From Arsenal to the Ball God

Compared to them, the France team members were more stunned, more complex.

Evra, Nasri, and Ribery, who had cooperatively targeted Ma’el, were now looking in Ma’el’s direction, their expressions full of shock, disdain, and complexity.

”Good ball! Haha... this can even lead to an assist, my God!”

Koscielny had already gotten up from his position in the backfield, fortunately, that kick didn’t leave any wounds. He bore the pain and rushed toward Ma’el to celebrate the goal together.

After he ran to Ma’el, several more people came running, including Paris’s Matuidi, Newcastle’s Yohan Cabaye, and Real Madrid’s Benzema.

They had no grudges with Ma’el, so naturally, they wanted to celebrate the goal with their new teammate.

Ma’el high-fived each of them, and lightly hugged some of them.

The field quickly split into two factions, extremely distinct... but this didn’t mean they had drawn clear boundaries, there were certainly many people wavering.

”Keep it up.”

Ma’el’s mood improved a little, he fist-bumped with Koscielny and ran toward his own half, still unsatisfied.

As he passed Deschamps, he raised his eyebrows in indication; Deschamps quickly returned a smile.

The extra time board at the sideline was raised at that moment, showing 2 minutes of extra time for the first half.

”Beep!”

Ma’el had just returned near the centerline when the main referee blew the whistle to restart the game.

He once again ran into Belgium’s half, searching for another goal opportunity.

If he couldn’t get much help, he’d do it himself!

Just as he ran beside Alderweireld, Ma’el saw Matuidi intercept a forward pass from Belgium, tapping the ball to the attacking midfielder, Nasri.

”Surround him!”

”Here it comes!”

As soon as Nasri received the ball and turned, he was surrounded. Under the encirclement of the giants Van Buyten and Fellaini, he appeared slightly petite.

But his excellent footwork still allowed him to negotiate with them... it’s just that, if it continued like this, it didn’t seem like a solution, he needed to pass the ball.

His peripheral vision caught only a passing route on the left-wing side where Ma’el was, while all others were blocked.

”Bang!”

He had no choice but to take a fast shot, intentionally hitting it off a bit, making the catch very difficult.

Ma’el had anticipated that Nasri wouldn’t be able to pass properly and was already ready to catch the ball.

Stopping such a ball was no difficulty for him. As he stopped the ball, he nudged it towards his front side and ran toward the opposing defender, Alderweireld.

The defender was very nervous, retreating while constantly moving, afraid Ma’el would suddenly collide for a physical confrontation.

”Pa.”

Unexpectedly, Ma’el played it stylishly after getting the ball. He flicked it with his left foot toward the penalty area, made a sudden stop, dodged, and started into the box.

The football slipped through Alderweireld’s legs, back under Ma’el’s control, rolling in front of him.

Alderweireld’s heart skipped a beat, reaching out to grab Ma’el’s shirt, the usual defensive trick.

But Ma’el was running too fast. Even as he reached at the fastest speed, he grasped nothing but air.

”Ai!”

”Here!”

France team members saw Ma’el make his way to the middle and quickly moved near the penalty area, calling for the ball.

Nasri stood at a reverse-triangle position, sensing a scoring opportunity, pointing continuously at his feet with an anxious expression, ”Pass it!”

Ribery was lurking at the far post, not speaking, just bending over, ready to charge in at any time.

Faced with a great scoring chance, they wanted to bury the hatchet with Ma’el, at least for this attacking round.

But Ma’el wouldn’t fulfill their wish. Upon entering the penalty area, Van Buyten and Vermaelen appeared beside him, and Fellaini joined in the pincer movement.

He dragged the ball with his left foot, following up with a bicycle kick, quickly shifting away from Van Buyten’s focus, and nudging the ball to the other side.

His movement frequency was very rapid, Van Buyten couldn’t keep up with his rhythm, and could only seek a chance to confront to the right.

Though he had strong confrontation abilities... Ma’el didn’t clash head-on, as even winning would be a pyrrhic victory, leaving opportunities for other defenders to intercept.

