The instant the ball crossed the line—Julien clenched his fist, then spun and sprinted for the corner flag.
A knee slide.
He rode the momentum back up, then threw his arms wide toward the stands, as if trying to gather every roar, every ounce of glory, every scream in the whole stadium into his embrace.
He tilted his head back slightly, eyes sweeping across the sea of arms waving in the stands with a satisfied smile on his face. He loved the feeling of scoring.
Or rather—he loved the feeling of the stadium shaking for him after he scored.
"JULIENNN"
Behind him, Pogba came charging up and threw his arms around Julien from behind, pounding his back in excitement, shouting his name at the top of his lungs.
Kanté broke into a brilliant grin and strode over to slap hands with Julien.
The rest of his teammates swarmed in for hugs too.
They were all stunned. None of them had expected a goal this fast—the scoreboard on the pitch read 10S.
Up in the Arena Fonte Nova stands, the French fans had completely lost their minds.
The cheering, the screaming—it was deafening.
Countless fans held Julien's number 10 jersey high overhead, waved the tricolour, and some wept in each other's arms; others pounded the railings with everything they had, in the most fervent way imaginable.
All for Julien!
Meanwhile, French broadcast commentator Alphonse had just been running through the starting lineups when Julien scored, right out from under him.
He didn't even have time to finish the introductions.
Instead, he was shouting, half out of his mind, "My God! It's in! Julien strikes Switzerland!"
He seemed like he still hadn't quite caught up with what had happened, KEPT saying "unbelievable" several times over before he finally found his voice again. "10.6 seconds! Officially timed at 10.6 seconds—Julien has scored!
This is the fastest goal in World Cup finals history!
My God—Julien has broken the record!!
The previous record for the fastest goal in World Cup finals history was set at the 2002 Japan–Korea World Cup by Turkish striker Hakan Şükür—eleven seconds, a mark that stood untouched for twelve years. Julien has just shattered it, at 10.6 seconds…"
He paused. Then Alphonse went on, "This goal doesn't just rewrite the record for the fastest World Cup goal—it shows us, once again, that this gifted young man, who has weathered so much, has finally fulfilled every ounce of the talent he was born with.
The French captain's road to football has been anything but smooth.
I'm sure many of you already know Julien's story.
He was once hailed as the game's prodigy—by sixteen, sheer talent alone had earned him a place in Chelsea's first-team squad list.
He never got onto the pitch, but back then, countless people saw him as the future of French football.
And yet, in his youthful recklessness, he threw away a hand that couldn't have been better dealt.
On the night of his seventeenth birthday, he finally did something stupid enough to end it all—he was jailed for snatching a few dozen euros' worth of goods from a perfume shop. That stain very nearly brought his football career to a dead stop.
No one believed a boy from a small town like that could ever stand on a top-level pitch again.
Everyone said he was finished.
But maybe that's just what life hands an enormously gifted talent sometimes—a setback, a lesson.
After he was released on bail, Julien didn't fall apart. Instead, he chose to redeem himself through football.
He started at Bastia, and step by step, through relentless effort, he gradually made good on his talent—winning the full sweep of Ligue 1 honours, then a Premier League treble, using solid achievements to wash away the stain of his past and prove exactly what he was capable of.
And now—standing on the World Cup stage, Julien has written his own legend across two matches: a hat-trick in his opening game that ended France's World Cup opening-match goal drought, and today, breaking the World Cup's fastest-goal record at 10.6 seconds.
He is no longer that reckless, headstrong boy. He has become the captain of the French national team!
He has become the standard-bearer of this team's brotherhood, the rock this side leans on hardest—this small-town boy from Fontenay-sous-bois, on the outskirts of Paris, is becoming the pride of every Frenchman!!"
The thought seemed to move Alphonse even further, and his voice grew only more emotional. "Julien's story is the finest illustration there is of what football's power can mean—falling down, climbing back up, and through persistence and effort, turning what was once a regret into the light he shines today…"
This story about Julien—any fan who followed French football knew it well.
But—this time, it was the World Cup.
In many countries' broadcasts, commentators who'd done their homework brought up this chapter of Julien's life too.
For a great many fans, it was almost impossible to believe.
"My God, this is incredible. He had a past like that? Jailed at seventeen, his football career nearly destroyed—and now he's captaining the French national team, making history at the World Cup? This is straight out of a movie."
