From Arsenal to the Ball God

The shot was almost inevitable; it was just a matter of whether it would hit the target!

Just before Henderson and Gerrard could reach the top of the arc, Ma’el turned sideways, stepping forward with precision, swinging his left arm behind, and his body expanded before folding up his right leg.

”Bang!!”

As his right foot struck the ball, the blast resounded throughout the stadium, and the ball spiraled like a shell shot towards Reina’s guarded goal.

After Ma’el struck, he looked up, as did Gerrard and Henderson, who had just slowed their run behind him.

”Swish!” In less than a second, the right side of the net bulged sharply backward as Reina’s reaction lagged, reaching for the ball only after it had already gone in.

”Yeah....Hurrah.....!!!” Suddenly, the Arsenal fans at Emirates Stadium erupted with deafening cheers, everyone raising their arms in celebration of this spectacular goal.

”Oh...!”

Ma’el spread his arms wide, roaring towards the sidelines, with several Arsenal players in pursuit behind him.

Heavy Cannon Strike!

Here it comes again!

Leaving Gerrard and Henderson standing silent at the same spot, they both were good at long shots too, but it seemed that Ma’el’s scoring frequency was higher.

”Wow...!”

In the fan section, Wenger felt the fervor of the passionate Arsenal fans, raising his arms high, shaking while shouting.

As if he couldn’t release all his emotions this way, he took a few quick steps down the steps to celebrate in the coaching area, joining Philip and others.

This move caught many people’s attention, wondering what would happen if a coach expelled from the field returned to celebrate inside?

Soon, the fourth official noticed the scene and swiftly approached.

”Oh...!”

Wenger, having anticipated this, hugged Philip before raising his hands again, celebrating as he bolted towards the player tunnel, as if that was his intended direction all along.

The fourth official watched Wenger dash past him into the player tunnel, stunned and speechless.

”Hahaha.....!” A wave of laughter erupted from the stands where Wenger had just been, as halftime was almost over, and Wenger, who would have headed to the tunnel anyway, had this chance to celebrate on the field.

”Gooooaaaaallll.....!”

In the commentary booth under the stadium box, the Sky Sports commentator, wearing headphones, seemed speechless about the goal, imitating the extended chant of South American commentators, holding the last syllable until the breath faded, ”Goal...!!”

Indeed, it was an unreasonable goal, a sudden charge down the middle, with no extraneous movement, taking a direct strike to blast the goal.

This one strike might very well change the game’s momentum for Arsenal, suppressing Liverpool’s drive for a while.

It’s the simplest way to score, yet the hardest..... It transcends any tactical offensive system, purely showcasing personal ability.

Simple and brutal!

Powerful impact!

Effective!

Upon reaching the sideline, Ma’el jumped high, pumping his fist, then repeatedly raising his hand to urge the Arsenal fans to raise their spirits; the team needed their support.

They aimed to win this match and head to the long-dreamed Wembley Stadium!

A field that already symbolizes glory and honor, it doesn’t even need a championship garnish to lure players to compete in its historically rich mega sports venue!

Liverpool fans’ singing stopped; perhaps their hearts were still in it, but they truly felt powerless.

The score returned to one to one, and the aggregate score returned to three to three, with the initiative back to Arsenal.

What could they sing at this point? Any word sung seemed like they were mocking themselves.

No worries, though, for prompted by Ma’el, a new chant soon rose from the Arsenal fan section, resonating throughout the arena, ”Ma-ehl...! Ma-ehl...! We’re going to Wembley....!”

Everything shifted at this moment, with Arsenal reclaiming their home advantage.

”Beep! Beep—!”

The first half then ended, with players returning to the locker room to prepare for the second half.

In the locker room, Wenger didn’t emphasize much on tactics, nor did he mention being expelled, but just offered encouragement, hoping everyone would persist in the second half.

”Clap...Clap.....”

Finally, he clapped his hands as during pre-match prep meetings, ”Come on, Arsenal!! As they said, we’re going to Wembley Stadium!”

After inspiring a wave of encouragement among the players, he stepped out of the locker room, calling Philip and advising: ”I’ll stay in the locker room for the second half, and leave everything outside up to you.

”If the score remains as is, swap in Mikel and Frimpong for defense at the 75th minute; decide who to replace according to the situation.

”If we score again or they do, then... it’ll all depend on you. I can’t predict the situation then; no one can truly grasp football.”

”Okay.” Philip nodded solemnly, suddenly feeling the weight of responsibility upon his shoulders.

”Beep Beep!”

”Fight Arsenal!”

”Advance to Wembley!”

Soon, the whistle to resume play sounded, and players, encouraging each other, walked out of the locker room, with just 45 minutes left in this crucial match for a finals spot.

....

”Drip...drip.”

Wenger made his way to the restroom adjacent to the locker room, leaning against the wall with one hand, holding a cigarette with the other, feeling everything around too quiet after two drags, he couldn’t help but turn to reenter the field.

”Arsenal...Arsenal...!”

But nearing the player tunnel, seeing the light cast inside from the field, hearing the fans’ chants, his eyes showed hesitation.