From Arsenal to the Ball God Chapter 317 - 98: Deschamps’ 180-Degree Attitude Shift! Into

He chose to start with the France team in order to offset the sadness of the Marseille fans.

"I rember I said this long ago, but no one paid attention... Of course, that’s how the dia is; choosing to report selectively based on different stances."

The reporters from various major dia outlets fell into deep thought, so pinching their chins and frowning as they tried hard to recall, but ultimately looked up at Deschamps with a look of confusion.

Did he say that?

The Marseille assistant coach sitting beside him pretended to remain calm, but his cheeks were slowly puffing out, making eight small movents in one second.

"The trouser leg seems to be torn."

Deschamps turned with a face of ’excessive’ determination and pointed at his trouser leg.

"Huh?"

The assistant coach instinctively glanced at his trouser leg, then looked up at Deschamps, promptly lowering his head, "Oh, oh, ah!"

"There are rumors that you will coach the France team? Will this defeat change your decision?"

The reporters, having no way with Deschamps, had to continue asking: "Or, will it change the decision of the French Football Federation?"

"Haha...."

Deschamps let out a couple of serious dry laughs and shook his head: "No, the generation of ’93 is the golden generation of French football, players like Ma’el and Pogba have already erged.

"Talented people should work together... well, this might once again be interpreted by you as an arrogant statent.

"But it’s okay, you always call the madman of Marseille, even the president of the French Football Federation, Legrain, calls that... by the way, he trusts a lot, which is fortunate."

"Our football philosophy is the sa, our dreams and beliefs are the sa, and we once swore together to bring the France team to where it should be."

The reporters remained silent, but that assistant coach of his started muttering: "Ugh... the right leg’s also torn, the quality is poor."

...

On the other side, Ma’el took a half-day leave, planning to take the opportunity to run a lap around Aix.

It had been a long ti since he ca to this world, and he hadn’t gone back yet.

He got into his uncle’s small car, holding Eva in his arms, and enjoyed the sea view of Provence along the way.

Southern France is considered a very beautiful place, with various flower seas, ancient towns, ancient churches, and dieval buildings, all giving a sense of tranquility.

Having just gone through a big battle, such relaxation... is quite pleasant.

Ma’el watched the beautiful scenery for a while, then closed his eyes and lay back in his seat, enjoying the rare slow-paced life.

Uncle Clént watched him through the rear-view mirror, and a smile couldn’t help but hang on his lips.

"Focus on driving." Aunt Betty in the passenger seat gave him a tap, and after doing so, she couldn’t resist turning around, staring at Ma’el for quite a while.

The elder sister and second brother at this ti didn’t even have the courage to stare at Ma’el, deliberately turning their heads to the other side, as if they weren’t familiar.

Having not seen him for half a year, Ma’el looked different again... not in appearance.

The person he is now is not the sa as the young guy who played for Sheffield United.

They could see overwhelming ssages about him online every day, and even if they didn’t purposely search, they discovered that news about Ma’el popped up from ti to ti on the internet.

This wasn’t just about match reports... with the increased influence, many were not only interested in Ma’el on the field but delighted in uncovering Ma’el’s life and fun stories off the field.

The dia naturally t their needs, with many reporters staking out multiple locations to photograph Ma’el, releasing so lifestyle photos of him.

To Clént and Betty, these things were extrely interesting.

They still had many printed lifestyle photos posted at ho, and when free they would glance at them.

Seeing their nephew, whom they grew up with, draw so much public attention with his every move, they felt a peculiar sentint... Clént is of the proud faction, believing this is when his nephew truly beca famous, which is a good thing.

Betty, on the other hand, is of the worriso faction, fearing that these people would disturb Ma’el’s life, making it very tiring for their nephew.

Half an hour later, they arrived in Aix, reaching a street near ho.

By this ti, it was near dusk, the sky had darkened, street lamps lit up, and the streets were sparsely populated.

"Wake up."

Ma’el was woken up by his uncle and aunt, and followed them to a familiar place in mory, soon entering a warm little ho.

It’s a place about a little over a hundred square ters, slightly cluttered because there were so many things, evidently well-organized.

Nostalgia hit him instantly, even the sll was so familiar... Ma’el walked in and lay down on the sofa, feeling a relaxation long unexperienced.

He quickly stood up because he saw the wall opposite filled with photos.

From his childhood to slightly older... to his career debut, scoring goals, and so on, finally so of his lifestyle pictures, seemingly paparazzi shots, so he hadn’t even seen before.

Did uncle and aunt also have a habit of collecting photos?

Ma’el was suddenly sowhat moved, as he could see his growth trajectory here, and in a more comprehensive way.

He never thought that over a thousand kiloters away from London, his uncle and aunt had been docunting these things... their longing for him was so strong.

"There are more in your room."

Aunt Betty walked over, smoothing out the bubbled photos with her hand, and smiled: "We’ll keep hanging them up until the whole room is full."

"Photos are really a great thing."

Ma’el touched the photo wall here and couldn’t help but laugh at a few of them, "This one... why am I holding a box like a fridge, and this one’s from when I accidentally shattered glass, was I photographed slipping that day too? Ah....."