For all the people of Marseille, it was a painful day. Especially for Deschamps.
After the match, he sat on the sidelines, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring blankly at the field for a long time without leaving.
"Didier." A voice called from the side, and Wenger walked over.
"Ah."
Deschamps seemed a little neurasthenic, startled, then propped himself up and reached out to Wenger, "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't even go over to shake hands."
Wenger waved his hand to indicate it was okay, looked at Deschamps' appearance, and thought for a moment, "You have already been very successful in Marseille, it's time to end this journey.
"Even if it may be a less pleasant ending, it's good to end the stagnation early, change the environment and launch an attack on new goals.
"We are all waiting to see you go further, you are the best candidate."
Deschamps didn't speak, he knew what Wenger was referring to. He nodded slightly and patted Wenger on the shoulder, indicating that he didn't want to talk about this topic at this time and wanted to be alone for a while.
During the game just now, he was mostly dazed and angry, and there were many things he hadn't figured out yet.
Now, it's time to think alone.
Wenger tactfully left, leaving Deschamps alone on the field.
"OhYeah!"
When Deschamps looked to the left side of the field, the faint cheers seemed to sound again, and time seemed to rewind, and he saw Maël galloping on the wing again.
He saw him perfectly control the ball and pass two people, come to the center and score with a curved shot, and saw his passionate celebration.
He also saw him continuously blast through their left back with his strong impact, and continuously send assists to Walcott and Van Persie.
Finally, he closed his eyes, as if entering Maël's body and rushing past Djimi Traoré in a fiery atmosphere, completing an unstoppable and wonderful One-on-One goal.
Suddenly, Deschamps opened his eyes, a certain heartstring trembled violently a few times, he looked to the north, that was the direction of Paris.
"Mr. Deschamps." The assistant coach who received the French Football Association's call before the game came over and smiled, "Will you make a new decision? I must tell you, I didn't make that call to the French Football Association."
"Didn't make it?"
Deschamps glanced at him in surprise, and the idea in his heart became stronger, "Why?"
"Because..." The assistant coach's answer was very simple and impeccable, "I really like Maël."
Deschamps looked at him, at this simple but very intelligent coach, and couldn't help but show a few smiles.
He turned around with his hands behind his back and scratched his nose, "Then are you ready to start a new journey with me?"
"Before I get the honor, I can put my marriage on hold." The assistant coach's answer was firm, he must have a strong sense of conviction.
"Okay."
Deschamps turned and walked towards the player tunnel, this time he went straight to the media area.
Sitting here again, although there was no longer a smile on his face, there was a different kind of firmness.
"First of all, I apologize to the fans who support us, we made a mess of the game, not only did we not achieve the expected results, but it was also extremely poor.
"The players are not in good condition, and I have not made effective adjustments, I should take responsibility."
"..."
After sincerely apologizing, he supported the table with his arms and crossed his hands, seriously answering other questions.
"..."
It was another round of questioning and nitpicking from the media reporters, although Deschamps had impatience on his face, he also knew that if he made a mistake, he had to endure these.
He answered them one by one, without missing any question. He had already thought of the public opinion trend tomorrow.
Hmm? Will this failure affect his appointment as the coach of the French National Football Team, will the Football Association no longer trust him?
Deschamps' expression suddenly changed, he was stunned in his seat thinking about this possibility, and didn't even hear a Sky Sports reporter's question.
He must admit that this position is now crucial to him. He has always been unable to take this step. One concern is the current personnel configuration of the French National Football Team, and the other concern is how much power the French Football Association can give him.
As long as he can reduce one concern, he can jump out of his comfort zone without hesitation and wave the baton of the French National Football Team to lead this team to the international arena! After watching Maël's game on the spot, there is no doubt that his concern about the first point is almost gone.
He hadn't really realized just how impactful Maël's performance today was.
Was it loosening his resolve, or was it making him feel that the position of head coach of the French national team had become a highly sought-after prize?
Now that he felt a sense of urgency, he understood it had to be the latter! He had to go for it! He'd lose out if he didn't!
Deschamps raised his head, the changes in his expression reflecting the drastic shift in his mindset. Even the pain of a crushing defeat was lessened as his attention was 'forced' elsewhere.
"What did you just say?" he asked the reporter who had spoken, his tone much different.
