November 16th, the match between France and Belgium is about to kick off in Clairefontaine Town. This is Deschamps' first match since taking office, and it is a crucial one.
Having just experienced a decline in his reputation at Marseille, Deschamps desperately needs a victory to stabilize his position as the coach of the French national team! Countless eyes are on him, some with anticipation, others waiting to see him make a fool of himself.
No matter what, he should strive to start his new journey with a victorious opening! "Number 11, just like in your club."
That noon, Maël received his national team jersey from Deschamps, still number 11. He nodded in acceptance.
As a forward, he certainly wanted the number 7 and 10, which symbolize the core position, but these two numbers belong to Ribery and Benzema respectively.
He had just joined the team, and although he had Deschamps' trust, he had not yet proven himself on the field, so he couldn't get them for the time being.
Deschamps had already given him a starting position; if he were to snatch Ribery's number 7 for him, the team would likely mutiny directly.
After lunch, he rested for a while, and when the assembly message came, he set off to the venue to warm up.
The Belgian team's bus slowly drove in shortly after, and the players stepped down one after another, changed their shoes, and came to the field to assemble.
Maël looked towards their lineup and saw many familiar rising stars.
Hazard and Lukaku on the front line, Fellaini and De Bruyne in the midfield, Courtois, Kompany, and Witsel on the defense line, etc.
The outside world mostly refers to them as the Belgian Golden Generation, but unfortunately, they failed to win important honors in international competitions, bearing expectations but ending hastily.
"Hi."
After seeing his club teammate Vermaelen, Maël and Koscielny walked over together to greet this center-back who always had a smile on his face.
"Be careful."
Koscielny friendly reminded his partner, "Maël is starting in this game, and he's going to storm your defense."
"Starting?" Vermaelen's eyes lit up, and he sighed, "Not bad, making the starting lineup for the French team in your first selection. I have to be careful, or I won't be able to hold my head up in the club."
Maël smiled and said nothing. This feeling was quite magical. Teammates who had fought side by side a few days ago were now going to compete against each other.
He turned his head and saw Lloris and Hazard from Lille also greeting each other. Many people from the two teams knew each other.
"The relationship is still good now."
He looked at Hazard and couldn't help but mutter in his heart, "Once one goes to Chelsea and the other goes to Tottenham, there will be conflicts."
He remembered a classic game where Hazard's Curved Shot pierced Lloris' net, helping the Blue Fox win the Premier League title in advance that year, and then he angrily slid on his knees for several meters, venting his excitement.
Looking at these scenes from the perspective of the future, it is easy to have emotional impulses. Moreover, he is still among these people, joining their stories.
Cherish the present life! And experience it well! Maël separated from Vermaelen and came to his own half to do pre-match warm-up activities. The game was about to begin.
On the small stands by the side of the field, neatly arranged youth training teams came one after another, taking their seats in various positions.
Among them was Mbappé, who was only 13 years old, and already somewhat famous in the football world. His idols Henry and Cristiano had both met this talented player.
He sat in his seat, holding his neck high, looking very outstanding, which quickly attracted the attention of media reporters.
"This is the genius who scored 100 goals in 3 years at Clairefontaine, huh? Are you looking forward to being selected for the French national team in the future?"
Emilia from Football Record seized this opportunity well and came to his side to interview him, "Are there any players you like in this team?"
Mbappé was already used to reporters' interviews. He stood up and smiled, "It's too early to talk about joining the adult team. There are still many areas I need to improve."
"I really like Ribery from Bayern Munich. I'll ask for a photo with him after the game and try to get his match-worn jersey."
His face was still somewhat green, but his temperament was gradually showing maturity. This was accumulated from countless praises and experiences.
"Ribery?"
Emilia put the microphone to his mouth and asked, "Since you like him so much, what do you think of his competitor, Maël?"
Hearing this question, Mbappé leaned forward, bypassed Emilia, and glanced at the field before saying, "I think he's the same type of player as me. I can try to become him."
