After that goal, the match went into halftime, and the players from both sides entered the locker room in the low stands.
"Knock, knock!"
Deschamps habitually tapped the tactical board, signaling everyone to focus. Despite leading by two goals, there was no joy on his face.
There were obvious problems he needed to address, and now was not the time to be happy.
He faced the tactical board and warned in a low voice, "Some people don't want to play properly, and I know who they are.
"Please remember, my patience is very limited. If you are caught again, your names will be removed from the national team list, and you won't have any reason to feel wronged."
Ribery, Nasri, and others glanced in his direction, their expressions varying.
Some didn't care, seemingly believing that Deschamps wouldn't dare to drop them under pressure; others were worried, as they still wanted to participate in next year's European Cup.
"Mene."
Deschamps called out a name, pointing at him with the tactical pen, "You will replace Ribery, playing in his position, and take on the role of the team's attacking core.
"Valbuena, you will replace Nasri, but your responsibility is to support.
"Clichy replaces Evra, Giroud replaces Benzema, these are two like-for-like substitutions... The others remain unchanged for now."
Although the players didn't speak, there was a hint of shock in their eyes.
This was a major reshuffle of the midfield and attack! Combined with what Deschamps had just said, it was clear that these players were the ones he felt weren't playing properly.
Although he didn't say it directly, it was implied! Many people glanced at Maël, the only attacking player still in his position... They all understood who Deschamps was doing this for.
Was the core really going to change? To an 18-year-old player?
Many people's minds were churning, digesting this news, and they didn't even pay much attention to what Deschamps said afterward.
Ribery and Evra were sitting together at this time, both with their arms folded and leaning back against the lockers, their faces drooping to express their dissatisfaction.
After Deschamps left, Ribery turned his head seriously, his voice hoarse, "I think it's time to let them know something, to let them put themselves in the right position."
Evra heard that Ribery had a plan and leaned his head over, "What are you going to do?"
"Take a taxi home." Ribery looked at the spot where Deschamps had just walked out, "This is already a very decent way, no arguing, no fuss, leaving everyone with some face."
Evra suddenly turned his head, looked at him for a while, and then stood up, "I advise you to observe a little longer, don't do that yet."
He patted Ribery's shoulder and then walked towards the door, clearly not wanting to take such drastic action at this time.
Ribery turned his head to Nasri, who was next to him, who should have heard their conversation.
Unexpectedly, Nasri was even more straightforward, turning his gaze away and not looking at him again.
Ribery's mouth twitched slightly, he took a few deep breaths to make his final consideration, his impulse finally overcoming his reason. He suddenly got up and walked out of the locker room.
"Beep beep!"
After the second half started, the French players' emotions were slightly off, and they were all whispering while looking at one spot.
"He really left?"
"That direction is towards outside the base."
"It's over."
"Who do you support?"
"See who wins in the end."
Maël was standing next to them, and he looked along the road to the side, where he could see a figure walking out of the Clairefontaine Base.
He wasn't in the mood. Ending their first collaboration in the national team in this way was not his intention.
Just play his own game well, and let the rest take its course... His heart was never anxious or emotional about these things.
In front of the coaching bench, Deschamps was now staring at the field with a straight face, knowing that someone had left his side, but deliberately pretending not to care.
He had to consider the consequences and impact of this matter, and think about what to do next.
"Beep!"
The match restarted, and a brand new French team appeared on the field, charging into the Belgian half with a fresh momentum.
Maël's expression turned serious. After scoring two goals, he had only one goal left.
To chase more goals!
A better performance! He took his position in the Belgian team's backfield and was immediately taken care of by Alderweireld and fellow center-back Van Buyten, who stayed close to him, watching him closely.
The second half began like this. Seeing France making extensive substitutions, the Belgian team strengthened their attack, wanting to take advantage of some players not yet adapted to the rhythm of the game to launch a major counter-attack.
This had some effect, and the French team's defense suddenly appeared chaotic, giving the opponent many opportunities.
