Chapter 253: [253] "MATCHDAY d’Azur 13"

The Côte d’Azur right-back did not need to take an extra touch or waste time in surveying the penalty area.

With the fortunate opportunity awarded to him, just waiting for his forwards to establish their positions might kill the chance. The entire offensive philosophy of the home side was built upon the rapid execution of this exact sequence.

The moment the ball rolled perfectly into his path, he planted his left cleat firmly and swung his right leg with a devastating force.

The instep of his boot connected with the lower part of the ball. The impact generated a sound.

The cross was not as lofted as much would expect. It did not hang in the air, offering the defense time to calculate the trajectory or adjust their footing. It was a vicious delivery, driven with immense pace and laced with an aggressive in-swinging spin.

The ball zoomed across the near post, curving inward toward the penalty spot, dipping violently into the corridor of uncertainty between the retreating defensive line, the attacking, attacking line and the goalkeeper.

Inside the eighteen-yard box, the spatial combat was already underway.

Amadou Fall and Leo Hernandez were backpedaling furiously, their eyes darting between the flight of the ball and the two massive Côte d’Azur strikers charging into the area. The home side’s forwards did not execute intricate crossing runs.

They relied on raw, blunt force. The primary striker, a veteran target man possessing significant upper body mass, drove his run straight down the center, aiming directly for the penalty mark. His partner angled his run toward the back post, attempting to blindside Hernandez.

Amadou recognized the danger of the central run. The Senegalese defender chopped his feet, arresting his backward momentum, and threw his body into the path of the primary striker.

The physical engagement was well needed.

The striker dropped his shoulder, attempting to barge through Amadou. Amadou held his ground, widening his stance and grappling with the forward.

Hands grabbing handfuls of jerseys on both sides.

Forearms pressed against collarbones.

It was a match conducted at a full sprint, both men fighting desperately for the half-yard of leverage required to meet the incoming delivery.

On the goal line, Pinto remained static.

The backup goalkeeper tracked the vicious curve of the ball. His instincts, honed by years of shot-stopping on the chalk, screamed at him to stay anchored. The pace of the cross was simply too high...anyone could fluff a claim.

The trajectory was too flat also.

If he stepped off his line to punch the ball and misjudged the flight by a fraction of a second, he would leave the entire net exposed. He remembered his own halftime admission and trusted his defence. He bent his knees, raised his gloves to chest height, and braced for the resulting shot.

The ball arrived at the penalty spot.

Amadou and the Côte d’Azur striker launched themselves into the air simultaneously. The timing of both men was impeccable, but the sheer velocity of the cross disrupted the anticipated contact point.

The striker thrust his head forward, aiming to drive his forehead through the center of the ball.

Amadou extended his neck, throwing his own skull into the airspace to contest the header.

Neither man made clean contact.

The ball skimmed past Amadou’s temple, missing his clearing header by a millimeter. It collided violently with the front of the striker’s right shoulder.

The impact against the heavy muscle mass killed the forward velocity of the cross instantly. The spin gripped the fabric of the striker’s jersey, altering the physics of the trajectory.

Instead of rocketing toward the bottom corner as intended, the ball deflected sharply upward.

It looped high into the air, tracing a bizarre, parabolic arc over the chaotic scrum of bodies in the center of the box.

Pinto’s eyes widened.

He shifted his weight to his left leg, recognizing the danger. The ball was dropping rapidly, aiming precisely for the space just beneath the crossbar. The goalkeeper launched his body upward, extending his arm to its maximum vertical limit, his gloves straining to tip the ball over the woodwork.

His fingertips brushed against nothing.

The ball crashed heavily against the underside of the crossbar. The metallic ping sound echoed across the penalty area.

The impact sent the ball rocketing downward, bouncing aggressively against the turf exactly one foot in front of the goal line.

Leo Hernandez turned his hips, abandoning his marking assignment on the back post, and lunged desperately toward the loose ball. He threw his right leg out, attempting to hook the rebound away to safety.

He was a fraction of a second too late.

The second Côte d’Azur striker had anticipated the chaos. He didn’t wait for the ball to drop. He drove his run right through Leo’s blindside, arriving at the six-yard box with unrestrained momentum. Before the ball could bounce a second time, the forward swung his left boot, hammering the ball with ferocity from point-blank range.

The ball slammed into the roof of the net, tearing into the mesh.

Goal.

2-1.

The home fans in the stadium exploded.

Thousands of local supporters unleashed a concussive roar through the tiers of the Côte stadium. The frustration of the past minutes was instantly incinerated, now only a surge of pure and very hostile euphoria remained.

The goalscorer did not initiate a choreographed celebration.

He screamed, his face flushed red with adrenaline, and sprinted toward the corner flag, sliding heavily onto his knees. His teammates swarmed him seconds later, burying him beneath a pile of jerseys.

Inside the penalty area, the aftermath painted a stark picture.

Leo Hernandez lay flat on his stomach, his face buried in the grass, his fist pounding the turf in pure frustration.

Amadou Fall landed heavily on his feet. The tall defender immediately turned his back on the celebrating opposition, shaking his head. He knew the workings of the goal. It wasn’t a tactical breakdown in the center. It was a lost physical duel. He had failed to clear the airspace.