Emperor of Football: Julien De Rocca Chapter 375 375: Chapter-375 Match Conclusion

Second Half

The match continued.

The evening had cooled further, a breeze was carrying the salt sll of the diterranean across the pitch. While the play lacked intensity with both teams seemingly content with the status quo—the Stade Armand-Cesari still generated tsunami-like waves of noise. Every Bastia touch drew appreciation. Every Marseille possession was t with whistles and jeers.

The closer they got to season's end, the more electric the Bastia supporters beca. They could taste it now—the championship. Their first ever Ligue 1 title. Decades of diocrity, relegation battles, financial struggles, all leading to this impossible season.

Of course, this excitent carried an undercurrent of lancholy—a bittersweet awareness that sothing special was ending. Everyone knew the squad would be picked apart in sumr. Julien would leave for a bigger club. Maybe De Bruyne too.

The magic would dissipate. But in the atmosphere of the stadium, everyone chose to forget that feeling, at least for now. Live in the mont. Savor every second.

After kickoff, Bastia created few chances. Neither did Marseille. The tempo felt sluggish, both teams were moving through passing patterns without conviction. The ball pinged between defenders, midfielders dropping deep to collect it, then recycling possession sideways.

Julien drifted between channels, trying to find space, but Marseille's center-backs shadowed him diligently. Any ti he received the ball, two players closed him down imdiately, forcing him backward or wide.

After considering his options, Hadzibegic made the safe call—substituting Julien in the 60th minute.

As Julien jogged toward the touchline, over twenty thousand fans rose as one, applauding him. The thunderous ovation said everything words couldn't. This was their thank you. Their recognition. The noise swelled and swelled until it felt like the stands might collapse under the weight of emotion.

Julien raised both arms, clapping back toward each section of the stadium, turning in a slow circle to acknowledge every corner.

Amid the applause, Julien embraced his replacent Ilan then approached Hadzibegic on the touchline.

The manager pulled him into a brief, fierce hug, speaking directly into his ear over the noise. "Rest up, kid. We've still got one more battle ahead—a crucial one."

Julien nodded. "Understood."

"Good. Now sit, drink, recover." Hadzibegic patted his back firmly.

Julien walked toward the bench, grabbing a jacket from the equipnt manager and draping it over his shoulders. The sweat on his back was already cooling uncomfortably. He accepted a water bottle, drinking deeply, feeling the cold liquid trace down his throat.

He noticed Clauss sitting at the far end of the bench, arms folded. The young right-back's eyes were fixed on the pitch, but Julien could read the frustration in his posture.

In crucial matches late in the season, Clauss had barely seen minutes. His defensive limitations made him a non-starter for Hadzibegic, who would always choose the defensively solid Angoula over the attack-minded Clauss. When the team needed security, experience trumped talent.

And there was another factor at play—to so degree, Julien's presence had indirectly cost Clauss playing ti.

Why? Because Julien alone could handle an entire flank's attacking responsibility. His movent created space for others, drew multiple defenders, allowed the team to overload different areas. They didn't need fullback overlaps or additional support on that side when Julien could beat two or three players himself, could score from nothing, could turn half-chances into goals.

This allowed Hadzibegic to prefer pairing Julien with a defensively robust right-back who could cover, tuck in, provide stability—essentially playing as a third center-back when Bastia absorbed pressure.

Still, Julien had no intention of trying to change this dynamic.

He believed that next season with Bastia's squad likely undergoing major changes, Clauss would get his opportunities.

Though Julien couldn't recall whether a player nad Clauss had existed in his previous life's tiline, judging from training sessions, the young fullback had genuine talent and impressive work ethic.

The second half proved to be uneventful.

Hadzibegic essentially treated it as a dress rehearsal for the final. After Julien's substitution, he left only Lukaku as a counter-attacking outlet with everyone else focused on defensive solidity. When Marseille had possession, Bastia's midfield dropped into two rigid banks of four, forcing play wide, eliminating central penetration.

Marseille showed little attacking ambition either. Their substitutions were like-for-like, maintaining structure without adding creativity. They completed passes, kept the ball, but probed without conviction. It was professional, sterile football with both teams protecting what they needed rather than risking what they didn't.

The minutes ticked by. The crowd's noise dimd slightly, becoming a constant hum rather than explosive peaks.

Eventually, the match ground to its conclusion. The referee checked his watch, talked briefly with his assistants via radio, then raised the whistle to his lips.

Three sharp blasts cut through the evening air.

The Bastia players raised their arms in celebration.

Post-Match

Facing the caras afterward, Hadzibegic wore a calm smile, though his eyes showed his exhaustion.

"This match may not have been the most spectacular—the second half especially was quite cautious but I must say I'm incredibly proud of Julien." He paused, choosing his words carefully, his accented French was slow but precise.

"Forty-five goals. What an extraordinary achievent. He's broken a Ligue 1 record that stood for forty-two years—since Skoblar in 1971 proving just how special a player he is. Not just talented, but ntally strong, consistent, decisive in crucial monts. These are the qualities that separate good players from great ones."

The reporter nodded, scribbling notes.

