After this goal, the ga imdiately went into halfti, and players from both sides went into the dressing room off to the side of the low stand.
"Knock, knock!"
Deschamps habitually tapped the tactics board, signaling everyone to focus... even with a two-goal lead, there was no joy on his face.
So obvious issues needed to be resolved by him; it was not ti to be happy yet.
Facing the tactics board, he warned in a low tone, "So people don’t seem to want to play properly, and I know who they are.
"Please rember, my patience is very limited. If it happens again, your na will not be on the national team; there’s no need to feel aggrieved by then."
Ribery, Nasri, and others looked in his direction, their expressions varied.
So seed indifferent, as if they didn’t think Deschamps would dare to abandon them under pressure; others were worried, still wanting to participate in next year’s European Cup.
"nez."
Deschamps called out a na, pointing at him with a tactical pen: "You will replace Ribery, play in his position, and take on the role of the frontcourt organizational core.
"Valbuena, you replace Nasri, but your duty is to provide support.
"Klich will replace Evra, and Giroud will replace Benzema. These are direct substitutions... nothing else changes for now."
As he finished speaking, although the players remained silent, there was a hint of shock in their eyes.
This was a major reshuffle in the midfield and forward positions!
Combining with Deschamps’ earlier words, it was very clear these players were the ones he felt weren’t playing well.
Though not explicitly stated, it was clearly implied!
Many glanced at Ma’el, the only front player still in his position... they all understood for whom Deschamps was making these moves.
Was a core position really going to change?
For an 18-year-old player?
Many were internally tumultuous, digesting this news, so much so that they didn’t quite catch what Deschamps said afterward.
Ribery and Evra sat together at this mont, both leaning back against the locker with arms folded, their faces expressing dissatisfaction.
After Deschamps left, Ribery turned his head solemnly, his voice hoarse, "I think it’s ti to let them know sothing, to make them understand their place."
Hearing that Ribery had a plan, Evra leaned in closer, "What are you going to do?"
"Take a cab ho," Ribery looked at the spot from which Deschamps had just left, "It’s the most decent way; no fuss or noise, everyone saves face."
Evra suddenly turned his head, looked at him for a while, and then stood up, "I advise you to observe a bit more, don’t act so rashly yet."
He patted Ribery on the shoulder and then walked towards the door; clearly, he didn’t want to make such an extre move at this mont.
Ribery turned his head again towards Nasri, who must have overheard their conversation.
Unexpectedly, Nasri turned his gaze aside and didn’t look his way again.
Ribery’s lips moved slightly, taking deep breaths, making final considerations. His impulse ultimately overca his rationality... he suddenly stood up and headed out of the dressing room.
...
"Tweet, tweet!"
After appearing in the second half, the mood among the France team players seed a bit off; they whispered to each other.
"Really left?"
"That direction leads outside the base."
"It’s over."
"Who do you support?"
"We’ll see who cos out on top in the end."
Ma’el stood next to them, looking down the road, seeing a figure heading outside the Clairefontaine Base.
He wasn’t in the mood; ending their first cooperation in the national team this way was not his intention.
Just play his own ga well, let things take their course... his heart was never troubled or affected by these matters.
In front of the coach’s bench, Deschamps was watching the field with a stern face, knowing soone had left his side but intentionally acting as if he didn’t care.
He needed to consider the consequences and impact of this and think about what to do next.
"Tweet!"
The ga resud, and a brand new France team appeared on the field, rushing into Belgium’s half with a fresh montum.
Ma’el’s expression beca serious; after scoring two consecutive goals, his goal was solely focused.
Chasing more goals!
A better performance!
He stood firm in Belgium’s backfield, quickly drawing the attention of Alderweireld and the sa-side center-back Van Buyten, both closely watching over him.
Thus, the second half began, with Belgium seeing France’s extensive substitutions strengthening their offensive, aiming to launch counterattacks while so were still unaccustod to the match rhythm.
This achieved so success, and France’s defense imdiately appeared chaotic, giving the opponents plenty of opportunities.
Belgium launched waves of high-pressure attacks, finally breaking through in the 56th minute of the match.
Dembele, the core of Eredivisie’s Alkmaar, used his dribbling to compress France’s defense, then sent a cross to Hazard, who was ready to shoot.
"Bang!!"
Hazard launched a push shot towards the bottom corner of the goal, the soccer ball rolled into the net just before Lori’s save attempt.
One to two!
Pulled one back!
"Aye...!"
A cheer erupted from the field and the substitute bench; today, they had only themselves as supporters.
Hazard ran towards the goal, picked up the ball, and ran quickly toward the center circle, high-fiving several teammates along the way.
When facing Ma’el, he instinctively extended his right hand for a habitual high-five... but urgently pulled it back upon noticing the opposite jersey color.
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