Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 151: Benjamin Breaks The Curse

Chapter 151: Benjamin Breaks The Curse

The tension inside the Philips Stadion was palpable. Both sets of fans were on the edge of their seats, their voices rising and falling with every touch of the ball.

The pace of the game refused to let up. PSV pushed forward with precision in the 52nd minute, their midfield orchestrating every attack like a well-oiled machine.

Kevin Strootman, the heartbeat of their midfield, sprayed a diagonal ball out wide to Willems, who took it down expertly.

[Look at that control from Willems,] Mike said, admiration clear in his tone. [He’s been a menace on that left flank all night]

Willems drove forward, skipping past Berghuis with ease. He spotted Mertens making a darting run toward the edge of the box and rolled the ball into his path.

Mertens took a deft touch to control before quickly laying it off to Matavž, who stood just outside the penalty area.

[This looks promising for PSV,] Mike noted, his voice quickening. [Matavž in a dangerous position here—]

Matavž, with a flick of his right boot, found Lens in space on the right side of the 18 yard box.

Lens took a touch, cutting inside to shake off the trailing defender, and unleashed a curling shot aimed for the top corner.

[Lens! Oh, this could be something special—]

CLANG!

The ball smacked against the inside of the post with a resounding thud, ricocheting back into play.

Gasps erupted across the stadium, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.

[Off the post! Unbelievable! PSV inches away from their third!] Mike exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief.

[What a move that was,] the co-commentator said, shaking his head. [From Willems’ run to Lens’ finish—absolutely brilliant football. But sometimes, Mike, the post is a keeper’s best friend]

The ball bounced back into the box, where Mertens pounced, but his effort was blocked by Altidore, who had tracked back to help his defense.

AZ Alkmaar immediately countered. Henriksen picked up the loose ball and launched a long pass to Berghuis, who sprinted down the wing.

Berghuis controlled it beautifully, cutting inside and driving toward the edge of the box.

[AZ Alkmaar aren’t wasting any time here!] Mike said, excitement creeping back into his voice. [Berghuis is leading the charge!]

Berghuis lifted his head and spotted Altidore making a run between the two center-backs. He chipped a perfectly weighted ball into the 18 yard box, where Altidore rose to meet it.

[Altidore’s there—]

But Waterman was there again, leaping to punch the ball clear before Altidore could make contact.

[Waterman denies Altidore once more!] the co-commentator said. [You have to say, Mike, this has been one of the best goalkeeping performances we’ve seen this season]

The ball spilled out to Benjamin, who stood just outside the box. He didn’t hesitate. With his left foot, he unleashed a thunderous volley that had the entire stadium holding its breath.

[Benjamin! Surely this time—]

The ball swerved through the air, past Waterman’s outstretched fingers, and—

GOOAAALLLLL!!!~

The Philips Stadion erupted, a cacophony of noise that seemed to shake the very ground beneath the players’ feet.

The AZ Alkmaar fans leaped from their seats with their arms raised, screaming in pure, unbridled joy.

[Finally! Benjamin breaks the curse!] Mike shouted, his voice barely audible over the deafening cheers. [What a strike! The young man just wouldn’t be denied!]

The co-commentator’s voice carried the same awe. [And what a way to do it, Mike. A volley like that? Precision, power, and sheer determination. Benjamin has announced himself on this stage tonight with thumping finish!]

On the pitch, Benjamin sprinted toward the corner flag with fists clenched, and his face a mixture of relief and exhilaration.

His teammates swarmed him, Altidore pulling him into a tight embrace while Berghuis ruffled his hair, grinning from ear to ear.

The AZ Alkmaar bench erupted as well. The players on the sidelines jumped to their feet, fists pumping in the air.

The manager, Gertjan Verbeek was more animated than anyone, his arms stretched wide as he roared his approval.

[Look at Gertjan Verbeek,] the co-commentator chuckled. [You’d think he scored it himself!]

Mike laughed. [You can’t blame him. AZ Alkmaar have been knocking on the door all night, and it’s Benjamin Rijkaard—the youngster—who finally kicks it down]

The camera panned to the PSV fans, their faces a portrait of disbelief. Some sat with their heads in their hands; others gestured wildly toward the pitch, frustration evident in every movement.

PSV’s manager, Dick Advocaat, stood on the touchline, shaking his head as he barked instructions to his players.

His jaw was set, and his eyes burned with intensity as he clapped his hands, urging his team to refocus.

[Dick Advocaat is furious,] Mike observed. [And you can see why. That was a defensive lapse—Benjamin was given far too much space on the edge of the 18 yard box]

[True, Mike,] the co-commentator agreed. [But let’s give credit where it’s due. That strike was unstoppable. Even Waterman, with the game of his life, couldn’t get near it]

Benjamin!~ Benjamin!~ Benjamin!~

The AZ Alkmaar fans were in full voice now, their chants echoing across the stadium.

Red and white home themed scarves waved in unison, a sea of color and passion. The momentum had shifted, and they knew it.

[The game’s all square, 2-2 it reads on the scoreboard] Mike said, his tone brimming with excitement. [And with over 30 minutes to play, you get the sense this is far from over]

The PSV players gathered near the center circle, their expressions a mixture of frustration and determination.

Strootman clapped his hands, his voice cutting through the noise as he rallied his teammates.

[This is where PSV need their leaders,] the co-commentator said. [Strootman, Mertens, Lens—they’ve been here before. Can they rise to the occasion and take control again?]

Fweeee!~

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the restart. The energy in the stadium was electric, the atmosphere charged with anticipation.

[Strap in, folks,] Mike said, leaning forward in his chair. [If the first hour was anything to go by, the next 30 minutes could be something special]