Wave after wave of high-pressure attacks from the Belgian team came, and finally overwhelmed them in the 56th minute of the match.
Dembélé, the core of AZ Alkmaar in the Dutch League, used his dribbling to compress the French team's defense, and then sent a cross that found Hazard, who set up his cannon.
"Boom!!"
Hazard hit a push shot towards the lower corner of the goal, and the football rolled into the net a moment before Lloris' save.
One to two!
Pulling one back! "Yay!"
Cheers erupted from the field and the bench, their only supporters today were themselves.
Hazard ran towards the goal, picked up the football, and ran quickly towards the center circle, high-fiving several teammates along the way.
When he met Maël, he subconsciously extended his right hand, but urgently retracted it after habitually high-fiving and seeing the color of the other's jersey.
Maël looked at the Burger King's youthful appearance and smiled slightly. This was the rising period of the other's career, and he probably didn't like eating burgers yet.
He walked towards his own half, waiting for the restart. After the second half started, his teammates gradually passed the ball to him more often, and he believed he could still create good opportunities.
"Beep!"
After Giroud kicked off from the center circle, the football quickly showed signs of developing towards the left side of the French team, and both sides' players approached.
"Boom!" Valbuena quickly and safely passed the ball to Maël. He had played two games against Arsenal on behalf of Marseille and personally experienced Maël's pressure.
Not to mention, after Deschamps took over the French team, he clearly showed that he wanted to reuse Maël.
It was better to curry favor with such a player who was likely to be the future offensive core as soon as possible.
During his time on the field, he paid attention to Maël's position every time he held the ball, and would definitely pass the ball if he had the opportunity.
"Boom boom boom!"
Maël dribbled the ball towards Alderweireld, boldly displaying his dribbling characteristics.
After finding an opportunity, he dribbled the ball to try to speed up the rhythm. Alderweireld struggled to keep up with him, and the two quickly arrived near the baseline.
Maël glanced at the center and found that Giroud was being marked tightly by the opponent's center-back, and the other players' positions were not very good.
He sought a breakthrough towards the center, and suddenly stopped abruptly to control the ball.
Alderweireld also stopped with him, and due to his height, he became unstable.
"Pa-boom!"
Maël changed direction and dribbled the ball past him, then faced the defense of the opponent's center-back Van Buyten and the assisting midfielder Fellaini.
It was the same old scene again. He accelerated again, wanting to drag the two into a high-speed confrontation.
"Step, step, step!"
A strong pressure quickly enveloped the right corner of the Belgian team's penalty area. The rhythm on this side was obviously different from other places, as if even the space was a little distorted.
Van Buyten quickly couldn't withstand Maël's pressure and was shaken to the ground by Maël's back and forth changes of direction. Fortunately, after he sat down, he desperately stretched out a foot and poked the football.
"Pa!"
Maël didn't expect this, and the football escaped his control, and was then cleared by Fellaini's sliding tackle.
He smiled and waved to his teammates in the center to express his apology, then ran back to his position.
No one blamed him. The French team players certainly knew that this kind of ball-holding style of play was prone to losing possession, as long as the ball-holder was threatening and effective, they would be generous with his attempts.
What's more, Maël could bring extremely strong pressure to the opponent every time, giving people the feeling that he was about to break through the defense line at any moment.
Bring him!
Bring him with confidence! I'll snatch him back for you if he gets lost.
"Limit his touches!"
In the center back position for Belgium, Van Buyten shouted with a bitter face: "Seal off the passing lanes! We can't let him keep breaking through like this every time. We can't defend against it many times."
The five-defender formation was supposed to be very solid, but they didn't know why the team often found themselves in dangerous situations.
"Want to switch?"
Kompany, the left center back, seeing that Van Buyten seemed to be struggling, asked, "Tell the coach, and I can switch positions with you anytime."
"No need." Van Buyten waved his hand, indicating that he didn't need it for now, but he didn't say definitively, "We'll see later."