"Really?" Emilia looked at him with a smile, and finally said, "Then why don't you want to take a photo with him and get his match-worn jersey?"
Mbappé hesitated for a moment, but still said directly, "I like Ribery more, he's more outstanding."
Emilia finally touched his forehead, which was a little prickly, and then withdrew the camera and walked to where Harry and Safina were sitting, preparing to watch the game there.
After learning the news of Maël's debut, José and Davis also rushed from London, wanting to witness the player's national team debut.
"I said it a long time ago."
José's face showed no fatigue from the journey, only excitement. "He can outperform Ribery on the wing. He's more effective than Ribery, but the fans haven't realized that yet."
Davis nodded slightly and asked, "When will they realize it?"
José pondered for a moment, frowning. "I'm not sure. Maybe after he wins some major honors? Maël just needs honors. Once he's surrounded by the aura of championships, he'll become a superstar.
"Don't people often say that Messi and Cristiano are the two prides of this era? I think that's not the whole story. Maël could be competing with them as early as next season."
Davis raised his eyebrows, not responding to that statement. As a Portuguese, he was very fond of Cristiano Ronaldo and didn't think Maël could compete with the annual 50+ goal scorer for the title of best player next year.
Of course, he wouldn't underestimate his boss. He believed that in three years, Maël might have a chance to challenge for the Ballon d'Or.
"It's about to start."
Watching the players line up on the field, José rubbed his hands excitedly. "I'll record this day. It's his first appearance for the French national team in an international A-level match."
"Beep!"
On the football field, there were no more tedious pre-match ceremonies. The referee, seeing that the time had passed three o'clock, blew the whistle to start the match.
"Bang!" Benzema kicked off from the center circle, and the French team's forwards slowly crossed the halfway line, not pressing too aggressively.
Both of their wingers were explosive players, so there was no need to play a very intense high press. They could just wait for opportunities.
Deschamps had emphasized before the match that they could let the opponents control the ball, drawing their lines up as much as possible, and then seize counter-attack opportunities to exploit the space behind them.
This was a system very suitable for Maël, giving him enough room to perform.
The stage was set, and now it was just waiting for him to charge forward and break through the Belgian defense! Maël came to a position near the Belgian midfield, slowing down their attack speed and preventing them from often passing quick through balls.
He was matched up against Alderweireld today. This Ajax defender was trending towards being a versatile player in the backfield, capable of playing as a full-back or center-back, and had performed well at Tottenham later on.
However, his turning speed and recovery speed had always been criticized, earning him the nickname 'wheelchair' among many fans.
It shouldn't be a problem for Maël to break through his defense. It just depended on whether the Belgian center-backs Van Buyten and Vermaelen could provide him with help.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
Passing sounds rang out one after another as the Belgian midfielders and defenders passed the ball back and forth, looking for opportunities. They were playing a 5-3-2 formation today, keeping a low profile.
Seeing that the French team wasn't pressing high, they weren't in a hurry to attack, steadily passing the ball and slowly advancing.
"Snap!"
But the French team wouldn't give them too comfortable an environment. In the 3rd minute of the match, Cabaye's tackle stole the ball from Fellaini's feet, and he immediately launched a quick counter-attack.
He passed the ball to Nasri, the leader of the four little swans, who dribbled elegantly for a few steps before using a through ball to penetrate the area behind his former teammate Vermaelen.
"Bang!"
Benzema quickly followed up, pushing a shot towards the right side of the goal, the ball bouncing and sliding directly past the goal.
"Sigh!" A sound of disappointment rang out, and the French players covered their faces, looking at Benzema's back with a hint of blame.
Benzema turned back and waved his hand, as if carrying the blame he had shouldered at Real Madrid back to the French national team.
"Good, good!"
Deschamps clapped his hands, encouraging the attack. He saw the talent of many players in the attack.
Maël didn't say anything, raising his arm and turning to run towards the midfield. Their positioning today was relatively deep.
