Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 300: Halftime Analysis 1

Chapter 300: Halftime Analysis 1

Gerrard rose—unmarked—and met the ball with a clean header.

But Alvarado flew again. Arms up, fingertips stretching.

[ALVARADO! AGAIN!]

[You’ve got to be kidding me! That’s another stunning save!]

The keeper crashed to the ground, ball clutched tight to his chest, eyes shut. As if even he couldn’t believe it.

The whistle blew—free kick to AZ Alkmaar. A Liverpool player had bumped into a defender mid-air.

Boos rang out. Gerrard stayed on his knees, hands on his thighs, looking at the spot where the ball had gone.

[He’s everywhere tonight, John. This keeper’s putting in a world-class shift.]

[He’s got that look about him—the one where nothing’s getting past.]

Brendan Rodgers turned back to his bench and barked something. One of the assistants nodded, rushed down the sideline.

A change was coming. But not yet.

[We’re almost at the 40th minute, Peter. One or two more attacks left in this half.]

[One more push. That’s all they need.]

Back on the pitch, AZ Alkmaar tried to slow it down again. Henriksen played it back to Martens, who nudged it to Marcellis.

But Liverpool’s press was back. Allen stepped up, cut off the pass, and suddenly the ball was loose.

Suárez pounced. He sprinted toward the ball, slipped a pass to Henderson, who played it into the path of Sterling again.

Sterling broke forward, defender on his shoulder, the box looming ahead.

The crowd rose with him—one long roar building. Sterling pushed the ball past his man and hit top gear.

[He’s away again! Can anyone stop this kid?]

[Not legally, John! Look at that acceleration!]

He reached the edge of the box. A defender slid—late.

Sterling clipped it past him, took the contact, but stayed up.

[Could’ve gone down there, Peter.]

[Would’ve got a penalty if he had. But that’s not him.]

He squared it into the middle—Suárez was there, Gerrard behind him.

But the pass came fast. Too fast.

Suárez tried to flick it with his back heel. It came off awkwardly, bounced sideways—straight to Gerrard.

[Still alive! Gerrard!]

He didn’t shoot. One touch to control, second to shift it onto his right foot.

Third touch—shot.

But Marcellis threw himself in the way. The ball struck his thigh and looped upward, spinning.

[Blocked! And it’s going to fall—]

—to Suárez again. He was facing away, crowded, defenders all over him.

But he twisted. He twisted in that Suárez way—body one way, ball the other—and stabbed a shot through the traffic.

[Deflected—!]

The shot struck a heel, changed direction, and trickled toward the far post.

Alvarado had dived left—he couldn’t adjust in time.

The ball rolled... rolled...

—and clipped the outside of the post.

[OH! Inches!]

[They can’t believe this! Not one of them can believe this!]

Suárez slammed the turf with both hands. Gerrard turned away, shirt over his mouth. Sterling just stared.

[How many more chances, Peter?]

[At this rate? One every thirty seconds.]

AZ Alkmaar took the goal kick again—but now even their fans looked nervous.

On the sideline, Rodgers barked again—louder now. His assistant held up a hand, signaling to someone down the bench.

Warm-ups stopped. A substitution was coming.

But on the pitch, Liverpool weren’t waiting.

Allen pressed high. He forced a rushed clearance from Martens—straight to Henderson.

[Here they come again. This is relentless.]

Henderson took it in stride, drove forward, slipped it to Suárez.

This time Suárez didn’t shoot. He laid it off first-time to Sterling, who let it run across him and fired.

It was low, curling—bottom corner.

Alvarado didn’t dive.

He stuck out a foot.

KICK!

The ball pinged off his boot and spun out toward the corner flag.

[You’ve got to be kidding!]

[That’s... that’s not normal, Peter. That’s something else.]

Alvarado stayed down for a moment, chest heaving. His defenders jogged over to help him up.

The fourth official held up the board—two minutes added.

[We’re into stoppage time here. Still 1–0. But for how much longer?]

The corner came in. Gerrard took it, outswinging.

Skrtel rose. Met it.

Header—on target.

But not hard enough. Alvarado caught it cleanly.

[Again! Always him.]

Alvarado clutched the ball, this time holding it a second longer. Not wasting time. Just letting the moment breathe.

He waited until every player had started drifting back, then rolled it out gently to Martens, who looked up, then sideways, then back again.

[They’re in no rush now, John. You can feel it—they want that whistle.]

[And who can blame them? They’ve survived a storm.]

Martens passed it short to Viergever. He took a touch and sent it diagonally long down the left line—just to get it away from their own half. No ambition. Just safety.

[Clear it, chase it, and pray.]

But even that felt like a risk. Agger stepped across calmly, chesting it down and pushing it wide to Johnson again.

And Liverpool weren’t done.

Johnson darted past his man—tired legs, but adrenaline pulling him forward. He spotted Henderson making a late run and rolled it inside.

The ball bobbled on the pass. Henderson adjusted with a hop, took it on the bounce, and drove a low pass across to Allen.

Allen didn’t stop it. He let it run through his legs—clever—and it rolled perfectly into Sterling’s path on the opposite wing.

[They’ve switched it beautifully there!]

[One more chance, surely!]

Sterling took it in stride. No tricks now. Just pace.

He went outside his man, then back inside, cutting toward the penalty area on his stronger foot.

[He’s got space!]

Suárez pulled wide. Gerrard hovered near the top of the D. Sterling had options.

He hesitated a beat, then tried to slip it to Suárez, but this time, Marcellis was ready.

A leg out, toe in—intercepted.

But it didn’t stick. The deflection bounced off Suárez’s shin and fell loose again.

Henderson arrived, swinging a foot.

[HIT THAT!]

He struck it—first time—low and clean.

But too central.

Alvarado didn’t even dive. He dropped to one knee and cradled it like a parent catching a falling child.