发布时间:2019-12-07 21:31:24|老奇人727959.a| 来源 :名品导购网


  MANCHESTER, England — That sinking feeling, that sense that it was all happening again to Paris St.-Germain, might have set in a couple of weeks ago, when Neymar limped off a field in Strasbourg, his face crumpled with tears, the fifth metatarsal in his right foot broken.

  Or it might not have come until a little later, until last weekend, until the point when Edinson Cavani, wincing from the pain in his hip, was told he would not be able to return to the field at the Parc des Princes for the second half of a Ligue 1 game against Bordeaux.

  Or maybe it was not the injuries, but the composite effect of them: Maybe it was the slow drift in P.S.G.’s performances these last few weeks — their first domestic defeat of the season, at Lyon; being taken to extra time in a cup game by Villefranche, a third-division team; squeezing past Bordeaux, once Cavani had gone.

  It all pointed in the same direction: that just as the mercury was rising and thoughts were turning once again to the Champions League, the most ambitious club project in Europe, the team that has distorted the transfer market and — allegedly — bent the rules in its relentless pursuit of success in this competition, was splintering and fracturing and crumbling once again.

  Suddenly, it felt as if a meeting in the last 16 with Manchester United was rather more daunting than it had seemed when the draw was made, back in December, back before Neymar’s tears, back before Cavani’s grimace, back before Villefranche.

  That was partly because of P.S.G.’s travails, of course, but partly because United looked reinvigorated. More than that, in fact: United looked like a completely different team, with completely different players, the gray clouds of José Mourinho’s moody, miserable tenure replaced by the unending sunlight of Ole Gunnar Solskjaer.

  Solskjaer had not lost a game as United manager before Tuesday’s visit from P.S.G. He had restored Paul Pogba — a virus, in Mourinho’s estimation — to his position as one of the world’s finest midfielders. Anthony Martial and Marcus Rashford were thriving, too.

  Old Trafford had its smile back, a predator’s grin, ready to become the latest place where P.S.G.’s finest-laid plans fell to pieces, just as they had at the Bernabeu last year, and at the Etihad and the Nou Camp in the years before that.

  Old glory would, once again, trump new money; an elimination from a knockout soccer contest would once again become a morality play about the dangers of consumerism, the perils of knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing.

  And then, just when it was happening again, it did not. P.S.G. produced a performance not just of class but of cunning and courage, and swatted Manchester United aside, 2-0.

  Presnel Kimpembe and Kylian Mbappé — this great international vision, this expression of Qatari soft power, delivered by two boys from Paris’s sprawling banlieues — scored a goal each, and P.S.G. might feel slightly disappointed not to have left with more. Later on, Pogba — against his hometown club — was sent off, meaning United’s standout performer will miss the return leg next month. With his exit, all reasonable hope of a turnaround in Paris departed, too.

  As it turned out, the harbinger of what was to come here was not Neymar’s injury, or Cavani’s, or any of the other feints and misdirections offered by P.S.G. in recent weeks. Instead, it was in November, in the aftermath of the French champion’s victory against Liverpool in the opening stage of this competition.

  It was then, as his players danced on the field, celebrating a victory in a group-stage game — one high on tension and fraught with traps, admittedly, but still a group-stage game — that Thomas Tuchel, P.S.G.’s German coach, saw something.

  His team had not just beaten Liverpool for talent, not relied on Neymar’s virtuosity or Mbappé’s breathtaking speed; it had beaten them for effort, too. It had dug in and ground it out. It had proved, against a dogged, determined opponent, that it could fight, too. “Now, we feel something,” Tuchel said.

  Those were the characteristics P.S.G. fell back upon Tuesday night in Manchester: Thiago Silva, among the club’s first wave of superstar signings, all the way back in 2012, towering in defense; Marquinhos, deployed to stifle and to shadow Pogba, dominant in midfield; the bustle of Marco Verratti, the hustle of Ángel Di María.

  Those are the traits that teams need to overcome these challenges, to shine on these stages, to thrive in this competition, just as much as they need star power and sublime skill. Those are the traits that, in previous years, P.S.G. has not been able to call on. It cowered against Real Madrid last season, as if waiting meekly for its fate. It melted away against Barcelona the year before that, unable or unwilling to resist as Neymar and Lionel Messi ran riot.