"What kind of player is Maël?" The Sky Sports reporter, seeing that Deschamps had come to his senses, repeated the question.
"Ah."
Deschamps sighed softly, preparing to go all out, but he knew he was still the head coach of Marseille and had just suffered a major defeat, so he couldn't be too effusive about the opposing player.
He looked at the reporter and said with feigned seriousness, "The entire European Football World understands that he is a once-in-a-generation talent, a gift from heaven to the French national team.
"He will be the answer to France's attacking line for the next 10 years, and his talent can help the team a great deal."
He chose to approach it from the angle of the French national team, in order to offset the sadness of the Marseille fans.
"I remember saying this a long time ago, but no one paid attention... Of course, that's how the media is, selectively reporting based on different stances."
The various media reporters below fell into thought, some pinching their chins and frowning as they tried to recall, but in the end, they looked up at Deschamps with blank expressions.
Had he said that?
The Marseille assistant coach sitting next to him feigned composure, his cheeks slowly puffing out, making eight small movements in one second.
"Looks like my trouser leg is torn."
Deschamps turned his head with an expression of 'excessive' determination and pointed to his trouser leg.
"Huh?"
The assistant coach subconsciously glanced at his trouser leg, then looked up at Deschamps, quickly lowering his head. "Oh, oh, oops!"
"There are rumors that you will coach the French national team? Will this defeat change your decision?"
The reporters, unable to do anything about Deschamps, had to continue asking, "Or rather, will it change the French Football Association's decision?"
"Haha..."
Deschamps chuckled dryly in a serious manner, shaking his head. "No, the '93 generation is the golden generation of French football, and players like Maël and Pogba have already emerged.
"Talented people should work together... Hmm, this might be considered an arrogant statement again.
"But it's okay, you've always called me the Madman of Marseille, and even Le Graët, the president of the France Football Association, calls me that... By the way, he trusts me very much, which is fortunate.
"Our football philosophies are the same, and our dreams and beliefs are the same. We once vowed to bring the French national team to where it should be."
The reporters didn't speak, but his assistant coach muttered, "Cough, the right leg is torn too, the quality is not good."
...
On the other side, Maël took half a day off, preparing to take this opportunity to go around Aix.
He had been in this world for a long time, and he hadn't been back yet.
He got into his uncle Clermont's car, held Ava in his arms, and went all the way to enjoy the sea view of Provence.
The south of France is a very beautiful place, with various flower seas and ancient towns, ancient churches and medieval buildings, all giving people a sense of tranquility.
Having just experienced a great battle, it was quite pleasant to relax like this.
Maël watched the beautiful scenery for a while, closed his eyes and lay on the seat, enjoying this rare slow-paced life.
Uncle Clermont looked at him through the rearview mirror, and a smile couldn't help but appear on the corner of his mouth.
"Focus on driving." Aunt Betty in the passenger seat patted him, and after patting him, couldn't help but turn her head and stare at Maël for a long time.
The eldest sister and second brother didn't even have the courage to stare at Maël at this time, deliberately turning their heads to the other side, as if they were not familiar with him.
Maël had changed again in the half year they hadn't seen him... Not in appearance.
The current him was not the same person as the young man who played for Sheffield United back then.
They could see overwhelming news on the Internet every day, and even if they didn't deliberately search for it, they found that news related to Maël popped up on the Internet from time to time.
This was not just various game reports. After his influence rose, many people not only paid attention to Maël on the field, but also enjoyed discovering Maël's life and some interesting things off the field.
The media, of course, would satisfy their demands. Many reporters had staked out Maël in various locations, releasing some photos of Maël's life.
These things, in the eyes of Clermont and Betty, were extremely interesting.
Their home still had quite a few printed photos hanging up, and they would glance at them whenever they had free time.
Watching their nephew, who had grown up with them, become the subject of heated discussion with every move he made, their feelings were quite peculiar. Clermont was a glory supporter; he felt that this meant his nephew had completely made a name for himself, which was a good thing.
Betty, on the other hand, was a worrier. She was afraid that these people would disturb Maël's life and make things very tiring for her nephew.
Half an hour later, they arrived in Aix and came to a familiar street near their home.
It was already near dusk, the sky had darkened, streetlights had come on, and there were few people around.
"Wake up."
Maël was awakened by his aunt and uncle, and followed them towards a familiar place in his memory, soon entering a cozy little home.
