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Godfather Of Champions
Chapter 215: The Start of the Match Part 2
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Chapter 215: The Start of the Match Part 2

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Cesc Fàbregas felt like he had gone back to that day on the muddy field, being dogged by the relentless opponent who was always silent, but whose presence he could always feel.

What is this bulls**t tactic? One-on-one marking starting from the center circle? I see the gap behind you all… a big, empty gap. As long as I pass through it… as long as it's passed, it will be a penetrating… Dammit!

Fàbregas finally shook off Wood's defense, but he did not dare to dribble another step. Wood's stamina was perhaps the best he had ever seen in his many years of playing. If his pace was slower by half a beat, he might end up tangled up with him again.

Without managing to reconfirm the situation ahead, he lowered his head and shot a direct pass. In all other previous games, the player who received his passes from this position was supposed to be Dennis Bergkamp. He would use his excellent footwork to control the ball, taunt the opposing defenders, and then, as the stunned spectators watched, he would shoot the football into the goal…

Yes, just like that.

Who was going to be the unlucky one to fall under his feet this time?

Just as he passed the ball, Fàbregas felt a gust of wind on his face; Number 13 for the Forest team had swiftly returned to defend his position. Seeing the man rushing back, the Spanish kid smiled. Ah, so you realize that a gap forms if you try to put pressure on me.

He gazed past George Wood and saw a player in the blue Arsenal away jersey with a number 10 on its back receive his pass. He was reassured to see Dennis.

Bergkamp had just received the ball, and a player had already marked him. Not George Wood, who had returned to defend, nor Ribéry, the substitute. This player wore the bright team captain's armband and had a head full of curly hair; it was the Italian, Albertini.

Unlike Wood, Albertini's defensive position calling card was so good that when Bergkamp received the ball, he found that he did not have a forward route for the ball.

He paused for a moment and immediately pulled the ball back to his foot to avoid being robbed by his opponents. If he had been facing Number 13, who only knew how to pounce at the first touch, he could have seized the opportunity to pass easily. But the opponent in front of him made him pay attention again. When he was still playing for Inter Milan, he had played against Albertini, who who had been playing on AC Milan.

This was not an easy player to deal with.

He pulled the ball back, turned around, and pushed his back against Albertini. He looked up and saw that Wood was already charging back, which meant that no one was watching the Spanish player!

Without hesitation, the Dutchman passed the football to Fàbregas at the back, and then turned to shake off Albertini and ran forward. It was a two-versus-one pass!

Wood, who had just run back, found that the football had been passed behind him again. He stared blankly for a moment; it seemed like his brain had short-circuited. The 32-year-old Albertini reacted faster than he did. After seeing that Bergkamp had turned, he turned around as well. In order to make up for the disadvantage in speed, he skillfully thrust himself into the middle of Bergkamp's forward line and stretched his arm out to pull as well.

Fàbregas understood Bergkamp's intentions, so he did not let the football stay at his feet, and immediately crossed the ball with a header, hoping to pass ahead to Bergkamp's foot. But the ball was intercepted halfway, and the player who cut the ball was the veteran, Albertini.

While he turned to run and follow Bergkamp, he did not forget to look back at Fàbregas' movements. When he saw Number 15 move his leg, he knew where he was going to pass to, so he turned decisively again. And when the football came, he jumped and headed the ball to George Wood, who was not too far ahead.

When he landed on the ground, Albertini made a "pass it back" hand signal to Wood, who dutifully passed the ball back to him. The Italian seemed bent on giving Fàbregas a lesson, and passed the ball directly to him without stopping; but the pass was farther, faster, and more accurate!

The football flew high over Arsenal's midfield to the Forest team's right wing, where there seemed to be no one.

"Ashley Young!" Taylor screamed.

The ball that Albertini passed suddenly descended from above to a spot in the distance where Ashley Young could catch up; there was not even a person within ten meters of him, in front or behind!

Just now, when Fàbregas had been planning the attack, Arsenal's left wing, from Pirès to Ashley Cole, had all been under pressure. They did not expect the Forest team to counterattack so quickly, or that the Italian's passing would be so sudden and so accurate.

As long as Ashley Young stopped the ball well, the Forest team's counterattack would be a cinch.

Ashley Young looked up at the ball over his head, stretched his feet to hook the ball, and the football stopped ahead, slowly rolling.

"Beautiful!" David Kerslake could not help but jump to his feet in the technical area.

"There are only two men in Arsenal's penalty area, Cygan and Touré, and the Forest team's counterattack is too precise!" Martin Tayler shouted. He really wanted to rave about Albertini's long pass without stopping the ball, but unfortunately he could not deal with it now. "Ashley Young crossed the ball!"

If Campbell had not been injured before the season and hadn't needed to be out for two months, the French center back, Cygan, would not have had the opportunity to be in the starting lineup. After Arsène Wenger had spent two million pounds to bring him to Highbury, his performance had been disappointing, and as a center back, his judgement of ball placements was terrible.

The partner that Ashley Young was passing to was clearly rotating. Cygan had originally intended to jab under his opponent's foot. But now, he could only hurriedly jump and hope to head the ball out. But the football slipped past his shiny forehead.

A missed header!

At that moment, Cygan's heart went cold.

He knew who was behind him, and it was definitely not his teammate, Touré. It was the Forest team's powerful center forward, Mark Viduka!

"Boom!" The City Ground stands had already erupted in a rush of cheers.

Mark Viduka headed the ball to the goal with all his might.

The only person that Arsenal fans and players could pin their hopes on for now was their goalkeeper, Lehmann, who was less than five meters away from the ball. But that distance was too small, unless it was God's will, or something utterly unexpected happened...

Although Cygan missed the football, his missed header in front had rocked the Australian instead, and Viduka did not have time to adjust the angle of his header. He could only strike the football straight towards the goal. The consequence was that Lehmann was standing right in front of it.

It looked like Arsenal might not concede the ball!

Lehmann's conditioned reflex made him jump backwards and swing his hands up to block the ball. His action was terrible, because he was reaching forward with his hands, not upwards towards the rear.

He successfully blocked the ball at the cost of falling into the goal. But he did not smack the football far enough away; Touré and Viduka collided, and Cygan was still on the ground after he pounced. At that time, who else was in the Arsenal penalty area?

The fans cheered the answer excitedly. "Eastwooooooooood!!"

The Romani Gypsy, who had been lying in ambush behind Mark Viduka, finally stepped up. When he was presented with this golden opportunity, he swept the football with a kick into the Arsenal goal without any reservations. It was as easy as shooting during training!

"YES!It's a GOOOOAL!!"

The City Ground reached fever pitch.

Danh Sách Chương:

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Godfather Of Champions

. This is one of the best noves in the genre of

Fantasy

   

Drama

   

Historical

   

Sports

   

Tragedy

   , The series is composed by the talented hand of author Lin Hai Ting Tao    林海听涛    .
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