The road to godhood starting from Ligue 1

Chapter 327 Echoes from 1905 to 2013: 108 Years
Regardless of what Ancelotti says, Paris Saint-Germain ultimately ended up empty-handed.

With their game ending in a draw.

All eyes in French football will be on the Stade de la César in Corsica.

Next round,
Here comes a historic match – league leaders Bastia host defending champions Montpellier.

For Bastia, this match was simple yet crucial: they only needed to avoid defeat to secure the 2012-13 Ligue 1 title two rounds early and lift their first top-flight league trophy in 108 years!
This stadium, whose motto is blue, is about to usher in its most glorious moment.

The irony of history is that their opponent at this time is none other than last season's champion – Montpellier.

It seemed like fate had arranged it.

A year ago, Montpellier emerged as a dark horse and shattered Paris's championship dreams;

A year later, they had to witness the birth of another dark horse champion as their opponents.

all of these,
With continuous media coverage and amplification, it has been imbued with an almost epic sense of tension and weight.

The turmoil on the French mainland is incredibly complex, and it seems that overnight all the attention on French football has shifted to the small Mediterranean island of Corsica.

Even those on the island who don't watch football are forced to get involved in this grand event, though of course, such people are very few.

On social media,
Whether or not they are Bastia fans, everyone is discussing it.

"It's the next round! I'm already on the ship to Corsica. I've been waiting for this day my whole life! ALLEZ BASTIA! Gaio, please bring us the championship!"

"We've been waiting for this trophy for 108 years, ever since my great-grandfather. I never thought I'd see it in my lifetime. I cried!"

"45 goals, Gaião is a god! Keep scoring in the next round, and take the championship with your own goals!"

"As a Paris fan, I have mixed feelings. We're going to have to watch someone else win the title again. But honestly, Bastia deserved it, Gaião is too good, Ancelotti should be sacked!"

"Watching Bastia play this season has been a real treat. I hope they win tomorrow. Long live the underdog miracle! Gaio should come to the Premier League soon, stop bullying weak teams in Ligue 1."

"Although I'm not happy, I have to admit it. I'm still watching the replay of Gaio's bicycle kick. Their victory shows respect for football, but we'll be back next season!"

"An English fan passing by was shocked by Gaio's performance. If Bastia wins the title, it will be one of the most beautiful stories in football history!"

While the outside world was buzzing with excitement, Bastia FC itself remained remarkably calm.

The players did not make any public appearances or give any interviews.

Only Haji Begitch has given one interview to a reporter, and it was very brief.

"We know the significance of this match; the whole of France is talking about it, about yet another dark horse team defeating the big-money Paris Saint-Germain. But in the locker room, we only talk about Montpellier as our opponent."

They are not only the defending champions, but also respectable warriors. Gilard's team will never surrender easily. It will be a tough battle, but we are ready.

The record and points advantage are the result of the past 35 rounds of matches, but tomorrow's 90 minutes will have to start from scratch.

My players must remain absolutely focused and calm.

The fans' expectations are our motivation, not our pressure. We will fight for everyone who has contributed to Bastia, but most importantly, we will fight for each other.

As for the championship?

After the final whistle blows, if the result is as we wish, we will have time to celebrate.

But right now, my entire focus is on the tactics board and the players' condition.

His words were as calm and measured as lukewarm water, yet they failed to ignite the passion of the fans.

What they crave is the spirited, exhilarating taste of strong liquor, and the solitary legend of wielding a sword and achieving instant fame.

That's why they like Gaio.

The world loves to hear stories of being different, such as those of early fame.

Time passes gradually.

Everyone in Bastia was eagerly awaiting the match day.

In his backyard warehouse, Modoso was directing his companions to inspect the giant TIFO. In his spare time, he looked up at the Bastia sky and smiled.

