From Arsenal to the Ball God

On February 2nd, a new month of matches began, and Sheffield United’s opponent this round was Leicester City.

”Oh.....!”

The match kicked off that afternoon; they were stationed at home, starting play from the center circle amidst the passionate cheers of over thirty thousand fans at Bramall Lane.

Garrispeed stood on the sidelines with his head held high and hands behind his back, looking quite relaxed, occasionally lowering his head to wander around and stomp his feet, seemingly unconcerned about what was happening on the field.

During this period, the team’s excellent performance had given him confidence and a spirited demeanor.

No one could remain indifferent in such circumstances; look at last month, they had four wins in five games, collecting twelve Championship points!

Were those really points?

No!

They were tokens of his promotion and salary raise, his pride in achieving success again in his coaching career after finishing his playing days, his mental pillars, twelve doses of good medicine injected into him!

”Boom!”

In the 31st minute of the match, Andy King, a young midfielder from the Blue Foxes who had scored against them earlier in the season, broke their goal during a corner kick scramble.

”The Sheffield United killer.”

Garrispeed gritted his teeth and sighed, glanced at his watch, but wasn’t too worried, as there was still plenty of time.

As he expected, just 9 minutes later, Ma’el seized an opportunity on the wing to break through, then delivered an accurate cross right in front of Evans, who jumped and used his knee to nudge the ball in!

One to one!

The score was leveled!

”Yeah.....!!”

The roar erupted, not just from the live fans, but also from Garrispeed, who clenched his fists and shouted with bared teeth.

How could he miss this moment of celebration?

At this moment he felt that Bill Shankly’s quote ’Without fans, football is nothing’ was not absolute; he, Garrispeed, also had something to say.

If there were no celebrations and roars after goals, football wouldn’t stir anyone’s emotions or become a spiritual support for many.

Just as he was thinking this, he refocused on the field because he saw Leicester City lose possession immediately after the kickoff, and Ma’el received the ball on the flank, cutting inside towards the center, preparing to shoot.

”Here we go again?!” he saw Ma’el’s shooting posture, the height and quality of the ball after his kick, and instinctively raised his hands, thinking he might get hit by a second wave of surprises.

”Clang!”

Instead, the sound of a hit pulled him back to reality as Ma’el’s dipping shot struck the goalpost.

”Ah.....!” Garrispeed raised his hands to his head and lowered his body in disappointment, almost losing his balance, but managed to stop himself just in time.

That saying needed a half-sentence added on—regretful emotions too!

The first half ended like that, with both teams tied at one entering halftime.

As the second half resumed, Garrispeed’s emotions were more tense than in the first half, fearing the opponent’s goal was just a small part, mostly fearing his team couldn’t secure victory.

This pressure stemmed from their winning streak, the OCD-like expectations from himself and from the outside.

In the 73rd minute of the match, seeing the team hadn’t yet scored, Garrispeed was becoming anxious; he called up Mark Yates, ready to take a gamble.

”Oh.....” Just then, he saw the fans as if they suddenly noticed something, one by one standing up from their seats, eyes full of anticipation.

He turned back and saw an incredibly handsome scene, Ward at the near post soaring, side-volleying elegantly yet stylishly.

The ball unquestioningly smashed into the back of the net, and Ward raced towards Kyle Walker, who had just made the assist from behind; the arrival of this fullback gave him more opportunities to release from the wing into the center.

”Yeah.....!”

Garrispeed jumped from his spot, once again joining the fans in shouting, gesturing to Mark Yates who was removing his substitute vest to sit down for now.

Two to one!

They overtook the score!

And it wasn’t over, just 3 minutes later, Ma’el once again took the ball towards the center, today he had performed this action multiple times, as if obsessed with something.

With the dipping shot?

Garrispeed guessed as much; he also noticed Ma’el’s two inside dipping shots today had good quality, indicating his feeling for the ball was pretty good.

In these circumstances, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to attempt more.

”Boom!!” As Ma’el cut inside, he suddenly took a shot, the ball like an arrow leaving the bowstring, rushing towards the goal, smashing into the net, then spinning along the side net: ”Swish!!”

”Wow....!!” The fans erupted again with deafening cheers, not just approving, but clearly impressed.

Regardless, such a long-range dipping goal from outside the box was a feast for the eyes!

”Look at him, look at him!”

Garrispeed laughed, turning around, pointing behind him towards Ma’el on the pitch, feeling a bit of ’bitter smile’ pride, ”Good thing I retired, otherwise wouldn’t I have to compete alongside him?”

What he didn’t expect was that Ma’el in this match hadn’t spared Leicester’s goalkeeper Charles either.

”Boom!!”

Three minutes before the match ended, he again took an inward strike that shook open the goal Charles was guarding.

”Wow....!! Wow.....!!!” The exclamations rose again, more intense than the last, no one could handle their player scoring two curving shots in a game.

Charles lay on the ground looking at the partly sky-covered field top, shielding his face with his hand, extremely frustrated, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve this.

In the first minute of stoppage time, defender Steven poked in Sheffield United’s fifth goal from a corner kick melee.

”Haha!”

Garrispeed laughed up at the sky, repeatedly clapping his hands in numb delight, this was definitely an unforgettable final 20 minutes full of continuous surprises.

This moment of his was also captured by the on-site camera and used as the cover photo for the match report.

”Garrispeed’s Laugh! Sheffield United clinches a 5-1 victory over Leicester City! Ma’el scores twice, breaking 20 goals in the season, can the next hat-trick be far off?” — The Guardian Match Report

......

