We must make a strong effort... Wenger knows very well how a perfect unbeaten record this month will boost the team’s morale and spirit.
Beside him, Boas was on his knees again, but this ti it wasn’t a celebratory slide; instead, it was the softening of his legs in disappointnt. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked slightly confused at the pitch.
Such a goal can easily crush a team’s spirit.
Just a mont ago, he confidently remarked that the team’s defense was good since Ma’el hadn’t scored.
But then, Ma’el hit him with sothing major... sothing he was sure to rember for a long ti.
anwhile, in the stadium’s box section, in the owner’s box.
Abramovich’s face was flushed from drinking, holding a cigar between his fingers as he watched the field, covering his eyes.
ndes was reclining beside him, shaking his head in amazent and laughing quietly, aware that this was not the mont to celebrate too loudly.
Suddenly, he rembered when he first signed Ma’el, back then Ma’el didn’t have such explosive physical prowess and comprehensive abilities.
Although his scoring efficiency in the Championship League was high... it was very basic.
How long has it been, and he’s already grown into this level of player!
What a correct signing it was, perhaps one that changed the course of his career!
"Snap!"
After the initial wave of disappointnt passed, Ah Bu threw the cigar on the table, clapping his hands in discomfort, sotis resembling a child when he’s upset.
In just over ten minutes, from two-one to two-three, who can tolerate that?
Ah Bu looked at ndes, frowning, and sighed, "I’m sure I saw peak Drogba in that position."
"No, no, no."
ndes waved his hand and smiled, "They each have their strengths; it’s just that their impact and physical confrontation abilities are similar. Ma’el is a different type of player."
He had held back from saying that maybe Ma’el could beco a player of a different caliber, not a Drogba, not a Henry.
Even now, no one dares to claim he’s stronger than those two, capable of reaching greater heights.
But ndes had his judgnt, and he held high expectations for his agency’s players... he felt that with Ma’el’s current montum, anything was possible.
If soone insisted on questioning him, he’d retort by asking if there was any player in the history of football with comparable data and performance at this age?
Let’s not discuss injuries!
And let’s not talk about major changes!
Just look at his performance!
ndes knew everything about Ma’el. He knew how this player demanded of himself daily and how much effort he put into avoiding these unexpected events.
He was likely to keep moving forward!
Abramovich lay limply on the sofa, staring at the match with an expression of sheer hopelessness.
ndes also remained silent, both of them watching the pitch quietly as ti ticked by.
"Bang!"
In the 81st minute of the match, Ma’el retreated to receive the ball and tapped it to Alexander Song, then made a beeline for the penalty area.
Alexander Song didn’t pass the ball imdiately... From the box’s vantage point, his handling seed slightly delayed, almost as if he was purposely holding back, waiting for sothing.
"Bang!"
Finally, just as Ma’el entered the penalty area, his pace quickened, sending a long pass towards the right-hand side of the penalty box.
He was waiting for Ma’el!
This kid wanted to get another assist!
The ball whistled into the penalty area, and Ma’el now stood slightly to the right of the center, a position chosen while he ran in.
But, unfortunately, the pass was a bit too far and ended up behind Ma’el’s body orientation.
It seed that Terry, who was about to catch up to him, would inevitably clear the ball away.
At that mont, Ma’el suddenly twisted his body to turn around during his run, an action that often causes players to lose their balance.
But not Ma’el; his balance was not only steady, but he also lifted his right leg up to about head level while turning around, hooking the oncoming ball fiercely!
Like a Taekwondo spinning kick, he elegantly hooked the ball in while running!
No one expected him to finish the shot this way, not even the goalkeeper Cech, and before anyone could react, the ball slamd into the net.
Another goal!
An acrobatic goal!
Four to two!
"Oh...!" ndes jumped up, holding his head. His expression shifted from shock to delight, then from delight to ecstasy.
This ti he couldn’t help himself!
An incredibly brilliant goal!
Ah Bu closed his eyes tightly, his right fist pounding the wooden table, "Bam!"
His female assistant quietly left the room, aware that any delay might make her a target for Ah Bu’s frustrations.
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