Chapter 737 - 737: Chapter-735 The Relief

"I imagine that at this moment, every French fan's heart feels exactly as mine does. Still immersed in the shock of that goal. My voice may still be trembling but this excitement needs no roar to express itself. Julien has saved France!"

As the players on the pitch celebrated, Alphonse could not help but sigh with admiration.

"That perfect volley from Julien pulled France back from the brink of collapse. Single-handedly, he has kept alive France's hope of a comeback.

I need to calm myself and walk you through this goal properly.

Let's analyse Julien.

And let's analyse where France stands right now.

We all saw it—over the past thirty-five minutes, France's midfield has been utterly dominated by Germany. Their passing lanes cut off; their counterattacks unable to take shape. Aside from Julien, we've barely seen a single player capable of creating a genuine threat.

Deschamps' pre-match plan of defence-and-counter has, on the pitch, gradually reduced itself to the simplest, most helpless tactic of all—get the ball to Julien.

Because up at the attacking front, he's the only one who can carve out even a sliver of a chance against Germany's swarming defence.

Think back through the entire sequence of this goal: Sakho's long ball. He didn't look for the midfield. He didn't look for Griezmann out wide. He went straight to Julien. That wasn't chance—that is, right now, France's only option.

The moment Julien took possession; he was swallowed again by a crowd of German shirts.

Khedira and Hummels double-teamed him. Not a single teammate was there to offer support. Any other player might already have been dispossessed, might have been forced into a rushed, wasted pass.

But not him.

He fought and clawed his way to a precious free kick.

Pogba's cross. Oliver rose for it and missed. Everyone thought the chance had gone to waste and then, once again, it was Julien. Without a flicker of hesitation, he surged forward, and before the ball could touch the ground, he met it with a volley. Redemption, complete.

This is not luck. This is Julien's own ability!"

Having said this, Alphonse's voice filled with emotion. "We have to admit it—right now, Julien is the sole attacking core of this French side.

We might even say he is the very hope of this French team.

Germany's shifting formation is flexible, their passing's fluid and unbroken. Our midfield is being suppressed. Antoine can't find his rhythm. Oliver can't establish himself as an outlet. Only Julien—only Julien can tear open Germany's defence by himself, can conjure a scoring chance with no support from his teammates at all.

For this last half hour, what we have watched is Julien, again and again, swallowed by German bodies and again and again, fighting his way back out.

He hasn't complained about his teammates. He hasn't eased off, hasn't retreated into himself.

However thin the chance, he throws everything he has at it.

And now—the score sits at 1-1. Both sides are back on the same starting line.

But we must stay clear: France's situation has not fundamentally changed. Germany still controls the midfield. Their passing is still fluid. They can still extend their lead.

And France—if they want to keep going, if they want to complete this revenge—must still lean on Julien. Must still keep feeding the ball to Julien.

Because he is, at this moment, the only man in blue who can create something, who can rise to the occasion.

Of course, I would love to see another French player step forward too.

I don't know how the rest of this match will unfold. I don't know how Germany will adjust their tactics, how they'll work even harder to shackle Julien. But I know this: as long as Julien is on the pitch, as long as he can hold this level, France has hope.

This is Julien. This is the core of our French national team. This is the man we should be shouting for, the man we should be proud of—our national hero…"

As Alphonse's analysis continued, on the pitch—Julien's goal celebration gradually wound down, and the match resumed.

At this moment, the Maracanã was wrapped in the fierce afternoon sun, the air was heavy as though it had set solid, and even the wind carried a scorching heat.

Perhaps Julien's equalizer had thrown Germany's rhythm off balance. Perhaps the sweltering weather had drained both sides' stamina faster than expected.

After the restart, the once fast-paced heavyweight duel gradually slowed.

Both teams eased off the intensity of their attack and defence.

The match settled into a relatively calm, choked stalemate.

Even with the pace slowed, Germany still firmly held the initiative.

Kroos and Schweinsteiger continued to control the midfield. France had no answer for it.

But it was clear the players' running had grown more restrained; their passing speed had slackened. Gone was the frenzied pushing forward and heavy attacking of the first thirty-five minutes.