This was a house of just over a hundred square meters, slightly messy, mainly because there were many things placed around, but it looked like it had been carefully organized.
A sense of memory rushed over him, even the smell was so familiar. Maël walked in, sat down on the sofa, and lay down, feeling a relaxation he hadn't experienced in a long time.
He quickly stood up because he saw the wall opposite him was covered with photos.
From when he was a child, to when he was a little older, to his debut, goals, etc., and finally some of his life photos, which looked like paparazzi shots, some of which he had never even seen.
Do my aunt and uncle also have a habit of collecting photos? Maël was suddenly a little moved. He also saw his growth trajectory from here, and it was even more comprehensive.
He hadn't expected that more than a thousand kilometers away from London, his aunt and uncle had been recording these thoughts of him so intensely.
"There are some more in your room."
Aunt Betty walked over, smoothed out the photos that had bubbles, and smiled, "We will keep hanging them up until the whole room is full."
"Photos are really good things."
Maël touched the photo wall here, and couldn't help but laugh when he saw a few of them, "This one... why am I holding a refrigerator-like box? And this one where I accidentally broke the glass? Was I photographed that day when I slipped? Ah..."
"Haha...!" The family laughed together, the atmosphere was very warm.
In the evening, Maël chatted with his aunt and uncle for a while, and then returned to the house he used to live in and slept for the night.
He wouldn't say the nonsense that sleeping here was more comfortable than sleeping in his mansion, but returning to this 'long-lost' place, a place that had always cared about him, really gave him a different feeling.
He seemed to see the past self, which made him accept this body and all these identities more strongly, gradually tending towards perfection.
The next day, before parting.
Maël was a little reluctant when he hugged his aunt and uncle. He yearned, "I told you about the Hall of Fame plan yesterday. When I have more championships and can arrange a display case, I'll take you over."
"Okay." Clermont didn't know what to say, smiling with a flushed face, "I'm waiting for that day."
"Keep it up."
Betty patted his shoulder, feeling a little emotional when she realized her nephew was leaving, "Don't work too hard."
Maël waved to them, got into a business car arranged by the club, and left Aix.
October 26th, the second-to-last game of the month kicked off, with Arsenal hosting Bolton Wanderers at home.
This was an EFL Cup 1/8 final, and the winner would enter the League Cup's top 8 this season.
Due to the continuous games every 3 days, most of the players felt a little overwhelmed. Wenger chose to field a completely rotated lineup in this game.
Chamakh, Benayoun, and Arshavin partnered as the three forwards, the midfield line was Coquelin, Chamberlain, Frimpong, and Nico Yennaris.
The defense line was Squillaci, Vermaelen who had just recovered from injury, and Mikel, with Fabianski as the goalkeeper.
Maël and a group of core players sat on the bench waiting for orders. He was a little disappointed, afraid that this game would be lost to Bolton Wanderers.
It wasn't that he had obsessive-compulsive disorder, he just fantasized about winning everything this month since he had been winning all along. The main reason was that he had previously expressed his desire to compete for the championship on this front.
Bolton Wanderers was not a weak team, it was a relegation team in the Premier League, with a certain strength.
They should have guessed before the game that Arsenal would field a rotated lineup, and chose to play most of their main players, obviously wanting to go further on this front and hoping for a miracle.
"Bang!"
In the 47th minute of the second half, as expected, the opponent's midfielder Muamba headed in a goal. Maël glanced at Wenger, judging whether he intended to make a substitution, and found that Wenger was standing calmly on the sidelines.
He wasn't angry with Wenger; it was normal for the head coach to have different ideas in some areas, and he and Wenger were already quite compatible.
Wenger's idea should be to compete with all his strength for the Premier League and the FA Cup, try to go as far as possible in the Champions League, and as for the EFL Cup... just play casually, see how far they get.
Judging from the results of past seasons and the depth of the bench, it was actually very bold of Wenger to have such thoughts.
But Maël might be even bolder, or rather, he hadn't yet experienced the torment of a top team's grueling second-half schedule, and his vision was limited.
"Bang, bang, bang."
Not long after the restart, Arshavin suddenly dribbled the ball at high speed from the left, which was originally a seemingly harmless attack from the wing.
But somehow, he suddenly cut into the penalty area from the baseline and came all the way to a dangerous position.
