From Arsenal to the Ball God

North Stand, in the private box.

McCabe sat here with his family, watching the game while eating their dinner and sipping red wine as usual.

”This guy.”

McCabe wiped his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head and pouting, ”Another 300,000 pounds in bonuses, earning it so effortlessly.”

”Haha...” His wife and children burst into laughter; no one would think McCabe truly meant it. Seeing Ma’el’s state improving, his heart should be secretly delighted.

”What about it?”

Little daughter Isabella took a sip of red wine and mischievously said, ”Why don’t you start special training now and experience the life of a player?”

Another burst of laughter sounded until the team played a threatening attack below, and attention focused on the field.

”Mark Yates!”

Isabella saw the ball holder entering the penalty area, finding a shooting angle, she stood up with her arms wide open, ready to celebrate.

As Mark Yates swept the ball into the far corner of the net, a cheer arose from the crowd: ”Oh...!”

”Beautiful!”

”Got it, 64 points!”

The family clinked glasses, filled with excitement, three to zero now, the match basically had no suspense.

”He’s pretty good.”

Isabella seemed drunk, her expression extremely varied as she clinked her glass with everyone, exclaiming, ”Who would have thought, if Bolodanovich hadn’t had muscle discomfort, he might have sat on the bench for a whole season.”

She’s a die-hard club fan, her love for the team far exceeding her brothers’, she knows everything about the team.

”Competing for position with Ma’el, just bad luck,” McCabe sighed, monitoring his daughter’s micro-expressions during drinks, and relaxed a bit upon finding nothing.

”I want to meet him.”

Isabella looked up, embodying the bold enthusiasm of a Western girl, without restraint: ”McCabe, I need you to help me.”

McCabe’s heart rose again, but faced with his beloved daughter, he replied gently: ”Players are busy during the season, let’s forget it my dear, you’re three years older than him.”

”Then I’ll find a way myself.”

Isabella still held her head high like a proud peacock, possessing the inherited old-money elegance, willing to do whatever it takes.

”Alright, Isabella.”

Her mother glanced at McCabe, turned to advise: ”Watch fewer Hollywood movies, those plots don’t exist in reality.”

Isabella slightly rolled her eyes, waved her hand: ”You’re underestimating your daughter, and besides, we’re not talking about the same thing, I don’t know why you have these thoughts.”

McCabe sat on the couch, contemplating, then said: ”I’ll help you figure something out, but it may not succeed.”

Isabella laughed, raised her eyebrows at him, nodded contently, but internally she didn’t believe McCabe would truly help her ask.

Millwall scored from a corner at that moment, reducing the deficit, but the cheers from the fans were not evident, seemingly devoid of hope for victory.

With six or seven minutes left, this goal did make a decisive impact.

”Evans!”

At the 89th minute, the whole family stood up again, Evans broke through the opponent’s defenders to enter the penalty area, forming a one-on-one.

”Passing!”

Isabella parted her lips, called out expectantly; she saw Ma’el energetically running into the penalty area from the other end.

If passed, it would not only be an open goal but likely help Ma’el score the third goal again, the second time completing a hat-trick.

Evans indeed chose a selfless pass across, Millwall’s goalkeeper lunged out instantaneously at his pass attempt, making a final try, but he missed.

Open goal!

”Ahhh...” Isabella raised her hands and skipped slightly; she was clearly incredibly excited.

Ma’el had no problems; using his foot’s instep, he calmly sent the ball into the center of the goal net, scoring his third goal of the match.

Four to one!

”42!”

Isabella shook her head and body, opened the phone camera heading towards McCabe: ”50 is close too, let’s interview old McCabe, how do you feel now?”

McCabe shrank back, reached to block her camera, but missed several times.

......

”Yeah.....!!” Inside the stadium, more than 20,000 Sheffield United fans raised their hands, celebrating triumphantly.

No one dislikes more goals for their team, nor does anyone not feel thrilled for the star player’s achievements; fans still eagerly await these moments.

”Haha!”

”Ma’el!”

”Evans is so generous, one day, when will I get such a ball too?”

Sheffield United players ran towards Ma’el, some also went up and put arms around Evans’ shoulder, celebrating together.

”Oh....!”

Ma’el clutched his fists and yelled, charged towards the camera, right hand counting thumbs, index fingers, middle fingers, left hand counting thumbs and index fingers.

His hands faced away from the camera, seemingly two different-caliber handguns, actually pointedly symbolic.

Hat-trick, second time!

A feverish single-match achievement every shooter dreams of, and he finished it twice in his first season!

Turning back, he found Evans, rushed over to tightly embrace him: ”How should I thank you?”

Initially, he thought there was no chance, but Evans’ selfless setup gave him an easy goal toward the match’s end.

”Pass to me more.”

Evans was also happy for his teammate’s accomplishment, patting Ma’el on the shoulder: ”Don’t only focus on Bolodanovich, cross it in, I can score too.