Whoosh!
A gasp erupted from the Vélodrome Stadium as Marseille fans felt a sinking sensation in their hearts.
Morel was helpless, watching as Julien adjusted his body mid-air for a second effort, launching himself toward the ball.
Julien's body was fully extended—thanks to his exceptional ball control, enhanced flexibility, and shooting mastery.
Though attempting a bicycle kick with his back to goal, his sense of the goal's position was extraordinarily sharp.
BANG!
His left foot whipped toward the ball, sending it flying toward the far corner of the goal.
Goalkeeper Mandanda had just repositioned himself, having seen the ball come to this side. But Julien's shot went the opposite direction.
Swish!
There was no stopping it. The ball slid smoothly into the net.
It was unstoppable.
A bicycle kick combined suddenness, concealment, and unpredictable trajectory and Julien's shot was both fast and curved.
All these factors combined left Mandanda with minimal reaction time.
Add to that his already advanced positioning, and Julien's supernatural ball sense that allowed him to adjust the bicycle kick toward the far post...
Mandanda could only turn his head and watch the ball nestle into the net.
0-2!
After landing, Julien turned just in time to see the ball hit the net. He leaped up excitedly and charged toward the sideline, sliding to his knees.
Scoring at the Vélodrome Stadium was no easy feat.
The last time, even PSG's star-studded lineup had only managed a 2-2 draw here.
Yet now... In just thirty minutes, Bastia had already scored twice!
Julien with a brace!
"JULIEN!"
The traveling Bastia supporters in the away section watched Julien slide, leaving three parallel tracks in the grass, their hearts ablaze with joy. Nothing was more thrilling than watching Bastia score.
If there was something better, it would be another goal!
They roared Julien's name with everything they had, though unfortunately, Julien was too far away.
Marseille had relegated the away tickets to corner seats at the top of the stadium.
After his celebration slide, Julien rose to face the jeers of Marseille's ultras in the stands, spreading his arms with a smile.
Winners never mind the impotent fury of losers.
Click-click-click!
The cameras along the sideline worked constantly, faithfully recording every moment.
De Bruyne rushed over and embraced Julien once more.
Teammates gathered around in celebration.
After a flurry of congratulatory words, Julien made a point of hugging Mané separately. "The pass had a slight issue, but no problem at all."
Mané beamed. "A brace and each one more beautiful than the last!"
"Haha"
Both men laughed together.
On the sideline...
Hadzibegić's smile nearly reached the sky. Marseille in first place? Well, today I'm taking down first place!
After his jubilant celebration, Hadzibegić remained rational, quickly signaling to Bastia's defensive players to stay calm and maintain solid defending.
For this match, he could completely trust the attack to the front line—Hadzibegić wasn't worried at all.
Whether it was Julien or De Bruyne and others, they all possessed independent attacking ability.
His concern was defense. And defense happened to be Hadzibegić's specialty, both as a player and as a coach.
He might not have much to say about coaching attacks, but regarding defense, he had plenty of ideas.
Baup looked skyward with helpless resignation.
Julien!
Again, Julien!
Still Julien!
He felt utterly powerless against Julien. This match had specific defensive plans targeting Julien, but most of the time Julien moved leisurely, then suddenly accelerated and neither Morel nor the recovering Abdoullah could keep pace.
André Ayew focused most of his energy on attack, leaving defense solely to Morel and Abdoullah.
And two players couldn't stop one Julien!
This goal, scored in such a manner, felt like a dagger to his heart.
Baup sank back into the coaching seat and asked his assistant Alan, "If we commit fully to attack, where can we make adjustments?"
Alan shook his head. "Difficult. Valbuena is completely locked down by that black kid. We need to free him up, otherwise there's no one to deliver threatening passes in midfield."
Baup understood this clearly. Names from the bench flashed through his mind: Rémy, Gignac, Raspentino but none were truly reliable.
Tweet!
Since Bastia was the away team, the celebration didn't last long before the referee's whistle signaled play to continue.
After TF1's commentator's excited commentary following Julien's goal, he continued: "This is a huge test for Marseille. Based on these thirty minutes, Marseille's defense simply cannot contain Bastia's attack. Mainly because Bastia's counterattacks are so fast. If Marseille can't suppress this aspect, they may concede more goals."
"Tonight's birthday boy and main attraction, Julien De Rocca, has proven with two goals that his sixty-million-euro valuation has no exaggeration in it. The right flank where he operates is also Marseille's most dangerous area. How to defend Julien—many teams have provided answers before, but so far, Marseille hasn't implemented them effectively."
The commentator's words echoed through the Sunset Coffee Bar.
Bertrand listened with a smile, thinking to himself, 'Can anyone really stop Julien?'
From Julien's current performance, his previously obvious weakness, his weaker foot had greatly improved.
Julien's present performance was frightening, as was his sixty-million-euro price tag.
But what was even more frightening was that Julien was still improving!
He was far from at his ceiling.
"Perhaps he'll become France's first hundred-million-euro player in the future."
In Madrid, Zidane said to his wife, Véronique Zidane.
Véronique was quite fond of this young man Julien. Who wouldn't like someone so talented?
Mainly, after watching a few of Julien's matches with Zidane, Véronique was captivated by Julien's playing style—it was so graceful.
She said to Zidane, "When there's an opportunity, you should invite Enzo to our home as a guest. Perhaps he could play football with Enzo and the others."
Zidane nodded, though he agreed with inviting Julien to their home, not with having him coach their children.
Zidane was very clear that his children's talent was quite ordinary. If they weren't named Zidane, they might not even have pursued football.
Much less enjoy Real Madrid's youth training.
Tweet!!
On TV, the referee's whistle sounded. The teams traded attacks until halftime ended, with the score still 0-2.
On this night of his eighteenth birthday, Julien had scored twice.
'Perhaps a hat-trick?'
The thought crossed Zidane's mind, and he couldn't help but sigh. "This truly is a memorable evening."
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