"Redeeming himself through football—a player like that deserves everyone's respect. Even though he's not on Brazil's team, I can't help but cheer for him."
"We've all been so fixed on Leo that we overlooked France having a captain with a story like this. From a boy who lost his footing to a legend of the game—De Rocca's turnaround is more moving than most of the inspirational stories out there.
It's hard to imagine going through all that and still managing to keep delivering surprise after surprise at the World Cup. That's what a real strong player looks like. I'm an Argentina fan, but I have to admit—De Rocca is just something else. His story's made me respect the French team more, and I'm looking forward to seeing what he does next."
Fans from Asia were stunned too. "He went to prison and he can still play? Can't imagine that. If it were here, he'd have been said there's nothing left to do with his life."
"I used to think of the French team as nothing but infighting, but Julien's changed that—now I see a team that's actually united, and one of the most moving stories a player's ever had. Well, our country has not ever made for the World Cup, so hey—go France."
While the world outside was boiling over this goal—play on the pitch carried on.
Switzerland, clearly, still hadn't shaken off that lightning-fast concession at 10.6 seconds.
Desperate to level things up, they came out swinging from the very start, abandoning the counter-attacking style they were known for and pushing everyone forward, trying to claw back the deficit through attacking force.
Switzerland's first big push came fast.
But it was rushed, too. Shaqiri got the ball on the right flank and, without taking much time to look, went straight for the cross—too much power behind it, and the ball sailed clean over the box, landing safely in Lloris's hands.
Lloris wasted no time. He fired the ball straight up to midfield.
France broke forward off the turnover—Pogba took the ball and pushed it up the pitch quickly, while Julien made aggressive runs up front, dragging two Swiss defenders with him and opening up space for Giroud.
But Pogba's pass drifted just slightly wide, and Giroud's run through the gap couldn't quite connect with the ball—a missed chance to extend the lead.
Still, that counter had rung an alarm bell for the Swiss.
Not ready to back down, Switzerland pushed forward again. Xhaka tried to command play from midfield, but his mind was clearly racing—he misplaced a pass and Kanté cut it out.
With the ball, Kanté still went looking for Pogba.
Pogba fed it forward, and Julien and Griezmann took turns dropping back to link up play.
The string of failed attacks was rattling Switzerland more and more—passes kept going astray, and gaps kept opening in the back line.
France, meanwhile, held its defensive line rock solid, and kept pushing forward again and again through counters against the Swiss defence.
Switzerland clearly hadn't expected to be down a goal ten seconds into the match.
And so—in the stretch after conceding, they attacked with strong ferocity.
Another Swiss attack—Shaqiri beat Evra on the dribble and tried to cut inside for a shot, but Lloris rushed out in time and smothered the ball securely, then quickly threw it out to launch a counter.
Julien took the ball but didn't try to go it alone. Instead, he cleverly laid it off to Griezmann, surging up the left flank.
Griezmann drove forward and put in a cross; Giroud arrived in the middle for the header but kicked at empty air.
Benaglio got there first and smothered the ball—but perhaps out of nerves, it slipped from his grasp. Julien pressed in to try and pounce on the loose ball, but the Swiss defender reacted in time and cleared it out for a corner.
France won a corner kick.
Benaglio himself hadn't expected to fumble it and hand the opposition a chance like that.
He looked a little shaken.
Von Bergen gave him a pat on the shoulder, telling him to stay calm.
Soon, the corner came in. Giroud rose high, outmuscling Swiss defender Djourou in the air, and got his head to it, but the ball drifted just over the bar.
They hadn't extended the lead, but France's attacking rhythm was only getting smoother.
Little by little, they were pinning Switzerland's attack back inside its own half.
Time slipped by.
The match reached the 24th minute, and the air over Arena Fonte Nova was already filled with France's dominance.
Switzerland's twenty minutes of relentless pushing had drained them.
They couldn't help but slow the pace.
That gave France exactly the opening it needed.
France's front line seemed to weave itself into a net with no gaps in it, pinning the Swiss back line tight against their own box.
Pogba, for his part, was finding room to hold the ball in midfield without much resistance.
Most of Switzerland's defensive attention stayed locked on Julien—his attacking range simply covered too much ground.
