"De Rocca scores a brace! His league goal tally has reached five goals in just three appearances."
"The league is only 24 rounds in, with a full 14 rounds remaining. At his current rate of 1.6 goals per ga, he could win the league's golden boot with just half a season!"
"Last season's Ligue 2 top scorer was Ribas from Dijon, who netted 23 goals."
The comntator's words echoed in the ears of everyone watching the match.
The Sunset Café was already in full celebration mode.
Even fans who hadn't dared to dream of the golden boot were now fired up by the comntator's words.
"That's right! Julien's going for the golden boot!"
"Golden boot!"
anwhile, at the Clairefontaine dormitory, Mbappé had returned early to his room after afternoon training to watch the broadcast of the Bastia vs. Troyes match.
After learning that De Rocca played for Bastia, he had imdiately looked up Bastia's fixture list.
He waited punctually in front of the television.
Subsequently, Mbappé's emotional journey went from "Let see how he plays" to "He seems pretty good" to "Holy shit" and finally to "How is that even possible?!"
De Rocca's speed wasn't particularly fast, but his dribbling was devastatingly effective.
This couldn't help but make Mbappé think. if he had De Rocca's technical skills combined with his own pace, wouldn't that be...
Mbappé felt a surge of anticipation.
At the sa ti, Mbappé beca even more curious about De Rocca. When he returned to Paris during the holidays, he would definitely ask who exactly this Loup De Rocca was.
Who had revealed to Julien that he was very fast?
On the sidelines of the ecstatic Armand Cesari Stadium, Faruk stood expressionless.
The current situation proved that his gamble had failed.
Hadzibegic was beaming with joy.
There was no sign that he was rely aiming to avoid relegation.
The broadcast caras captured close-ups of the sideline coaches - silence and excitent displayed on the faces of two n standing less than five ters apart.
Julien and his teammates exchanged high-fives in celebration.
Rothen ruffled Julien's hair. "Good lad, very sharp positioning!"
Other teammates also praised Julien's positioning.
If Julien had chosen to wait until the ball was saved before making his move, he would have been too late for the rebound - this was pure footballing intelligence.
Always ready to react to any situation, rather than standing there waiting for the ball.
This was one of the major differences between ordinary players and first-class players.
On the Bastia bench, David smiled with satisfaction. Vincent beside him nudged him and leaned over to whisper sothing only they could hear. "You're still smiling? You're about to lose your starting position."
David shook his head, looking completely unbothered. "I'm getting old. If this were the younger , I would definitely train hard and actively showcase myself to compete for that starting spot. But I'm about to turn 33."
David's gaze turned toward the field.
His eyes focused on the 17-year-old Julien, still wearing that smile. "33 is when most forwards exit the main stage, while Julien is only 17. He's the rising sun, I'm the setting sun. The team should naturally focus on developing Julien. Veterans like will eventually make our exit."
Hearing this, Vincent felt sothing was off. He quickly looked at David. "Are you leaving?"
Apart from departure, Vincent couldn't think of any other reason.
David remained silent for a mont before answering. "I'm only telling you this - don't reveal it to anyone else. The team wants to renew my contract for another year, but I know my ability isn't enough to continue starting, and I can't help the team anymore. Whether we get promoted or not, I should leave."
"Where to?" Vincent didn't ask for reasons - David surely had his own.
"Perhaps Arles."
Vincent shrugged. "Hope we won't be opponents next season."
Arles was mid-table in Ligue 2 this season - neither promotion nor relegation was possible. Vincent was hoping for the team's successful promotion.
David smiled. "With Julien here, we have a great chance of promotion."
Vincent said nothing more.
David also fell silent. They only heard the cheers filling the stadium.
19-year-old Vincent, watching 17-year-old Julien, listening to 33-year-old David's story.
Thoughts flashed through his mind— perhaps this was football. No player could stay young forever, whether due to declining physical abilities with age or a single injury... Professional football was always full of charm, but also continuously cruel.
Being able to stand on the pitch was already fortunate and required talent.
If one could shine on the field at such a young age like Julien, that made them a one-in-ten-thousand genius.
On the field, Julien, having scored his brace faced tight marking from Troyes.
Faruk had conceded defeat. No longer pressing forward, instead was falling back into full defensive mode.
Julien had few opportunities. But because he drew so much defensive attention on the left flank, his teammates played much more comfortably, with more chances.
In the 88th minute, Rothen assisted Maolida's header, and Bastia scored again.
4-1.
At ho, Bastia had essentially demolished Troyes.
This dealt a severe blow to Troyes fans who harbored promotion ambitions.
It also brought Faruk's slightly inflated ntality back down to earth - Ligue 2 wasn't a league he could just casually dominate.
But when the referee's final whistle blew, the entire stadium erupted with passionate roars from Bastia fans. "Victory! Bastia!!"
Having experienced the team's chaos and relegation, the fans were incredibly satisfied and treasured the current season's situation.
During the post-match lap of honor, a fan association leader shouted loudly toward Julien. "Julien! I know your future doesn't belong to Bastia! But I hope you can leave us with more beautiful mories!!"
Seeing the fans' genuine emotions, Julien was deeply moved.
He didn't speak. He simply waved toward the stands.
Nurous caras focused on Julien, snapping away frantically - these would be tomorrow's material for various local Bastia newspapers.
In Bastia's dia circles, everyone now knew that to sell newspapers well, Julien's news was essential.
The 17-year-old Julien De Rocca had beco the top draw for Bastia's sports dia.
Tickets were selling like hotcakes, with Julien being one of the reasons.
In the crowd, Leonardo wrote a sentence in his notebook. "Difficult to poach in the short term."
Leonardo had watched two of Julien's matches. He felt he could report everything about Julien back to Turin.
If the choice were his, this would definitely be a young player worth serious developnt by Juventus.
However, the decision lay with the team managent in Turin.
After the lap of honor ended, Hadzibegic and others still had to attend interviews, while Julien went straight back to the locker room.
Hadzibegic had originally wanted to bring Julien to the post-match press conference, but Julien declined.
Back in the locker room, Julien imdiately checked his victory points.
Only 15.
Julien shook his head, slightly disappointed. It seed that relative to his ability, Ligue 2 was still lacking.
To earn more victory points, he needed higher-level competitions.
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