The match continued, and the players on both sides gradually got into the rhythm, starting a back-and-forth attacking performance. Although it was a friendly match, it had a very strong competitive rhythm and tactical level.
This was an international A-level event! Everyone still took it seriously. Contributions made here could be included in the year's data statistics, increasing their value.
In the 15th minute of the match, Hazard received a pass from Dembélé and performed a series of dazzling dribbling moves, breaking through Cabaye and Matuidi in succession before passing the ball to the wing.
Watson inserted from that side, sending a curved Cross into the center.
"Bang!!"
Fellaini, who had arrived at the high point in the center, completed the header without any suspense, but headed the ball slightly high.
"Eden!" Fellaini looked at Hazard, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Next time a ball of this quality comes in, I'll definitely head it in."
"Haha..." Hazard smiled, waving his hand to reassure him, there would definitely be more.
In the 21st minute of the match, the French team launched an attack on the right wing. Debuchy dribbled the ball along the right sideline all the way, passing the ball to Ribery before rushing to the baseline.
Ribery feigned a through ball to him, then changed direction and cut inside towards the center.
"Here!"
Maël suddenly ran into an open space, pointing at his feet to ask for the ball. He glanced at the goal, ready to shoot as soon as he received the ball.
Ribery must have seen him, as he made another feint to pass, then stubbornly used his left foot to unleash a long shot. The quality wasn't high, and Courtois caught it directly in his arms.
Maël ran back to midfield with a speechless expression, another excellent attacking opportunity wasted.
He had run a lot since the start of the match, but had only received the ball three times, twice with his back to the goal, and once in a 50-50 challenge with the opponent's defender.
Calculating the time the ball was at his feet, it definitely didn't exceed 15 seconds.
He scanned the field, feeling a different kind of difficulty... from his teammates.
Behind him was Evra, to his right was Nasri, and in the distance was Ribery. Benzema, in the center forward position, might not be hostile to him, but he was also observing, and wouldn't proactively pass the ball to him.
How was he supposed to play? Just wait for the center-backs' long passes and the defensive midfielders' passes? That was a bit too shabby.
"Ribery! Ribery!"
Deschamps also noticed Maël's difficulty on the left wing at this time, and shouted with a hint of anger, "Pass the ball! Can't you see? Don't waste opportunities, trust your teammates!"
Ribery glanced at him, his expression indifferent, and ran towards his own position, clearly ignoring him.
"Damn it."
Maël muttered in a low voice when he saw the other party's appearance. He had never been treated like this in the club. The national team was truly a mixed bag, a gathering place for all kinds of strange people, anything could happen.
But if he wanted the honor of the European Cup and the World Cup, he would continue to forge ahead and strive to solve these troubles one by one.
And his solution seemed to be only one – goals! Use constant goals to prove himself!
This might not eliminate the hostility of these people, but if he could continuously deliver super-high-level performances in this position, then Deschamps would naturally have the courage to help him clear all obstacles.
On the sidelines, several members of the team also saw that he wasn't playing comfortably, and their faces showed seriousness.
"No one is passing him the ball." Harry was the first to mutter softly, "Is this some kind of targeted attack?"
José looked at the field and nodded, "Some players are indeed targeting him, it seems he's in trouble."
"Is there a solution?" Safina tilted her head and asked.
"I don't know."
José looked at the situation on the field and could only say, "It's up to him."
"Tackle him! Tackle him!"
"Don't let him turn around!"
"Wing!!"
Along with the players' clear shouts, the game time continued to move forward, gradually passing 40 minutes. Both sides' defenses were very stable, not giving the opponent any chances.
"Pa!"
In the center position, Ribery's cut inside was intercepted by the opponent's defender Van Buyten. Belgium then seized the opportunity to switch from defense to offense and launched a quick counterattack.
"Pass!"
Maël stood in the open space, spreading his hands towards Ribery. He couldn't bear it anymore, "You definitely saw me, what are you thinking?"
As soon as he finished speaking, many French players turned their heads to look at him in astonishment, not expecting him to dare to shout at Ribery directly.