And his positioning was too fluid.
That made him miserable to mark.
With things standing this way, Pogba could take his time controlling the ball in the middle—and then, suddenly, he spotted Griezmann's run!
Instinct, sheer natural gift, told him this might be the chance.
Thump!
Pogba executed a straight through ball!
The ball sailed cleanly toward Griezmann at the edge of the box.
The through-ball had a wicked angle with exactly the right weight, and slipped past every defender in its way—Griezmann had also already read Pogba's intent before the pass even came.
He'd started his run early, meeting the ball's path head-on without needing to adjust.
Drawing on an attacking instinct beyond the ordinary, and the understanding he shared with his teammates, he flicked the ball lightly with the sole of his foot, just barely nudging its direction and sent it precisely into the path of running Giroud!
That flick left the Swiss back line with no time to react—they hadn't even registered it yet as they were still stuck marking Griezmann.
Giroud met the ball while running forward hard.
Swiss defender Djourou saw it coming and threw everything into cutting him off, both arms braced against Giroud's body, giving him no quarter, trying to stop his advance.
But Giroud, drawing on his physical strength, held firm against Djourou's pulling, his body was just twisting slightly. Before the ball even hit the ground, his right foot met it and he unleashed everything he had.
Thump!
A ferocious, thunderous strike!
The ball rocketed straight at goal!
Swiss keeper Benaglio's reaction was lightning-fast—the instant Giroud struck, he flung himself hard to the right, fingertips stretched to their absolute limit, and just barely grazed the edge of the ball.
And that touch was just enough to alter its path.
There was a heavy "thud"—the ball slammed hard into the right post, the impact echoed, and rebounded back into the box.
The Swiss defenders instinctively stuck out a leg to clear it, but it was already too late.
Julien was faster than anyone.
He'd seen Benaglio's dive coming and had already estimated the ball might come back off the post—he'd kept sprinting the whole time, never letting up for a second.
The instant the ball rebounded, he was first to the spot, ahead of the Swiss defenders scrambling to cover.
He all but jammed it into the net with his thigh.
Swish!
The ball hit the net!!
2-0!!!
France, two goals up—Julien with a brace!
Julien spun around and charged straight for the stands, pumping his fist in celebration again.
Two goals!
France's chances of finishing top of the group were only growing.
His teammates all came sprinting over, celebrating together.
At that moment—Alphonse was shouting too. "It's in! Julien again! 2-0!
That follow-up strike isn't just Julien's second goal of the match—it's stretched France's lead to two clear goals and completely seized control of this game. We can now say, with confidence, that France is getting closer and closer to topping this group.
If we can hold this lead and take this match, we'll advance to the knockout rounds as Group E winners—and that means we'll avoid facing a formidable enemy in the knockout stage: Argentina.
Under the current qualification format, Group E's winner will face Group F's runner-up in the first knockout round. Based on how Group F is shaping up right now, Nigeria is likely to finish second in that group—and compared to Messi's Argentina, Nigeria's strength is relatively limited.
For us, that would be, without question, the ideal first-round opponent.
Of course—we also have to be clear-eyed about one thing: we'll only avoid Argentina if they finish top of Group F.
Unless Argentina somehow ends up second in their group, we won't cross paths with them in the first knockout round—but everyone knows Argentina has absolutely no desire to meet us this early.
After all, with the form we're in right now, and a core player like Julien on the pitch, we're a team capable of giving anyone trouble—Argentina included. They'll go all out to finish top of Group F, just to avoid running into this red-hot French side.
As for Switzerland, their situation right now is already about as desperate as it gets.
Down 2-0, with only 25 minutes gone—there's still plenty of time left, but there's simply no room left for them to manoeuvre.
They'll have to put every defensive concern aside now and push forward with everything they have, going all in to look for goals. That's the only way they'll have a shot at levelling this match, the only way they'll keep any hope alive of topping the group.
Otherwise, all that's left for them is to accept defeat here, finish second in the group, and go toe-to-toe with Argentina in the knockout rounds instead…"
At that moment—on the sideline at Arena Fonte Nova, veteran manager Hitzfeld's brow was furrowed deep.
A battle was raging inside his head.
Do we give up on this match to save themselves for the knockout rounds?
Or do we fight for this one?
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