As the game continued, the constant supply of the ball allowed Maël to play more and more smoothly, and he felt better and better.
The hardness of the French team's midfield and defensive line was not a concern. He didn't fall back to receive the ball like in the first half, but kept pressing forward to create pressure on the opponent.
In the 68th minute of the match, the two teams launched a series of back-and-forth attacks.
"Bang!"
First, Maël once again shook off Alderweireld's defense and sent a curved cross towards the center.
The football was headed away by Kompany, and Valbuena took the second ball, passing it to the right wing.
Mene, who had just come on as a substitute, was very lively on his feet, dribbling past Witsel cleanly in a few moves, and leisurely aimed a half-high cross towards the far post in the center.
The football was very fast, and the defenders at the near post and in the center didn't have time to clear the ball, and it turned all the way to the far post.
"Bang!"
Maël suddenly rushed out from behind Alderweireld, and in desperation, he jumped up and used the instep of his foot to push the ball towards the goal.
The shot had some power, but it was obviously too close to Courtois, who blocked it out of the goal.
"Bang!" Kompany reacted quickly and followed up, sending the ball forward with a clearance kick, just in time to give the ball to Timmy Simons.
Belgium's counter-attack! "Woah! Woah!"
Hazard started running behind the French team's defense, shouting for Timmy Simons to release the ball as soon as possible.
Timmy Simons didn't delay, and after stopping the ball, he played a short pass towards the back of the French defense.
But the pass wasn't good. The French center back Sakho ran diagonally to intercept the ball, cutting off the passing lane.
"Pass the ball!"
The French defensive midfielder Cabaye saw something at this moment, pointing to his feet to signal Sakho to pass the ball quickly.
Sakho was a bit slow on his feet. As he raised his leg to kick the ball, he suddenly saw a figure rushing from behind, stealing the ball from under his feet.
How is he so fast?!
He turned his head in astonishment, and Hazard had already passed him.
Koscielny lowered his center of gravity to defend against Hazard. After being faked out a few times, he quickly surrendered and lost his defensive position, luckily the full-back Clichy came to cover.
"Bang!!"
Hazard swung his leg and curled a shot towards the far corner, the football arcing towards the net.
"Clang!" The sound of hitting the post rang out. Unfortunately, the football bounced back off the iron.
"I'll take it!" This time, Matuidi got the second ball, turned around to face the direction of the attack, and it seemed that it was the French team's turn to transition to attack again.
He dribbled the ball twice and realized there was no chance to accelerate, so he looked around for passing options.
"Bang!!"
Seeing Maël in the distance, he sent a long pass towards that position.
Van Buyten, in the center back position for Belgium, rushed out of position, leaping high in the path of the football, wanting to clear the ball in advance.
They didn't want Maël to receive the ball!
"Mine!"
Mimicking Matuidi, he roared to boost his momentum, but after leaping and realizing he couldn't reach the ball, he somewhat awkwardly reminded Alderweireld, "Yours!"
Alderweireld: "..."
What was his?
Was the defense all about shouting?
Maël was holding him off tightly, preventing him from advancing. Unless he could fly, there was no way he was getting to that ball.
"Thwack!"
As Maël stopped the ball at his feet and turned, that pressure that had just dissipated returned to every Belgian player.
At times like these, the expenditure of stamina is particularly high, like in a boxing match, where the one constantly attacking doesn't expend as much energy, while the one constantly defending with their arms up tires out quickly.
It seems strange, as the former is clearly moving more, while the latter is standing still.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
Maël had already factored Alderweireld into his calculations when he turned this time. He feigned a direct run to the byline but quickly changed direction and broke towards the center.
Van Buyten had already landed and was chasing back, lunging at his feet, but he quickly flicked the ball past him.
Looking at the opponent's defense, it still didn't seem like there were any good opportunities.
"Bang!"
Maël pushed the ball towards the byline, continuing to test his club teammate Vermaelen.