Inside the Sunset Café, owner Bertrand was wiping an old photograph on the bar—a picture of his father waving a scarf in the stands during the 1978 Europa League final. "Jacques," he murmured, "you never imagined we'd one day win both the Ligue 1 title and the Europa League, did you? We can finally make up for your regrets, but sadly you won't see it. And your drink is finished."

At the youth training base on the other side of the city, after practicing free kicks, young Long Kalia carefully took out a newly bought poster from his backpack after returning to his dormitory. He gently pasted the poster on his locker. The image of Gaio celebrating with his arms outstretched was the most spirited version of himself in the boy's fantasy.

In Bastia's office, Jerónimí stood by the window gazing at the training field, and smiled at Chatham beside him, "I still feel like I'm in a dream." Chatham laughed; he felt the same way.
Before the training session ended, Hagi Begic threw down his tactical board and said only one thing to the players: "Go and win for those who have given everything for us."

The players' faces were filled with unwavering determination.

For everyone, and for their own football dreams.

We must win this game!
Gaio raised his head, his gaze passing over the fence of the training field and looking towards the Mediterranean Sea.

Although he was two kilometers away, he could almost hear the waves crashing against the rocks and beaches of Bastia day after day, pushed by the Mediterranean monsoon. The sound was deep and eternal, like the ancient pulse of this land.

at the same time,

Another voice resonated within him, the speed of his blood rushing could be faintly heard, the crisp sound of his dream gradually solidifying from illusion to reality was clearly discernible, along with the shouts and heartbeats of thousands of Bastia fans.
All these sounds, transcending distance and reality, surged toward him.

They converged, intertwined, and merged, ultimately coalescing into a scorching and surging emotion in his chest.

It wasn't a noisy clamor, but an incredibly clear call.

A century of waiting, the love and tears of countless people, have now settled into a mission that cannot be betrayed.

Take a deep breath, and the salty, astringent taste of the sea breeze seems to fill your nostrils.

He withdrew his gaze, his eyes now as clear and resolute as the summer sky over the Mediterranean.

The weight of a century of history rests on his young shoulders, and he is ready to shoulder it all.

The day before the game.

After the final training session, De Bruyne nudged Gaio with his elbow, his words laced with a hint of sarcasm, "Hey, Mr. 45 goals, how are you planning to mess with Montpellier's defenders tomorrow? How about another bicycle kick?"

Gaio shook his head. "That depends on what kind of ball you can pass."

Rothen interjected, "Kevin, remember to get the ball into the attacking third as quickly as possible, then hand it over to Young to handle. Don't get entangled with them in midfield."

He then turned to Gaio, “Yang, you are their nightmare. You need to scare them from the very first minute.” Gaio nodded, “Of course, their defenses should not have any gaps, otherwise, hehe.”

Rothen patted Gaio on the shoulder and smiled. "Enjoy this kind of game, lads. I've been playing professional football for almost twenty years, and I only get to experience a home victory like this a few times in my life."

His tone shifted to one of emotion, "It's been worth it to be able to participate in such a moment at the end of my career. I have no regrets."

Inspired by the atmosphere, De Bruyne solemnly said, "We will win, for you, and for all of us."

After training.

At the pre-match press conference, Hagi Begic appeared very restrained, as if the match was truly about to determine the champion.

There were no grand pronouncements, only a calm statement: "We will do our best to win this game."

The pre-match press conference on the other side.

Montpellier coach Giral said, "We should congratulate Bastia on having a remarkable season."

Hagi Begic and his team deserve all the praise, especially Gaião, whose performance was phenomenal, setting a new Ligue 1 single-season goal record, which is simply amazing.

But we came to Corsica not to join someone else's celebration party. Last year, against all odds, we proved that belief can work miracles in the world of football. We know what it feels like to challenge and disrupt the established script as the underdog.

Tomorrow, we will be the ones trying to write a different story. We will play with respect for the champions and pride as players and competitors. We will fight for victory with all our might, which is the best way to pay tribute to Bastia.

