Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 239: End-to-end Stuff

Chapter 239: End-to-end Stuff

Twente wasted no time transitioning forward. Brama, always composed, quickly got to his feet and found Fer, who opened up his body and switched play to Chadli.

[And here comes Twente again,] Ronald said. [They are refusing to let AZ Alkmaar settle!]

Chadli took off, his long strides eating up the ground as he raced toward Gorter. The young full-back stayed tight, mirroring Chadli’s movements, but the winger had too much confidence now.

He slowed, shifted the ball to his right, then darted left in a blur of movement—leaving Gorter in his wake.

[Oh, he’s beaten him! Gorter had no chance there!] Erik exclaimed.

Chadli surged into the 18 yard box with his head up, scanning for options. Castaignos was making a near-post run, while Tadić peeled off toward the penalty spot.

Chadli squared it toward Tadić—

But Reijnen stretched out a leg! The defender barely got a touch, diverting the ball just enough to send it rolling away from danger.

[What an interception!] Ronald shouted. [Reijnen saves AZ Alkmaar there!]

The ball skidded out toward Henriksen, who took a deep breath before knocking it forward to Benjamin on the left flank.

Benjamin let it roll ahead of him, then took off. He had open space, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

[And now AZ Alkmaar have a chance! Benjamin is sprinting forward!] Erik said, his voice rising.

Rosales quickly closed in, trying to force him wide. But Benjamin was quick, shifting inside before cutting back out to the left, creating just enough separation.

[That’s brilliant footwork,] Ronald praised. [He’s got a cross in him here—]

Benjamin whipped the ball into the 18 yard box. It was curling, dipping—perfectly placed between the defenders and the goalkeeper.

Altidore rose to meet it! And made contact!

The ball rocketed toward the bottom corner—But Sander Boschker got down in time!

[A huge save!] Erik shouted. [That was destined for the back of the net!]

The Twente goalkeeper smothered the ball, taking a moment before rising to his feet.

[What a delivery from Benjamin,] Ronald said. [And Altidore did everything right, but Boschker was equal to it.]

The home crowd groaned in frustration. That had been AZ Alkmaar’s best chance since conceding.

[They needed that to go in,] Erik added. [Twente have had them on the back foot for a while, and you can see Gertjan Verbeek shaking his head on the touchline. He knows chances like that don’t come often]

Twente played out from the back again, looking composed. AZ Alkmaar had their warning—they needed to be ready for what was coming next.

Wisgerhof took his time on the ball, scanning for options before rolling it out to Rosales on the right. Twente weren’t rushing—they had control now, dictating the tempo.

[They’re being smart,] Ronald noted. [They don’t need to force it. They know AZ Alkmaar are rattled]

Rosales pushed forward, looking for Tadić down the line, but Berghuis read it well. He stepped in, intercepting cleanly before quickly flicking it toward Henriksen.

[Good read from Berghuis! Can AZ Alkmaar turn this into something?] Erik asked.

Henriksen took a touch and looked up. Twente’s midfield was spread, just enough space to exploit. He didn’t hesitate—he played a first-time ball into the feet of Altidore, who had dropped deep.

Altidore shielded it well, holding off Brama before laying it off to Martens. The Belgian didn’t think twice—he turned and clipped a pass in behind for Benjamin.

[That’s a beautiful ball!] Ronald exclaimed. [Benjamin is through on the left!]

The winger took it in stride, his pace carrying him past Rosales. The crowd buzzed. Twente’s defense scrambled back.

Benjamin reached the edge of the 18 yard box, lifted his head—

Then drilled a low cross toward the penalty spot!

[Dangerous delivery!] Erik shouted.

Henriksen arrived, lunging to meet it—

But Douglas slid in at the last second, blocking it with a desperate stretch of his leg!

[Massive block from Douglas!] Ronald said. [That was heading straight for goal!]

The deflection sent the ball spinning out toward the top of the 18 yard box—where Martens was waiting.

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped into it, striking it first-time!

The shot flew through the air, dipping—But Sander Boschker reacted again, diving to his right and punching it away!

[Another big save!] Erik exclaimed. [AZ Alkmaar are knocking now!]

The ball wasn’t fully cleared. Berghuis picked it up near the right edge of the 18 yard box, cutting inside onto his left foot.

[He’s going for it!] Ronald said.

Berghuis let fly, curling it toward the far post—But the goalie was there again, stretching to tip it over the bar!

[Unbelievable goalkeeping!] Erik shouted. [Sander Boschker is keeping Twente in the lead all by himself!]

The AZ Alkmaar players groaned in frustration. That was three golden chances in quick succession, and still, they had nothing to show for it.

[They need to stay patient,] Ronald said. [The chances are coming now. Twente are holding on, but for how long?]

Benjamin jogged over to take the corner, wiping sweat from his forehead. The stadium was alive again, urging AZ Alkmaar forward.

[Set pieces are crucial now,] Erik said. [They need to make this count]

Benjamin raised his arm, signaling the play before curling the ball into the 18 yard box.

Bodies crashed together, all fighting for position—Viergever leaped highest!

The header was powerful, heading straight for the top corner—but it smashed onto the crossbar!

CLANG!!!~

[Oh my word!] Ronald shouted. [How has that not gone in?!]

The ball bounced down in the six-yard box and chaos ensued.

Players lunged and feet swung.

Altidore stabbed at it—

Blocked!

Martens tried to poke it through—

Scrambled away by Fer!

[Twente survive again!] Erik shouted over the noise.

The clearance sent the ball flying toward midfield, where Tadić chased it down.

[And now Twente can counter!] Ronald warned.

Tadić took off, sprinting into open space. AZ Alkmaar had thrown too many bodies forward—they were exposed.

[This is dangerous,] Erik said, voice tense.

Tadić carried it into the final third, Castaignos making a run ahead of him.

He slid it through—

Castaignos was one-on-one with Alvarado!

The stadium held its breath.

Castaignos steadied himself, picking his spot—And pulled the trigger!