Putting everything else aside, this feeling of sudden attacks was indeed great! Vermaelen suspected he might have offended Maël at some point, his face turning ashen as he followed him.
"Clang!"
Maël sought to resolve the issue with a physical challenge this time. Facing his club teammate, he didn't hold back, directly slamming into his shoulder.
Vermaelen stumbled a few steps after taking the hit, throwing his body out in an attempt to block Maël's pass at the last moment.
"Thud!"
But he failed. Maël's ground cross still rolled towards the top of the small penalty area, where Mene, arriving at the far post, poked the ball into the net.
Goal! Three to one!
"Oh!"
Mene raised a finger to the sky. He instinctively turned to run towards the corner flag, hesitated, smiled, and turned back, running towards Maël, who had provided the pass.
As one of the four little swans, he was also a recognized talented player. His transfer fee had broken ten million five years ago, but unfortunately, his development hadn't quite met expectations.
Some said it was due to his personality, others said he wasn't disciplined enough and was too carefree.
Mene himself didn't think so. He always felt he was playing well and didn't think he had any personality issues.
"Brother!"
Arriving beside Maël, he didn't say much else, just expressed his friendliness, and then embraced Maël.
It could be said that this assist would definitely establish a good foundation for their relationship.
"Two goals and one assist!"
At the edge of the field, Maël's group of family and friends cheered again, embracing each other in celebration.
Watching their boss put on the jersey and gradually play better and better among a group of superstars, even achieving key stats, was a great feeling.
"This is the last National Team Match Day of the year." Harry waved his hand and asked, "With this kind of performance, is the European Cup secured?"
"It should be." José nodded in response, "From all indications, he has the momentum to directly impact the core of this team!"
"Yes!"
Safina raised her hand and laughed, "Just waiting to benefit from him, go!"
Nearby, Football Record reporter Emilia's face was also full of excitement, clapping her hands enthusiastically. These team members were essentially in a cooperative relationship with Maël.
But she was different. Maël was her boss. No one could resist a football player who was both rich and exuded such sexual tension.
"Exclusive interview!"
She was still thinking about her exclusive interview, the kind of private, heart-to-heart talk she'd been looking forward to with Maël.
After that goal, the Belgian team's defense had mentally collapsed; they simply couldn't stop him.
"Hiss!"
Vermaelen quickly fell to the ground, the motion of throwing his body out like that causing his leg to cramp.
Van Buyten seemed to want to lie down for a while too, hugging his leg and collapsing to the ground, panting heavily as he rested.
The pressure was too much! Their midfielders and defenders, though all considered star players with high transfer values, were only average in terms of defensive ability. They were helpless against a forward with such strong impact.
Pity these guys, finally getting together to play a national team match, only to spend most of the game stuck in their own half.
"Boom!!"
Fortunately, their forwards hadn't given up. After the restart, Hazard also used a series of dribbles past several players to reach the byline.
He returned a cross towards the center, and Fellaini charged into the penalty area from outside, knocking over Koscielny while smashing in a header.
"Swish!" The ball hit the net, pulling Belgium back a goal and slightly reversing the decline.
But in the 80th minute of the match, Giroud received a cross from Mene and headed in another goal, maintaining the two-goal difference.
"Substitution?"
On the sidelines, Deschamps' assistant saw that Maël was gradually starting to run out of steam. "He's been tracking back and winning the ball throughout the first half; his stamina must be almost exhausted."
"Have Malouda warm up."
Deschamps nodded in agreement. Of course, he wouldn't overuse Maël; he still needed to protect the player.
From any perspective, Maël's performance today was perfect. His gear was always different from others, as if he was always one step ahead.
When he played, Deschamps' position was defensive midfielder, but his impact was strong, and he liked to suddenly accelerate the team's rhythm through his own strength!
This was physical ability!
And also football intelligence!
Deschamps liked players like this. He increasingly felt that his actions in vying for the French national team coach position in front of the media, including the efforts he made behind the scenes, were correct.
