Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 181: Double Bangers!

Chapter 181: Double Bangers!

The corner was awarded, and Overtoom trotted over once more, his shirt clinging to his back from the sweat.

The AZ Alkmaar players filled the 18 yard box, while SC Veendam’s defenders did their best to organize themselves.

[If AZ Alkmaar keep this up,] the co-commentator mused, [we might not be done seeing goals tonight]

The referee glanced at his watch before positioning himself near the edge of the 18 yard box, ensuring everything was in order.

Overtoom placed the ball down, adjusting it slightly with his fingers before stepping back.

[Another corner for AZ Alkmaar,] Mike said, the anticipation in his voice evident. [They’ve been relentless tonight, and you can see it in SC Veendam’s body language. They just want this game to end]

[But AZ Alkmaar?] the co-commentator chuckled. [They smell blood, Mike. And something tells me they’re not done yet]

Overtoom raised his hand, signaling the intended play. The AZ Alkmaar players jostled for position, Fernando Lewis using his sheer strength to create space, while Mathias Johansson and Thom Haye lurked dangerously near the penalty spot.

The delivery came in—a wicked, curling cross that dipped right into the heart of the six-yard box.

[In-swinger from Overtoom—dangerous ball!]

Nienhuis surged forward with his fists raised, ready to punch, but Mattias Johansson got there first, rising above everyone to meet the cross with a thunderous header.

THUMP!

The ball rocketed toward the bottom corner, but in an incredible reaction save, Nienhuis flung himself low, getting a strong right hand to push it away.

[What a save!] Mike shouted, disbelief evident in his tone. [Nienhuis denies Johansson from point-blank range!]

[Incredible reflexes, Mike!] his partner added. [That was going in all day, but Nienhuis somehow keeps it out!]

But the danger wasn’t over.

The rebound fell to Adam near the edge of the six-yard box. He reacted instantly, swinging his foot through the ball with power.

A Veendam defender threw himself in the way, blocking the shot with his chest, the impact sending him staggering backward.

The ball popped up in the air.

Benjamin was already on the move, reading the play before anyone else. He adjusted his stance, watching the ball drop, and then—

Boom!

A first-time volley.

The strike was pure power, the ball screaming toward goal before anyone could react.

[Benjamin Rijkaard—OH MY WORD!]

There was no stopping this one. The net rippled violently as the ball slammed into the top corner.

GOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL!!!~

The stadium erupted once more.

[What a hit! What a goal!] Mike’s voice was almost drowned out by the deafening cheers. [Benjamin Rijkaard with a stunning volley to make it eleven!]

[That’s an outrageous finish!] the co-commentator laughed, shaking his head. [Technique, precision, power—it had everything!]

Benjamin turned away, arms spread wide, his face alight with sheer joy as his teammates swarmed him once more.

Adam arrived first, nearly tackling him with excitement, while Overtoom ruffled his hair in celebration.

The replay flashed on the big screen, showing the perfect execution of the volley—his body positioning, the clean contact, and the unstoppable trajectory.

[Just look at that,] the co-commentator marveled. [It’s one thing to connect like that, but to keep it on target with such power? That’s special]

[Two goals for the youngster tonight,] Mike added. [He’s been sensational!]

As the celebrations died down, the camera panned to Nienhuis, who sat on the ground once again, staring blankly at the ball in his net. He had made an outstanding save seconds earlier, only to be beaten by a top-class strike.

[You have to feel for him,] Mike said, shaking his head. [He’s actually made some brilliant stops tonight, but what can you do against a hit like that?]

The SC Veendam defenders trudged back to the center circle, their expressions hollow. The gulf in class was painfully clear.

[Eleven goals, Mike,] the co-commentator mused. [I don’t think anyone saw this coming]

[And the way AZ Alkmaar are playing?] Mike added. [We might not be done yet. It’s just 68th minutes on the clock]

The game restarted with a quick pass from the center circle, but SC Veendam looked shattered—physically and mentally. Their movements were sluggish, their passes lacking conviction.

AZ Alkmaar, on the other hand gave no f*cks. They remained active in the high line, pressing high up the pitch as if they were still chasing the first goal.

[You’d think with this scoreline, they’d ease up,] Mike said, watching as Adam immediately harried a Veendam midfielder into a rushed pass. [But look at them. They want more!]

[It’s a statement, Mike,] the co-commentator replied. [A big one. They’re showing no mercy tonight]

Benjamin was at the heart of it again, reading the misplaced pass before anyone else. He intercepted with ease, nudging the ball past an oncoming defender before opening his stride.

[Here comes Benjamin Rijkaard again,] Mike’s voice climbed, sensing the danger Veendam were in. [He’s been untouchable tonight!]

Benjamin carried the ball forward, cutting through the midfield with smooth, effortless touches.

Adam peeled off to his right with arms outstretched, calling for it. Overtoom made a darting run to the left, creating space.

[Options everywhere for Benjamin,] the co-commentator noted. [What’s he going to do?]

He took a quick glance at the goal and instantly made him decision.

Benjamin shifted the ball onto his left foot and let fly from distance.

The strike was vicious. It dipped and swerved through the air, heading straight for the top corner.

Nienhuis, already exhausted and mentally drained, reacted late but still stretched out a desperate hand.

The fingertips brushed the ball, but it wasn’t enough.

The net bulged.

GOOOOOAAAAALLLLLL!!!~

[HE’S DONE IT AGAIN!] Mike roared. [BENJAMIN RIJKAARD—A HAT-TRICK IN STYLE!]

The stadium exploded, the cheers echoing across the night sky.

Benjamin dropped to his knees, fists clenched, as his teammates rushed in. Adam grabbed him first, lifting him off the ground in celebration.

[That’s just outrageous,] the co-commentator laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. [The confidence to go for goal from there, the execution—it’s unbelievable!]

The replay showed everything in slow motion. The way Benjamin adjusted his body, the technique behind the strike, the helpless dive from Nienhuis.

A masterpiece.

[Three goals for the youngster, and twelve goals for AZ Alkmaar] Mike said, still buzzing. [And every single one has been brilliant. What a performance from the young lad!]

The camera panned to the SC Veendam players with their hands on hips and eyes staring at the ground.

[They don’t know what’s hit them,] the co-commentator murmured. [And honestly, neither do we. This has been breathtaking from AZ Alkmaar]

Benjamin jogged back to the center circle, his expression calm despite the chaos around him. His teammates patted his back, grinning, but he just nodded, refocusing.

There was still time left on the clock.

[Seventy-two minutes played,] Mike said. [And AZ Alkmaar? They’re still hungry for more]