Dominating Football with Perfect Ball Control

Chapter 377: 377. Kevin, this is my territory!

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”We meet again.”

”Not for long. I’m about to eliminate you.”

”Exactly. Once I get rid of you.”

”You jerk.”

Inside the tunnel, Lance laughed and threw a playful punch at De Bruyne’s shoulder.

The Champions League anthem played over and over through the speakers, those familiar orchestral strings bouncing around the walls of the Wanda Metropolitano.

Lance was under no illusions about what tonight needed to be.

He didn’t want Atlético Madrid to win cheaply. If Manchester City simply rolled over and got hammered, it would mean nothing. The team would not have truly been tested. Only by beating Manchester City fairly across two legs, demonstrating genuine dominance over a top-class opponent, could Atlético Madrid be considered a real powerhouse at this level.

The system panel still read [System Upgrading... Please wait], but Lance had a strong feeling it was close. This second-leg match felt like a test set by the system itself. Defeat Manchester City without the equipped template. Only then would he be ready for whatever came next.

”Lance, I’m not letting you run at me freely today.”

Kompany appeared at his shoulder, grinning broadly.

The Belgian veteran had the right mentality. He hadn’t been broken by that last-minute goal in the first leg. He was here for a fight.

Nearby, the Atlético Madrid players had found Agüero.

”Sergio, come on, go easy on us. Just let us through.”

”Saúl, I can’t do that. I want to reach the final too.”

On the field, Agüero was relentless, the kind of player whose movements and sharp finishing made defenders’ legs go heavy. Off it, he was a different person entirely. He smiled warmly at Saúl and Koke, the look of an older brother watching younger siblings find their feet.

”You two were so small back in the youth academy. Now look at you.”

”How old do you think you are? You sound like someone’s grandfather.”

Koke couldn’t help himself.

”What’s it actually like, being teammates with Lance?”

”Lucky.” Koke thought for a second. One word covered it.

”Really?”

Agüero raised his eyebrows. The admiration these two younger players had for Lance was obvious, even if Lance was actually younger than both of them. He found himself wondering, if he had had a teammate like Lance back in his Atlético days, would he ever have left?

Of course, his current teammates were world class in their own right. Silva, Yaya Touré, De Bruyne.

”Time’s almost up. Good luck, brothers. I’m going to give everything I have to beat you tonight.”

”So will Lance.”

”You jerk.”

Agüero shook his head, laughing. Saúl had meant it as a warning. Agüero wasn’t intimidated. As Messi’s international teammate, he had been up against the best his whole career. He lived for moments like this.

The referee led both squads out of the tunnel and onto the pitch.

The noise hit them like a wall.

”Holy shit!!”

Agüero couldn’t hold it in.

He had known Lance was popular. He hadn’t appreciated just how popular. The entire stadium was chanting one name, tens of thousands of voices in unison. Banners, flags, handmade signs everywhere, all for the same person.

”Is this what being a top superstar feels like?”

Even Messi’s fanbase, as devoted as it was, didn’t quite have this energy. These people were something else entirely.

At the same time, Agüero and De Bruyne were completely locked in. Their backs were against the wall. Time to go all in.

”Viewers, you are watching the highly anticipated second leg of the Champions League quarter-finals...”

Commentator Duan Xuan felt like he could cry. After a great deal of effort, he had finally been assigned a Lance Champions League match. His commentary partner today was Director Xu Yang.

”To advance to the semi-finals, both Atlético Madrid and Manchester City have named full-strength lineups. Both clubs have been dealing with a gruelling schedule, but neither can afford to take their foot off the gas.”

”In the Champions League knockout rounds, when sides of this quality face each other, a single lapse in concentration can end a title challenge. Both teams are standing on the edge of a cliff.”

”In the first leg, Lance’s hat-trick secured a crucial away win in a tight contest. But Manchester City have come back prepared and hungry.”

”Looking at the starting lineups, Atlético Madrid’s key players are all available after the recent league fixture.”

