On the left flank, this season's new signing from Nice for 3.5 million euros, forward Anthony Mounier, worked with his teammates to launch an attack on Théo's defensive line.
And from the first contact, Théo was at a disadvantage. He couldn't keep up with Mounier's pace. He was beaten on the wing!
After Mounier powered past Théo, seeing Angulo rushing to press him, he didn't continue dribbling.
Bang!
He sent the ball into the center.
Herrera, who had moved forward, headed toward the ball. Fortunately, Choplin was experienced enough to hold his position and jump with him. He didn't jump very high, but it was enough to make Herrera's header uncomfortable.
This allowed Novaes to secure the ball successfully.
Seeing his defensive line penetrated so easily, Hadzibegic felt sowhat worried. But there was nothing he could do about it.
With the front three not tracking back, he could only rely on Bastia's veterans.
Théo was a hogrown Bastia youth product.
He'd always played for Bastia. It's just that now, with age, he obviously couldn't keep up with Ligue 1's intensity.
Hadzibegic sighed inwardly. Théo wasn't up to the task as a starter.
Often, coaches could tell whether a player was good enough after just a short ti on the pitch. It didn't require a full match.
Hadzibegic thought of the lottery ticket Chataigner had found from Strasbourg's amateur team Vaubam—Jonathan Clauss.
Chataigner was paying him only 2,000 euros per month plus various performance-based bonuses. But this was already much more than Vaubam's wages.
While playing for Vaubam, Clauss had to supplent his inco with delivery and leaflet distribution work.
However, Hadzibegic didn't dare give Clauss a chance yet. His words in the locker room were just ant to give Clauss so confidence.
At least Clauss was working very hard in training.
The 20-year-old player—Hadzibegic didn't want him to lose hope in football.
This season, the team would definitely be fighting on multiple fronts. He'd let him try as a substitute in cup matches. If he could be used, great; if not, there wasn't much cost involved.
Whoosh!
While Hadzibegic was thinking about how to build his defensive line, Julien received De Bruyne's pass and nutgged an opponent, making the crowd gasp in amazent.
The Arican fans watching Julien with the ball felt like the highlight reel they'd just seen on the big screen was coming to life.
So smooth!
After nutgging Estrada, Julien faced Bedimo's defense directly.
Bedimo, having been dizzied by Julien's moves in the previous few minutes, didn't dare press Julien's position imdiately.
Instead, he retreated.
Like most defenders facing Julien, he eventually felt that as long as he kept backing up, Julien couldn't get past him.
Seeing Bedimo's body position, Julien flicked his ankle and cut inside directly!
De Bruyne, not far away, was already signaling toward the front—he had space.
Julien saw Hilton blocking his path, with Cabella coming up as well.
He didn't pass imdiately but continued cutting inside.
When Cabella and the other defender closed in to block Julien's forward progress, he pulled the ball out and played a small pass back.
The ball reached De Bruyne's feet.
Saihi, defending him, imdiately stuck out his foot to steal the ball. De Bruyne received it and smoothly turned with a drag-back, then without hesitation, threaded the ball to Lukaku's feet.
Lukaku was standing in the penalty area, coexisting peacefully with Mbwaya—no physical confrontation.
When this pass ca through, Lukaku showed technical finesse that contrasted with his appearance, receiving the ball and then moving it to his stronger foot. But Mbwaya wasn't being peaceful anymore—seeing Lukaku with the ball, he imdiately pressed with his body.
Lukaku, bumped and still adjusting to this rhythm, used his arm to hold off Mbwaya and quickly passed back to Julien.
Julien thought Lukaku was about to shoot and wasn't prepared.
He received with his left foot.
Hilton was already in position, so Julien could only touch it to his right foot. Montpellier's defense was now set.
Julien knew he couldn't hesitate any longer. He simply unleashed a right-footed blast!
However, this shot had power but completely lacked placent.
Jourdren collected it comfortably.
Julien shook his head helplessly and threw a punch in frustration, very dissatisfied with the quality of his effort.
The ball had just fallen to his right foot.
Julien apologized to his teammates, he genuinely hadn't hit this one well.
The Bastia players began slowly retreating to defend.
As he walked back, Julien thought he should practice his right-footed shooting. As opponents got stronger, having only a left foot would lead to targeted defensive tactics.
Being two-footed was the answer for wingers.
Although this attack didn't result in a goal, it made Montpellier coach Girard more cautious.
He didn't dare let his right flank push up too aggressively, fearing Bastia would win the ball back with Julien unmarked.
The key was that Bastia's overall play was giving Girard so headaches now. That number 17 in midfield kept delivering threatening passes.
Fortunately, Bastia's defense wasn't as strong as their attack.
Montpellier could still pressure Bastia through their own offense.
Bang!
Montpellier's number seven, Utaka, tried a shot from distance.
The clock was approaching 30 minutes—this was Montpellier's seventh shot.
Though they hadn't scored, it showed them Bastia's weakness. They believed continued pressure would definitely bring a goal.
Hadzibegic shook his head on the sideline. The defensive problems were serious. The front line didn't track back, and the back line couldn't defend.
That they hadn't conceded yet was only because Montpellier's forwards were far less efficient than their top scorer from last season, Giroud.
If they had a Giroud, Bastia would probably already be losing.
At that mont, at London's Colney training ground in England, Giroud was watching this match.
After the opening goal, he thought Bastia would win easily. But as ti progressed, he realized Bastia was sowhat top-heavy.
Instead, Montpellier was gradually controlling the ga.
Emotionally speaking, whether Montpellier or Bastia lost, he wouldn't want to accept it. But in cup competition, there could only be one winner.
"How's it going?"
Just as Giroud was watching, a voice ca from behind. Giroud recognized it without turning around.
He replied, "Still the sa score as the opening, but Bastia might get turned around."
"Haha, congratulations."
Giroud turned to see Emiliano Martínez already dressed in training gear.
"Still going for a run?"
This was the new friend he'd made since arriving at Arsenal.
Emiliano smiled at him, "I've been at the club for two years, and now I finally have a chance to break into the first team. I definitely need to train hard and fight for opportunities from the Professor. If not league appearances, at least try for League Cup chances."
Giroud nodded slightly.
But he knew Emiliano would struggle for opportunities—Szczesny's position as number one was more secure.
And Wenger wasn't particularly inclined to rotate goalkeepers.
As Emiliano headed out, for so reason, a thought popped into Giroud's mind.
Suddenly, he called out: "Dibu, go to Bastia!"
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