God Of football

Chapter 202: “¡Amunt Valencia!

”Gaya and Izan are both over the ball. It looks like Gaya will take this one, but let’s not forget that Izan has become something of a free-kick specialist this season.

In fact, he’s scored 6 free kicks already this campaign. His accuracy, his technique—he’s proven he can deliver in moments like this.”

As the commentator rambled on, the atmosphere in Mestalla grew even more electric as fans shifted nervously, knowing that Izan had the potential to make this a moment of magic.

The youngster’s reputation for scoring spectacular free kicks had only grown throughout the season since his debut one against Espanyol the previous season.

His precise, curling strikes had been a feature of Valencia’s attacking play, and there was no better time than now to add to his tally.

”Izan’s free-kick ability has been one of the talking points of the season. His composure and accuracy in such moments have been nothing short of brilliant. Could this be the moment that defines this derby?”

With a deep breath, Izan positioned himself over the ball. The eyes of everyone in Mestalla were on him—his calm demeanor in moments of pressure was legendary, and tonight, the stakes couldn’t be higher.

The crowd, holding their breath in anxious anticipation, was about to see if the teenager could deliver one more moment of magic.

Izan, looking at the goal, steadied himself. His body was relaxed, yet every muscle in his frame was taut with focus.

This was his moment, the moment that could decide the outcome of the derby and secure Valencia’s place at the top of the table.

”Here it is! Izan stands over the ball—can he make history here? The crowd is on its feet, the tension unbearable. This could be the defining moment of the match.”

With the stadium watching, Izan took a deep breath, preparing to strike. The roar of the crowd faded into the background as he locked his gaze on the target.

Ding, [Pinpoint Accuracy LV 2 activated]

[Curler activated]

[System has detected, two traits in use. Commencing UNI-£=**$]

[PROCEDURE FAILED. Focus too low]

”Guess I’m not in the zone enough for that,” Izan said as he looked at the ball.

Time seemed to freeze as the 16-year-old prodigy stepped back, his eyes scanning the Villarreal wall and beyond it, the target he needed to hit.

Valencia fans murmured nervously, their voices hushed with anticipation. On the other side, Villarreal supporters jeered, trying to unsettle the teenager.

But Izan was unfazed, his expression one of steely determination. His every movement was deliberate—his breathing steady, his body loose yet coiled like a spring ready to unleash.

Raul Albiol, the experienced Villarreal defender, stood at the center of the wall, barking instructions to his teammates.

”Hold your ground! Don’t jump too early!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise.

Behind them, the Villarreal goalkeeper crouched low, bouncing on his toes, his gloves clapping together as he prepared for the inevitable test.

The referee blew his whistle, and every fan in the stadium inhaled sharply. Izan began his run-up, each step purposeful, his gaze fixed on the ball.

With surgical precision, he struck it with his left foot, sending it curling over the wall.

The ball’s trajectory was immaculate, bending beautifully toward the top corner of the net.

But just as it seemed destined to ripple the back of the net, Raul Albiol leaped, his head barely brushing the ball.

The faint deflection sent it slightly off course, and it clipped the outside of the post with a resounding clang.

The Mestalla erupted in a mixture of gasps and groans as the ball ricocheted into the crowded penalty area.

Villarreal defenders scrambled desperately, swinging at the ball in the chaos.

One managed a clearance, but it was far from convincing—a sliced, awkward effort that sent the ball skidding out toward the edge of the box.

The whole stadium watched to see who would get the ball and once again, there he was—Izan.

As if summoned by destiny, the teenager appeared again, his body poised, his eyes locked onto the loose ball as it rolled into his path.

The crowd rose as one, the tension unbearable, every heart pounding in anticipation of what would come next.

As Baraja stood on the touchline, he could feel the nervousness, both from the fans and from his fellow Coach who stood beside him, shouting at his players to prevent Izan from shooting.

As Izan controlled the ball, he nudged it a bit to his right before steadying himself to shoot.

The Villarreal defense, seeing Izan poised to shoot, tensed before throwing their bodies in the way after Izan’s leg came down, but they were wrong.

Dragging the ball with the inside of his right foot, Izan faked the whole Villarreal defense, save for the keeper, but there was little the shot-stopper could do after Izan’s left leg rammed into the ball.

The stadium watched in silence as the ball flew towards the goal before rippling the net, causing the momentary silence to linger for a while before the home fans erupted into cheers.

The Valencia players turned their attention to Izan, ready to celebrate but the latter was already running towards the bench.

”Goooooaaaaal. Valencia steals it at the last courtesy of Izan’s ingenuity. It’s the 89th minute, and this is surely it for Valencia.

