday.
Such players get premium prices, prices that extended far beyond Dortmund's reach.
Klopp understood this reality perfectly. Yet understanding didn't diminish the sting of regret that pierced his chest. He could only watch as other, wealthier ones circled their prey.
Manchester City
Perhaps only Soriano and Begiristain experienced genuine elation upon witnessing Julien's display.
The support they received from their employers transcended normal football club operations. Decisions involving transfers worth well over a hundred million euros could be made with a casual nod, as easily as one might approve a minor operational expense.
Their entire organizational philosophy centered on a simple principle: let professionals handle professional matters; we will provide unlimited capital.
At the managerial level, Soriano and his subordinate were already engaged in preliminary discussions. Naturally, their first approach had been directed toward Guardiola. But Guardiola remained content at Barcelona, showing no inclination toward disruption or change.
Since Soriano's network consisted primarily of Spanish contacts, their managerial search would necessarily continue within Spanish football circles. This process could unfold gradually. After all, dismissing Mancini this season would lack dignity.
Whatever his shortcomings, Mancini was a Manchester City legend. Beyond that, the players he had developed and recruited like Joe Hart, Sergio Agüero, Yaya Touré, David Silva proved his excellent judgment.
All were quality acquisitions.
But Julien's recruitment could not wait.
Both Soriano and Begiristain grasped the critical difference: earlier, Julien had been an overlooked gem within Ligue 1, a talent unknown to the majority of European clubs. Now, after tonight's battle against Atlético, his gifts were fully exposed. This was treasure in its purest form. The summer transfer window would inevitably trigger a feeding frenzy among the continent's elite club.
Although Julien's representatives currently refused all contact, early impression-building seemed wise. If they wait until summer to initiate approaches? By then, some other club would likely have already announced his signing as a completed transfer.
Moreover, Soriano perceived Manchester City as possessing substantial advantages. Without historical baggage or legendary expectations, players experienced reduced pressure. Every step forward created new history rather than defending established legacy. Fans only offered praise.
Most critically: Manchester City had money. Genuine, abundant, almost unlimited capital.
What was football truly about? Money.
The answer remained unchanged throughout decades of the sport's evolution.
One only needed to examine Chelsea's meteoric rise. Manchester City's financial consortium had studied Abramovich's blueprint carefully, determined to replicate his success. Similar imitators existed in Paris Saint-Germain, operating under identical principles.
Soriano couldn't resist voicing his admiration: "These white-robed men, they truly spend without hesitation. A hundred million euros, two hundred million—they blink and fortunes vanish into the transfer market."
Outside the Calderón Stadium, countless minds drifted on currents of anticipation and uncertainty.
Inside, Simeone and his players stared at the scoreboard, its harsh digits were burning their eyes: 2-4.
A tragic feeling permeated the atmosphere.
Falcao had struck in the ninetieth minute, his goal was a desperate counterpunch that arrived too late to alter destiny.
Four minutes of injury time could accomplish nothing. Even as Falcao, avoiding celebration, frantically retrieved the ball to restart play, even as he tried desperately to generate some final miracle, the added time inevitably concluded amid Bastia's deliberate time-wasting tactics.
Beep!
The whistle sounded.
Full-time.
The Calderón fell utterly silent. Silence alone remained.
Wind swept through the stadium, and what it carried was only melancholy, only regret.
"Oh là là! We won! Group first place!!" Lukaku's excited voice rose above all others. His teammates surrounded him, their collective roar echoing through the stadium.
This outcome, this glorious result—they had envisioned it countless times in their minds during quiet moments of preparation. Yet imagination paled before reality.
When it actually occurred, when the dream transformed into tangible fact, the emotion surged through their bodies with overwhelming intensity. Their blood seemed to boil within their veins, the sensation was almost impossible to contain or suppress.
Bastia's players embraced one another in succession, their roars of happiness mixing with wild arm gestures and celebratory movements.
Even the defenders, who moments earlier had been lying on the pitch in apparent physical exhaustion, cramps wracking their muscles and their energy seemingly depleted, now sprang to vibrant life.
Together, they rushed toward the sideline and technical area, embracing coaches, sports scientists, medical staff, and substitute players in sequence. Every face radiated unmistakable joy.
"This was an absolutely incredible match," TF1's commentator announced, his voice trembling with delight. "Bastia—this fourth-tier promoted side from Ligue 1 has just defeated the defending Europa League champions, the previously unbeaten Atlético Madrid this season.
They have handed Madrid their first loss. Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary.
Congratulations to Bastia. After three matches, they have achieved three consecutive victories and occupy first place in their group. Continuing at this trajectory, their qualification to the knockout stages is almost assured. There is simply no realistic scenario where they fail to advance."
The commentator paused, allowing the mood to settle.
"And De Rocca, the player who scored this evening's hat trick, is undoubtedly, beyond any shadow of doubt—this match's most valuable performer. The entire stadium belongs to him."
Following the standard post-match protocol, Bastia and Atlético Madrid players exchanged handshakes and gestures of mutual respect.
Then Bastia's squad approached their traveling supporters' section, and together with the devoted fans who had journeyed to Madrid, they united in singing their team's traditional song, their voices blending in collective celebration of achievement.
Subsequently, unprompted, the supporters began singing "Julien's Song".
After the players had completed their post-match duties, De Bruyne and Julien walked side by side toward the tunnel that would lead them back to the changing room.
De Bruyne suddenly spoke softly: "Thank you."
A faint smile crossed Julien's face. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on his De Bruyne shoulder. "Thank you for what? We are teammates. Victory belongs to all of us. It is our shared objective, our common purpose."
