Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 228: All Square In Udine

Chapter 228: All Square In Udine

CLANG!!!~

The ball smashed against the crossbar with a thunderous crack, bouncing straight down onto the goal line.

[IT’S OFF THE BAR! IS IT IN?!]

Chaos ensued...

Bodies flew in from all directions, a desperate scramble erupting in the six-yard box. Alvarado dove forward with his arms outstretched, but Badu got there first.

[BADU—!]

He swung his boot—But the shot skidded wide!

[UNBELIEVABLE! HOW DID THAT NOT GO IN?!]

[David, AZ Alkmaar are riding their luck! Udinese have had three golden chances, but they’ve wasted all three of them!]

Badu buried his face in his hands. The Udinese bench was stunned. Di Natale turned away with his hands on his hips, and frustration written all over his face.

Gertjan Verbeek, on the other hand, clapped his hands and barked orders, rallying his players. They had survived the storm. Now, it was their turn to source an equalizer.

Esteban Alvarado restarted quickly, rolling the ball out to Adam Maher, who immediately looked upfield. Henriksen drifted into space, demanding the ball.

The tempo shifted.

[Here comes AZ Alkmaar! They want to hit Udinese before they recover!]

Henriksen took a quick touch to settle the ball and drove forward, skipping past one challenge before threading a pass to Altidore, who held off his marker and laid it off to Benjamin.

The moment the ball reached him, the crowd buzzed.

He was near the halfway line, but there was space ahead. Basta, still wary from earlier, hesitated and that was all Benjamin needed.

With a sharp burst of speed and a quick shift of balance, he was gone.

[Benjamin is flying down the left flank! Udinese are stretched here!]

Domizzi rushed across to cover, but Benjamin saw it coming. He did a step-over, and with a drop of the shoulder—he cut inside, gliding past the defender and surging toward the 18 yard box.

[He’s into the final third! Benjamin’s causing problems again!]

Altidore peeled off his marker in the middle, waving for the cross. Henriksen arrived late at the edge of the 18 yard box. Udinese’s backline was scrambling.

Benjamin glanced up and whipped in a cross. It was low, driven, and deadly.

[Perfect delivery—ALTIDORE—!]

The American striker took a first-time strike filled with pure power.

Brkić reacted—But he was too late.

The net bulged.

GOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!~

[JOZY ALTIDORE EQUALIZES! AZ ALKMAAR ARE BACK FROM THE DEAD!]

[David, what a turnaround! AZ Alkmaar have clawed their way back from 2-0 down in the 78 minute of the Second-half!]

The away end erupted in cheers. The players mobbed Altidore, the pure roar of celebration drowning everything else out.

Gertjan Verbeek punched the air on the touchline, his voice lost in the chaos.

The scoreboard flickered.

[Udinese 2-2 AZ Alkmaar]

Francesco Guidolin froze on the spot.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his hands gripping the edge of his coat as if bracing himself. Then, in a flash, he ripped off his cap and slammed it onto the ground.

[Oh, and look at that, Marco! Francesco Guidolin is furious! He knows his team have thrown away a two-goal lead!]

[David, can you blame him? Udinese had control. They had the chances to kill the game, but now—look at them. They’re shaken. They’re rattled. And AZ Alkmaar? They smell blood]

Francesco Guidolin stormed to the edge of his technical area, barking orders, his voice cutting through the stunned silence of the home fans.

He motioned for his players to stay calm, to keep their shape, but his expression said it all.

They had lost control of the game.

Fweeeee!~

Udinese kicked off, but their passes were slower now, and more hesitant. Basta rolled it to Pinzi, who looked up and saw nothing but red shirts pressing high.

[David, AZ Alkmaar aren’t sitting back. They want more. Look at them pressing higher up the pitch!]

Pinzi tried to switch play, but Adam read it, lunging forward to intercept. The ball broke loose and Henriksen pounced, nudging it toward Benjamin.

And just like that, he was off again.

[BENJAMIN! HE’S TURNED BASTA INSIDE OUT! HERE HE GOES!]

Basta reached for his shirt as a last second resort, but it was too late. Benjamin shrugged him off and surged down the left flank. The Udinese defense was backpedaling, scrambling to recover.

Francesco Guidolin shouted, waving his arms frantically. "Close him down! Close him down!"

Benjamin didn’t slow down his pace. His pace was electric, and his touch precise. Domizzi stepped up, but Benjamin chopped inside, cutting onto his right foot and slipping a pass through to Altidore.

Altidore spun and fired with his first touch of the ball—but It was blocked!

Danilo threw his body in the way, deflecting it behind for a corner.

[AZ Alkmaar are relentless, Marco! Udinese can’t breathe!]

Francesco Guidolin clapped his hands together, trying to wake his players up. "Focus! Get organized!" His voice was hoarse, but the panic in his eyes betrayed him.

Benjamin jogged over to take the corner. Brkić adjusted his gloves, nervously scanning the penalty area.

Benjamin placed the ball down, his breathing steady despite the roar of the away fans behind him.

His eyes flickered to the 18 yard box—Altidore, Guðmundsson, Viergever, and Henriksen were jostling for position.

Udinese’s defenders looked tense as they gripped shirts while glancing at the referee.

Brkić spread his arms, barking instructions. "Stay tight! Stay tight!"

Benjamin took a few steps back. Then, with a deep breath—he swung his foot through.

[Here comes the corner—]

It was whipped in with pace, curling toward the near post.

Henriksen broke free from his marker and he met it with a glancing header—

[HENRIKSEN—]

Brkić reacted instinctively, diving low to make a palm save! The ball spilled loose inside the six-yard box!

Everyone scrambled again!

Altidore lunged, but Danilo blocked him! Adam swung a leg—but the shot was deflected! The ball pinballed between bodies—

[WHO WANTS IT?!]

A red shirt struck through the chaos—it was Adam Maher.

THUMP!

The ball rocketed toward goal!

Brkić flung himself across but the shot was blocked by a flailing foot—

The rebound spilled loose again! Guðmundsson reacted first, stabbing a shot toward the bottom corner—