  It would be dangerous to suggest that this victory provided a blueprint for P.S.G.’s future, to use this exception to prove some wayward rule. This is not proof that P.S.G. is better without the world’s most expensive player, or evidence that a project built on and seduced by star power is innately flawed.

  Neymar improves every team he is part of; if Tuchel harbors designs to win the Champions League, he will need the Brazilian back. Much the same goes for Cavani, as diligent and spirited a forward as might be found. Better teams than Manchester United, of which there are several, would pose more questions, and find more answers.

  That Tuchel found a way to win in their absence, though, suggests that something has shifted, that the P.S.G. project has reached another stage, that after years of searching for a way to win even when all seems arrayed against them, they have found what Tuchel, that night in November, called a “new culture.” Now, they feel something. All that remains is to make sure that Neymar, and Cavani, feel it, too.



  老奇人727959.aps:【【再】【补】【一】【章】】 【殿】【中】【褚】【遂】【良】【在】【哭】【诉】【魏】【无】【良】【在】【殿】【门】【前】【有】【多】【么】【的】【混】【账】,【还】【动】【手】【打】【了】【他】,【是】【他】【堵】【在】【宫】【门】【前】【不】【让】【官】【员】【们】【进】【来】【的】,【褚】【遂】【良】【哭】【的】【那】【叫】【一】【个】【凄】【惨】,【最】【后】【竟】【然】【说】【这】【个】【官】【他】【不】【做】【了】。 【魏】【玖】【坐】【在】【轮】【椅】【上】【扣】【着】【鼻】【子】,【撇】【嘴】【开】【口】。 “【陛】【下】,【洛】【阳】【刺】【史】【能】【力】【不】【错】,【且】【对】【百】【姓】,【对】【国】【家】【大】【事】【负】【责】,【臣】【提】【议】【让】【其】【补】【充】【褚】【遂】


  emmm..【我】【还】【是】【直】【接】【说】【主】【题】【吧】,【这】【本】【书】【不】【更】【了】。 【真】【的】【对】【不】【起】【大】【家】,【作】【者】【表】【示】【很】【愧】【疚】,【尤】【其】【是】【断】【更】【很】【久】,【还】【有】【人】【打】【赏】,【真】【的】【非】【常】【抱】【歉】。 【原】【因】【是】【这】【本】【书】【被】【封】【了】【几】【十】【章】,【再】【写】【下】【去】【实】【在】【入】【不】【敷】【出】,【作】【者】【也】【要】【面】【临】【很】【多】【现】【实】【问】【题】,【不】【能】【仅】【凭】【一】【腔】【热】【血】【写】【下】【去】,【再】【次】【向】【大】【家】【道】【歉】。 【不】【过】,【我】【们】【的】【故】【事】【还】【没】【有】

  【守】【门】【将】【领】【眉】【头】【一】【皱】,【然】【后】【冷】【笑】【一】【声】! “【不】【好】【意】【思】,【刚】【才】【我】【看】【错】【了】,【是】【你】…【对】【对】【对】,【就】【是】【你】,【你】【可】【以】【进】【去】。” 【他】【指】【了】【指】【最】【近】【的】【一】【位】【女】【修】【士】,【美】【貌】【还】【不】【错】! “【我】?” 【女】【修】【士】【不】【确】【定】【问】【道】! “【对】,【赶】【紧】【进】【去】,【不】【要】【挡】【着】【后】【面】【进】【来】【的】【人】。”【守】【门】【将】【领】【不】【悦】,【眸】【子】【闪】【动】【着】【寒】【冷】【的】【光】【芒】。 【女】【修】【士】【顿】【时】【惊】【喜】【连】

