Chapter 689 - 10: A Classic Scene! The No-Choice Pressure Battle! The Knockout Stage Begins! Facing Italy!

"Haha." Ma’el chuckled and shook his head, "I just have a lot to say today; I might not be like this later."

Deschamps walked with Ma’el towards the locker room, shaking his phone slightly, "That was just a call from Legrain. He kept asking if I’ve made up my mind, and I told him very seriously that I have.

"Legrain might feel a bit helpless, but he has to support me because he promised I could decide everything about this team."

He patted Ma’el on the arm and suddenly cackled, "Are you ready? The storm is getting bigger, and the pressure war is coming."

"Of course." Ma’el shrugged indifferently and firmly said, "Regardless of the pressure, we have no choice but to win, just keep charging forward."

"Haha..." They both laughed together, accepting everything openly and focusing on the next match.

This is just a small storm. As long as they keep winning on the main front, what do they have to worry about?

...

In the locker room, many players on the France team watched the press conference on their phones and then looked up at Benzema with more complex, indifferent, and even sympathetic expressions.

They quickly lowered their heads, not wanting to make eye contact with Benzema, to avoid him finding out the news through their eyes.

Someone sighed softly, wondering if the team going through such an ordeal in the middle of the Euro schedule would cause some turmoil.

"Benzema."

An assistant coach received a message from Deschamps and came to inform Benzema of the team’s decision in advance to avoid too much awkwardness or any other conflict when he met with Deschamps and Ma’el later.

Benzema froze in his seat after hearing the news. He had just come out of the shower, ready to get dressed and blow-dry his hair, only to hear this devastating news.

Him?

Expelled from the team?

Deschamps, Ma’el, how dare they, how could they make such a decision?

Benzema’s arms, which were already in his sleeves, remained motionless, forgetting to put on his clothes, looking utterly despondent.

Over?

His Euro Cup career, even his career with the French National Team, just ended like this?!

"Why?"

He suddenly stood up, quickly got dressed, and ran out madly, seemingly to demand an explanation from the two.

"Enough, enough!"

Four or five France team players quickly approached, along with a group of assistant coaches, and restrained him to prevent his emotions from escalating further and worsening the situation.

"Do you know what you’re doing? Do you know?!"

Benzema was indignant, but he could faintly feel that his current position was weak and inadequate, "Without me, you can’t break through Italy’s defense! You will waste the chance to qualify as Group Winners!

"I’m not convinced! You’re going too far! Just for a small mistake, you stripped me of my hopes and dreams!"

"Enough!!"

A shout burst forth, and everyone turned to see that it was Nasri who yelled, "Since it’s already like this, leave with some dignity, don’t lower yourself further!

"Everyone is tired today, we need to go home and rest, stop dwelling here, the match is in five days."

Benzema’s chest, heaving violently, gradually calmed down. He seemed to understand, nothing more could be said now.

He suddenly became quiet, returned to his seat under the wary watch of everyone, packed his things, and quickly walked out with the last game jersey.

Many followed him out, but when they saw him glance in the opposite direction of departure and then turn his head again, they relaxed.

"....." The locker room fell into a prolonged silence, everyone was shocked by Deschamps and Ma’el’s decisive actions, unable to speak for a short time.

Nasri and Evra exchanged glances, as if they almost saw their own shadows for a moment again.

Both shrank their necks, becoming quieter..... but couldn’t stop their inner worries, where is this team heading?

"Now, what do we do?" Sagna spoke up; he originally wanted to ask Koscielny, but as he started, he realized the locker room was very quiet, everyone could hear.

"Just do what needs to be done."

Goalkeeper Lori, eyes fixed at one point, replied, "Mr. Deschamps and Ma... the captain, have taken all the pressure, not requiring us to step up and express opinions, we just need to finish the remaining matches well."

"Not just finish." A voice came from outside the door, and shortly after, Ma’el and Deschamps, smiling, walked in.

Their mental state seemed much better than the people in the locker room, not like they had just finished a major task, more like they had just gone to the bathroom, oblivious to the team’s upheaval.

But how could they not know?

In this state, they infused quite a bit of confidence into many, who raised their heads again to look at Ma’el, waiting for him to finish speaking.

"We also must win them all!"

Ma’el knew what to say at that moment, he stepped to the center of the locker room, placing his hand in front, gesturing for everyone to come together.

As Sagna, Koscielny, and others put their hands on his, others followed suit gradually... but their speed obviously slower than usual, lacking enthusiasm.

Ma’el turned to glance at Deschamps, and looking back at everyone, he said seriously, "In the coming days, we may face a lot of criticism and doubt.