"But more importantly," Hadzibegic continued, "he's delivered these goals alongside victories for us. He's been the difference in so many tight matches. That's what matters—not personal statistics in isolation, but contributing to the team's success. Tonight was another example."

"As for the league situation—we're nine points clear with three matches remaining." He held up his fingers. "The mathematics are simple: one more win and the title is ours. Just one victory.

PSG have a ga in hand, yes, but we control our own destiny. We don't need to rely on other results. We win our next match, and we're champions."

His smile widened slightly, a hint of satisfaction creeping in.

"Tonight, we'll savor this victory and Julien's historic mont. The players deserve to enjoy what they've achieved. But starting tomorrow morning, our focus shifts completely to the next match."

His tone hardened.

"We cannot afford any complacency until the trophy is secured. I've seen too many teams stumble at the finish line, thinking the job is done before it's actually complete. We won't make that mistake.

This team has been excellent all season—disciplined, committed, hungry. Now we just need to stay concentrated and complete the final sprint. Keep our heads, maintain our principles, and finish what we started."

He looked directly into the cara.

"Every Bastia supporter is waiting for that mont—to see their club lift the Ligue 1 trophy for the first ti in history. The players and I have no intention of disappointing them. We've co too far to fail now."

Shortly after Hadzibegic's interview, the late match involving Paris Saint-Germain concluded at the Parc des Princes.

And they had essentially killed the title race themselves—PSG were held to a draw at ho against mid-table, motivation-free Valenciennes. One-one. Two points dropped. The united groan from their supporters had been audible even through television broadcasts.

Within minutes, social dia erupted. #PSGBottleJob trended worldwide.

s flooded tilines—images of Ibrahimović looking frustrated, Leonardo in the stands with his head in his hands, cartoon depictions of the Qatari owners burning money.

Imdiately after PSG's match finished, L'Équipe published a brief article on their website:

[The Ligue 1 title race died overnight. In Matchday 35, Paris Saint-Germain, desperate for victory and playing before their own supporters, could only manage a 1-1 draw at ho in the Parc des Princes against Valenciennes—a team with nothing to play for, already safe from relegation and too far from Europe.

After this result, with just three rounds remaining, PSG trail league leaders Bastia by eight points.

This ans that, due to their superior head-to-head record, Bastia need only avoid defeat in their next match at ho against Montpellier to clinch the 2012-13 Ligue 1 championship with two gas to spare!

A grand coronation ceremony on Corsica has entered its final countdown. The champagne is on ice. The trophy is being polished. History is waiting.

For Paris Saint-Germain, this represents a catastrophic outco. After finishing three points behind Montpellier last season—a heartbreaking collapse after leading for much of the campaign—PSG, despite massive spending on stars like Ibrahimović, Thiago Silva, and Lavezzi, appear set to watch the trophy slip away for a second consecutive year.

The enormous investnt versus ager returns has dealt another blow to the Qatari ownership's football project. Qatar Sports Investnts has pumped hundreds of millions into the club since their 2011 takeover, with the clear goal of making PSG a European powerhouse.

Instead, they can only watch helplessly as Bastia—from their small island, with a fraction of the budget, playing in a stadium that seats barely twenty thousand celebrate the club's first-ever Ligue 1 title at the Stade Armand-Cesari.

Bastia's story is a perfect football fairytale. Not only are they about to create a championship miracle, but their star striker Julien De Rocca scored his 45th goal of the season in spectacular fashion against Marseille—a jaw-dropping bicycle kick that has already been viewed millions of tis online, shattering the 42-year-old single-season scoring record held by Josip Skoblar.

Individual heroism and collective glory are about to achieve perfect synthesis in this team.

Therefore, Bastia's next ho match against Montpellier is no ordinary league fixture. It will carry extraordinary historical significance—Championship Night.

The entire island will descend on Furiani. The atmosphere will be unlike anything Ligue 1 has seen in years. A club that was playing in Ligue 2 just two seasons ago, that nearly went bankrupt multiple tis, that represents one of France's smallest regions, will crown themselves champions of France.

It's the kind of story that reminds us why we love this sport.]

Naturally, Ancelotti faced intense questioning at his post-match press conference.

His expression was somber but maintained characteristic composure. He spoke in restrained tones:

"This is an extrely, extrely disappointing way for our season to end. We failed to achieve our objectives in any competition and I must accept full responsibility. The team hasn't shown the level and consistency required, particularly in decisive monts. That's my problem. That's on ."

He paused, sipping water, composing himself.

"The players gave their best effort. I can't fault their commitnt or their professionalism. They've trained hard, they've followed instructions. But we lacked decisive performances in crucial monts—from the French Cup elimination and Champions League quarterfinal exit last month to now the league. Too many draws against teams we should have beaten. Too many individual errors at critical tis. The results are regrettable, and they speak for themselves."

A reporter pressed him about his future.

Ancelotti's face remained blank, giving nothing away.

"Regarding my future, I'll discuss calmly with club managent what's best for Paris Saint-Germain. These are conversations that should happen privately, with mutual respect. Right now, my priority is leading the team to complete the final three matches with professionalism and dignity. We owe that to our supporters, who have backed us all season despite the disappointnts. We owe it to ourselves as professionals."

He stood, signaling the conference was over. "Thank you."

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