He now had a sharp sword, just waiting to be polished and fitted with a suitable and high-quality scabbard, and then drawn at the European Cup!
"Beep!"
At this moment, the referee blew a foul whistle. Kompany tripped Mene while defending on the right side.
After getting up, Mene stood in front of the ball himself, preparing to take the free kick.
Maël quickly wandered over, somewhat intending to try for the free kick opportunity... but he didn't openly snatch it, just hovering nearby.
"Want to take it?"
Mene had received an assist from Maël, so he didn't ignore his attempt, and proactively said, "You've already scored two goals; another one and you have a chance for a hat-trick."
"Okay," Maël immediately followed up with a smile, not giving Mene a chance to change his mind, and smiled, "You still have to take a run-up later to deceive the goalkeeper. I'll pretend to step up for a fake shot, then suddenly curve it into the far corner."
Mene: "..."
It was all arranged already? Agreeing so readily?
What's done is done, and he didn't want to say more, nodding with a dry laugh.
"Beep!"
When the referee blew the whistle to allow the free kick, Maël looked towards the wall and the goalkeeper. The height of the wall was good, basically around 1.9 meters, easily jumping over 2.3 meters.
In addition, Courtois was very tall and had a wide coverage area. If he kicked the ball normally, the probability of scoring might not be very high.
He thought for a moment, a line appearing in his mind, and focused his gaze on the football.
"Tread, tread, tread."
The sound of footsteps rang out, Mene taking small steps in place, looking like he was ready to rush forward and blast the goal at any moment.
Courtois in front of the goal immediately lowered his center of gravity, his eyes fixed on the ball in front of Mene, ready to make a save.
Just then, he saw Maël take the lead in running up, rushing towards the football.
He wasn't careless. When he couldn't be sure who would take the free kick, it was best to treat both of them as potential threats.
"Bang!!"
The sound of contact rang out as expected. Maël, who was the first to rush towards the ball, suddenly kicked it. The wall near the edge of the penalty area reacted quickly, jumping up swiftly.
"Whizz!" But unexpectedly, the ball skimmed along the ground towards the near post, slipping under the feet of the wall!
Courtois was initially guarding against Maël, but he didn't see the ball coming for a long time. By the time he noticed it at the foot of the wall, it was already inches away.
"Swish!"
This unreasonable ground shot free kick successfully found the back of the net near the post.
Five to two! The 3rd goal! "F*ck!"
Courtois, who played for Chelsea, was used to speaking English and sat on the ground, feeling extremely frustrated.
"Yeah!"
The Clairefontaine Base trainees on the sidelines erupted in excited cheers again. They had witnessed a powerful new addition to the French team!
Hat-trick!
This would be the hope for France in future major tournaments! "Show time!"
Several members of the support group from England also applauded with shining eyes. This was definitely a pure show.
"Damn it! Damn it!" The young star Mbappé stood up, his face flushed as he uttered several French curses, expressing the shock in his heart.
"Hat-trick!"
Deschamps, who was about to submit a substitution request to the fourth official on the sidelines, put down his actions when he saw this sudden goal and returned to the coaching bench in amazement. "This is a real hat-trick, magic! It's like there's magic in his feet!"
"It's perfect!" One of his assistants nodded in agreement. Whether it was Deschamps' debut or Maël's debut, this goal had brought them to a perfect conclusion.
"Oh!"
On the field, Maël ran towards the corner flag, raising his right hand. After throwing a series of punches, he brought Batistuta's machine gun celebration to the French national team.
Even though this match didn't have many spectators and no videos or news would leak out,
it was extremely important to him. Completing such an international A-level match in this manner was something he hadn't dared to imagine before.
3 goals and 1 assist! It would be difficult to find another player in the history of the French national team who had such a good debut performance.
If his goal was to compete for the title of the best in history, then his start was already the best start in history! This would give him great encouragement and motivation!