De Bruyne turned to study Julien more carefully. He had so many words, so many sentiments he wanted to express after tonight's performance.
Throughout the match, certain internal barriers had finally crumbled, certain emotional blockages had dissolved. The primary catalyst had been that moment, that decisive penalty strike struck directly into Courtois's territory.
It was the moment when everything shifted.
He wanted to thank Julien for that contribution.
But looking at Julien now, in this moment of success, De Bruyne sensed that excessive words were unnecessary.
Yes, they were teammates. They shared this victory. Why complicate it with complex expressions when they could simply move forward together, pursuing the next victory and the ones out there?
Once all players had completed their equipment preparations and departure procedures, Hadzibegic located Julien again in the corridor.
"Tonight you achieved a hat trick," Hadzibegic observed. "Are you certain you will not join me for the post-match press conference? Your presence would mean—"
Julien shook his head decisively.
He simply did not want to. The prospect of facing journalists and cameras held no appeal for him at this particular moment. If he were to attend any post-match media engagement, perhaps it would be after they had won a championship, when the context felt appropriately significant.
But now? No.
Instead, he redirected attention toward his teammate, gesturing encouragingly. "Let Kevin attend instead. Tonight, his contributions were equally vital to our success. He should receive that recognition as well."
Hadzibegic smiled knowingly and turned to De Bruyne with a questioning look. "Kevin? Would you be willing to participate?"
De Bruyne nodded his acceptance.
"Excellent," Hadzibegic confirmed. "We shall do this together."
Then, addressing the gathered squad more broadly, his expression brightened further. "I have good news for all of you. Chataigner called me only minutes ago. Given your extraordinary performances tonight, the club has authorized winter transfer reinforcements. However, this information must remain confidential for now. Please maintain discretion regarding this announcement."
Upon hearing this revelation, Bastia's players responded with satisfied smiles.
Most felt no anxiety regarding their positional security. Instead, they desperately wanted the team to advance further in European competition.
The current squad, while impressive, possessed obvious depth limitations on the bench. New acquisitions were welcome additions that could enhance their prospects.
At the post-match press conference, Hadzibegic gave the conventional tactful remarks as expected from a victorious manager. De Bruyne, however, chose to address reporters' personal questions directly and honestly.
"Caroline made her choice, just as she had previously abandoned others to select me," De Bruyne explained without apparent bitterness.
"That is completely normal. There is nothing extraordinary or shocking about such situations. Our emotional connection had already deteriorated before she relocated to Madrid.
Beyond that, I genuinely do not believe she will discover true love. Some people simply crave excitement, that particular stimulation. When they no longer obtain that sensation, they abandon without hesitation."
When reporters pressed for explanation, De Bruyne simply said: "I have addressed this already. I have nothing further to say on this topic."
The questioning shifted toward match analysis and performance evaluation. Naturally, Julien dominated the discussion.
De Bruyne said thoughtfully: "To be perfectly honest, I had some complacency regarding my own abilities and talents. I believed my teammates could not match my pace.
During matches, I would actually become irritated, expressing frustration toward my teammates. But becoming teammates with Julien deeply altered my perspective. I suddenly understood how my former teammates must have experienced playing alongside me. I finally realized their internal experience."
De Bruyne paused, allowing the admission to settle.
"Regarding natural talent specifically, I genuinely believe Julien represents the world's finest. Perhaps he would need more time to become the legitimately recognized world best. But I am genuinely delighted, truly honored to know him at such an early stage of his development. Witnessing his trajectory from this point is extraordinary."
When asked about the possibility of reuniting at Chelsea after the season concluded, since both had Chelsea connections, De Bruyne simply shook his head.
"I cannot predict future events. I only know that we are currently Bastia players. We are fighting together, right now, in this moment. That is the only reality that holds significance for me."
Simultaneously, at Atlético Madrid's press conference, Simeone spoke at substantial length, his remarks were tinged with frustration and explanation.
"We lost—the result is undeniable," He began. "But consider the match situation. We could have played ninety minutes of genuine football. Instead, we transitioned to essentially seventy minutes, perhaps fewer, yet referees seemed unconcerned with this mathematical reality.
They awarded only four minutes of added time. I suspect fans purchasing tickets did not imagine spending their evening watching players execute various falling techniques in diverse positions across the pitch."
These statements echoed through Madrid's supporter community, generating collective agreement and indignation directed at Bastia's apparent time-wasting.
Yet everyone recognized this for what it was: self-protective justification, a desperate attempt to avoid confronting an unpalatable reality.
Pro-Madrid commentators offered sharper criticism: "Everyone understands Simeone's nature, though apparently he does not possess such self-awareness.
Is Bastia not simply mimicking Atlético's usual tactical approach? Why does Simeone criticize what he himself champions? He should not reserve complaints about rules exploitation exclusively for moments when their own team emerges victorious."
This dispute would inevitably generate ongoing debate throughout Europa League coverage that evening.
But Bastia remained indifferent to such commentary. They knew single, irrefutable truths: their team had won. They occupied first place in their group. Nothing else had comparable significance. Everything else was secondary.
Bastia remained awake throughout the night, celebration flowing continuously. Alcohol and passionate emotion, these formed the foundation of their collective dream, the dream of claiming their first European trophy in a century of history.
Bastia's players boarded flights during the night for the return journey to their island home. By the time they arrived at the airport, it was past 3 AM. Yet despite the hour, despite the cold and discomfort, Bastia supporters maintained their watch, waiting in the darkness to welcome their heroes.
They held banners in the air.
One read: "Napoleon crossed the Alps; Bastia crushed Madrid!"
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