Deschamps leaned back and chuckled, responding, "Are you here to recomnd a player to ? Don’t worry, Ma’el won’t slip through my fingers.
"If there are no injuries or other major changes, he is definitely one of the future main players in the lineup."
"Just one of the main players?" Wenger feigned disappointnt, pursing his lips, yet there was still a smile in his eyes. "After this match, you might have a different opinion."
Deschamps shook hands with Wenger again, watched him walk into the dia room, and then headed towards his own team’s locker room.
After a few steps, an assistant coach followed by his side. He gestured for him not to speak yet, keeping his eyes fixed on a silhouette ahead.
It was Ma’el, who had just stepped out of the locker room, ready to warm up on the field.
His silhouette was distinctive. He had a very good overall body proportion, with long and strong legs... His upper body was a standard inverted triangle, yet not as imposing as a bodybuilder, suggesting core strength and explosive power.
Deschamps couldn’t help but feel so envy, whether appreciating a professional player from a forr player’s perspective, or admiring a man from a man’s perspective.
Good-looking, well-built, skilled at soccer... what else could he be missing?
The assistant coach realized what Deschamps was watching, and only after Ma’el walked out of the player tunnel did he say, "The French Football Federation just called."
"Calling at this ti?"
Deschamps frowned slightly, recalling when Wenger had just stopped him for a chat, and guessed, "Are they asking to reconsider concluding my contract with Marseille and taking over before the European Cup?"
"Yes."
"I assu Wenger just recomnded to them." Deschamps’ frown slowly relaxed as he shook his head with a faint smile. "It seems Ma’el’s outstanding performance has made so people very eager for the results of this upcoming European Cup."
"How should I reply?"
"Tell them that if they’re pinning their hopes on a 43-year-old coach and an 18-year-old prodigy forward to win the European Cup for France, then this old and young duo would face too much pressure.
"I won’t make such a reckless decision, and Ma’el isn’t at the level yet to change the outco of an intercontinental competition.
"Do they think a new peak Zidane has erged, or a peak Henry?"
"Okay." The assistant coach went to the side to return the call, although there seed to be a few other thoughts in his eyes.
Deschamps walked all the way into the stadium, hands behind his back, watching the pre-match warm-ups of both teams.
His pressure was quite significant too, with various life directions laid out before him, each path watched by different eyes and holding different expectations, everyone seed to be watching him.
...
At 4:50, Ma’el finished his warm-up training and walked into the player tunnel. He looked toward a section of the Marseille fan area and gave a slight smile in that direction.
His uncle and aunt, with their two children, sat there. His little sister Eva had different arrangents and wasn’t seated in the fan area yet.
"Do your best." Uncle Clént discreetly clenched his fist in encouragent, cautious not to make too much noise.
"We believe in you." His aunt used her body to block their gestures, waving gently, her smile apparent on her face.
Their ho was only about an hour’s drive from Marseille. With a nephew playing in a Champions League match, of course, they had to co watch.
In fact, the family hadn’t been together for a while. During the off-season, Ma’el didn’t return ho due to intensive extra training, and he beca even busier after moving to London, not inviting anyone over for a match.
This was a rare opportunity, and the whole family cherished the chance to watch Ma’el play near his hotown. They even invited quite a number of relatives and friends, albeit not all seated together.
Since Arsenal’s away-match tickets for the Champions League were sold out, they had bought Marseille season tickets a couple of months ago, planning to learn about football through the local team... They could only sit in the Marseille fan area today.
This was bound to be a perilous yet thrilling viewing experience. While Marseille fans weren’t hostile toward Arsenal, they still had to be cautious.
If Ma’el scores a goal and Marseille fans respond with gloomy faces while they jump up to celebrate... that might lead to trouble.
Ma’el walked into the player tunnel with a smile, equipped with shin guards and his ga attire, and ca out to see many players already standing in the player tunnel.
"I want to find my brother."
"I’m not standing with you."
"No!"
He saw Eva standing not far away, arguing with Marseille’s full-back Azpilicueta.
Before the match, he couldn’t secure a good seat, so he contacted the organizers, hoping Eva could participate as a mascot and walk onto the field with him, a request they readily accepted.
"Your brother might be in the stands. The match is about to start, be good. After the opening ceremony, you can go find him."
Azpilicueta thought she was simply being troubleso, half-squatting to coax her while holding Eva’s hand, hoping she would calm down.
"Waaa....." Unable to spot Ma’el, Eva’s eyes reddened with anxiety, and she began to sob.
Azpilicueta stood there bewildered, as several Marseille players looked at him and chuckled, with so approaching to help calm the adorable little girl.
"Eva."
Ma’el walked over with a smile, patting Azpilicueta on the shoulder. "Sorry, she’s my sister, maybe she didn’t express it clearly. Let stand with her."
"Huh?" Azpilicueta stood up dumbfounded, blinking a few tis, "Oh, oh..... okay."
"Ha ha....." The Marseille players imdiately laughed at him, and laughter echoed through the player tunnel.
Ma’el took Eva’s hand, lifting his long-lost little sister into his arms, "Don’t cry, Eva. Your brother is here. After the match, I’ll take you to eat pizza."
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