With a dribbling chance now, naturally, he’d solve the problem in a more brilliant and secure way.

”Pa... bang!”

He flicked the ball outward, then glanced behind Van Buyten, using a person-ball separation method to slip past him.

He shook him off!

”Oh...!” A burst of exclamations came from the stands; from outside, Ma’el’s dribbling breakthrough was extremely dazzling.

First, a nutmeg past Alderweireld, then shaking off Van Buyten, breaking free with the person-ball separation!

Slight turns and shifts!

Both breakthroughs involved sidestepping and altering directions, adding an elegant touch to his figure from behind.

”Thud, thud, thud.”

Ma’el had dribbled into a very dangerous area by then. Fellaini couldn’t hold back, sliding in to block the shot space, effectively removing himself from the defense lineup.

Only Vermaelen was left, the two old teammates faced off once more!

Vermaelen psyched himself up, his brain rapidly brainstorming defensive tactics, he must think of a clever move.

”Clap!”

But before he could come up with anything, Ma’el nudged the ball inside. With momentum built up, he confidently relied on speed to take on Vermaelen.

With utter helplessness, Vermaelen let go of all thoughts, following Ma’el but could only watch him drift further away, gradually closing in on Courtois.

”Boom... boom!!”

Ma’el then nudged the ball to the right side, posing as if he’d shoot for the far corner but twisted his ankle at the moment of shooting to send it to the near corner.

Courtois lunged to the right side, as the ball struck the left side’s open goal, forming a stark contrast.

”Swoosh!”

The football flew into the net again, striking it with a fierce shake!

Two-nil!

Two goals in 1 minute!

”Oh.....!”

Cheers erupted again, Mbappe’s eyes sparkled; it seemed he had learned a shooting method that very well-suited him.

Ma’el charged toward the side of the pitch. His arms tensed and trembled as he opened his mouth wide, roaring: ”Vamos.....!”

There’s assistance when you pass!

All the displeasure dissipated, he felt his luck had returned. When his body needed a burning state, it burst smoothly.

Scoring after dribbling past four!

This time, Belgium players couldn’t maintain calm; several defense line members either lay down or squatted, looking at each other in confusion.

Hazard, in the front field position, held his head, incredulously gazing at the scattered defense line, then glancing at Ma’el.

Wasn’t this his move?

No, Ma’el’s dribbling seemed simpler, apparently not adept at changing rhythm... yet explosive power helped, not much less effective.

Truly unexpected.

”Roar, roar.....!”

On France’s side, a few people who previously celebrated together ran up again, their hearts churning, staring wide-eyed at Ma’el’s back.

What the heck?

Scoring again right after kickoff?

Still positioned in the reverse-triangle, Nasri had been complaining about Ma’el not passing him the ball, gripping his waist now, stood straight, astounded.

From the moment he was ’forced’ to pass to Ma’el, his gaze never left the other, watching him move from the side to the middle, then forcefully to the goal and score.

A heaven-defying goal!

He knew very well the ability required to score such a goal and Ma’el’s status in Deschamps’ mind after this goal.

Nasri put his hands on his hips, a little anxious, wondering if being on the opposite side of such a player in the national team was right or wrong.

He instinctively turned to look at Ribery, who had already turned toward the center circle. Unlike before, this time his back showed a bit of melancholy and desolation.

As if driven out of territory that should have belonged to him.

”Yeah!”

Deschamps at the side of the pitch had just sat in the coach’s seat, immediately dashed out before warming the chair up, red-faced, clenching his teeth, shouting: ”Damn right it should be like this! Damn right it should be like this! Come on, come on!”

In front of him, Evra almost got sprayed by Deschamps’ saliva. He stood in place, watching Ma’el, lost in thought.

.....

ps: I’m feverish and not feeling well, requesting a night to adjust my state... just as well feverish might help me sleep, avoiding insomnia.

Updates were stable before, unfortunately, something happened at home, disrupting rest, would like to readjust for stable timing. (This is yesterday’s update, tomorrow will be three updates)