Khedira still guarded the space beside Müller. Klose still dropped deep to link up play.

Minute 40.

Germany raised a moderately threatening attack.

Kroos held the ball in midfield, dawdling, resetting the tempo, before slipping through a through-ball.

Ozil met it centrally and tried to drive into the box, but his stamina was fading, his burst of pace no longer sharp enough—Cabaye cut him off with ease.

Ozil shook his head in frustration. It was visible to see the brutal heat was draining his stamina far faster than he'd expected.

For France, this slower rhythm was, without question, a welcome chance to catch their breath.

They had been pinned down by Germany's passing and pressure the whole half, the relentless high-intensity defending burning through their energy fast—Julien especially, having repeatedly fought his way out of crowded pockets of German players, showed the wear most of all.

Now, they had finally managed to steady themselves, no longer as passive as before.

Using the slower tempo as an opening, they adjusted their shape and occasionally strung together sporadic counters to relieve the pressure on their defence.

Minute 42.

France found a counterattacking chance. Lloris launched a long clearance, and Julien drove forward hard through midfield to receive it.

Two German defenders still hemmed him in, and none of his teammates managed to push forward in support in time.

Julien didn't force a breakthrough—instead he laid the ball off to Griezmann out wide.

Griezmann tried to whip in a cross, but Lahm cleared it away without difficulty.

The counter came to nothing.

Time ticked away, second by second.

The score held steady at 1-1.

In the 44th minute, Germany attacked again. Klose dropped deep to collect, laid it off to Kroos, and Kroos tried a shot from distance but it lacked the pace, and Lloris gathered it comfortably.

Lloris didn't rush to release the ball. Instead, he held it, cradled in his arms, giving his teammates a little more time to catch their breath and reset.

On the touchline, Deschamps gestured urgently to his players, signalling them to hold their shape and see out the remainder of the half.

In the added minute, neither side rasied another threatening attack.

The players mostly shuffled the ball back and forth in midfield, running down the clock. No one wanted to risk a reckless push forward and expose a gap at the back.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

With a sharp blast of the referee's whistle, the first half came to an official close.

1-1. France and Germany, level for now.

Both sides walked off toward the dressing rooms carrying that scoreline.

On the touchline, the two head coaches wore strikingly matching expressions—both grim-faced, brows furrowed, without a trace of ease.

In France's first half, the team had clawed the score level through Julien's individual brilliance alone, yet they had been pinned down by Germany throughout, their midfield collapse was still unresolved. The sweltering heat, too, had sapped their stamina and dented the efficiency of their attack and defence.

He knew well how sharp Löw's tactical adjustments could be. Germany would surely make targeted changes in the second half.

This match was proving far harder than he'd imagined.

A short distance away, Löw's expression was equally grim.

He had believed his side could pull away on the strength of their passing dominance—he hadn't expected Julien's sheer individual effort to shatter his plans, nor had he expected the sweltering heat to make it so difficult to sustain the high-intensity attacking they'd shown early on.

France's defence had remained stubborn, and the threat posed by Julien had never truly been shut down.

Löw understood clearly: a first-half draw meant the second-half battle would only grow fiercer. How to contain Julien, how to break the deadlock—that would be the key to the second half. Winning this match would be anything but easy.

Both head coaches saw it the same way.

Both felt this match was going to be hard to win!

Neither of them had it easy!

In the players' tunnel of the Maracanã, the roar of the stadium carried clearly through the corridor.

The door to France's dressing room shut firmly, sealing out the noise outside and sealing out the sweltering heat as well.

The air conditioning hummed on.

The players took deep breaths, drawing themselves back into shape.

Playing football in weather like this was truly brutal.

Deschamps watched his players and understood, just as well as they did, how difficult this match had been.

But he had no time to comfort them.

He clapped his hands sharply, drawing every eye in the room, and began laying out the tactics for the second half.

"In the first half, we saw Germany's tactical core—passing dominance, dynamic shifts in formation. They've had the midfield rhythm firmly in their grip, and that is the problem we have to solve.

But we also saw hope. Julien single-handedly pulled us back level. He is our attacking core. He is the one key that can break this deadlock.

