Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 170: No Goal!

Chapter 170: No Goal!

[Off the post again! Would you believe it?!]

[That goal frame has been SC Veendam’s best defender tonight,] the co-commentator chuckled, shaking his head. [That’s four times now!]

The ball ricocheted back into play, bouncing dangerously in the six-yard box.

Jóhannsson was there and Nienhuis was scrambling.

After a split second of hesitation, Jóhannsson lunged forward.

The ball struck his knee, rolling toward the open goal—

But before it could cross the line, Boussaboun came flying in, launching himself with a last-ditch clearance.

Off the line...

The ball soared high into the stands, finally offering SC Veendam a moment to breathe.

[What a clearance! Boussaboun just saved them again!]

The camera panned to the exhausted SC Veendam defenders with hands on their knees, and chests rising and falling heavily.

Nienhuis sat on the ground for a moment, shaking his head, a mix of exhaustion and disbelief in his eyes.

[They’re surviving by the skin of their teeth,] Mike said. [But the way this is going, you have to wonder—how much longer can they hold out?]

The corner from Overtoom was met with a sea of bodies in the 18 yard box, the ball pinging between heads and legs in a frantic battle for control.

[It’s chaos in the box!] Mike shouted, his voice rising with the tension. [Who’s getting the final touch?]

Bodies crashed together, desperate limbs swinging in search of the ball. Adam flicked it on with the outside of his boot, sending it looping toward the far post. Mulder, SC Veendam’s towering center-back, reacted first.

With a powerful leap, he met the ball with a firm header, sending it spiraling away from danger.

[Mulder gets there! Massive clearance from the big man!]

The ball rocketed out of the penalty area, bouncing just outside the 18-yard box. Guðmundsson was already on the move, adjusting his body to strike before the SC Veendam defenders could close him down.

[Guðmundsson lines one up—]

He swung his left foot cleanly through the ball, sending it hurtling back toward goal. It was a venomous strike, dipping viciously, threatening to sneak under the crossbar.

Nienhuis reacted instinctively.

The SC Veendam goalkeeper flung himself backward, his outstretched fingertips grazing the ball just enough to alter its path.

[What a save by Nienhuis! He just got enough on it!]

The ball rattled against the underside of the bar, bouncing straight down. For a split second, time seemed to freeze.

[Did that cross the line?!]

Before the debate could even begin, Maynard hacked it clear, sending it spinning high into the night sky.

[SC Veendam live to fight another day! But for how long?!]

The referee instinctively checked his watch, his eyes narrowing as he waited for any sign, any vibration on his wrist.

The AFAS Stadion held its breath. Seconds stretched painfully, and the players stood frozen in place, watching him like hawks.

[He’s checking it!] Mike shouted, leaning forward in the commentary booth. [This is the moment—has the ball crossed the line?]

The referee glanced down once more. Nothing. No vibration. No goal.

And then, with a firm wave of his arm, he signaled for play to continue.

[It’s not over! The ball didn’t cross the line!]

[Oh, my word!] the co-commentator burst out. [That was inches away from being a goal and also the fifth of the night for AZ Alkmaar, in the first-half!]

The away crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and groans, SC Veendam fans relieved, AZ Alkmaar supporters furious.

On the pitch, Guðmundsson threw his hands up, his face etched with disbelief.

[They just can’t catch a break!] Mike exclaimed. [AZ Alkmaar knocking on the door again and again, but somehow, SC Veendam are still standing at three!]

Guðmundsson ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he looked toward the assistant referee, but there were no protests to be made. The goal-line technology had spoken... No goal.

[Look at his reaction,] the co-commentator said. [He thought that was in! We all thought that was in!]

The frustration was mounting for AZ Alkmaar, but there was no time to dwell. They had another corner, and Overtoom was already placing the ball near the flag.

[Alright, here we go again,] Mike said, his voice steadying. [Another corner for AZ Alkmaar. They’ve been relentless, but can they finally make it count?]

Overtoom took a deep breath before raising his hand from the corner flag, signaling the movement inside the 18 yard box.

The SC Veendam players were packed in tight, arms locked, eyes darting between their markers and the ball.

The delivery curled in dangerously, whipping toward the penalty spot. Jóhannsson fought through a sea of bodies, rising highest to meet it.

[Here comes Jóhannsson—]

His header was strong, aimed low and to the right, but Nienhuis reacted instantly, diving across to push it away. The ball skidded out toward the edge of the 18 yard box.

[Another big save from Nienhuis!] Mike shouted. [But AZ Alkmaar aren’t done yet!]

Adam charged in, meeting the rebound with a thunderous first-time strike.

The shot was pure and laced with power. It rocketed toward goal, cutting through the crowded box like a bullet through paper.

The defenders flinched at the sight of the ball hurling past them.

Nienhuis was already scrambling and the stadium braced for impact.

Then— thud.

The ball smacked against the legs of Maynard, who had thrown himself in front of it at the last possible second. The deflection sent it spinning wildly off course, trickling just past the post.

[Maynard with a crucial block! AZ Alkmaar were inches away again!]

[How is this still 4-0?!] the co-commentator laughed, his voice tinged with disbelief. [SC Veendam are surviving by instinct at this point!]

The ball rolled out for yet another corner, and the AZ Alkmaar players exchanged looks, a mix of surprise and disbelief flashing in their eyes.

[And we go again,] Mike said, settling in for what was shaping up to be another breathless moment. [This pressure is unreal. SC Veendam can’t hold on forever... can they?]