"Beep!"
As the second half kicked off, the game became increasingly tense, with both teams engaging in fierce battles across the field.
Everyone knew this was a must-win game, carrying the expectations of so many!
Because of this, the pressure on each player grew with the passing of time. Both sides frequently made elementary mistakes.
This intensified the tense situation, as each mistake could potentially create a fifty-fifty ball, and the intensity of the competition rose another notch.
"Kill him!"
"Be tougher!"
"Don't let your mom know you're a wimp!"
"Haha!"
Coupled with the constant disturbances from the extreme fans on the sidelines, all the players on both sides of the field reached their breaking points, and their actions gradually became more aggressive.
In the 52nd minute, Kyle Walker moved out to the wing to mark Arteta in the center.
A bit hot-headed, he lunged in aggressively, only to be faked out by Arteta, who created an angle for a pass.
"Bang!"
Noticing Maël in the open space on the wing, he had no choice but to foul Arteta, bringing him down to stop a threatening attacking opportunity.
"Beep!" The referee blew his whistle and issued the first yellow card of the match.
"Are you playing football?!"
Arteta got up and went to Walker, arguing with him, but the latter pushed him away.
Maël watched the two with a complex expression, and only turned to leave after seeing that they weren't going to continue confronting each other.
He knew that this kind of foul would become the main theme of the game from now on.
In the 60th minute, Sagna pulled down Bale while defending him on the wing, also receiving a yellow card.
And that wasn't the end of it. Just two minutes later, Ramsey's errant pass forced Arteta to use a tactical foul to stop a Tottenham counterattack.
Arteta received another yellow card, and he waved his hands at Ramsey in dissatisfaction, as this yellow card was basically for Ramsey's mistake.
"Sorry." Ramsey waved at him with a look of anxiety, his emotions also a bit off.
"Cheer up!"
Captain Van Persie clapped his hands to encourage his teammates. He sensed a subtle change among them and felt a sense of foreboding. "Focus your attention on the goal, okay? Just one goal, and everything will be fine."
Maël agreed with his words. Both sides now needed a goal to reverse their negative states. Whoever scored first would be able to stabilize their position.
Of course, one goal was hardly a guarantee.
He hoped the team could fight for five to eight threatening attacking opportunities, convert them into three excellent scoring chances, and seize two of them.
After the 65th minute, Tottenham coach Redknapp stood on the sidelines, staring at the field with a worried expression.
As an experienced coach, he had maintained his restraint and composure for a long time, not bringing the unpleasantness of the press conference onto the field, and calmly accepting both leading and being tied.
But now it was different. The game was coming to an end, and the most crucial moment had arrived.
At this moment, no one could remain calm. Redknapp turned to look at Wenger on the other side, and found that the latter had the same expression as him.
These old rivals were quite in sync. Let's see who could appear in the post-match press conference with a smile later.
"Bang."
In the 64th minute, Modrić received a pass from Kyle Walker in the center. His first touch was a mistake, popping the ball up in the air.
However, he recovered well, first flicking the ball over Arteta, then using an Elastico to shake off Alexandre Song.
Agility had always been his trademark. His explosiveness and physique weren't great, so if he didn't have some fancy footwork, he wouldn't have become Tottenham's record signing.
"Bang!"
The next moment, he sent a highly penetrating pass, and the ball arrived at the right side of the box.
Right winger Defoe sprinted forward at high speed, observed Bale's position at the far post, and whipped in a Cross.
"This is an opportunity! Defoe's cross, a good spot!
"Sagna couldn't squeeze past Bale, and Bale is facing an empty net at the far post!
"Header! Oh! It hit the post! So unlucky!
"Bale, wouldn't it have been over if you had aimed for the empty net early on? Why pursue the angle and waste such a great scoring opportunity! Cough cough!"
Bale looked dazed after the header, standing blankly as if he had forgotten where he was.
Even when the rebound fell back into the penalty area, he didn't contest it, and Mertesacker cleared it out of the right sideline with a single kick.
At the midfield line, Modrić saw this scene and squatted on the ground, holding his head, overwhelmed with frustration.
"Oh!" Redknapp looked like he had seen a ghost, wanting to shoot Bale, young people are sometimes unstable.
At the sideline, Ekotto threw the sideline ball, which was intercepted by Arsenal winger Walcott, who had rushed back from the same side.
Walcott couldn't quite stop after intercepting the ball, and he followed the ball all the way to his own baseline. As Ekotto rushed over, he twisted his body and launched a long pass towards the other end.
"Bang!"
To exert force, he threw out his body, squeezing out the last burst of power he could muster when his center of gravity was unstable.
