The press room felt smaller than usual.
Journalists packed into metal chairs, notebooks balanced on their knees, their voices creating a low buzz of professional expectation. French sports media had gathered for what should have been a routine preseason analysis.
Instead, they smelled blood.
Demien sat behind the long table, Monaco's crest positioned perfectly behind his left shoulder. Microphones clustered like black flowers before him, and camera lenses focused with mechanical precision.
The first question came from L'Équipe's veteran correspondent.
"Coach Laurent, why change the formation that brought Champions League qualification to a 3-5-2 against Lugano?"
Direct. Professional. The kind of inquiry that demanded honest answers.
"Tactical evolution is essential. Football doesn't stand still."
"But three goals conceded in seventy minutes? Against Swiss opposition?"
The room grew quieter. Pens poised over paper, digital recorders capturing every word.
"The formation created numerous attacking opportunities. Minor defensive adjustments will solve the problems."
A younger journalist from Nice-Matin leaned forward. "Coach, respectfully, you switched to 4-4-2 at halftime and immediately improved. Doesn't that suggest the original system was flawed?"
"The principles remained consistent."
But his words lacked conviction. Professional journalists who had covered football for decades could hear the uncertainty beneath his practiced confidence.
The heat increased.
"Are you overcomplicating a simple game?" The question came from the back row—sharp and direct, exposing the coaching philosophy to public scrutiny.
"Modern football demands sophisticated thinking. Teams that rely on outdated methods get left behind."
"Like Monaco did for seventy minutes against Lugano?"
Silence stretched across the press room. Cameras clicked, and fingers typed on laptops. The tactical genius who had delivered European qualification was now defending an experimental failure.
Demien's calm response revealed nothing. "Next question."
But the damage was spreading. French media sensed vulnerability in a coach who had never shown weakness. The first cracks were appearing in Yves Laurent's armor.
The questions continued for twenty minutes, each probing deeper into tactical decisions. Professional doubt seeped into public discourse.
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The locker room afterward felt like a tomb.
Players changed clothes in heavy silence. No jokes, no confidence—just confusion about their successful team's direction.
Equipment bags zipped shut with mechanical precision. Boots clicked against concrete floors, creating an atmosphere that followed disappointing defeats, not preseason experiments.
Evra pulled his training shirt over his head without looking at anyone. The experienced defender had spent decades mastering his role, but two days of tactical chaos had left him questioning everything.
Morientes packed his gear with Spanish precision. The striker's movements showed professional frustration; world-class players didn't appreciate looking amateur against modest opposition.
A divide was forming: veterans versus tactical experimenters. Team chemistry was strained under the pressure of failed systems.
Rothen finished changing and headed for the exit. But instead of leaving, he turned back toward the coaching area, his footsteps echoing with purpose.
"Coach."
The single word carried weight—a professional challenge disguised as a respectful address.
Demien looked up from his tactical notes. "Jérôme."
"That formation is madness." Rothen's voice remained controlled, but intensity leaked through. "We looked like amateurs out there."
Other players stopped moving. Equipment bags paused mid-zip, professional athletes sensing confrontation.
"The system requires patience—"
"Patience?" Rothen's control snapped. "You're destroying what we built for Europe! Three years of work. Three years of earning respect. Gone in seventy minutes of tactical nonsense!"
His voice echoed off the concrete walls as if a senior player were challenging established authority in front of teammates.
Demien's response came without emotion—surgical calm meeting explosive frustration.
"Are you finished?"
The words cut through Rothen's anger like ice, a cold authority reminding everyone who held power in this relationship.
The staredown lasted ten seconds. A veteran player versus a proven coach, professional tension crackled between them.
Rothen's chest heaved with controlled breathing, years of tactical discipline warring against the apparent evidence of systematic failure.
"Question the system again," Demien said quietly, "and you'll watch from the stands."
The threat landed with surgical precision, using Yves Laurent's reputation as a weapon. The coach who had delivered Champions League qualification could end their career with squad selections.
Rothen's jaw tightened, but he stepped back, professional survival instinct overriding personal conviction.
"Understood, Coach."
The words came through gritted teeth—submission without surrender, resentment building beneath the surface.
Players began moving again, conversations resuming in whispers. The confrontation had ended, but its effects would linger.
Michel watched from the coaching area with growing concern. The assistant coach had worked with Yves Laurent for two seasons, and this cold authority felt different—harsher and less collaborative.
Staff members exchanged glances. Their head coach wouldn't bend despite obvious problems; revolutionary thinking was becoming a dangerous obsession.
Rothen headed for the exit, shoulders tight with controlled anger. Other players followed, their nervous energy palpable as the locker room gradually emptied.
But Giuly remained.
The captain moved deliberately—no hurry, no obvious confrontation—just a professional responsibility to address the growing problems.
He approached Demien quietly.
"Coach, " his voice carried the authority of a captain mixed with diplomatic concern. We need to talk."
Demien looked up from the tactical diagrams, the formations staring back like an alien language—revolutionary concepts that had created chaos instead of clarity.
"The players are losing faith."