The atmosphere was buzzing with excitent.
"Julien was so cool! Without his tily run, that big lump would have wasted the ball again."
"This Belgian is such a weirdo. When you say he's good, he always wastes chances and makes basic errors; when you say he's bad, he always manages to trouble the opposition defense, create opportunities for teammates, and sohow scores every round."
"Yeah, the weirdest thing is he wastes so many chances but still always ends up scoring."
Martin patted his belly and belched: "Every family has a crying child, every team has a striker who misses sitters. Co on, don't set your standards too high. We couldn't even afford a player like this—he's only on loan anyway."
At this, the fans sighed.
With PSG's financial injection from their new ownership, French fans were beginning to see the tip of the iceberg that was financial football.
Bertrand moved through the crowd, serving drinks.
Listening to the conversation, he couldn't help saying. "Everyone should watch and cherish this while they can. I dare say this season's squad is the strongest in our club's history, and we'll never have a stronger team."
Soone objected: "We reached a Europa League final before. I think it'll be difficult this season. This year's Europa League has so many European powerhouses."
Bertrand shrugged vaguely, "We'll see."
He placed the serving tray on the bar.
Watching the screen where Julien had once again been fouled by a defender, Bertrand cursed. "Fucking hell, all they know how to do is foul!"
At the sa ti, he reflected on his earlier words. He truly believed this season's squad was Bastia's strongest ever. There would never be another dream team like this.
Julien couldn't be kept. Such a brilliant talent was destined not to remain long on this small Corsican island of Bastia.
When fate's trajectory had so fortunately brought their paths together, those monts of madness, passion, and intensity were enough to be etched in eternity.
Just like the Julien mural in the Terra-Vecchia central building, it would forever remain in the hearts of everyone in this city.
"Julien!"
At the Route de Lorient Stadium, Théoni struggled to collect the ball and called out to Julien, wanting to pass to Julien who was dropping back.
But before he could make the pass, it was intercepted.
Rennes' left midfielder Alessandrini cut out the pass and imdiately drove down the left flank toward the penalty area.
Rothen tracked back to defend. Timing his mont, he slid in with a tackle.
Alessandrini abandoned his plan to cut inside, stopped the ball to avoid Rothen, then delivered a cross.
The ball flew toward Erdinç's head, and the Turkish striker headed it toward goal.
A bouncing shot!
The angle was too central, posing no real threat.
Novaes gathered the ball.
But as Novaes tried to get to his feet, the ball suddenly slipped from his hands and dropped.
Erdinç reacted imdiately, stretching out his foot to poke the ball ho.
Fortunately, Choplin was fully concentrated and quickly kicked the ball out for a throw-in.
Novaes felt his heart skip a beat, shaken by what had nearly happened.
He had almost gifted the opposition a goal through such a basic error.
Watching from the sideline, Hadzibegic nearly had a heart attack.
That was terrifying!
Faruk shook his head helplessly. Novaes's performance over these ten-plus minutes was concerning. When they faced stronger teams later, Novaes could beco their weakest link.
Novaes was really struggling in Ligue 1.
They needed to find a new goalkeeper.
But with only a few days left in the sumr transfer window, Chataigner hadn't prepared for this.
They'd have to make do with Novaes for now and consider signings in the winter window based on Bastia's position then.
Rennes took their throw-in.
Right winger number seven, Pitroipa, tried to receive the ball but was outmuscled by Sidibé, who won possession.
Burkina Faso international Pitroipa had exceptional pace but a slight build.
This limited both his personal career developnt and gave him no advantage in physical duels with Sidibé.
Pitroipa was fast, but so was Sidibé.
This ti, after Sidibé won the ball, Pitroipa tried to press, but Sidibé shielded him completely.
Sidibé pushed the ball forward and advanced quickly.
Bastia counter-attack!
De Bruyne assessed the situation around him as he joined the attack through the center.
Sidibé drove down the left flank all the way to the attacking third without any challenge.
Palmieri drifted infield, creating space on the outside for Sidibé while also drawing M'Vila's defensive attention.
Only one full-back, Danzé, was back.
Rennes' entire left side was defensively vulnerable—Antonetti had stationed at least four defensive players on the right flank to contain Julien.
Down the left, Sidibé combined with Palmieri.
Knowing that Lukaku in the center didn't particularly like heading, Sidibé didn't cross but instead played the ball back.
He intended to find De Bruyne.
However, Palmieri was perfectly positioned in the passing lane, intercepted the ball, cut inside a couple of steps, and curled a shot!
The ball flew toward goal.
Costil was ready and easily tipped it over the crossbar.
The quality wasn't great.
Palmieri apologetically raised his hands to his teammates. He had been a bit hasty, but anyone seeing such a huge gap on the left would be tempted to have a go.
Left-side corner.
De Bruyne delivered the corner, and Choplin, coming up to contest, got his head to the ball, directing it toward goal.
But Lukaku hadn't jumped and was standing in the center. Choplin's header struck Lukaku's head.
The ball deflected out of the penalty area.
Julien, lurking on the edge of the area, saw the ball coming and brought it under control.
Pajot didn't hesitate and imdiately slid in.
Julien took a touch to the left, avoiding Pajot's challenge, but other Rennes players were already converging on him.
Julien didn't waste any more ti.
Thump!
He curled the ball toward the far-left corner of the penalty area.
This wasn't a shot.
Sotis he wasn't completely confident in his finishing—this was a pass!
De Bruyne had dropped back to the left to collect the corner, but seeing Julien on the ball, he imdiately made a forward run.
Rennes' left side was already vulnerable.
De Bruyne's delayed run had even been aided by Palmieri's screening movent.
Completely unmarked!
Wide open!
The ball flew toward the left side of the six-yard box, and everyone looked in that direction.
Goalkeeper Costil initially thought Julien was shooting, but when he saw the ball's trajectory was wrong, he quickly moved toward the left post.
De Bruyne wasn't Lukaku.
Facing Julien's cross, he didn't take a touch. Instead, he t it side-on with his right foot, firing a low volley!
Costil threw himself at the ball.
He felt his fingertips might have touched it, but he was just short.
Swoosh!
0-2!
De Bruyne scored!
The Rennes fans were instantly deflated. How could Bastia's counter-attacks be so clinical?
De Bruyne saw the ball go in, turned, and pointed at Julien with a broad smile. He didn't run out to celebrate wildly.
Just pumped his fist.
Then he opened his arms wide to embrace the teammates rushing toward him in celebration.
"Beautiful! Kevin!"
His teammates showered him with praise.
As Lukaku joined the celebration, he was still explaining to Choplin: "I didn't notice, I couldn't get out of the way. I tried to dodge it..."
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