After signing with AC Milan, I will be the king of football!

Chapter 1555: Chapter 435: It’s All Fucking Florentino’s Fault

Mourinho’s hand hung in the air, and after two seconds, he forced a smile, nodded, and lowered his hand.

Without completing the final gesture, it felt like something was missing.

This left Mourinho feeling rather lost.

Players from both sides returned to the half after being persuaded by the referees.

But the tension in the match skyrocketed instantly.

Portsmouth, sitting last in the league, was firmly relegated and now truly had nothing left.

In the first few minutes, they realized the gap with Chelsea, and their idea of winning a championship from the league was thoroughly extinguished.

A season’s efforts vanished just like that.

The entire Portsmouth team was enveloped by the negative emotion of utter despair.

Upon the game restart, their actions became more aggressive.

Kevin-Prince Boateng was extremely anxious.

Don’t leave a bad impression on Chelsea’s number ten.

He still wanted to be a substitute at Milan or Chelsea.

Offending Huang Kaiwen, and the dream of playing for Milan or Chelsea would be over for him.

O’Hara passed the ball to the left, and Boateng immediately controlled the ball and rushed forward, not giving it to his teammates at all.

Afraid his teammates would continue to hold the ball, attracting Chelsea players to physically confront them.

You all might play in the English Championship next season, but Boateng certainly didn’t want to accompany you there.

Boateng dribbled past the halfway line, once again encountering Malouda.

This time Malouda was prepared, and Boateng tried to squeeze past him with his body but was immediately blocked on the sideline by Malouda.

Entangled, Boateng realized all of his little tricks had been seen through by Malouda.

Unable to get past, Boateng turned and attempted to kick the ball at Malouda’s leg.

Unexpectedly, Malouda reacted even quicker, sidestepping and allowing the ball to fly rapidly toward the center.

O’Hara and Ballack charged almost simultaneously.

The young O’Hara was knocked to the ground by Ballack’s shoulder, sitting on the grass, hands spread, but Foy made no indication.

Quite a few spectators in the stands applauded.

Ballack is really impressive, always full of vigor in every final.

Perhaps because of past losses, he cherished each opportunity to lift a trophy more than others.

Ballack, in possession, found himself surrounded by people near Huang Kaiwen, decisively pushing forward himself.

Modric’s positioning was very smart; he always stayed nearby where Ballack could pass, attracting the opponent’s defense and constantly moving into open spaces.

This level of off-ball running isn’t just mindless movement.

Ballack was nearing the penalty area but had no intention of passing yet.

Only one person was defending Mata there, but Mata’s weak resistance made Ballack hesitant to pass, afraid he’d lose the ball and set off a counterattack.

As Ballack pondered who to pass to, he found himself being tangled up by Michael Brown.

In this situation, Ballack could only turn and shield the ball, as O’Hara also rushed in.

The two of them surrounded Ballack, constantly reaching out with their feet.

Modric was ready to assist from the side and rear, but Ballack didn’t pass.

Both opposing midfielders were around him; if he could pass forward, a clear scoring opportunity might arise easily.

Ballack protected the ball, seeking an opening, but suddenly, he was stepped on his left foot, losing balance and falling on the grass.

Huang Kaiwen immediately rushed to the foul location, shoved Michael Brown aside, then blocked his teammates.

They had already received several yellow cards earlier; any more aggression would result in someone being sent off.

Ballack quickly stood up, calming his teammates, saying, ”Relax, guys, I’m okay!”

Seeing Ballack was fine, the Chelsea players didn’t have much of a reaction.

Foy approached and issued a yellow card to Brown.

Michael Brown spread his hands, questioning, ”He pushed me, doesn’t he get a card?”

Foy pretended not to hear.

He had made up his mind: unless Huang Kaiwen pulls out a gun today, he’s not giving him a card.

”Hey, hey!”

Brown blocked Foy, waving his hand in dissatisfaction.

O’Hara quickly pushed him aside.

If this continued, the referee might issue another yellow card.

”Kevin, hit it directly?”

Mata asked as he approached.

”Pass it to me.” Huang Kaiwen said, covering his mouth.

Going direct was an option, but he wanted to test Big B’s passing skills more.

Big B had many shortcomings, but his passing was indeed sharp.

Mata nodded and stood behind the ball with Huang Kaiwen.

He glanced at the referee, then after a run-up, immediately passed the ball sideways.

Portsmouth players, having been tricked earlier, learned their lesson and didn’t swarm towards Huang Kaiwen.

But Huang Kaiwen still resolutely chipped the ball with his right foot, sending it into the crowded penalty area.

Mokuna was the first to stick to Drogba, while Mullins was still defending the advancing Mata.

Drogba and Mokuna rushed towards the right side of the small box; Drogba stopped the ball on his chest, trying to turn but was nudged by Mokuna from behind, failing to adjust.

Mullins abandoned Mata and charged towards Drogba; Drogba took a step and turned to shoot at the top right corner of the small box, while David James knew with outspread arms that he misjudged, and the ball flew into the net below the midpoint of the crossbar.

Drogba, having scored, jumped and threw his arms up, then turned and rushed toward Huang Kaiwen.

”Goal!”

”Goal!”

”GoalGoalGoal!”

”A team like Portsmouth makes Kevin lose even the desire to run.”

”Today, Kevin’s play is just a few steps to find an open area to receive the ball and then send it into the box to create goals, that’s just how simple it is.”

”The journey from Chelsea’s Cobham Training Centre to Wembley Stadium might be more draining for Kevin than today’s match.”