Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 168: Woodwork Tales 1

Chapter 168: Woodwork Tales 1

Out on the right, Beerens took over. One touch to settle, another to push past his marker—he was flying down the wing.

[AZ Alkmaar are moving with real intent here,] the co-commentator noted. [SC Veendam are struggling to keep up]

Beerens approached the byline, his marker still a step behind. With a quick shift, he faked a cross, making his opponent bite before cutting inside.

[Oh, lovely from Beerens! He’s got space now!]

The winger lifted his head, picking out his target—Jóhannsson, lingering near the penalty spot.

The cross was a beauty, curling toward the Icelandic-American striker with pinpoint precision.

Jóhannsson leaped, twisting his body in midair as he went for a spectacular bicycle kick—

But Maynard, desperate to make amends, flung himself into the challenge. He got the slightest of touches, just enough to take the sting out of the shot.

[Brave defending from Maynard! He had to get something on that!]

The ball looped upward and began to drop just outside the 18 yard box—straight toward Guðmundsson.

[This is dangerous—Guðmundsson’s lining it up!]

Guðmundsson didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the shot, striking through the ball with a perfect volley.

It flew like a missile towards the goal post...

Nienhuis saw it late, barely able to react as the ball dipped violently, heading straight for the top corner—

But somehow, he got a hand to it!

[Oh, what a save! Unbelievable reflexes from Nienhuis!]

The ball still had venom, spinning away toward the post.

CLANG!!!

It smacked off the woodwork again—before bouncing back into play.

SC Veendam scrambled, bodies flying everywhere. Jóhannsson rushed forward for the rebound, but Nienhuis, still recovering, threw himself onto the ball, smothering it just in time.

[A chaotic sequence, but SC Veendam survive this onslaught!]

Guðmundsson groaned in frustration, hands on his head as he turned away. He knew that was close.

[He’s been so unlucky tonight, hasn’t he?] the co-commentator said. [That’s twice now he’s hit the post! What more does he have to do to score?]

The replay showed it again—the sheer power of the strike, the way it swerved at the last second, and Nienhuis’s desperate fingertips keeping it out.

[That was a stunning hit,] Mike said, shaking his head. [And what a response from Nienhuis—instinctive, last-ditch, but absolutely vital for SC Veendam]

The goalkeeper took his time getting up, still clutching the ball, allowing his team a moment to breathe. His defenders patted him on the back, acknowledging the save that had just prevented complete collapse.

[SC Veendam are hanging on,] the co-commentator muttered. [But for how much longer?]

Nienhuis finally got to his feet, still gripping the ball as if it were his lifeline. He took a deep breath, then rolled it forward before launching a long kick upfield, hoping to relieve some pressure.

[SC Veendam need to regroup,] Mike noted. [Right now, they’re just surviving]

The ball sailed past midfield, where Michael de Leeuw leaped to meet it. He rose above Adam, nodding it toward Ketting on the right wing.

[This is better from SC Veendam,] the co-commentator added. [They need to get some control back]

Ketting brought the ball down with his chest, then took a few strides forward, searching for options. He spotted De Leeuw making a diagonal run and attempted to thread a pass into his path.

But just as the ball left his foot, Haye lunged in—timing his slide perfectly to cut off the pass.

[Fantastic interception from Haye! He read that so well!]

AZ Alkmaar wasted no time flipping defense into attack.

Haye quickly scrambled up, poking the ball to Adam, who turned and drove forward. The SC Veendam midfield was stretched—holes were appearing.

[Look at the space! AZ Alkmaar are moving with real urgency again!]

Adam surged ahead, shrugging off a weak challenge before slipping a pass out wide to Beerens, who was already in full sprint.

The crowd roared as the winger took off.

[Oh, here they come again! Beerens is on the move!]

He motored down the flank, Maynard desperately tracking back but struggling to keep up. With a sharp chop, Beerens cut inside, leaving his marker off balance.

[That’s brilliant footwork! He’s completely sold Maynard there!]

Now inside the 18 yard box, Beerens had options available.

He could square it across goal for either one of Johannsson who was lurking between two central defenders and Gudmundsson, who was charging into the 18 yard box—or go for glory himself.

He chose the latter...

He opened his body and aimed for the far corner, curling a left-footed effort toward the top corner.

Nienhuis, still on high alert, reacted instantly.

He exploded off his line, stretching every inch of his frame, his fingertips grazing the ball—

Deflecting it just enough.

The shot, which seemed destined for the net, instead flicked off his glove and clipped the crossbar.

CLANG!!!

The sound echoed around the stadium.

[Off the bar! How close was that?!]

The ball rebounded down into the six-yard box, a chaotic scramble ensuing.

Jóhannsson lunged in, but Maynard, determined to make up for his earlier lapse, threw himself in the way.

He got a boot on it—clearing the ball off the line at the last second.

[Heroic defending from Maynard! He’s just kept SC Veendam alive!]

But it wasn’t over.

The ball spun out toward the edge of the area—

Straight to Overtoom.

[Oh, this could be it—Overtoom!]

The midfielder didn’t hesitate. He met the ball with a first-time drive, low and powerful, drilling it through the bodies in front.

Nienhuis had barely recovered from his last save, but he reacted again.

Diving low, he stuck out a strong right hand—

AND BLOCKED IT.

[Unbelievable! Nienhuis again!]

The SC Veendam goalkeeper had no time to celebrate. The ball rebounded out wide, where Beerens latched onto it.

The winger wasted no time—whipping in a cross before the defense could reset.

It was perfectly struck.

The ball floated toward the far post, curling away from the goalkeeper.

Adam lurked there, completely unmarked.

The young Dutchman leaped, meeting the ball with a powerful header, aiming it down and toward the corner.