Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 298: "SUÁREZ!... Oh"

Chapter 298: "SUÁREZ!... Oh"

[And here come Liverpool again! They’re not letting up, John!]

[They can’t. Not now. That was another golden chance wasted, but they’ve got no time to dwell on it.]

Sterling didn’t wait. As soon as AZ Alkmaar restarted play, he was pressing high again, snapping at Berghuis’ heels, forcing the Dutchman to play it back to Marcellis.

The crowd at Anfield roared, sensing the urgency, the tension thickening with every second.

[Listen to that, Peter. The crowd’s trying to drag them back into this.]

[It’s working, John. The players are feeding off it—you can see it.]

Marcellis tried to calm things down, knocking a short pass to Henriksen, but Henderson was right there, harassing him into a mistake. The ball bobbled loose.

[Oh, Henderson’s won it back!]

He poked it forward to Allen, who took one touch and immediately sprayed it wide to Johnson on the right.

Johnson surged into space, head up. Ahead of him, Suárez peeled away from his marker again, gesturing frantically.

[They’ve got numbers here, Peter. Johnson’s got options!]

He skipped past Martens with a drop of the shoulder and played a sharp one-two with Gerrard before bending a cross into the 18 yard box.

Suárez rose, twisted, connected with a looping header—

[Alvarado again! That’s another brilliant stop!]

[How many times is he going to deny them, John? He’s everywhere tonight!]

Alvarado didn’t just save—it was the way he clawed the ball away mid-air, just as it seemed destined to drop into the far corner. He crashed to the ground and scrambled to his feet, barking orders, eyes wide and burning with intensity.

[He’s in the zone, Peter. Absolutely in the zone.]

[Meanwhile, Suárez is looking skyward. That’s four clear chances now.]

Brendan Rodgers looked on, arms crossed tight against his chest, chewing furiously on a piece of gum.

The frustration was visible now—not just on the pitch, but bleeding into the crowd, the touchline, even the commentary box.

[There’s a growing sense of disbelief here, John. How is this still 1–0?]

[AZ Alkmaar’s goal is living a charmed life, that’s for sure.]

Another corner for Liverpool. Gerrard jogged over, placed the ball carefully, hands on hips as he scanned the 18 yard box.

[You feel like something’s got to give.]

He whipped it in with pace. Agger leapt, just ahead of Viergever, but the ball skimmed off the top of his head and fell toward the edge of the 18 yard box—right to Allen.

Allen chested it down, struck it first time.

[Struck sweetly—]

—but the ball cannoned off Martens’ thigh and spun away.

[Blocked again! That’s heroic defending.]

[They’re throwing everything at them, Peter. Absolutely everything.]

AZ Alkmaar tried to break, but this time Carragher was ready, stepping up and crunching into Altidore with a bone-rattling tackle that sent the ball flying back into Liverpool’s possession.

[That’s vintage Carragher!]

[He’s not letting them out. No way.]

Johnson collected the loose ball, exchanged passes with Henderson, and then picked out Sterling on the left flank with a clever switch.

[This kid’s been electric tonight.]

Sterling took it on the bounce, killed it dead with a deft touch, and went straight at Marcellis again.

The defender looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Sterling feinted one way, cut the other, then chopped back inside with lightning speed.

[He’s inside the 18 yard box!]

He faked a shot, drawing Alvarado off his line, then slid a low pass square across the six-yard box.

Suárez arrived—again—lunging, stretching—

[This is the one—!]

—and he connected, but only just. The ball clipped the outside of his boot and rolled agonizingly across the face of goal, missing the post by inches.

[OH MY WORD.]

[It’s just not happening, Peter. That should’ve been it.]

Suárez lay face down in the grass this time, not even moving. Gerrard stood nearby, hands on hips, lips pressed into a tight line. Johnson raised both arms in disbelief.

[That’s the fifth clear chance for Suárez, John.]

[He’s normally so clinical, but tonight... it’s just not going for him.]

[And you start to wonder if this is going to be one of those nights.]

Alvarado wasted no time. He waved his defenders forward and launched the goal kick long, aiming for Altidore. But Skrtel was there, outmuscling the striker and heading it back toward midfield.

Still, AZ Alkmaar weren’t content to just survive.

Henriksen latched onto the loose ball and threaded it wide to Berghuis, who instantly took off down the flank. Enrique matched him stride for stride.

[AZ Alkmaar are still looking for that second goal. They know Liverpool are vulnerable.]

[Especially on the break, John. They’ve left space.]

Berghuis danced inside again, his left foot always the danger. He got past Enrique with a neat drag-back and rifled a shot from the edge of the area—

—but Reina was equal to it. He dropped low and held onto the ball cleanly this time.

[Solid save. He’s not letting that rebound spill again.]

Reina rolled it out quickly to Gerrard, who didn’t even look before launching a diagonal pass to the opposite wing.

The ball flew like a guided missile, landing perfectly for Sterling, who didn’t break stride.

[What a ball from Gerrard! That’s sixty yards on a rope!]

Sterling took it in, checked his shoulder, and saw Henderson bursting forward. He cut inside and laid it off first-time.

Henderson squared it. Suárez again. One touch. Shot.

[SUÁREZ—]

—and blocked.

[It’s Viergever again! He’s been a wall back there!]

[He’s having the game of his life, Peter. Both of them are—Alvarado and Viergever.]

The ball bobbled loose once more, this time near the top of the 18 yard box. Gerrard stepped up and struck it with venom, the crowd rising in anticipation.

[That’s hit hard—]

—but it struck the crossbar with a thud that echoed through Anfield like a drumbeat.

[OFF THE BAR!]

The rebound shot up and out of play. The fans groaned as one, a wild sound of pain and disbelief.

[What else can they do, John? What else can they possibly do?]

[That’s the sixth or seventh massive chance. They’re doing everything right... except finish.]