Inside the dressing room, head coach Raul addressed the squad.
"You boys did well out there in the first half. For the second forty-five, we stick to the original plan. Do not let these bastards drag us into their rhythm! We play our own football!"
Over in the away dressing room, Leganés' coach Barry was barking out his own instructions.
"Hernández, when you go back out there, don't even worry about tracking back to defend. Just attack the space behind their line. Hunt for chances to beat the offside trap and force as many one-on-ones as physically possible. Honestly, if we can get their hotheaded goalkeeper sent off, even better. Our chances of winning will skyrocket. Their backup keeper is just..."
...
The second half kicked off, with both sides switching ends.
And right from the whistle, the ho side was hit with a hamr blow!
Racing Santander conceded a penalty!
And to make it worse? Their untouchable veteran goalkeeper Mario was sent packing with a straight red card!
Here is exactly how it went down:
As soon as the second half started, Leganés casually passed the ball around their backline, acting like they were just settling in, while secretly keeping a hawk's eye on Hernández up front.
Right on cue, the Santander defenders all pushed up to press.
At that exact second, Hernández noticed Fernández—the very last man—stepping up too high.
The striker instantly reversed his montum, making a filthy, blind-side run the other way.
Midfielder Bass read the play perfectly and whipped a lethal, low through ball forward, slicing Santander's backline wide open like a surgeon's scalpel.
The ball landed flawlessly at Hernández's feet.
He had utterly shattered the offside trap!
Now, Hernández had absolutely nobody but the keeper to beat, and he hit the afterburners.
Mario's heart slamd against his ribs.
After a split second of hesitation, the veteran decided to charge off his line, desperately trying to suffocate Hernández's shooting angle.
Right inside the box, Hernández squared up with the charging keeper, nudged the ball, threw out two lightning-fast stepovers, and cleanly shifted it past Mario with his right boot.
Realizing he was completely cooked, Mario panicked, launched his body forward, and aggressively wiped the striker out.
Tweet!
The referee aggressively pointed to the penalty spot and shoved a yellow card straight in Mario's face.
Second yellow. Red card!
Down on the touchline, Raul completely lost his mind!
In the stands, pure panic washed over the ho fans.
Up in the booth, Jack quickly chid in.
"I explicitly warned everyone in the first half that Mario's early booking was going to be a massive liability, and here we are. During the break, Leganés manager Barry absolutely drew up a targeted plan to exploit Mario's temper..."
Down on the opposing touchline, Barry covered his mouth to hide a smug little laugh—but the broadcast caras caught the bastard perfectly.
Raul violently spun toward the bench. "Michael, get your ass up! You're coming on!"
"Got it!"
Michael was still reeling from the penalty call, but when he saw the red card flash, his heart gave a massive jolt.
This was his very first matchday squad, and he was already getting shoved into the fire!
'Alright, ti to put on a show,' he thought.
Tossing his warm-up bib aside, he scrambled into his gear and sprinted to the touchline.
Mario, looking absolutely miserable and full of regret, trudged off the pitch alongside Koné—the poor attacking player getting sacrificed to make room for the new keeper.
Both n solemnly clapped hands with Michael as he ran on.
The second the substitution board went up, El Sardinero erupted into a chaotic buzz.
Half the stadium had no damn clue what was happening.
"Is that the new kid? He looks like a literal child! Can we seriously trust him?"
"At a mont this massive, Raul is sending him on? Have we completely given up?!"
"Has anyone here actually seen this kid play?! Soone explain this to !"
"Four fucking defenders couldn't mark one man! Bloody hell!"
Back in the comntary booth, Jack rapidly introduced the rookie to the panicked viewers.
"Speaking of this number 77, he is the newly signed backup goalkeeper. According to internal reports, he apparently pulled off five stunning saves and stonewalled a penalty during his trial match. The kid's performance was reportedly so outrageous that Raul fast-tracked him into the squad." Jack paused, choosing his next words carefully.
"However, back in his ho country, the professional evaluation of this player is shockingly low. But having spent two years working in China myself, I can safely say that the football politics over there aren't exactly 'pure,' if you catch my drift. Let's see what the kid is actually made of."
Down on the pitch, Michael took his place on the goal line, a cold sweat already pooling in his gloves.
Of course he was nervous.
More than twenty-two thousand fans were glaring straight at him!
Hernández stood by the spot, carefully studying the black-haired rookie, hunting for any sign of weakness or panic.
Michael, on the other hand, was intensely debating which goal celebration would look the most badass after he blocked this penalty.
The whistle blew.
Hernández stepped up and blasted the shot!
He struck it with pure venom, sending the ball rocketing straight for the top-right corner!
Then, twenty-two thousand jaws hit the floor.
Moving completely on instinct, Michael launched his body across the goalmouth.
And he didn't just parry it.
He caught the ball firmly in both arms!
"The penalty... he actually held onto it!"
"Beautiful! Holy shit!"
"Michael Felix just saved the entire team!"
The touchline broadcast caras instantly went wild, zooming all the way in on Michael.
