Emperor of Football: Julien De Rocca

After returning to Bastia, Julien and Châtaigner still had one more thing to do.

Châtaigner stood as guarantor for Julien, ensuring he would no longer need to report to the Fleury-Mérogis Youth Detention Center for supervision.

This meant that Julien would finally be free from returning to the supervision center every night.

He would truly have his own life—the sky was the limit for birds to fly, the sea vast enough for fish to leap!

"Thank you," Julien said to Châtaigner as they walked out of the Fleury-Mérogis Youth Detention Center gates after completing all the paperwork.

By serving as guarantor, Châtaigner would bear joint responsibility if Julien committed any crimes again.

This was an act of trust.

"No need to thank me. When I decided to sign you, I believed your future still held hope. Now I think you understand what you should and shouldn't do," Châtaigner said, glancing at the youth detention center gates, then at Julien. "Let's go, back to the club. We have a match against Troyes in a few days. The past is past—we should focus on the present and future."

Châtaigner drove through the streets of Bastia.

Julien sat in the passenger seat, looking at the coastline. He thought about a familiar name he'd glimpsed while processing the paperwork—a former partner in crime who had been transferred to a real prison, he was no longer in a youth facility.

If he hadn't happened to see it while handling his paperwork, he would never have known what became of these people—it would be like a fish dying silently in the sea, without a sound.

Flocks of seabirds swept over the beach.

At the end of the flock stretched the Mediterranean sunset.

Julien felt the sea breeze through the car window, gazing toward the horizon where he saw scenes of celebration, victory, and championship glory.

He didn't want to disappear silently like those forgotten people. He wanted to be spectacular, brilliant, and dazzling!

He wanted to stand in the center of the pitch, listening to thousands of cheers, watching countless arms wave for him.

Troyes

They were not exactly a strong team. Two years ago, they finished third in the French National Championship and, after a grueling two-legged playoff against the third-from-bottom Ligue 2 team, successfully earned promotion to Ligue 2.

But once in Ligue 2, Troyes had barely managed to avoid relegation last season.

Faruk Hadzibegic had coached Troyes for a year and a half, though he honestly told his players, "I left Troyes seven and a half years ago. Troyes is no longer the team I once knew."

Hadzibegic coached Troyes from January 2003 to June 2004, managing 61 games with a 31.1%-win rate—19 wins, 16 draws, and 26 losses. Respectable, but unremarkable results.

He couldn't lead Troyes to promotion to Ligue 1.

Embarrassingly, after Hadzibegic's departure, his successor Philippe Furlan immediately led Troyes to successful promotion that very season.

However, Troyes later suffered from insufficient investment and terrible performance, falling back to Ligue 2. Furlan, having achieved promotion success, grew restless and resigned to coach Strasbourg.

Subsequent coaches were disasters, and with management in chaos, Troyes was even relegated to the National Championship in the 2008/09 season.

The 09/10 season saw them return to Ligue 2.

This time, the club stopped messing around and quickly brought back Furlan from Nantes—the same coach who had led Troyes to promotion.

A second stint.

Though they barely avoided relegation last season, management gave Furlan considerable support upon his return.

This season, under Furlan's leadership, Troyes had been performing very well.

After 23 rounds, Troyes had 9 wins, 9 draws, and 5 losses, with 36 points, ranked fourth.

After 23 rounds, Bastia had 40 points, ranked second.

Although Clermont had lost one match to Bastia, they still led with 43 points.

After detailing the tactics against Troyes, Hadzibegic said, "Don't worry. Although Troyes has been impressive this season, as long as we play our proper combinations and teamwork, no one in Ligue 2 will be our match."

"Our only opponent is ourselves when we're not in form—not anyone else!"

After the meeting, Hadzibegic found Julien alone. "You'll be staying in the team dormitory from now on?"

"Yes," Julien nodded.

After leaving the supervision center, Châtaigner had arranged a single room for Julien in the team's player dormitory. Everything was already set up, and he could move in that evening.

"Good, that'll make training more convenient," Hadzibegic continued. "For the match against Troyes, I'm planning to bring you on as a substitute. Be mentally prepared—you'll have plenty of substitute appearances ahead. The team has many matches, and you're still young. You can't play too many minutes. Pay attention to this yourself—injuries sometimes become quite frequent, and many talents have been destroyed by frequent injuries."

"Thank you, coach. I'm consciously being careful. Coach Tavenot has corrected some of my movement techniques, and I'm getting used to them."

Hadzibegic smiled. "That's good. Although your playing time in the league won't be particularly long, we can only rely on you in the French Cup. Keep in good form—next month in the French Cup, you'll still be in the starting lineup."

"Yes!"

When Julien returned to the training ground, he was indeed thinking about the injury issue.

What injuries mean for a player needs no explanation.

Countless talents have been ruined by them.

Now, with reduced playing time in the league, he could, to some extent, increase his training time.

After all, he couldn't maintain both high-intensity training and high-intensity matches, could he?

Even an iron man couldn't withstand such treatment.

"I still need to maximize my potential. Some attributes are still too low."

Time flew by.

February 20, 2012.

At 4:15 PM, the 10,000-plus capacity Cesari Stadium was packed to capacity.

Blue flags waved freely throughout the stadium.

Bastia fans sang the team's fight song over and over, cheering for their team.

"Fight!"

"Bastia!!"

At this point, 45 minutes had passed, and the first half was about to end.

Maoulida had scored with a header in the 15th minute, giving the team the lead.

But immediately after, in the 18th minute, the opposition's 21-year-old striker Mohamed Camara received a cross in the penalty area and scored with a low shot, quickly equalizing.

The 1-1 score held until halftime.

Whistle!

The referee's whistle blew.

Neither Hadzibegic nor Furlan was particularly satisfied with this result.

Both sides had many chances—there should have been more than two goals.

So, both coaches felt they could break through the other's defense.

After all, Furlan had chosen to play attacking football away against Bastia, with both teams trading blows and giving each other plenty of space.

The shot statistics showed this clearly.

Combined, both teams had twenty shots in the first half!

Yet the score was only 1-1.

Who could be satisfied with that?

On the way back to the dressing room, Hadzibegic had already formulated his response.

'With this much space, you're practically forcing me to use Julien!'