Julien, like in the first half, wasn't getting much of the ball. But nobody was ignoring him anymore. Everyone knew he could flip the match on its head in a moment.
Time ground forward. Chelsea battered away at Bastia's defensive shell with no breakthrough. By the 70th minute, Benitez finally snapped.
He brought on Demba Ba, replacing Torres. The idea was to use a traditional target man to unlock things.
Hadzibegic responded by withdrawing Angoula who was on a yellow and running on fumes and brought on Cahuzac to reinforce the defense.
Neither substitution shifted the scoreline.
Demba Ba proved to be even less effective than Torres, becoming little more than a toy for Van Dijk to bully.
The clock crept toward 90 minutes. The score remained 2-1.
For Bastia, this result was acceptable. 2-1 wasn't a disaster—far from a death sentence. Chelsea, on the other hand, might feel differently.
Benitez had been vigorous on the touchline all second half, looked visibly frustrated with his team's attacking impotence. But he made no further changes, and was just shouting whether in anger or instruction, Julien couldn't tell from this distance. He just looked very worked up.
90:00 - Stoppage Time
The fourth official raised the board: Three minutes added.
Julien exhaled slowly, feeling the fatigue weighing on his legs. His stamina was running dangerously low. But he couldn't come off—if he did, Cole would push higher, and Bastia's left flank would collapse.
The second half had been defensively solid on that side precisely because Cole stayed pinned back.
Hazard could still beat his man occasionally, but with Bastia sitting so deep, those dribbles lacked the penetration to truly threaten.
FWEET!
The referee's whistle shrilled again but not to restart play. He gestured toward the touchline.
Bastia's final substitution.
After taking off Angoula and Palmieri earlier, Hadzibegic now withdrew Romelu Lukaku. The big rom had been a non-factor tonight.
There was no point keeping him on in stoppage time.
On came Clauss, another fullback. Cahuzac would tuck deeper. Full defensive lockdown.
Hadzibegic's message was clear: He could live with this result.
Lukaku knew the deal. He strolled off the pitch, taking his time.
BOOOOOO!
Chelsea fans showered him with jeers, he was one of their own, yet he'd been mocked mercilessly all night.
De Bruyne and Julien had taken similar abuse, of course.
Clauss embraced Lukaku briefly, then sprinted onto the field. Didn't matter if it was three minutes or thirty seconds—if he was getting game time, he'd give everything.
After all, last season he'd been playing for Vauban in the fifth tier. Now here he was, Europa League semifinal at Stamford Bridge. What right did he have to complain?
Three minutes? Thirty seconds? Either way, it was a massive step forward in his career.
Clauss took his position out wide for mainly defending. He barely touched the ball in the opening exchanges, and was just tracking back, staying disciplined.
The clock ticked down. Stoppage time was nearly over. Less than 30 seconds were remaining.
Then Clauss finally got his touch.
Hazard unleashed a long-range effort. Blocked. The rebound fell to Clauss.
He didn't even look. Just swung his boot, launching the ball long toward the center.
He meant it as a clearance.
Instead, Clauss's clearance became a long ball—straight into the path of Julien, Bastia's lone striker, their only outlet on the counter.
The moment Julien saw the trajectory; he exploded into a sprint. Stamina be damned—there was no time for caution now.
He triggered his attribute boost and charged forward.
ROAAAAR!
The Stamford Bridge crowd gasped together, stunned that Julien still had this kind of acceleration this late.
Ashley Cole's heart sank. He realized immediately: I can't catch him.
At least Branislav Ivanović and David Luiz were tracking back centrally as the last line.
Both converged on Julien's advancing run.
Julien chest-controlled the dropping ball, then nudged it right with his first touch.
Ivanović and Luiz had anticipated this—Julien, as a right-winger, naturally favored his right side. They'd prepared for it.
Luiz, playing left center-back, immediately closed the right channel. Ivanović held the central lane, wary of Julien cutting inside.
But then—
Julien chopped the ball back left, easing it into the open space.
Azpilicueta had bombed forward on the overlap and couldn't recover. The left side was wide open.
If Sadio Mané were here, it would've been a gift-wrapped assist. But right now, it was just Julien.
He felt his lungs burning, like they were about to rupture. His stamina gauge was plummeting into the red.
This was one of the rare matches where he'd played the full 90. The successive attribute boosts had drained him dry.
But as Julien pushed the ball left and prepared to face Ivanović head-on, he activated another burst.
Ivanović braced himself, shifting his body weight forward, ready to make contact, planning to muscle Julien off the ball.