Standing up, Michael nonchalantly gripped the ball in one hand and casually pointed across the pitch with the other, commanding his backline.
He didn't look like a nervous rookie making his debut, he looked like a cold-blooded veteran who swatted away penalties for breakfast.
While the Santander bench and his teammates lost their minds celebrating, Hernández was left standing near the spot, questioning his entire existence.
'What the actual fuck?' the striker thought.
'There's sothing seriously wrong with this kid! He read a top-corner shot and caught it cleanly?!'
Unless the keeper had guessed a second before the kick, there was no way he should have saved that.
The kid had reflexes like pri Buffon!
Then, Hernández stubbornly shook his head.
'No. It had to be pure luck. Definitely just dumb luck.'
Right then, Oriol sprinted over, buzzing with pure adrenaline.
"Michael, how the hell did you do that?! That was so sick! You've gotta teach man!"
Michael hit him with a deeply mysterious expression.
"That is the power of mysticism, my friend. I'll teach you when the ti is right."
"Holy crap, thank you! Dinner is completely on tonight!"
And just like that, Michael smoothly secured himself a free al.
...
Michael placed the ball for the goal kick.
Bypassing the midfield entirely, he launched a laser-precise long ball straight to forward Miguel, who bullied his marker and easily won the header.
The flick-on dropped right at Moreno's feet, and the midfielder pinged it first-ti, threading a filthy pass behind Leganés defender Valdés.
Morandi had already anticipated the play and hit his stride.
Catching up to the pass, Morandi completely ignored taking a touch and unleashed a brutal first-ti strike at goal.
The shot was lethal, but the Leganés keeper pulled off a desperate save.
The ball spilled out, and Miguel ca crashing into the box for the rebound.
Smack. Goal!
Miguel had bagged a brace!
He tore off toward the corner flag, celebrating like an absolute madman as his teammates piled on top of him.
Way back in his own penalty box, Michael was just as hyped, screaming right along with the deafening sea of fans.
But then, an incredibly stupid and strange scene unfolded.
Captain Seth and Fernández were quickly waved over by Raul for so tactical adjustnts on the touchline, while the rest of the squad aimlessly trailed Morandi all the way back deep into Santander's own half to celebrate.
For a brief mont, there wasn't a single Santander player left standing in the opponent's half.
Seizing the mont, Leganés goalkeeper Kosovo frantically rolled the ball out to the center circle, and the referee imdiately blew the whistle to restart play.
The match was live!
Santander's players hadn't even finished shuffling back into their actual formations.
They were caught with their pants completely down.
The Leganés squad wasn't going to politely wait around for them to get organized.
They attacked instantly, with an enraged Hernández spearheading the counter.
Michael imdiately slled the danger and started screaming his lungs out at his defenders, but it was already way too late.
Three Leganés attackers blitzed straight at a stranded Oriol, flattening the empty space in front of him like a goddamn bulldozer.
The rest of Santander's midfield and defense panicked, desperately busting their asses to track back.
On the touchline, Raul aggressively shoved his captain.
"What! what kind of half-assed celebration was that?! Get back and defend, you idiots!"
Up in the broadcast booth, Jack actually burst out laughing.
"Haha! Santander's post-goal celebration was a tactical disaster! They completely abandoned the attacking half, and Leganés has ruthlessly pounced on the error." Jack's voice spiked.
"Leganés now has three players swarming a single Santander defender in the final third! They're clean through! It's two attackers facing just the goalkeeper!"
"He takes the shot! And—good lord, the ball has been saved by Michael!"
"A point-blank follow-up! Saved again! And the danger is finally cleared!"
"This young keeper's performance is absolutely mind-blowing! Two back-to-back brilliant saves! He has single-handedly bailed this team out of a total nightmare!"
After a full second of stunned, breathless silence, El Sardinero absolutely erupted into thunderous applause.
Michael just stood his ground, casually waving to the stands as if absorbing the worship of his new disciples.
Internally, though? He was sweating bullets!
That sequence had been way too intense.
The two shots had been blasted to complete opposite corners, and he had been forced to burn three separate rewinds before he finally figured out how to parry both of them cleanly.
Oriol sidled up right next to Michael, aggressively basking in the reflected glory as if he had sohow contributed to the miracle.
He struck a ridiculous pose, waved at the screaming ultras, and asked in a trembling, awe-struck voice.
"Michael! That was unbelievable! Do I look like I'm doing your mystic pose right?!"
Michael turned to him and smiled.
"Mate, you look like a complete fucking idiot."
...
Okay i check google, apparently it was a myth, the play cant be restart so quickly if all outfield players leave the pitch or step into their own half to celebrate.
There was a rumour that said a team can quickly restart play if all outfield players leave the pitch and it source was videos that went viral showing players like Kieran Trippier and José Fonte intentionally staying on the pitch in the opponent's half while their teammates celebrated out of bounds.
What happen here is exactly that, All santander player is celebrating and leganes restart the match quickly in case you're confused.
Anyway this is the last chapter for now.. what do you think? should i continue it or not ?
Yes.
No.
Y'all have a day before i continue this on saturday.
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