In the second half, every tactic we run is still going to revolve around Julien. That is our path to victory."

The moment he finished speaking, Deschamps pointed to Julien's position on the tactics board.

"First, the midfield needs adjusting.

Paul, your fouls in the first half gave the other side an opening. In the second half, I need you pushing up a little more—cut back on unnecessary tackles, focus on linking midfield to attack. The instant Julien gets swarmed, you need to be the first man in to support him—either take the ball and spread it wide, or link up with him in a one-two to break Germany's double-team. Don't leave him fighting alone out there anymore."

Pogba nodded.

Deschamps turned next to Cabaye and Matuidi, his gaze was landing on Cabaye first, his tone gained weight. "You hold the centre of the pitch. Your job is intercepting Kroos's distribution, specifically cutting his link to Ozil and Klose. Don't press recklessly. Hold the midfield line, and take the pressure off the back four."

Then, turning to Matuidi, he said, "You cover both left-side defence and attack. Defensively, stay tight on Lahm's forward runs. In attack, the moment Antoine pulls open space, get forward in support—share the load out wide for Julien, so he isn't swarmed by multiple defenders alone."

Both men nodded.

Deschamps was just as precise laying out the defensive assignments. "Keep the back line compact. Raphael, you're on Klose. His dropping runs are a strong threat—don't let his movement pull you out of position, stay tight on him at all times.

Sakho, you're on cover duty. Germany's wide crosses and central through-balls are both sharply targeted—the instant Varane gets drawn out, you need to be first to cover, don't give Müller a single sniff at goal.

Debuchy, Evra—you two, don't push up recklessly on the flanks. Hold the byline, and cut down on sloppy back-passes. Evra's mistake in the first half nearly cost us dearly—that cannot happen again in the second."

Finally, Deschamps brought his focus back to Julien one more time. "Attacking end, we're sticking with defence-and-counter, but sharper this time. Olivier, you keep holding up the line—don't push too high, focus on winning aerial duels and laying the ball off, create space for Julien to receive it.

Antoine, make more diagonal runs on the flank, pull Germany's attention away, open up gaps. The moment Julien gets the ball, cut inside to support him—link up the attack."

"But most important of all is Julien." Deschamps' gaze turned to Julien, his eyes full of trust. "You're free to roam—you don't need to stick to a fixed position. Use your speed, use your dribbling, go hunting for the cracks in Germany's back line. Whether it's a central breakthrough or cutting in from the flank, the second the ball is at your feet, find a way to make something happen.

Remember—every run, every touch of the ball, is the heaviest blow we can land on their defence.

You are our confidence. You are the key to us winning this match.

Don't be afraid to lose the ball!

Your brothers are right there behind you—we'll all have your back!!"

At that, Evra was the first to shout out. "Damn right! I won't let anyone get past me!"

"Yeah!"

The others chimed in as well.

Julien broke into a smile and nodded at all his teammates. "Alright—I will."

Deschamps smiled too with satisfaction.

With the tactical briefing done, he tucked the tactics board under his arm, stepped forward, and swept his eyes across every player in the room.

"Listen—in the first half, we equalized while we were on the back foot. That tells you something: we are not worse than Germany!

They have the edge in possession. We have Julien. We have defence that refuses to break. We have a will that refuses to quit!

You played well this half. But that isn't enough.

In the second half, we need to show even greater resilience. Hold the defence. Seize every counter. Fight for every single defensive duel with everything you've got. Be decisive and ruthless in every attack!"

His voice rose, growing stronger, filling every player in the room with its energy.

"I know Germany is strong. Their passing is hard to break. Their defence is solid. But we are France!

We came here for revenge. We came here for glory. We came here for the hundreds of millions of fans standing behind us!

Julien has already lit the spark of hope for us. Now it's on the rest of us to fight side by side, to protect that spark, to give everything we have for France!"

Finally, Deschamps' tone eased. "One more thing—everyone needs to be ready for penalties.

This match could very well go all the way to a penalty shootout. Starting right now, get your heads right, hold your rhythm—whether attacking or defending, don't let yourselves get rattled!

And watch your stamina. We're playing this like it's headed for penalties!"

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