The football soared all the way, blasting towards Tottenham's left flank with tremendous force, where Maël and Kyle Walker were jostling each other, both wanting to gain control of the football.
"The height of the football is very high, and the trajectory is very erratic. This is a difficult ball to take down. The two may have to use a header to solve the problem! Maël doesn't give in, he seems to be refusing to compete for the high ball, he is blocking Kyle Walker, not wanting him to jump, he needs to be careful not to foul! Does he want to take this ball down?"
On the left flank, Maël watched the football approach, mustered all his strength, and pushed Walker to the left, opening up about half a step.
Walker struggled to steady himself, realizing that he had missed the best jumping opportunity, but he was not worried.
There should still be a chance for a second scramble or even a second header for the rebound. It was unlikely that Maël would directly "Bang!"
Just as he thought of this, he saw Maël's body stretch out, raising his right leg greatly to the right, bending his knee waiting for the ball.
The football landed perfectly on his heel, and his heel twitched slightly towards the attacking direction, and the football landed with a 'pop', rolling towards Tottenham's backfield.
Stopped! Or even a stop and pass!
Maël seemed to have expected this scene, and the moment his right foot landed, he pushed off the ground and accelerated, chasing after the football.
"Thump thump thump!"
Kyle Walker's face immediately flushed red as he turned around and followed, but with a slow start, how could he easily catch up with Maël, who had already accelerated to his fastest speed?
Too sudden!
Where did Maël get so many fancy moves, is he preparing to practice five-star skills? Is he really preparing to dance on the field?
"Ooh ooh...!" Redknapp, who was on the side, suddenly rolled his eyes upwards, his mentality already on the verge of collapse, he wanted to use a Maxim machine gun to shoot the person who wasted the opportunity.
Even if that was his beloved general.
"Yeah!" The Arsenal fans in the stadium were in a state of excitement, having seen such elegant and dashing ball control performances twice in a row, how could they still sit calmly in their seats.
"What's wrong with him today?"
"He's improved again!"
"Haha... Tottenham is in trouble!"
"Hiding something? You have to watch Maël!"
They shouted excitedly, the die-hard fans all understood football, knowing the difficulty and effect of this kind of fancy operation.
"Oh!" In the broadcast room, there was even more appreciation in Zhang Lu's voice, "Here comes another one! Walker finds that he can't defend at all, like a ghost, he rushes up without paying attention!
"Look at this ball, whether it is the judgment of the landing point or the grasp of the force and method of stopping the ball, it is close to perfect.
"The football just went out six or seven meters, but this is not too big... If it doesn't lie so big, Maël has no space to accelerate.
"This is the 'one touch' that is often emphasized in the European football passing and control system! Players must learn to judge the situation on the field and make reasonable direction and reasonable force stops at the moment of receiving the ball to form a breakaway!
"Maël has completed a hell-level difficulty breakaway! This is completely a personal show!"
On the football field, Maël sped past, feeling the breeze brushing his face and entering his ears.
He fell in love with this feeling, which gave him a tremendous sense of satisfaction.
Anaerobic running tiring?
He didn't feel tired at all!
He used to play football in a rough and simple way, but now he can slowly play some refined work, moving closer to the direction of elegance and chic.
No one doesn't want to play football like this. With the same high efficiency, choosing Ronaldinho or Mbappé is not a difficult decision.
Practice Ball Control well! In the future, he can practice fancy skills. He wants to use his strong body to play an elegant football, even if it sounds a bit incongruous, but he believes he has a chance to achieve this goal.
"Bang bang."
Without thinking too much, he controlled the football. The opponent's center-back Kaboul had already come to defend. This was a player with average Speed and could not pose a threat to him.
While still at high Speed, Maël didn't hesitate and directly dribbled the ball towards the baseline.
Kaboul hurriedly stretched out a foot, giving up the best chance to chase back and choosing a last-ditch attempt, but unfortunately he lost the bet! He didn't touch the ball! Maël easily reached the baseline, and before the football went out of bounds, he swung a curved ball towards the center.
The central defenders were very dense, and it would definitely be unreasonable to go further in. Sending a Cross in such a dangerous area would definitely create a lot of threat.
At the far post, Alexandre Song hesitated for a moment, seeing that his angle was a bit small, and headed the ball towards Ramsey at the inverted triangle position in the penalty area.
Everyone's eyes were focused on Ramsey, who stepped forward to meet the ball, bounced up and hit a very tough Volley with his right foot.
"Swish!"
No one saw the specific trajectory of the football, and the ball had already hit the dead corner.
Goal!
Two to one!
"Oh oh oh!" Redknapp completely collapsed. He glanced at Bale for the first time, and then at Kyle Walker.