Outside of the club's tight schedule, he had opened a new front, a new path to pursue glory, in the best possible way! "Good thing I gave it to you!"
Mene quickly followed and hugged him from behind. "Otherwise, it would have been a pity."
After some troublesome players were taken off, the atmosphere in the team improved a lot in the second half, and most of the French players came to celebrate together.
On the sidelines, Nasri and Evra sat there with expressions of lament, feeling like the seats on the bench were a bit too hot.
"Beep beep!"
Soon, Maël was substituted by Deschamps, and Malouda stood on the sidelines, ready to come on.
"Don't go to the bench."
After coming off, Deschamps approached Maël and patted him on the back affectionately. "Go to the locker room and take a shower and change your clothes. It was a truly perfect performance, you surprised everyone!"
"Thank you."
Maël said politely and didn't refuse, walking directly into the locker room.
This kind of treatment made the expressions of Nasri and Evra even more unsightly. They seemed to be at considerable risk of being excluded by the new coach.
"Bang!"
In the 89th minute of the match, Witsel of the Belgian team scored with a long shot, and the score was finally fixed at five to three.
When Maël came out of the locker room, the match was already over, and the players from both sides were sitting together stretching and chatting.
He went to where Koscielny was to stretch together, mainly to tease his club teammate Vermaelen over there.
"Sh*t."
Vermaelen watched him approach and immediately stood up with a resentful look, walking to the side. "I need to stay away from you. I'm getting psychological trauma. My calf muscles start trembling when I see you."
"Is it that serious?" Koscielny asked, puzzled, looking at him in
That night, news about the National Team Match Day was released, and the hottest topic was the gossip related to Ribery, even Maël's hat-trick was ranked behind.
There was no way around it, people were definitely more willing to discuss gossip, and then the game.
"Hat-trick on debut! Maël's 3 goals and 1 assist help France defeat Belgium five to three! The player starts a new journey with 4 goals created alone!" - BBC of England
"Deschamps's Favor! Maël becomes the only player among the forwards to play more than 80 minutes. Ribery left early, possibly related to Maël taking his left inside forward position!" - France Football
"Outshining Ribery? Frontline news, Deschamps intends to support young striker Maël, and replacing the 28-year-old Ribery from the list to complete the generational change may be his goal." - The Guardian
These news items caused great discussion as soon as they were released. When there were no club match days, people's attention was naturally focused here.
"3 goals and 1 assist? Fack, how many goals has Maël scored this season? Is it possible he'll get 30+?"
"Go and see, he already has 15 goals in the league alone, winning the Premier League Golden Boot is really not a luxury!"
"Isn't it unnecessary, Deschamps? Can't Ribery and Maël coexist? Two very good players, it would be great to have both wings flying."
"Wrong decision, Deschamps will pay the price! If there are no veterans on the front line, there will be no fighting power in major competitions. With a group of kids, you won't get anything!"
"Maël's performance in this game is impeccable, but I don't think he can compare with Ribery. If he wants to squeeze Ribery's position, I will hate him!"
"You're not the coach of the French team."
"The main thing is that Ribery himself did too much, okay? He left by taxi, what is this, trying to make someone look bad?"
"Yeah, you definitely know what kind of personality Deschamps has, he will definitely not indulge him."
"Both the player and the coach have problems."
The fans were talking about it, and the heat remained high for several days. The topic of 'Maël' and 'Ribery' has been occupying major headlines.
On October 21, on the day when the French team's training camp ended, Ribery, who had already left the national team privately, released a message - "You must win a few championships first to prove that you can be entrusted with important tasks.
"Too much expectation will overwhelm an immature young man, it has always been the case.
"Some people have no experience, and are given the title of 'Madman' by the media and really think they are different, making choices against the rules."
Even though he deleted the post within 10 minutes of posting it, it still quickly caused an uproar in European football.
In the end, Deschamps had to urgently convene a press conference, bringing Maël with him to respond to Ribery's remarks.
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