However, they didn't pay attention to the two of them. It was still important to chase back, the defense was in crisis.
Ribery still had an indifferent expression, avoiding Maël's question, and turned to run to his position.
Maël was amused by this, was this considered cold violence? When he turned around, he met the eyes of Vermaelen, the opponent's defender, whose eyes were filled with surprise and worry, as if worried about his future in the French team.
Maël himself wasn't worried, he believed in his ability, and he was never afraid of the reputations of these superstars.
If he weakly endured this uncomfortable feeling and digested it himself, these stars would only think he was easy to bully and would intensify their exclusion of him.
He had to show his edge, and then use goals to make that edge even sharper! "Da da da!"
Maël chased towards his own half. He had been doing this throughout the second half, hoping to steal the ball himself and then launch an attack towards the opponent's half.
However, Belgium's attack came quickly. Hazard dribbled through the middle and broke into the penalty area, then tested goalkeeper Lloris with a low shot.
"Bang!" Lloris went down quickly, barely managing to push the ball out for a corner.
Maël happened to arrive at this moment. Seeing the opponent preparing to take a corner, he stopped and turned to face the opponent's half, waiting for a chance to counter-attack after the clearance.
"Boom!"
Dembélé took the corner for Belgium. The tall players from both teams engaged in a physical battle in the penalty area, creating chaos.
Finally, Fellaini, rising under pressure, controlled the ball with his chest, immediately putting the French defense in danger.
"Snap!" Just as he was about to volley the falling ball, Koscielny rushed out from his side, risking a handball to make a diving header and clear the ball out of the penalty area! Fellaini's subsequent kick struck Koscielny's forehead, and the latter fell to the ground, clutching his head in pain.
Deschamps on the sidelines looked anxious. He wanted to quickly find the team doctor, but then he noticed that the cleared ball had traveled far, seemingly about to land in front of Maël.
An opportunity?
Deschamps' eyes lit up. Only Vermaelen was close to Maël on the Belgian defense, while Witsel was just starting to track back.
Throughout the first half, he understood why Maël wasn't playing comfortably and had planned to address the issue during halftime, unleashing Maël's talent and allowing him to soar more freely.
But now, the eagle seemed ready to spread its wings early! "Charge!!"
Deschamps pointed excitedly at the Belgian defense, as if wielding the sharpest sword in his hand.
"Whoosh!"
Maël also ran past him at this moment, speeding towards the landing point of the ball. From the other side of the field, it was an extremely inspiring scene.
The counter-attack began!
"Thump, thump, thump!"
As the sound of cleats hitting the ground echoed, Vermaelen on the Belgian defense watched his club teammate charge aggressively, immediately retreating as if facing a formidable enemy.
After taking a few steps back, realizing that he might have difficulty defending Maël alone, he rushed forward again, hoping to make a tackle when Maël controlled the ball.
"Thwack!"
But the ball landed steadily on Maël's instep, the forward roll perfectly matching the distance for Maël's next touch, leaving no chance for a tackle.
Perfect Ball Control!
Vermaelen began to retreat sideways. He saw the long-suppressed anger on Maël's face; their defense seemed destined to be the vessel for his unleashed fury.
"Thump, thump... thump!"
The ball moved rhythmically under Maël's feet. The distance of each touch was almost consistent, the ball advancing as if glued to his feet.
More crucially, he not only used an extremely fast touch frequency to prevent Vermaelen's sudden tackles, but his speed didn't decrease! This was the first time he had demonstrated this ability on the field since his Dribbling skill reached lv4.
Under high-speed dribbling, his ball control wasn't flashy, but it revealed a deep foundation and stability! Every touch was just right! Maël stared at Vermaelen's shoulders, observing the opponent's center of gravity and defensive intentions... His peripheral vision was only on the opponent's goal; he saw nothing else.
Score!
Seize this opportunity!
"Bang!"
Reaching the edge of the penalty area, he suddenly increased the distance of his touch on the next foot, then burst into speed to chase after the ball.
