Bayern Munich has signed Atletico Madrid defender Lucas Hernandez on a five-12 months deal worth a club document of 80m euros (£68m). The 23-12 months-old, who received the 2018 World Cup with France, will be part of the Bundesliga leaders on 1 July. During his scientific at Bayern, medical doctors found Hernandez had broken a ligament in his proper knee, and he, in the end, had a surgical procedure on Wednesday.

This is a virtually vital day in my footballing career,” Hernandez said. “Bayern Munich is one of the best clubs in Europe and the arena. I’m proud to combat for all possible titles with Bayern.” Hernandez, who can play at center-returned and left-again, has made sixty-seven La Liga appearances at Atletico and won the Europa League and Super Cup.

He has received 15 international caps for France, presenting in all their World Cup games in Russia. “I’m thrilled on the way to sign one of the most pleasant defenders in the international, a World Cup winner, in Lucas Hernandez,” said Bayern-carrying director Hasan Salihamidzic. “Lucas will keep our first-rate way of life of French footballers and improve our crew.”

Grainy footage of a cable automobile might also invoke precious recollections of a family snowboarding trip for the extra culturally delicate or affluent infant, but now not for this soccer fan. No: for me, it conjures nostalgia of adolescence sitting in the uncomfortable leather upholstery of my father’s observe chair, my small hairless fingers sprawled over a keyboard and mouse, the PC model of FIFA ninety-eight: Road to the World Cup loading at a snail’s pace. Cut from the cable cab to the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro, then a flyover shot of the prepared cauldron of the Maracanã: I am six years vintage, it’s Brazil vs.

Argentina, and I’m playing in smooth mode. John Motson, an acquainted voice to FIFA gamers for the following decade, sat beside Andy Gray (prior personal shame) in the remark container, cautiously constructive about this giant warfare among units of players that flow like they’re walking in treacle but waft as though on roller-blades, their identical faces all corresponding to a snarling Rivaldo, constructed in a Minecraft mirror universe via an unhappy god.

The tactical warfare became as rudimentary as you’ll count on for a child who had pretty much mastered my controls: get the ball, keep down the dash, each try-on intention a Maradona-esque slalom run with a bald participant you were hoping turned into Ronaldo, thumping in purpose after the goal. As a boy with milk enamel intact, the truth that Argentina’s midfield willfully collapsed to deal with my forward runs did little to inhibit the following celebrations.