Chapter 131: Growing Up Very Fast

"Rennick! The Chelsea genius has appeared out on the touchline, but Faraday is very solid at left-back, and with Rocher tracking back to help, Rennick can only play the ball out again."

"Strickland, Teale! The Villa defender has stood up to the Chelsea captain, and Strickland cannot turn at all. He lays it off!"

"Okafor! A long shot, from far too far out, and Vacek gathers it comfortably." The distance was simply too much, and even with Okafor’s power the effort did not threaten the goal.

"A change of pace, from defence to attack. Vacek kicks it long, Tomlin heads it down to Pryce, and Pryce at once drives into the Chelsea half with the ball, but Brewer gives him no room."

Pryce slipped the ball out to Rocher. One step forward, then an acceleration. Unlike in the opening round against United, Rocher now showed complete self-belief.

But Cartwright was an experienced defender, and he knew that the scarred man in front of him had beautiful technique at his feet.

The only thing Cartwright could do was fall back, and Rocher, reading it, seemed to know it as well.

"A cross, Tomlin! No, Tomlin does not go for goal himself, he lets it run, and on the other side Jurek, he’s beaten Candler!" More precisely, it was Colley’s overlap that had drawn Candler out of position, and that was enough for Jurek.

"A shot! Pickford! The Chelsea goalkeeper makes a superb save to deny Jurek!" Pickford had been alert, and the moment Jurek changed the angle of his shot, the keeper was already in the air.

"A corner, and Teale gets up for it! The corner taken by Reyes is headed on by Teale!"

"Pickford again! It’s Pickford again! He’s telling everyone, with save after save, why he is Chelsea’s number one."

Pickford’s brilliance was not over yet. Three minutes later Villa broke into the Chelsea box again, and this time Pryce took a low pass from Jurek and had the shot stopped by Pickford once more.

During this frantic exchange, the two goalkeepers had become the busiest and best players on the pitch.

Villa had defended well, but Vacek was even more dazzling. In the twentieth minute Gaunt very nearly found a way through.

Barzley had also played very well in this game. As a rookie in the league for the first time this season, he could not entirely shut Gaunt out.

Gaunt was one of the best strikers in the league, a sharp finisher who could take half a chance. Even without the great goalscorer that had once played alongside him, there was a case for calling him the country’s number one striker.

Gaunt had got ahead of his man at the near post, awaiting a pass from Rennick. Rennick was having an uncomfortable afternoon. Teale’s strength and experience had restricted him so far, and the genius had barely shown anything.

For that reason Rennick was cursing Teale silently, and there had even been a small clash between the two in the twentieth minute. The old campaigner, of course, was not going to take it lying down.

But genius is genius. Even when the old centre-back was giving him no peace, Rennick managed to deliver a pass that was lethal.

A low ball from the side of the box ran through the Villa defenders and rolled to the far side, where Gaunt, unmarked and with no defender near him, suddenly shot.

"Vacek! Vacek! An incredible save! Gaunt shoots from right in front of goal, and still he cannot beat the Villa keeper!"

"Ohh!" A gasp ran round the ground, though it meant different things to the two sets of fans: Chelsea’s disappointment, Villa’s gratitude.

The corner that followed was taken by Candler, but with Barzley hanging on to him, Dimitriou’s header had no power and Vacek gathered it easily.

In the twenty-eighth minute, Villa pushed forward again through Reyes. After a stretch of frantic fighting, the two sides had unconsciously slowed the tempo.

So Reyes was in no hurry to pass the ball forward, and Chelsea did not continue to press as madly as before.

"Is Villa’s quality comparable with Chelsea’s?" the astonished commentators wondered, while the fans watching recalled that Villa had not lost ground in the exchanges at all.

"From what we’ve just seen, Villa are certainly not at a disadvantage. They even have one more shot than Chelsea," Granger said in the studio, after checking the statistics.

"That’s, well, that’s really rather incredible," Pemberton and Judd said, hardly believing it.

The commentators noticed that Hallam had seen it too, on the touchline. Hallam had paid attention to Villa since the start, but even he looked a little startled by what he was seeing.

Soon, though, that surprise on Hallam’s face gave way to a frown, because the score on the pitch was about to change again.

It began with Villa’s next attack. After a few short passes, Reyes suddenly played a lofted ball behind the defence to the left, to Rocher.

Reyes’s pinpoint pass had put the ball behind Cartwright, and Rocher had been waiting for exactly that. He exploded away and left the Chelsea man behind.

After all, Cartwright was over thirty. The earlier part of the match had been costly for him, especially in Hallam’s system, where wing-backs had to cover attack and defence alike.

"He’s through! Antoine Rocher! The explosive pace of a twenty-year-old, ten years younger than Cartwright!" Watching Cartwright still desperately chasing, the commentator could not help saying it.

"He’s into the box! This is a chance for Villa!" As Rocher charged into the area, Tomlin and Pryce ran in alongside him, and even Jurek, over on the right, had followed up to the edge of the box.

"Chelsea shouldn’t make this mistake!" With the tempo slowed down, the Chelsea players had relaxed too far, and at that moment there was nobody in the penalty area except the two centre-backs and the goalkeeper.

"GOAL! It’s in! Villa have scored again, they’ve scored again!"

"Antoine Rocher! A very confident decision! He didn’t pass to his teammates, he chose to shoot himself!"

Two one to Villa, in the thirtieth minute, at Stamford Bridge.

Rocher did not slide on his knees or tear off his shirt. He simply turned, spread his arms wide with the scar pulling his smile crooked, and looked straight at the touchline, where Saint was already pumping both fists.

"Tell me that was not growing up," Cadman said, grinning.

"He’s been growing up since the day I signed him," Saint said. "Today he just showed everyone else."

Only a few minutes earlier Rocher had lost the ball cheaply and stood with his head bowed, convinced he had cost his team a goal. Now he had scored the one that put them back in front. Saint had half-expected the mistake to shake him, and it had done the opposite.

In the Chelsea end, Pickford was on his knees, hammering the turf with a glove. Cartwright stood motionless with his hands on his hips, staring at the grass he had just been beaten across. Behind them, the home supporters had fallen almost completely silent.

On the Chelsea bench Hallam turned to his assistant without a word and made a short chopping gesture with one hand. Two substitutes immediately got up and began stripping off their tracksuits.

It was not yet half-time, but the manager of Chelsea had already seen enough to know that his plan was not working.