Vermaelen had actually done a good job in this defense. He slowed Maël's advance, buying time for his teammates to track back, and followed him all the way to the edge of the penalty area.
But under Maël's super explosive power, the opponent had already blown past him as soon as he turned around.
Their speeds were simply not in the same gear. Keeping up with Maël just now was already his limit; adding another gear of speed was beyond him.
"Damn!"
Maël broke into the penalty area. He quickly saw Courtois rushing out, roaring as he lunged at the ball under his feet.
At the critical moment, his foot touched the ball before Courtois could intercept it, and with a 'thwack' sound, it changed direction, heading to the left.
The goal was wide open!
An empty net!
"Boom!"
He unleashed a Curved Shot, not with excessive force, and the football gently rolled into the goal, making contact with the net.
One-nil!
Immediately, a rare sense of exhilaration surged through him. He raised his right hand, finally revealing a smile of release, "Yeah!"
His first goal for the national team! A sixty-meter run, beating two players!
Maël didn't sprint to the sidelines to celebrate; he stood his ground, arms outstretched towards the sky, and shouted, "Come on! Come on!"
He was calling out to those behind him, responding to how they had treated him.
So what if they didn't pass the ball? As long as he seized the opportunity, he could blast the ball into the net all by himself!
"Oh!" A cheer erupted from the stands beside the field, as hundreds of youth academy players leaped from their seats, shouting with excitement.
Mbappé's eyes widened at the sight of the goal, never expecting that Arsenal's new star would hammer the ball into the net with such a display.
Kind of cool, a sense of longing flickered in his eyes. If he could score a goal like that against such a circle of stars, how happy would he be, what kind of celebration would he do? Naturally, he felt a bit of admiration for Maël; seeing it live was a different experience altogether.
Safina and her group quickly stood up, applauding with wild joy, "Maël, well done!"
"First goal!" José pumped his fist towards him, even more excited than Maël himself, "A goal purely from individual skill! A beautiful counterattack, Maël!"
They then observed Deschamps' expression, noticing that the Basque man was also rapidly clapping his hands, the pressure on his back visibly lessened.
"Too strong!"
On the coaching bench, an assistant coach came to Deschamps' side to celebrate, exclaiming, "His ability to seize opportunities is just too strong! He scored the team's first goal with the fewest touches, and it's also your first goal as manager."
"Indeed."
Deschamps raised his eyebrows, watching Maël's back on the field, wanting to say he had known it all along, but instead said, "When you coach a player like this, you can more clearly feel the help he brings to the team."
"He didn't let me down... During halftime, it's time to clear some obstacles for him!"
Deschamps was sure he would remember this goal for a long time; it was a goal that opened the prelude to his management of the French team! Luckily, it was a good start, at least it didn't begin with conceding a goal.
And the background when the goal appeared was very similar to the background of his coaching of the French team, both facing many problems and difficulties, a counterattack launched against the trend! Deschamps hoped that he could slowly accumulate strength like Maël and launch a beautiful counterattack.
On the field, Vermaelen spread his arms helplessly, shaking his head at his teammates, indicating that he really couldn't do anything about that goal.
The Belgian quickly accepted the goal, picking the football out of the net and placing it back on the center circle.
However, many people on the team were now looking at Maël differently. This young man, who had been in the limelight recently, seemed to have disappeared for the first part of the first half.
They originally thought that players needed time to adapt to a new system, and that the threat wouldn't be too great.
But soon, Maël hammered the ball into the net with a brilliant long-distance run, suddenly emerging and becoming the most dazzling player on the field at this moment.
Compared to them, the French team members were more surprised and more complex.
Evra, Nasri, and Ribery, who had tacitly joined forces to target him, were now looking in Maël's direction with very interesting expressions, sometimes shocked, sometimes disdainful, and sometimes with a complicated look.
"Good goal! Haha, he can even get an assist, my God!"