"Oh?" Maël stood up from the bench, earlier than the other coaches.
Then, seeing Arshavin's shot into the near corner of the net, he jumped up before everyone else, "Yeah!"
One to one!
He rushed past Wenger all the way to the edge of the field to celebrate, as if he was the Arsenal coach. Wenger glanced at him with a slightly surprised look, and then raised his hands high to celebrate the goal.
Three minutes later, Nico Yennaris's low shot from outside the penalty area caused the goalkeeper to fumble, and Benayoun scored on the rebound.
"Beautiful!"
Maël restrained himself a little this time, but still had amazement on his face.
Two to one!
They actually took the lead! Yennaris's shot... if he remembered correctly, this was the earliest batch of players that the National Football Team planned to naturalize later on.
He still looked very agile and energetic now. If he insisted on playing in Europe and was disciplined, he actually had hope.
"Their strength is unexpected." Maël said with emotion to Van Persie next to him, who nodded lightly, looking at him with amazement in his eyes.
"Maël." Van Persie finally couldn't help but ask, "Do you also have ideas about the EFL Cup?"
"Don't you?"
Maël asked him back. Van Persie's bonus contract should be similar to his, didn't he want to get a little more? "I do."
Van Persie bit his lower lip and thought for a while, "But thinking about it, the Premier League and FA Cup schedules are already enough for us to handle, and the Champions League also needs to be played well."
"If there's one more, it will inevitably be a bit tiring, right? It's really too difficult."
He smiled and said, "We're not the Barcelona team that won six crowns. Their style of play is not easy to get injured or tired, and the depth of their bench is unusually strong."
"Of course, I didn't think that far."
Maël looked at the field, not knowing how to explain it to Van Persie, and said in another way, "If we enter the quarter-finals, do you think the Professor will go all out for the title?"
"It's hard to say." Van Persie shook his head, and then said, "But if we enter the semi-finals, then everyone will have to fight, no matter who it is."
Maël didn't talk to him anymore, watching the field with a slightly nervous expression, which lasted until the end of the game.
"Beep! Beep! Beep—!"
Hearing the referee's three long whistles, he stood up and waved his fist excitedly, high-fiving each of the rotated players with a smile.
His attitude made many of Arsenal's core players laugh.
Wenger also smiled and said to Philip with emotion, "He's full of ambition and vitality for everything, isn't he?"
"I'm used to it." Philip shrugged, with some appreciation in his eyes. This was the kind of person who was destined to succeed.
After this day, the team still only had 3 days of rest, and they would face Chelsea in the next round of the Premier League.
Fortunately, the main players had rested for 6 days, so they could be considered strong and well-equipped.
Maël was ready, this was another tour of the big 6 teams for him!
He had played Liverpool and Manchester United in his first month in the Premier League, and Tottenham earlier this month.
Counting, only Chelsea and Manchester City were left.
In fact, the Premier League at this time generally didn't have the concept of the big 6, this was Maël's own impression.
Now, the big 4 was still more prevalent, and Tottenham and Manchester City were not included.
Tottenham aside, Manchester City's strength has actually been increasing in recent years, frequently breaking into the top four of the league table.
"This year..."
Maël remembered, wasn't this the year Agüero scored the 93:20 game-winning goal against Queen's Park?
The year Manchester United lost the title due to goal difference, after which they declined, and Sir Alex Ferguson was subsequently 'driven out' by the Manchester United management, marking the end of an era for a legend.
"But Queen's Park didn't make it to the Premier League." He smiled again, recalling the good deeds of the previous season, and murmured, "It seems one classic scene will be missing from the Football World."
He didn't feel regret. Those that were missed, he would fill in.
He hoped this year in the English Football World belonged to Arsenal, belonged to him.
October 27th, after the afternoon training session, Maël received a call from Mendes. The valuation of the Football Record newspaper was out, and he had already sent someone to negotiate online.
The final agreed acquisition price was £12,000 per share, a bargain price.
Although the newspaper's owner, Peter, had stated that he would not accept offers below £1.8 million (valuation), he certainly understood that valuation was one thing, and the actual acquisition was another.
Maël's involvement brought more than just money; it also brought his star effect, his various resources, and more.
That evening, Maël once again arrived at the newspaper office in the suburbs of London, entering the office to finalize the contract with Peter.