We know how amazing the atmosphere at Thessaloniki Stadium will be, but that's precisely the challenge we're looking forward to. The beauty of football is that on paper, an advantage doesn't always determine the final result.

We are ready.

at night,

Gaio felt he couldn't sleep; tomorrow he might win his first top-tier league title.

These first times in life always seem so special.

Many people have already called and texted him tonight, and many are waiting for tomorrow night.

Pierre said, "Yan, all of Paris is talking about you. Don't think too much tomorrow. Just run like you used to when you were a kid playing on the gravel pitch. Your mother said she's too scared to come to the game, but I'll be with her. We'll be there."

Zidane said, "Keep a clear head, use the strength of your legs, and tomorrow, write history."

Mbappe spoke at machine-gun speed, "Yang, you absolutely have to score tomorrow! You absolutely have to win the championship! I made a bet with my teammates! You're my idol, you can't let me lose a week's allowance, can you? And could you save me an autographed jersey? It's not one I want, it's one by Etang."

Giroud also called, "Hey, championship contender, I know Montpellier's defense well. They're afraid of speedy strikers. Break them down, and you'll have to treat us to dinner at the next national team training camp after we win the title."

There are many others.

Blanc, Deschamps, Varane
After reading the messages one by one, Gaio silenced his phone and placed it face down on the table.

The sound of the Mediterranean tide could be faintly heard outside the window. He took a deep breath, letting all his blessings and expectations settle down.

Lying in bed.

He thought about how he would celebrate, what kind of goal celebration he would use, and what he would say to the fans after the game. Slowly, he fell into a deep sleep.

the next day.

Bastia became the absolute center of attention for all of France.

Countless eyes were focused on this spot.

On match days, the Cesarí Stadium is no longer just a simple sports building.

It has become the beating blue heart of Corsica.

in the afternoon,

The match was still many hours away, but every street leading to the stadium was already engulfed by surging crowds.

Thousands of fans donned Bastia's blue jerseys, as if embarking on a sacred pilgrimage.

Flags, scarves, and faces painted with team logos formed a flowing sea, and rousing songs rose from all directions, eventually converging into a deafening unified chorus that lingered for a long time.

The scene outside the stadium is even more spectacular.

Members of the die-hard fan group "Ultras Bastia" had already taken the best spots, pounding their drums to create waves of energy.

Modoso was directing everything and seemed extremely excited.

Everything he dreamed of has come true!
Huge plumes of blue smoke rose into the air from time to time, enveloping the entire area in a dreamlike color, and the air was filled with the unique smell of gunpowder smoke mixed with sea breeze.

The competition hasn't started yet, and Bastia hasn't won the championship, but they are already immersed in this atmosphere.

Hard to extricate myself.

Roadside stalls selling scarves and souvenirs drew a steady stream of people.

Bertrand simply moved the barrel to the side of the street and generously offered passersby a drink.

"Today, we're all brothers! Today, we're only fighting for victory!"

He raised his glass and shouted, his face beaming with the same fervor as in his father's photograph.

Each glass of anise liqueur is filled with everyone's football memories.

Everywhere you look, you see families with young children all gathered around the stadium. Grandfathers point to the pitch and tell their grandchildren about its century-long history; fathers carry their children on their shoulders so the kids can also see the sea of ​​blue; couples chat about the times they watched games when they were dating; and children, watching what they perceive as just a slightly lively scene, are completely unaware that this might be a Bastia spectacle they'll never see again.
so various,

The air was thick with a fervent emotion that blended tension, pride, and boundless anticipation.

It leaves a lingering aftertaste.

In the distance, the green figures of Montpellier fans resembled a few small boats, cautiously navigating the blue torrent, occasionally brushing past the home team's fans, exchanging glances that were both confrontational and respectful.

As the start time approached, the crowds finally converged into an unstoppable torrent, slowly passing through security gates and flowing into the temple that was about to make history.

this moment,
The entire city has only one heartbeat, one name—

Bastia.

(End of this chapter)