Koscielny had already gotten up from his position in the backfield. Fortunately, that tackle hadn't left any serious injuries. He rushed towards Maël, enduring the pain, to celebrate the goal together.
After he ran towards Maël, several other people followed, Matuidi from Paris, Cabaye from Newcastle, and Benzema from Real Madrid all came.
They didn't have any grudges with Maël, so naturally they wanted to congratulate their new teammate on his goal.
Maël gave them all high-fives, and even light hugs with some of them.
The field was quickly divided into two factions, with extremely obvious differences... But this didn't mean that they had already drawn a clear line; there were definitely many people who were wavering.
"Keep up the good work."
Maël's mood improved a bit. He bumped fists with Koscielny one last time and ran towards his own half of the field; he wasn't satisfied yet.
When he passed Deschamps, he raised his eyebrows at him, and Deschamps quickly returned a smile.
The stoppage time board was now raised, showing that there were 2 minutes of stoppage time in the first half.
"Beep!"
Maël had just returned to the vicinity of the center line when the referee blew the whistle to restart the game.
He turned around again and ran into the Belgian team's half, seeking opportunities to score.
If he couldn't get much help, then he would do it himself! Just as Maël ran to Alderweireld's side, he saw Matuidi intercepting Belgium's forward pass, knocking the ball to the attacking midfielder Nasri.
"Surround him!"
"Coming!"
Nasri was immediately surrounded the moment he received the ball and turned. He seemed a bit small under the double-team of the two giants, Van Buyten and Fellaini.
But his excellent footwork still allowed him to deal with them. However, it seemed like this wasn't a long-term solution; he needed to pass the ball.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye and only saw a passing lane to the left winger, Maël; the others were blocked.
"Bang!"
Helpless, he kicked the ball with a very fast speed and a hint of dissatisfaction, deliberately aiming slightly off and a bit high, making it difficult to receive.
Maël had anticipated that Nasri wouldn't be able to pass the ball easily and was already prepared to receive it.
Stopping this kind of ball wasn't difficult for him. He unloaded the ball while hooking it towards the front of his body, then ran towards the opposing defender, Alderweireld.
The defender was very nervous, constantly moving backward, afraid that Maël would suddenly collide with him for a physical confrontation.
"Pa."
Unexpectedly, Maël started playing tricks after getting the ball this time. He flicked the ball towards the penalty area with his left foot, then stopped abruptly and dodged, starting to move into the penalty area.
The ball just passed through Alderweireld's legs, returning to Maël's control and rolling in front of him.
Alderweireld's heart skipped a beat, and he reached out to grab Maël's clothes; this was a common tactic for defenders to solve problems.
But Maël was running too fast. He tried to grab him at top speed but only grabbed air.
"Hey!"
"Here!"
The French players saw that Maël had actually broken through to the middle and quickly came near the penalty area, asking for the ball.
Nasri stood in the inverted triangle position, sensing a scoring opportunity, constantly pointing at his feet, his face anxious, "Pass it!"
Ribery was also lurking at the far post, not saying anything, just crouching, ready to rush forward and fight for the ball at any time.
Faced with a good scoring opportunity, they wanted to bury the hatchet with Maël, at least in the current attacking round.
How could Maël let them have their way? After entering the penalty area, Van Buyten and Vermaelen appeared beside him, and Fellaini also came to double-team.
He pulled the ball with his left foot and made a Bicycle Kick motion, shaking Van Buyten's center of gravity, then quickly hooked the ball to the other side.
The Frequency of his movements was very fast. Van Buyten couldn't keep up with his rhythm and could only seek a chance for a confrontation on the right.
His ability to confront was very strong, but Maël didn't go head-to-head. Even if he won, it would be a pyrrhic victory, giving other defensive players a chance to steal the ball.
Now that he had a dribbling opportunity, he would of course use a more dazzling and safer way to solve the problem.
"Pa-Boom!"
He flicked the ball to the outside, then ran behind Van Buyten, using the trick of separating himself from the ball to dodge past him.