The next day, the transfer window officially closed, and Sheffield United spent 16 million pounds this winter window, making it one of the largest investments in the past two years.

If someone is both an Arsenal fan and follows the youth prospects of Ma’el at Sheffield United.

They might find that Arsenal’s spending this winter window hasn’t surpassed the Championship teams, not just Sheffield United alone...

That afternoon, at the Reading Club’s training base, after routine training ended, the players sat on the grass stretching and resting.

”Help me check something.”

Standing next to Reading’s star Sean Long was an assistant coach who, seeing the other playing on his phone, asked anxiously: ”Check if Sheffield’s Ma’el has left the Championship?”

”Alright.”

The assistant coach opened the change column for Sheffield United’s winter window, scanned up and down three or four times, and didn’t see the ’Ma’el—Return from loan—Arsenal’ line.

He squatted down, shook his head, and then comforted him: ”Actually, it doesn’t matter, there are many rounds of the league, keep competitive, don’t give up until the last moment, you still have a chance to get the best.”

Sean Long nodded absent-mindedly, staying silent, showing signs of melancholy.

As a young... let’s leave it to Zaha and Andy King of this age to sigh, especially in front of the 17-year-old Ma’el.

”Hey.”

He sighed and still needed someone to confide in: ”I don’t get it, I really don’t understand, why do some players burst onto the scene, have you seen such a player?”

”No.”

The assistant coach shook his head, squatting down to look at the sky, also lamenting: ”Even Lionel Messi, when moving from the youth team to the first team, went through a period of adaptation and being a substitute.

”This kind of growth speed is unheard of, no matter which genius’s growth experience you look at, you can’t find anything similar.”

He remembered something and added: ”Of course, there’s one exception, the alien Ronaldo, who emerged with high statistics from the start.

”But... he’s an alien.”

Sean Long became more depressed, sighing repeatedly, which didn’t fit his tough guy image, ”Are you saying he’s going to reach Messi or Ronaldo’s level?”

”I didn’t say that.”

The assistant coach shook his head, not daring to make such a grand claim, ”Just saying, he’s unusual. I feel sorry for you, having such a good season but confronting a player like him.”

Sean Long sat down, lowered his head, knees pressing against his shoulders, burying his head in his legs.

......

”That guy didn’t leave!”

At the same time, a similar scene was happening at the Queens Park Rangers base, roughly the time all clubs finish their afternoon training.

Someone stopped Taarabt, regretfully saying: ”What he said before was true, he didn’t leave the team, Wenger didn’t recall him.”

Taarabt actually has some similarities with Ma’el, being a player who emerged in the Championship as a dark horse. At the season’s start, he could only be considered a firm starter, but his stats weren’t significant.

Who knew, as he gradually adapted, he showcased amazing strength, with both goals and assists surpassing 10, playing out a ’Best Player’ performance.

Talent-type player!

This is the evaluation from the outside world, with everyone thinking, he’ll eventually return to his parent club Tottenham and make a mark there.

”If he’s not leaving, he’s not leaving.”

Taarabt didn’t say anything, but his face sank, stubbornly saying: ”Soon I’ll surpass him; he won’t be smug much longer.”

”It’s okay.”

A player beside him patted his shoulder, comforting him in advance: ”Even if he maintains this for the season’s second half, it doesn’t matter, he can’t help Sheffield United win the championship, but you can help Queens Park win it.”

Taarabt snorted disdainfully, seemingly indifferent to it, as a proud yet brash Moroccan man.

But his playing style is quite different; he often uses delicate techniques and fierce breakthroughs to cleanly outplay opponents and score or provide assists.

”Everyone envies his talent.”

The player seemed to be Taarabt’s friend, buttering him up while continuing to comfort: ”But you know, in Queens Park, no one envies him; we all know who the true genius, the real football artist is.

”You’re born in ’89, he’s... ’93, actually not much difference.”

As soon as he mentioned age, he regretted it, trying to act natural to show ’that’s really what I think’, finishing his sentence nonchalantly.

No surprise, this compliment backfired.

Taarabt suddenly exploded in anger, quickly sprinting forward to kick a bottle on the ground, sending it flying through a window of the administrative building.

Inside, a loud noise quickly followed, an old man poked his head out in anger, shouting: ”Who kicked it?!”

Unexpectedly, Taarabt, with a worse temper, not only admitted it with a defiant look but also furiously raised a ’middle finger’ towards there, continuing to stir up trouble.

Seeing Taarabt, the man quietly closed the window and retreated.

......

At the Watford training base, star forward Graham held his phone, nervously clicking into Ma’el’s search bar, then entering the second page.

He refreshed for a long time, still not seeing the ’Return from loan’ news, but there was a new report below.

The rest he didn’t care about, what he cared about was the line—Ma’el scores twice, single-season goal count surpasses 20!

”Oh.....!”

Graham exclaimed in awe, sweat dripping, wanting to slap himself, questioning why he clicked into such a page.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, feeling more and more pressure, his nerves were hardly handling it.

Suddenly, he went mad, charging at a teammate, heavily punching the guy’s arm, ”Oh.....!”

The Watford player violently hit had never been so wide-eyed in his life, feeling the shock of witnessing insanity and experiencing such an unexpected event.

The shock reached an extreme, gradually making him laugh in this supposed moment of anger, even uttering unexpected words: ”Good.... good.... good!”

————

ps: Sorry to disappoint, only 5 updates today, 19k words. Let’s see about catching up tomorrow; kind of urgent business.