Except Julien hit the boost.
Ivanović, leaning forward mid-stride, lost his anchor point. Julien blew past him. The Serbian tumbled to the ground.
GASP!
The fans at Stamford Bridge collectively held their breath, they now realized it clearly: Oh God, no.
Julien didn't spare a glance for the fallen Ivanović. As he sprinted onto the ball, he felt his legs wobbling, his implanted foot was slightly unstable. He was running on empty.
He was through on goal but Luiz was recovering, and Cech was charging off his line.
In that split second, Julien made his decision. He wouldn't take another touch.
Just outside the box, he took one deep breath, glanced at the near post, and unleashed everything he had left.
Trait activated.
Every ounce of remaining energy funneled into his right boot.
CRACK!
The ball deformed on impact, then rocketed toward goal with wicked curve.
Aim near post—shoot far post.
Cech saw a blur. He flung out his arm instinctively, but the ball was already past him by miles.
SWISH.
The net rippled.
HISSSSS—
Stamford Bridge inhaled sharply in a collective gasp of disbelief. Fans clutched their heads, eyes wide, mouths wide open.
In?
That just... went in?
In stoppage time? The last seconds?
An equalizer?
The Chelsea supporters felt ice water flood their veins.
Julien's right leg buckled after the strike. He collapsed forward onto the turf, face-first.
As he watched the ball slam into the net, satisfaction washed over him.
He rolled onto his back, gasping for air. The moment he'd struck the ball; it felt like every molecule of oxygen had been sucked from his lungs.
"JULIEN!"
"JULIEN!!"
He couldn't see them yet, but he heard his teammates screaming, their voices were hoarse with emotion.
Sound arrived before the bodies.
De Bruyne reached him first, yanking him upright and pulling him into a crushing embrace.
"Bro, you're insane! This is Stamford Bridge! This is Chelsea! And you just equalized in stoppage time!"
De Bruyne's voice cracked with excitement. After being stifled all match, seeing Julien's goal felt like a dam bursting.
Then came Kanté, Rothen, the others—
Players who'd fought tooth and nail for 90-plus minutes, and in this instant, all their exhaustion vanished. Blood boiling, adrenaline spiking, heat surging from chest to skull.
This was football.
This was the raw, intoxicating emotional release condensed into a single heartbeat.
Everyone roared.
Everyone celebrated.
This was Bastia's moment.
On the touchline, Hadzibegic dropped to his knees, pounding the grass with both fists.
They'd been pinned back all match but they hadn't lost. More than that, they'd snatched two precious away goals.
The Bastia bench erupted, players were leaping over each other in frenzy.
Back in Corsica, bars and living rooms exploded in jubilation.
One goal.
Two completely opposite emotional extremes were rippling out from Stamford Bridge.
In the stands, Elion clenched his fist hard, suppressing the urge to leap and cheer. Sitting in the Chelsea section, he forced himself to think of every sad thing in his life just to keep from celebrating visibly.
Abramovich rose silently and left.
Geronomi and Chataigner embraced, tears were streaming down their faces.
This match had thrust Bastia, a name few had known into the global spotlight.
A name now etched into the minds of football fans across Europe, across the world.
The English commentator's initial reaction was pure astonishment—words like "amazing," "unbelievable," "extraordinary" were tumbling out in breathless string.
Julien's sequence of play had left everyone speechless.
A right-winger suddenly cutting to the left flank and was still this devastating?
It forced a question: Was Julien really just a right-winger? Or had he sacrificed positional preference for Bastia's tactical needs?
After all, their right-wing depth was nonexistent—Ilan, signed this season, had been mediocre at best. Meanwhile, they had Mané and Palmieri on the left.
It made people wonder: Had Julien been making a sacrifice all along?
This goal was spectacular.
After the initial euphoria subsided, the commentator's analysis turned sharp:
"A stoppage-time equalizer! Stamford Bridge's frozen solid! This isn't just any goal—it's a sledgehammer blow straight to Chelsea's heart!
Leading 2-1, victory within touching distance then in the dying seconds, it's ripped away. And by Julien De Rocca, their former youth player, in the most improbable fashion.
2-2 at home—this is as good as a defeat for Chelsea. Not only did they fail to build an advantage, they've handed Bastia two critical away goals. In the return leg in Corsica, Chelsea must win—or at minimum, fight out a 2-2 scoreline or higher just to advance.
The pressure has flipped completely onto the Blues. The initiative belongs to Bastia now.