He broke free! "Oh!" A burst of exclamations came from the stands. From the perspective of the outside, Maël's dribbling breakthrough was extremely gorgeous.
First, he nutmegged Alderweireld, then faked out Van Buyten and used the separating-ball-from-body technique to break free! Twisting and turning!
Both breakthroughs involved movements of shifting his body position and turning, which added a sense of elegance to his back.
"Boom, boom, boom."
Maël had now dribbled the ball into an extremely dangerous area. Fellaini couldn't hold back and slid out to block the shooting space, essentially excluding himself from the defensive team.
Only Vermaelen was left. These two old teammates once again had a chance to confront each other!
Vermaelen was doing psychological construction for himself while his brain was running at high speed, thinking about defensive strategies. He had to think of some unusual tricks.
"Pa!"
But before he could think it through, Maël dribbled the ball inward. Already gaining momentum, he didn't use any extra moves, confidently using Speed to overpower Vermaelen again.
Vermaelen helplessly gave up all thoughts and ran after Maël, but could only watch him get further and further away, gradually approaching Courtois.
"Boom, boom!!"
Maël then dribbled the ball to the right, feigning a shot for the far corner, but at the moment of shooting, he flicked his ankle and shot towards the near post.
Courtois lunged to the right, and the football smashed into the empty net on the left, creating a stark contrast.
"Swish!"
The football flew into the goal again, causing the net to shake violently! Two-nil! Two goals in 1 minute! "Oh!"
Cheers erupted again, and Mbappé's eyes flashed with inspiration. He seemed to have learned a shooting method that suited him very well.
Maël rushed to the sideline this time, his arms tense and trembling, and roared with his mouth wide open, "Vamos!"
If you pass, you have nothing! All the unhappiness disappeared, and he felt lucky again. When he needed his body to be in a burning state, his body burst out very smoothly.
A goal after dribbling past 4 people in a row!
This time, the Belgian players couldn't stabilize their mentality. Several players in the back line were either lying down or squatting, looking at each other in confusion.
Hazard, in the front position, held his head and looked at the scattered defense in disbelief, then glanced at Maël.
Isn't this his move?
No, Maël's dribbling is simpler, and he doesn't seem to be good at changing the rhythm... But he has explosive power to help, and the effect is not much worse than his.
Truly unexpected.
"Roar, roar...!"
On the French side, the few people who celebrated together last time ran up again. Each of them had a storm in their hearts, staring at Maël's back.
What the hell?
Just scored another one right after the kickoff? Nasri, who was still standing in the inverted triangle position, had just been complaining that Maël didn't pass the ball to him and insisted on doing it himself. At this time, he stood up straight with a shocked expression.
From the moment he was 'forced' to pass the ball to Maël, his eyes had been on the other player, watching him all the way from the wing to the center, and then breaking through to the goal to score.
A heaven-defying goal! He knew very well the ability required to score such a goal, and Maël's position in Deschamps' mind after this goal.
Nasri put his hands on his hips, and a sense of unease rose in his heart. He didn't know whether it was right or wrong to oppose such a player in the national team.
He also subconsciously turned to look at Ribery, who had already turned and walked towards the center circle. Unlike before, this time his back looked a little lonely and haggard.
It was as if he had been driven out of the territory that should have belonged to him.
"Yeah!"
Deschamps, on the sideline, had just sat down on the coach's bench, but his butt hadn't even warmed up before he rushed out, his face red and shouting through gritted teeth, "That's how it should be! That's how it should be! Keep going, keep going!"
In front of him, Evra was almost sprayed by Deschamps' saliva. He stood there staring in the direction of Maël, wondering what he was thinking.
ps: I have a fever and I'm not feeling well, please allow me to adjust my condition for one night. It's good that I have a fever, maybe I can fall asleep and not have insomnia.
The updates were very stable before, but something happened at home, and my schedule is messed up. I want to adjust it again to stabilize the time. (This chapter makes up for yesterday, and there will be three chapters tomorrow)
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