  【林】【公】【权】【知】【道】【亲】【家】【的】【情】【况】,【两】【个】【女】【儿】,【两】【个】【儿】【子】,【儿】【子】【看】【着】【就】【是】【有】【出】【息】,【不】【像】【他】,【虽】【当】【了】【一】【辈】【子】【大】【队】【长】,【家】【里】【儿】【子】【都】【不】【成】【样】【子】。【小】【儿】【子】【林】【大】【洋】【虽】【比】【别】【人】【精】【明】,【就】【是】【个】【会】【算】【计】【自】【家】【人】【的】【货】【色】。“【我】【给】【你】【二】【叔】【说】【好】【了】【那】【家】【子】【还】【成】,【要】【不】【要】【你】【就】【同】【他】【们】【并】【对】【船】【好】【了】。” 【林】【校】【这】【就】【点】【迟】【疑】【了】,“【阿】【公】,【二】【叔】【他】……”【她】【没】【说】【出】【来】老奇人727959.a【不】【得】【不】【说】【人】【族】【军】【队】【通】【过】【器】【械】【使】【用】【和】【兵】【种】【配】【合】,【实】【力】【是】【远】【远】【胜】【过】“【乌】【合】【之】【众】”【一】【般】【的】【凶】【兽】【的】。 【若】【是】【单】【独】【一】【个】【人】【族】【对】【上】【凶】【兽】,【肯】【定】【是】【凶】【兽】【占】【优】【势】;【可】【若】【是】【成】【建】【制】【的】【人】【族】【军】【队】【遇】【到】【一】【群】【凶】【兽】,【绝】【对】【是】【人】【族】【碾】【压】【凶】【兽】。 【或】【许】,【这】【就】【是】【人】【族】【能】【在】【世】【界】【上】【占】【据】【主】【导】【地】【位】,【而】【凶】【兽】【只】【能】【藏】【在】【山】【里】【的】【原】【因】【吧】。 “【将】【军】【大】【人】,【咱】

  【两】【个】【人】【在】【山】【上】【生】【活】【了】【几】【个】【月】,【初】【酒】【才】【一】【脸】【严】【肃】【的】【看】【着】【灵】【冕】【问】:“【你】【说】【的】【婚】【礼】【呢】?【你】【不】【会】【是】【想】【跳】【过】【那】【个】【步】【骤】,【直】【接】【跟】【我】【过】【日】【子】【吧】?” “【明】【天】【早】【点】【起】,【婚】【礼】【已】【经】【准】【备】【好】,【你】【不】【用】【操】【心】”【灵】【冕】【笑】【着】【说】。 【初】【酒】【一】【脸】【的】【不】【相】【信】。“【你】【天】【天】【跟】【我】【待】【在】【一】【起】,【我】【怎】【么】【没】【看】【见】【你】【去】【准】【备】【什】【么】?” “【这】【是】【秘】【密】,【明】【天】【你】【就】【知】【道】【了】


  “【斯】【南】【哥】【哥】,【我】【错】【了】,【我】【真】【的】【错】【了】,【你】【不】【要】【赶】【我】【走】。” 【严】【歆】【又】【爬】【回】【霍】【斯】【南】【脚】【前】。 【霍】【斯】【南】【朝】【后】【面】【退】【了】【一】【步】。 “【你】【已】【经】【没】【有】【时】【间】【了】,【来】【人】,【把】【她】【给】【我】【扔】【出】【去】!” “【不】,【不】【要】!”【被】【架】【起】【的】【严】【歆】【挣】【扎】【着】。 【脸】【上】【的】【妆】【容】【都】【已】【经】【化】【了】,【别】【提】【多】【难】【看】。 【一】【边】【哭】【着】【一】【边】【喊】【着】,【被】【扔】【出】【了】【铁】【门】【外】。 【门】【锁】【上】【后】

  【韩】【奕】【清】【是】【被】【噩】【梦】【惊】【醒】【的】。 【梦】【里】,【有】【一】【束】【大】【而】【红】【的】【罂】【粟】,【朝】【着】【风】【张】【扬】【地】【开】【着】。【韩】【奕】【清】【一】【靠】【近】,【那】【束】【罂】【粟】【就】【无】【尽】【缩】【小】,【变】【成】【了】【一】【个】【图】【案】,【印】【在】【了】【一】【个】【人】【身】【上】,【洗】【都】【洗】【不】【掉】。 【韩】【奕】【清】【奋】【力】【追】【赶】【那】【个】【人】,【没】【成】【想】【那】【个】【人】【一】【回】【头】,【就】【把】【她】【吓】【醒】【了】。 【那】【个】【人】【的】【脸】,【是】【白】【梓】【琦】。 【韩】【奕】【清】【抬】【起】【头】,【发】【现】【楚】【承】【慕】【正】【抱】【着】【她】【睡】