For Advance/Early Chapters:
patreon/Shadownarch_
The tunnel at the stalla at halfti had the particular quality of a building that knows it is losing. The Valencia players walked through it without speaking, Parejo at the front, the rest following in the way a team follows when there is no argunt left to have with the scoreline.
Djukic waited in the technical area as his players went past. He didn't say anything to them there. He saved it for the dressing room.
The Barcelona players moved through at a jog, Neymar and ssi in conversation, Iniesta loosening his ankle. Lorenzo walked with Mascherano, both quiet, the professional silence of n who know the second half has its own requirents.
In the Valencia dressing room, Djukic was direct.
"They have quality. That is a fact. What is also a fact is that we are two goals down and we have forty-five minutes. We change the shape, five across the back, Banega and Mustafi on, we make ourselves harder to break down. We take our monts when they co. If we get one back, it changes the dynamic." He looked around the room. "Play like professionals for forty-five minutes. That is all."
Across the corridor, Martino was equally brief.
"Sa principles. Don't overreach for a fourth. Maintain the shape and let the ga co. Lorenzo, Sandro on for you at sixty-five if the legs need it." He looked at the room. "Professional second half."
Sergi Roberto filled his water bottle. Pautasso moved through the group with his tablet, checking numbers. The atmosphere was calm, the specific calm of a dressing room that is two goals ahead on the road and has nothing to prove.
Pautasso stopped beside Lorenzo. "Two shots, two goals in the first half. 100% conversion. You're one away from consecutive hat-tricks."
Lorenzo didn't respond imdiately. He turned the thought over. Consecutive hat-tricks, four matches in, already.
"Tell Leo to keep the lanes open," he said.
The second half began under a sky that had darkened slightly, the stalla's floodlights taking full hold. Djukic's changes were imdiate in their effect - Valencia's 5-4-1 made the central channels narrow and difficult, Banega operating as a midfield screen in front of the back five, Mustafi adding physical presence to the defensive line.
For twenty minutes, it held. Barcelona circulated the ball without finding the incision they needed, Parejo and Rou tracking Lorenzo tightly, Banega intercepting several of Iniesta's vertical attempts before they could develop. The stalla, sensing the discipline, began to make noise again.
Santiago noted it from the booth. "Valencia have reorganised. Djukic has put bodies behind the ball and the second half is a different contest from the first. Lorenzo is getting much tighter attention now - Parejo practically shadowing him step for step."
"Which is exactly what they need to do," Inés said. "The question is how long they can sustain it at this intensity."
In the 63rd minute, Lorenzo dropped deep into midfield, pulling both Parejo and Rou with him, creating the space he couldn't find from a higher position. He received from Iniesta, held it under pressure, and flicked a clipped pass over the defensive line into the channel.
Neymar ran onto it at full sprint. Mathieu tracked back, his angle narrowing as Neymar approached the box. It was a genuine contest, neither player at fault for what happened next. Mathieu committed to the challenge, his timing slightly off on a ball that moved faster than he anticipated. His trailing leg caught Neymar's plant foot as both n went to ground.
Fweet-!
The referee pointed to the spot without hesitation. Mathieu raised his hands - not in protest but in the imdiate acknowledgent of a professional who knows he has made a mistake and is ready to accept it. Yellow card.
The stalla gave the decision a wall of noise.
ssi picked up the ball and walked toward the spot. Then he paused. He looked at Lorenzo, a brief, deliberate look, sothing calculating in it, a glint of sothing that wasn't entirely serious.
"I want to try sothing," ssi said. "Sothing the Godfather used to do."
Lorenzo looked at him. He knew exactly what ssi ant, the Cruyff-Olsen penalty, Ajax 1982, the short pass that beca a piece of football folklore. He had watched it in his previous life. He had never expected to be the second man in it.
"Guaita has faced my penalties before," ssi continued quietly. "He knows my angles. He'll dive early." He placed the ball on the spot. "So we don't give him an angle."
The Valencia players were still protesting at the edge of the area. The referee waved them back.
Guaita stood on his line, bouncing slightly, eyes fixed on ssi. He had studied ssi's penalty record, the low corner, the power to the right, the occasional stutter-step. He was ready for all of them.
Fweet—!
ssi began his run - short, slightly stuttering. Guaita read the approach and committed, diving hard to his right, his full bodyweight going into the choice.
ssi's foot ca through the ball and nudged it two yards to the left. Not a shot. A pass.
For a fraction of a second the entire stadium was silent, not understanding what had just happened, Guaita already in mid-air and unable to reverse.
Lorenzo arrived from the edge of the D at full stride. The ball was rolling, the goal empty from post to post. He didn't try a finish. He simply guided it in - a tap, almost apologetic in its simplicity, the most clinical possible conclusion to a move that had required everything except the last touch.
SWISH.
4-1.
The stalla gave a sound that was half gasp and half sothing that had no na - fifty-five thousand people watching a penalty they had never seen before and processing it in real ti.
"THE CRUYFF PENALTY!!" Santiago's voice cracked. "A TRIBUTE TO THE GODFATHER! SSI ROLLS IT, LORENZO TAPS IT IN - CONSECUTIVE HAT-TRICKS FOR THE BEAST! THE 1982 AJAX SPECIAL, PRODUCED AT THE STALLA IN 2013!"
Xavi, on the bench, turned to Iniesta with his mouth open. Then he started laughing, the laugh of soone watching sothing they had only ever heard described. "They actually did it."
Inés Valdes let the mont sit before speaking. "Consecutive hat-tricks in La Liga. Nine league goals in four matches. And for the record, that penalty routine has only been executed successfully at the highest level once before, by Johan Cruyff and Jesper Olsen. ssi and Lorenzo have just joined that list."
On the pitch, ssi jumped onto Lorenzo's back, still grinning. Lorenzo stood with his arms wide, the boos of the stalla arriving from directly above in that particular vertical pressure this stadium produced.
He took it without moving.
[Status: Leading (4-1). 65th Minute. La Liga Matchday 4 - stalla.]
[Target: Hold through final twenty-five minutes. Secure the result.]
Plz Drop So Power Stones.
User Comments
0 comments from readers