From Arsenal to the Ball God

Ferguson: ”...”

Phil Jones: ”...”

The two locked eyes until Ferguson angrily roared, breaking the silence, ”Chase! Chase!!”

Phil Jones hurriedly got up and rushed towards Ma’el, but by then Ma’el was already seven or eight steps away and wouldn’t give him another chance.

When Ma’el reached the corner of the penalty area, Smolin had just shifted from his position, standing in front of him to form a defensive stance.

His quick breakthrough had disrupted Manchester United’s defensive formation, leaving only three defenders in the penalty area, while the rest were retreating.

He attracted one player, Van Persie slotted in between the two in the middle, forcing them not to act rashly, while on the other end, Walcott pulled away, creating an open space.

”Boom!”

Ma’el stepped over with his left foot and nudged the ball with his right foot, creating an angle before passing the ball to the open Walcott on the other side.

Just at this time, Ramsey and Arteta aggressively joined in the attack and stormed into the penalty area, making Manchester United’s backline suddenly precarious.

”Boom!”

Walcott then sent a half-high cross, sweeping the ball towards the goal.

Seizing the gap, Ma’el placed himself in the center of the penalty area. While it wasn’t significant to fight for the point, he waited for the ball to drop.

”Pop!”

As he arrived at the top of the arc, he saw De Gea desperately lunging out, his head colliding with Arteta’s foot as he punched the ball out of the box with both fists.

No goal!

An incredible save by De Gea!

”Ah.....!” Arsenal fans let out a sigh of disappointment. This was an excellent opportunity to score, a four-on-three in the box, with Ma’el outside.

Second ball position!

Ma’el caught the ball, not knowing whether to be glad for his early positioning or disappointed the ball didn’t go in. He could already hear the approaching footsteps of the defender behind him.

”Scratch.....!”

Fearing that he would shoot directly, the chasing Cleverley came sliding from his right side, attempting to predict and block the shot.

Ma’el promptly nudged the ball to his left side, hearing another set of footsteps approaching, this time from his right rear, blocking his right foot.

He glanced again at the situation in the penalty area. Evans, once again shifting, had his left foot forward and his right foot behind, pushing the defensive stance towards his left, trying to force him to the baseline.

The whole defensive line felt like a three-out-one situation, giving him the left side to go down to avoid a desperate central breakthrough.

”Eh?”

Ma’el felt insulted. Somehow, in such a fleeting moment, he had this thought.

”Pop.” Nudging the ball to the left, aiming for the far corner of the goal, he folded his left leg and struck the ball through the gap specifically left open by Manchester United players.

Didn’t he already score with his left foot?

And yet they dared to give him the left?

Who told them he could only go down the left? He could still shoot!

”Boom!!”

At the moment of the shot, due to the intense force, his body involuntarily took a small hop to the left.

As he landed, he saw De Gea quickly spring up from the ground, making a desperate save again.

Unfortunately, this ball was a miracle ball, heading straight for the top corner of the goal, with perfect power and angle!

”Clang!” The football hit the post in the top corner of the net’s side, bouncing directly into the small penalty area, but everyone knew the football had already gone in!

Another world-class strike!

Four to three!

Arsenal still has a glimmer of hope!

”Yeah.....!” The once silent Arsenal fans reignited with fervor, clapping wildly, cheering on their team.

”Oh My God.....!” Van Persie clasped his head, shocked, rushing to pick up the ball from the goal.

”His left foot?!”

”Ma’el!”

”He’s given us scoring hope, keep pushing, fellas!!”

All the players sprinted towards Ma’el, impatiently wanting to give him the most enthusiastic embrace.

On the sidelines, Wenger dashed from the coaching bench to the field, clenching his fists and thrusting them repeatedly from his waist, almost biting his lip: ”Fantastic Goal.....!!”

A group of assistant coaches, seemingly on springs, followed him, jumping every couple of steps.

On the other side, at the Manchester United bench, Ferguson crouched on the sideline, using his hands to support himself on the grass. He pursed his lips, both helpless and angry, turning to see the celebration near the Arsenal bench.

This match was full of ups and downs, constantly fluctuating, making his emotions rise and fall.

The previous scene seemed to have happened here before, except Wenger was the one crouching, and they were the celebrating side.

Should he praise the match’s brilliance?

Of course not; he would only be dissatisfied with the players’ performance, amazed at Ma’el’s outstanding display in this match.

The 18-year-old’s ability to change the game... is a level many Premier League forwards never reach in a lifetime.

Monster!

Monster!

An assistant coach helped Ferguson up. As he stood, the hand resting on the assistant’s shoulder trembled uncontrollably, reminiscent of the moment he lost to Barça in last year’s Champions League final.

The team still had a one-goal lead... but given Arsenal’s rising momentum, he couldn’t help but worry they might score again.

Losing to Arsenal at Old Trafford is unacceptable. He knew how much Manchester United fans valued this and that losing would leave them disheartened for a long time.

”Substitute Ferdinand.”

Ferguson made a helpless decision, his trembling right hand waving: ”Take Welbeck off, strengthen the defense.”