The morning sun cast long shadows across La Turbie's pristine pitches. Players moved through their warm-ups with practiced efficiency—stretching hamstrings, rolling shoulders, and bouncing on their toes. This routine had been ingrained in them since childhood.
Demien stood on the touchline, clipboard in hand, observing Monaco's standard 4-4-2 formation take shape. Two banks of four are simple, functional, and the bread and butter of French football.
Giuly directed the session with the authority of a captain. His voice resonated across the training ground as he positioned teammates for passing drills. Everything moved with clockwork precision.
Yet, gaps appeared where there shouldn't have been any.
When Rothen pressed forward on the left, the midfield stretched like elastic. Space opened between the lines—pockets of green grass where opposing players could receive unchallenged ball—fundamental flaws that more skilled teams would exploit mercilessly.
"Bernardi."
The defensive midfielder turned his head immediately.
"Drop five meters when we lose possession." It's a simple adjustment. Bernardi nodded and shifted deeper, compressing the midfield slightly and closing the dangerous gap that had just yawned open.
Michel glanced up from his notepad. The assistant coach's pen hovered over his observations, recording a routine correction that somehow felt different.
The passing drill resumed. Players exchanged the ball between cones with technical competence but little imagination. Direct passes. Safe choices. The kind of football that won matches but rarely sparked moments of magic.
Demien watched Morientes and Pršo work in the penalty area. Two strikers occupy central positions and wait for service from the wings. Their predictable movement was something any organized defense could handle.
But the real issue lay in the broad areas.
Players instinctively bunched toward the center during possession, drawn to the ball rather than anticipating where it needed to go. The pitch compressed into a narrow channel while acres of space lay empty on the flanks.
"Spread wider," he called. "Give yourselves time to think."
The instruction was carried across the training ground with Yves Laurent's natural authority. Players adjusted without hesitation, stretching the formation like an accordion. Suddenly, passing angles appeared, and options multiplied.
Michel's pen moved faster across his notepad.
Rothen had drifted centrally again during the attacking sequence. The left midfielder's movement collapsed the formation's width, reducing Monaco's attacking threat to predictable central penetration.
"Jérôme." Rothen looked over immediately. "Stay wide until the ball comes. Then cut inside."
The veteran nodded with professional acceptance. There were no complaints, no questions. It was just a tactical adjustment from a player who understood the game well enough to recognize improvement when he heard it.
The change was immediate. Rothen held his position on the touchline, drawing the opposition's attention and creating space for others to exploit. His inward run had purpose and timing when the ball finally reached him.
During the water break, Michel approached, a tactical notebook tucked under his arm.
"These adjustments," he said quietly, "feel different from usual."
Demien felt sweat cooling on his neck despite the morning warmth. "Different, how?"
"Sharper. More... specific." Michel's eyes reflected professional curiosity rather than concern. "Especially the spacing corrections."
Before Demien could respond, play resumed. Now, he watched with a newfound understanding flooding his consciousness—years of Yves Laurent's experience layered over Demien Walter's tactical instincts.
The pressing trigger needed work.
Monaco's midfielders closed down opponents on their first touch—aggressive but poorly timed. Smart players would play the ball immediately, using the press against themselves to create space behind the advancing defenders.
"Press on the second touch, not the first," he called during the following sequence.
Players adjusted their approach, allowing opponents to receive the ball but closing the angles before they could turn or advance. The defensive coordination improved immediately, forcing opponents into uncomfortable positions without sacrificing Monaco's shape.
Training flowed with growing intensity. Minor adjustments accumulated into systematic improvement. Players responded to tactical refinements with the professional adaptation that separated elite athletes from the rest.
Rodriguez made a perfectly timed interception during one sequence. The center-back held his position while teammates pressed, creating a trap the attacking player entered directly.
Évra's overlapping run created confusion in the opposition's defensive line. The left-back's timing was precise—arriving in the final third just as Rothen cut inside, doubling the attacking threat in the same space.
These weren't revolutionary changes—just refinements to an already functional system—the kind of tactical evolution that happened gradually over weeks and months of coaching.
But they were happening in minutes.
Michel's notepad was filled with observations. The assistant coach's keen eye caught every adjustment, improvement, and subtle shift in Monaco's tactical approach.
Players began anticipating the corrections. Bernardi dropped deeper without instruction when possession changed hands. Rothen held his width until the optimal moment to cut inside. The team's tactical understanding was evolving in real-time.
The session ended with a visible improvement in Monaco's overall shape. Players walked off the pitch with the satisfied air of professionals who had sharpened their tools, and staff gathered equipment quietly.
Michel approached as the last training cones disappeared into storage bags.
"Coach." His voice carried respect mixed with genuine curiosity. "Where are these ideas coming from?"
The question hung between them like morning mist—professional interest from a man who had worked alongside Yves Laurent for months, who understood the coach's tactical thinking better than anyone.
"They're... sharper than before."