More crucially, Chelsea were tactically thwarted in the second half against Bastia's defensive wall. Now, having conceded this late equalizer, doubt will creep into their minds: Can we actually break them down in Corsica?
Meanwhile, Bastia—chasing down two goals at Stamford Bridge, with Julien scoring in both halves, capped by this last-gasp leveler, it's like a shot of pure adrenaline into their soul.
A draw, plus two away goals, is a near-perfect first-leg result. And Julien's excellent performance has convinced everyone in that dressing room that nothing is impossible. This underdog side's unity and fighting spirit have been forged in fire by this golden goal.
This strike has completely rewritten the narrative of this semifinal. It turned Chelsea's 'inevitable' into vapor. It made Bastia's 'fairy tale' tangible.
The Stamford Bridge draw isn't the end—it's the beginning of an even bloodier battle. But right now, the scales have tipped obviously toward Corsica."
Stamford Bridge sat in stunned silence. Chelsea fans were still struggling to process being equalized in the final seconds.
The broadcast cameras panned across the crowd, capturing nothing but disappointment and disbelief.
A brief glimpse of the Chelsea bench caught Terry's faint smile but nobody noticed.
Soon, both teams returned to the center circle. Chelsea's players wore grim expressions. The clock showed nearly 96 minutes.
There was no time left.
Julien's goal had been a true stoppage-time equalizer in every sense.
Before Demba Ba could even restart play, the referee's whistle was already at his lips.
Ba rolled the ball forward—
FWEEEEET!
The final whistle blew.
The first leg of the Europa League semifinal was over.
Cameras swept the stadium. Abramovich's box stood empty. Chelsea fans went out, cursing under their breath, feeling like they'd been riding high all match only to choke on a stone at the finish line.
The traveling Bastia fans, meanwhile, lost their minds—screaming, chanting, celebrating with abandon.
The players, to their credit, kept their celebrations restrained. A few quick embraces, some fist pumps—then composure. There was still a second leg to play. Winning the first leg didn't mean anything if you bottled the return.
Hadzibegic moved through his squad, clasping hands with each player. When he reached the nearly-spent Julien, he pulled him into a tight hug.
"You've done enough, son."
Hadzibegic genuinely felt for him. He was playing a full 90 this season first time but there'd been no choice. Without Julien, this team would've crumbled.
Julien had recovered somewhat by now, the worst of the oxygen debt was fading.
They'd seized their chance.
Tonight belonged to Bastia blue.
In the flash interview zone, reporters cornered Benitez for his reaction.
His expression remained stern, but his tone was restrained, there was no visible anger or despair.
"The result is disappointing. At home, 2-2 is clearly not what we wanted. We controlled most of the match, created numerous chances, but failed to kill off the tie. Conceding in the final moments, that's costly."
When asked specifically about Julien's performance and the defensive lapses, Benitez's tone sharpened slightly, and he explained:
"Julien played an excellent match. His pace, his finishing, especially those two reverse-footed goals demonstrate the qualities of an elite forward. We studied him broadly, but clearly, our execution was lacking.
Defensively, we made critical errors. Space management was insufficient. The first goal in the first half with two players pressing, and somehow, we gave him room to sprint. The second goal, late in the match—our central positioning and communication broke down. And there were issues with defensive anticipation in key moments.
Against a player of this caliber, one lapse and you're punished. Our attempts to neutralize him weren't sustained across the full 90 minutes. He capitalized on moments when our focus dropped."
On Chelsea's attacking struggles, Benitez admitted they lacked efficiency against compact defenses. Passing choices, the final ball, finishing—all needed improvement.
When asked about the second leg, he commented.
"The situation has become complicated. Bastia hold two away goals, meaning in Corsica, we must win—or achieve a high-scoring draw. That increases the difficulty significantly.
Given our league fixture congestion and our players' physical condition at this stage of the season, it will be challenging. But it's a 180-minute tie. We're clear about what's required away from home: we have to win.
Disappointment is natural, but dwelling on it serves no purpose. We'll review the footage, identify the problems, and correct them immediately. This squad has the quality to win in Corsica. We know what needs to be done."
Finally, a reporter asked about transfer rumors linking Julien and others back to Chelsea—specifically reports that Chelsea would move for Julien this summer.
Benitez's brow furrowed. He shot the journalist a look.
"I'm leaving at the end of the season. You're asking me about transfers?"
Without waiting for a follow-up, Benitez turned and walked toward the dressing room.
Behind him, Stamford Bridge sat in silence.
This draw satisfied no one in blue.
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