"You didn't tell me."
Peter enthusiastically grabbed Maël's hand as soon as he came up, sighing, "You also own shares in Instagram, and are one of the major shareholders of this company.
"If you had told me that at the time, I definitely wouldn't have been so stubborn in setting that flag."
"Haha..." Maël sat opposite him, and the red-haired reporter Emilia quickly walked in with a teacup, pouring him a cup of tea.
After exchanging a few pleasantries with Peter, he got down to business, "Now that you know what I can bring, do you have any development plans for the future?"
"Yes, I do."
Peter took out a form, he had been prepared for this, "We hope to obtain press passes for some important Premier League and Champions League matches, and have the opportunity to interview at some important events. I must admit that sometimes we can't get first-hand resources and news, and we are always lagging behind."
"I'll do my best to make it happen." Maël nodded, it shouldn't be difficult for him to handle these matters. Arsenal valued him highly now, and the French team probably did too.
He hoped to secure not just a portion, but all of them, as these were the basic channel resources for the newspaper to develop.
Having them didn't guarantee great development, but not having them would definitely be a waste.
Peter looked at Maël's straightforward agreement, and his face brightened a bit, "This request... I don't know if it's a bit too much, but we also hope that Instagram can provide some traffic support to help our media accounts quickly gain popularity.
"I must say, I'm also an Instagram user, and I think it will explode in popularity soon, this is our chance."
"Haha..." Maël shook his head with a smile, and said, "How could it be too much? Both companies are mine, and I've already planned to exchange resources.
"Instagram will definitely agree, they owe me quite a bit already, don't worry."
"Good!" Peter clapped his hands and spoke of the last point, "There's also this, I'm looking forward to you opening a column, writing about interesting things at the club when you have time, or uploading some training videos, etc.
"It won't take too much time, and it might have miraculous effects. Those fans who like you will come to see it, and over time, they'll form a habit and pay attention to us as well."
"No problem." Maël nodded in agreement, this was very simple for him.
He could just find a college student nearby who knew how to film during training, and it would cost around £300 a week to solve the problem, without affecting him at all.
Peter then mentioned some details, he was animated, as if he already had a very clear plan for the future, and was full of enthusiasm.
"If I can give you all the help mentioned above, and even exceed it a bit, how do you think the newspaper will develop?"
Before signing the contract, Maël asked him this question very seriously, "Add one more thing, I will most likely be able to get the Football Record into next year's European Cup, allowing you to fully capitalize on this wave of popularity.
"Even, if something happens within the French team... as long as it doesn't affect harmony or hurt others, I will tell you."
Peter's breathing became rapid, the attention of the European Cup was going to surpass the Olympics held in the same period.
If a media outlet could fully capitalize on the heat here, it was unimaginable!
His eyes darted back and forth, and he said in a trembling voice, "Within a year, I am confident that I can turn the current turnover into our profit, and even more."
"Good."
Maël wasn't too surprised, he expected more, but both he and Peter weren't the type to make promises they couldn't keep.
Even if they had more distant goals in mind, they only spoke of a portion of them.
They then completed the signing in the office. Maël officially acquired 78% of the shares of Football Record for £936,000, becoming the actual controller of this media newspaper!
The rest wasn't particularly important, just some routine clauses. Dividends would be distributed quarterly, 80% of the profits each time, with the remaining 20% as a development fund.
"Happy to cooperate."
Maël and Peter shook hands firmly, both hoping it would be a successful partnership. They even posed for a few stiff, official photos together.
Afterward, each employee came in to shake hands, hug, and take a few photos with Maël.
When it was Emilia's turn, she smiled again, showing off her two rows of braces. "The interviewer becomes the boss? You seem even more distant now. Just one question: will you still accept my exclusive interview?"
"Of course."
Maël was still in a good mood and readily agreed, "But it'll have to be later. The schedule is just too tight lately."
"That's good." Emilia looked at him and smiled, "Then let's set another goal? You can't flake out this time; you have to come."
"How many?"
"15 Premier League goals."
"Alright."
Maël smiled slightly and shook her hand. "I really hope I can sit here and be interviewed by you soon."
"Work hard, and don't end up like that Sky Sports interview again, haha."
Seeking monthly tickets, an extra 7k chapter for every 1000 tickets, counted towards the total monthly word count.
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