Hanged!
All hanged!
"Wow!!"
After changing sides, the Arsenal fan zone was behind the Tottenham goal, and everyone clearly saw the football hitting the net and reacted instantly.
"Beautiful fast break!"
"Walcott passes, Maël perfectly stops the ball and bursts past, passes after dribbling... Alexandre Song heads the ball, Ramsey with a fatal blow!"
"Ah!"
Everyone fell into madness. The little girl in the season ticket area jumped up happily again. She looked back to find the figures of the other three, and soon saw David.
"Maël!" David's face was flushed, he stretched his body to the front and shouted Maël's name loudly.
From his sweaty appearance, he should still be a little unaccustomed to this kind of occasion, but he was trying to overcome these and used the climax of emotions at this moment to offset this emotion.
"Mmm!" Chloé waved to him, she generously showed a smile, stunning many Arsenal fans who noticed her.
"Hi!" David quickly saw Chloé too, waved to her, "Happy?"
Chloé nodded heavily, pointed to Maël's direction and gave a thumbs up... Seeming to think it was not clear enough, she also pulled up a part of the back of her jersey and pointed to the signature on it.
"Haha."
David saw her appearance and laughed a few times cheerfully. He remembered what this little girl looked like a few days ago, it seemed that she was much more sunny.
At a position on the sidelines, several commentators who were calculating the post-match scores increased Ramsey's score by 1.5 points and Alexandre Song's by 0.8 points.
When it was Maël's turn, they hesitated for a while, and finally decided to change his original score of 8 points to 9.3 points.
"It's in again! Arsenal has overtaken the score! Two to one!"
In the broadcast room, Zhan Jun's iconic roar sounded: "The attack was launched from Walcott's long pass! He intercepted Ekotto's sideline ball and scored this attack after finding Maël!
"Wasting opportunities will be punished, Tottenham should have taken the lead, but Bale's header hit the goalpost!
"This painful experience, I think, can stimulate Bale to strengthen his header and develop an iron head!"
"Congratulations to Arsenal, they have gained an absolute lead in this North London Derby!"
On the sidelines, Wenger once again showed a happy smile. He raised his right arm and clenched his fist, then shook his head in admiration and walked towards the coaching bench.
As before, he calmly walked through the celebrating crowd, sat on the coach's bench, picked up a notebook, and began to write something in it.
He wrote very seriously, as if some tactical inspiration had suddenly struck him, and he had to write it down immediately.
Not far away, Philip, wondering why he hadn't celebrated with everyone twice, came over to check on him. He curiously craned his neck to look at the notebook in his hand, wanting to observe what he was writing.
Building a new tactic around Maël?
Playing more high balls? Or creating more space on the left flank?
Or perhaps allowing Maël to have a more flexible range of movement, gradually leaning towards a free-role playmaker style? A hint of anxiety appeared in his eyes. He eagerly wanted to know if his own thoughts after seeing this scene were the same as those of a top coach.
Even if they differed, he needed to know in what aspects he fell short. This was related to the improvement of a coach's level.
Until he tiptoed closer and saw the lines on the page: "A heartbeat suspended for two seconds, like weightlessness, is the feeling of complete tension releasing. I'm so proud to be Maël's coach."
Philip thought he was hallucinating. He moved even closer, blinked a few times, and looked again, but the content was still the same.
Just as he moved closer, the action startled Wenger, who turned around nervously and met his gaze.
Wenger: "…"
Philip: "…"
He felt a deep sense of doubt. Was this what a top coach was really like? Not recording any strange ideas or tactics at such a moment, but just feeding himself mental chicken soup? Philip watched Wenger put away the notebook, feigning composure, his face slightly red, but he didn't dare to be careless, pondering the deeper meaning.
Was this the step that was holding him back from becoming a top coach? Should he also bring a notebook next time?
His expression was solemn as he seriously considered this question.
In distant Japan, Moriyasu Hajime, the coach of Sanfrecce Hiroshima, who was watching the game, looked at his notebook filled with tactical notes and smiled contentedly.
Seeing Wenger also recording things, he felt that the distance between him and his idol was really close. "In the next game, I will also bring a notebook to the field, and do everything like Wenger."
He said to his wife, who immediately retorted, "People really have something to record. What are you going to record?"
"I don't know." Moriyasu Hajime was a little confused, but he still optimistically shook his head and said, "If there's nothing to write, I'll just scribble something, like 'Maël is really stronger than I imagined.'"
His wife looked at him speechlessly, not knowing what to say, and just nodded.
ps: Too many words in a single chapter, so I split it into two.
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