"Aahh.....!!"
Amid the Arsenal fans’ cheers, Ma’el pointed to Alexander Song, who passed the ball to him, and jogged a couple of steps before stopping by the goal net.
The continuous switching had drained his physical ability, but fortunately, he scored another goal before the end of the match.
The 14th!
Helping the team secure the victory!
He could be sure that these two goals would help the team win this crucial match, and Arsenal would have an undefeated month!
Ma’el imitated the celebration of the Italian star Gilardino, playing the violin gracefully by the goal net like a refined violinist.
It was an acrobatic goal, or perhaps an exceedingly elegant goal.
Even though Alexander Song’s pass wasn’t precise, Ma’el used a scorpion kick to send the ball into the net!
"The benefits of training coordination."
He flashed a satisfied smile. His excellent coordination had brought him so much. He was very thankful that he hadn’t underestimated this important skill but trained it up to level 4 early in his career.
He had thanked his past self countless tis, the one who soaked in the training ground, enduring loneliness and tedium.
He hoped he could continue to persevere, so his future self would thank his present self.
"Amazing.....!!"
Alexander Song excitedly ran over, intending to give Ma’el a big hug, but seeing Ma’el’s elegant pose, he hesitated and wanted to imitate.
Copying Ma’el’s action, he knelt on one knee by the pitch and played an imaginary violin.
Yet, he couldn’t pull off even a hint of elegance; instead, it looked like he was holding a rocket launcher on his shoulder, aiming at a target.
"Haha....."
When Van Persie and others ca over, they burst into laughter at Alexander Song’s imitation, though they couldn’t find the right words to describe the scene.
Upon standing, Alexander Song saw them laughing and blushed, feeling a bit indignant.
He couldn’t understand why every ti he mimicked Ma’el, it turned out oppositely!
Could it be that he wasn’t handso enough?
He touched his face, thinking it shouldn’t be the case; after all, he and Ma’el represented two types of handso: he was the mature type.
"We won!"
"We’ll be at the top until November!"
"Hope we stay there till the end of the season."
"Shut up quickly! Don’t you know? You can’t touch the trophy before the final, no popping champagne mid-season!"
"Haha.....!"
The Arsenal players chatted and laughed together, creating a harmonious scene.
Behind them, the Chelsea players, already fallen into despair, walked numbly towards the center circle.
Terry bore the most responsibility for the conceded goal, the over-thirty Blue Army captain stood with hands on his hips, looking incredibly gloomy.
He was really getting old... the future Premier League stage belonged to these young lads.
He glanced at Ma’el, feeling a bit envious, unsure of how far this young man he had just t could go.
"I didn’t do well."
Ivanovic bowed his head and took the bla. Today he was matched against Ma’el. "I’ve let everyone down."
The mindset from the first half had dissipated, clearly realizing that against such players, even a mont of underestimation could deliver a fatal blow.
"It’s mine."
Terry, as captain, of course, didn’t want him to take the bla and retorted, "Alright, don’t say anymore, there’s still a bit of ti."
...
In the 86th minute of the match, ireles, a substitute for Chelsea, dribbled past three Arsenal players in midfield, subsequently delivering a through ball piercing through Arsenal’s defense.
Mata slipped in from the right flank and with a push shot went through Szczeny’s legs, into the net.
Three to four!
A very sudden goal!
"Yeah.....!" A cheer erupted, with Chelsea fans seeing hope again.
Boas, on the sideline, was previously staring blankly at the goal net, but after seeing the goal, his eyes lit up sharply. He quickly urged the players to resu play, "Quick, quick, quick! There’s still hope!!"
Ma’el had erased all his strategies and energies with two miracle balls, and he was already thinking about how to explain to Ah Bu, not expecting any more twists.
He swiftly turned to the bench, waving, "Lukaku, you have 1 minute to warm up, get your body to the best state for !"
Lukaku froze for a second, then quickly rose and ran to the sideline, doing high leg lifts to warm up.
Watching Ma’el showcase for so long on the pitch, as fellow 93-born, he couldn’t hold back anymore, wanting to step onto the field and showcase his skills too!
A minute later, returning to Boas’ side, it seed he was temporarily ignored, locked in a dispute with the assistant coach.
"That wasn’t the wrong decision, okay?"
Boas appeared sowhat exasperated, constantly waving his hands, shouting, "I don’t think reinforcing defense would’ve had any effect then; Ma’el’s two goals couldn’t be defended just by bolstering defense.
"Unless you have a talk with God and let God take away his talents! Okay?!"
As a prodigious young coach, Boas appreciated talents and considered himself the one who understood players like Ma’el the most.
The assistant coach couldn’t endure his rebuke, "If soone isn’t willing to acknowledge their mistakes, they’ll never beco a top coach.
"When Ma’el didn’t score, you said the team’s defense was fine, but once he scored, you claid enhancing defense wouldn’t have stopped him.
"You always have excuses. Do you think being a head coach is like being a player? Can you afford mistakes?
User Comments
0 comments from readers