We thought the freekick was it but Izan said no! You know why because he had a plan.

Valencia takes the lead, 2 to 1 here at the Mestalla. ”

The Villarreal fans and players all felt heartbreak but they couldn’t sit still. If Valencia could score, so could they.

The referee signaled for the match to restart after the Valencia players returned from the touchline area.

Villarreal hurried to get the ball rolling again. The scoreboard now read 2-1 in favor of Valencia, and the Mestalla was a cauldron of noise.

Izan’s stunning strike from the loose ball moments earlier had sent the fans into raptures, their chants echoing across the stadium like thunder.

Villarreal pushed forward immediately, desperate to salvage a point. Their players surged upfield, flooding Valencia’s half with intent, their quick passes zipping across the pitch.

But Valencia, buoyed by the electric atmosphere and their newfound lead, stood firm, intercepting passes and closing down spaces with renewed energy.

As the fourth official raised the board indicating four minutes of stoppage time, the crowd roared in anticipation, willing their team to hold on.

Izan, still buzzing from his earlier heroics, dropped deeper into midfield, tracking back to help his teammates while keeping a watchful eye for any opportunity to counter.

In the 95th minute well over the added time, with Villarreal throwing everything forward, Izan seized his moment.

A loose ball broke free in midfield after Ettiene Capoue lost the ball but before he could recover, Izan suddenly appeared as if he was expecting him to lose the ball.

Darting past the Villarreal players who tried to hold him back, Izan lifted his head, scanning the field.

With impeccable vision, he spotted Thierry Correia making a darting run down the right flank.

Izan’s pass was sublime—a perfectly weighted ball that split Villarreal’s defense and landed at Correia’s feet.

The right-back surged forward, the crowd rising to their feet as the counterattack unfolded.

Correia’s touch was sharp, and he raced toward the byline before sending a low, driven cross into the box.

There, arriving at the perfect moment, was Valencia captain José Gayà.

The full-back, known for his attacking prowess, struck the ball first-time with his left foot, sending it flying past the Villarreal keeper and into the net.

The Mestalla erupted, an explosion of joy and relief that shook the very foundations of the stadium.

Fans screamed, hugged, and waved their scarves wildly in celebration. On the pitch, Gayà sprinted toward the corner flag, arms outstretched, before being mobbed by his teammates.

Izan, though visibly exhausted, was right there in the mix, his smile as bright as the floodlights above.

The Villarreal fans fell to the ground, exhausted by the past minutes’ antics by Valencia.

The referee blew the final whistle moments later, confirming Valencia’s dramatic 3-1 victory.

The players, led by Gayà and Izan, applauded the fans, who chanted their names with unrelenting fervor.

....

The locker room was buzzing with energy and adrenaline after Valencia’s dramatic 3-1 victory over Villarreal.

Players laughed and recounted the thrilling moments of the match, their voices echoing in the confined space.

Despite the excitement, Rubén Baraja, the head coach, stood calmly in the center of the room, a faint but proud smile on his face.

”Alright, alright, settle down,” Baraja said, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

Gradually, the room fell silent, the players turning their attention to their coach, eager to hear his words.

Baraja looked around, his eyes meeting each player’s. ”You showed heart out there tonight,” he began, his tone firm but warm.

”That’s the kind of performance that defines us—not just as a team, but as a family.

We didn’t just play football; we fought for every inch, and you never gave up. That’s what it means to wear this badge.”

Baraja’s expression grew serious as he shifted the focus to what lay ahead. ”This win was massive, but we can’t let it get to our heads. Next up, Mallorca.

They’ll be tough, no doubt, but this is a chance for us. A chance to solidify our position in the top four.

You all know what that means for this club. For the fans. For our future.”

He paced slowly, his voice growing in intensity. ”We’ve worked hard to get here, and now we’re on the brink of something special.

Fourth place is about earning our spot in Europe and showing the world what Valencia is capable of.”

Baraja stopped and looked at his players again, his voice steady but resolute. ”I want you to rest tonight and enjoy this victory.

You’ve earned it. But tomorrow, we focus. We prepare. Because Mallorca won’t hand us anything as you saw last time. We’ll need to fight for it, just like we did tonight.”

The players nodded in unison, their exhaustion replaced by a renewed sense of determination.

The locker room was filled with a quiet conviction, a shared understanding of the task ahead.

Baraja smiled, sensing the shift in the room. ”Alright, boys, let’s keep this momentum going.

One game at a time, and we’ll make this season one to remember. ¡Amunt Valencia!”

”¡Amunt Valencia!” the players shouted back, their voices echoing with belief and unity.