Chapter 741 - 19: Three Ups, Three Downs! Dream Fulfilled in Warsaw!! Lifting the Champion’s Trophy on a Rainy Night!!

The other dignitaries from France and Poland joined in the conversation, with some whispering prayers that the game would go smoothly.

Only Mendes remained silent, his fist held against his mouth as if waiting for something.

In the middle of the 119th minute, he suddenly removed his hand from his mouth and excitedly pointed to the field, "He’s got the ball! There’s still a chance to score!!"

Everyone followed his gaze and saw Ma’el intercepting a pass from Spain to Fabregas, dribbling step by step towards the opponent’s half.

"Ma’el..." Several murmurs sounded, as if making a wish.

"Boom boom boom...!"

On the field, Ma’el’s right foot repeatedly contacted the bottom of the ball, he looked around and saw only Giroud as a passing option ahead, with no other teammates able to advance.

He had three choices: one, pass to Giroud and then sprint forward to seek an offensive opportunity.

Two, dribble to the baseline and shield the ball to drag the game into a penalty shootout.

The last option, to gamble and push forward with the ball — likely to fail, but if successful, it could be a contender for the best goal in the tournament’s history.

Logically, he should unhesitatingly choose the last option, yet he couldn’t help but hesitate.

Spain’s intent to take advantage of the situation was clear; if he lost possession, the team could suffer a last-minute goal, making him the scapegoat.

He didn’t rush his decision, continued dribbling forward with Pedro and Torres gradually closing in, their physical ability still at peak, slightly faster than him.

"Thump thump... bang!"

Dribbling smoothly past the aggressively shielding Iniesta, using his body to push him aside, he suddenly felt empowered, as if he’d siphoned Iniesta’s energy.

"Thump... slap!"

He accelerated again, Busquets approached, choosing a cautious defensive retreat strategy.

This time Ma’el was more vigorous, performing a small pendulum feint before suddenly pushing the ball forward and changing direction, shaking off Busquets.

"Bang!" Busquets collided with the tracking Torres, and both fell to the ground.

Tumbled recklessly!

"Ma’el! He’s gradually picking up speed, already bypassed three defenders, contemplating going solo? A tighter defensive line ahead, best to await teammates’ support.

"But given France team’s physical state, I reckon it’s tough for anyone to assist him..... He has to bring it, has to bring it!

"He’s charging, his goal becoming clear — to break through you all!"

"....."

Ma’el advanced with the ball, his field of vision narrowing, concentrating solely on the ball at his feet and the defenders ahead.

In such moments, it’s challenging to maintain a broad awareness, mostly focusing microscopically on the immediate, to react and act better.

"Slap... slap slap... slam!!"

His feet maneuvered around the ball, suddenly feeling as if everyone else moved in slow motion, while he maintained a rapid escape rate with excellent ball sense.

He noticed Pique attempting to tackle, dodged him with a drag-back and left him behind, then realized Pedro couldn’t match his adrenaline-fueled pace, extending a foot to try tripping him.

Staggering slightly, he continued dribbling forward, unwilling to stop here.

"Ma’el... Ma’el...!"

The faint chants of France team fans calling his name grew louder, eventually becoming deafening, "Ma’el.....!!"

Two powerful forces surged from his waist throughout his body, further increasing his speed and making his footwork even more agile.

"Tap... step step.... bounce!"

Reaching Aveloya, he abruptly halted, changed direction, and varied his direction again to bypass his opponent. As Ramos tried to reach out, he pushed the ball forward again, sidestepping the renowned center-back.

"One...Two...Three.....! Oh... A genius performance! Magic!!

"Wow.....! Ramos was also left in the dust.....!"

The on-site English commentators exclaimed in astonishment. Perhaps Ma’el, with his head bowed, didn’t realize the magnitude of his feat, but from a god’s-eye view, it was clear — he was close to dribbling past everyone solo.

"Ma’el... Ma’el.....!"

France team fans continued chanting his name fervently. The excitement grew, so much so that Deschamps and coaching staff joined in, along with the players.

They all pinned their hopes on Ma’el, hoping he could accomplish this unbelievable solo run!

"Thump... thump.....!"

Ma’el entered the penalty area line, Ramos trailing to his rear, while Juanfran blocked his path outward, seemingly coordinating with Ramos to enclose him.

His right foot moved to the ball’s right side, seemingly intending to cut the ball left, using his speed to bypass Juanfran for a shooting opportunity.

"Scrape... smack!"

But halfway through the cut, his right foot abruptly swung left, pushing the ball right, changing direction.

He halted immediately, then darted to the right towards Ramos’s rear flank, knowing the ball would whimsically return to his feet!

He was right, the ball elegantly slipped through Ramos’s legs to the spot he had predetermined!

Looking up again, the goal and Casillas were now right in front of him.