Atlético Madrid 4-3-3

Goalkeeper: Oblak

Defenders: Juanfran, Giménez, Godín, Filipe Luís

Midfielders: Saúl, Koke, Gabi

Forwards: Griezmann, Torres, Lance

Manchester City 4-5-1

Goalkeeper: Joe Hart

Defenders: Zabaleta, Kompany, Otamendi, Clichy

Midfielders: De Bruyne, Yaya Touré, Fernandinho, David Silva, Jesús Navas

Forward: Agüero

”Atlético Madrid have made a tactical adjustment today, shifting from the 4-4-2 used in the first leg to a 4-3-3. Lance has moved slightly to the right, forming a dual attacking midfield partnership with Griezmann, while Saúl drops back into a three-man midfield. It seems Simeone wants to reduce the team’s over-reliance on left-flank attacks.”

”Manchester City have also made changes. Sterling, who missed a one-on-one chance in the first leg, starts on the bench. Spanish winger Jesús Navas comes in from the start, with the manager looking for his sharpness and consistency on the ball to open up space.”

”The dual-playmaking partnership of Silva and De Bruyne will be crucial. The question is whether they can supply enough ammunition for Agüero to make the difference.”

”Alright! CCTV, CCTV! The match is underway!”

Beep.

The moment the referee’s whistle sounded, the game exploded into life.

There was nothing cautious about Manchester City’s start. They came right at Atlético Madrid.

Yaya Touré stepped forward to press Saúl, bulldozed past him, carried the ball to the edge of the box, and clipped it with the outside of his foot to De Bruyne on the right.

De Bruyne barely moved his ankle.

The ball did the rest.

It bent through the air with a trajectory that seemed to defy logic, floating perfectly over the heads of Godín and Giménez and dropping toward the far post.

Agüero had pulled both center-backs with him, leaving Jesús Navas completely free.

”Are you kidding me?!”

Lance felt a cold shot of alarm run through him. Ten seconds in, De Bruyne. Really?

”Navas!! Shot at the far post!!!”

Clang.

The post.

The rebound came back into play and cold sweat broke down the spines of every Atlético Madrid fan in the ground.

That had been genuinely dangerous.

And now Lance understood. De Bruyne had not been joking. He had promised a version of himself that Lance had never seen before. He was delivering on that promise from the very first touch.

But then again, Atlético Madrid were not here to sit back.

”Yes! Godín!! A crucial header! Atlético Madrid, go!!”

Manchester City had barely let Atlético breathe since the kickoff, but Godín found the ball and headed it out cleanly.

”Now!!”

Koke, back to goal, flicked the ball backward with a deft chip aimed straight toward Lance’s run.

”Lance!!”

Fernandinho was closing fast, ready to bulldoze right through him.

Lance didn’t flinch. He read the ball’s flight, took two quick steps forward, jumped, and cushioned it on his chest. He landed just ahead of Fernandinho’s charge and quickly hooked the ball left with his right ankle.

”No you don’t!!”

Fernandinho had read it. He shifted right immediately to close off the space, pinching Lance between his body and the sideline. Lance would either have to hold it up with his back or go to ground.

In the same instant, Lance used the outside of his left foot to flick the ball again, this time back the other way, loose and quick, like someone keeping a shuttlecock in the air.

The wild, unpredictable instinct of Bachira Meguru, made physical.

Fernandinho’s eyes lost the ball for a half-second.

Lance was already past him.

Open space ahead.

He didn’t hesitate.

”He’s shooting!! From distance!!”

29 metres. Well within range.

Bang.

A full-blooded instep strike, hit like a cannonball.

Joe Hart launched himself across the goal but had no chance from that distance.

”GOAL!!! A long-range strike! Lance opens the scoring!!”

”1-0! Atlético Madrid lead!!”

After the ball hit the net, Lance turned slowly.

He raised his collar.

The Cantona celebration. Slow, deliberate, commanding. King Eric used to do it and almost nobody else had ever managed to carry it off with the same authority. Too much arrogance required. Too much genuine belief.

Today, Lance carried it effortlessly.

He was the king of this stadium.

Kevin, this is my territory.