Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 310: Tit-For-Tat

Chapter 310: Tit-For-Tat

Alvarado stayed down for a moment with his arms wrapped tightly around the ball. The referee jogged over but gave no signal. The goalkeeper finally rose, cradling it like a trophy, then walked slowly to the edge of the 18 yard box.

He waited.

Then waited a little more.

And finally sent it long with a booming kick.

Skrtel climbed again, rising above Altidore to nod it back toward midfield.

Henderson got there first. Took it calmly on his thigh, then volleyed a sharp pass to Gerrard. Gerrard turned—no look—and sprayed it wide to Downing, who was hugging the sideline.

[Still Liverpool.]

[And they’re not slowing down. They want it all.]

Downing’s first touch was perfect. He killed the ball dead, then drove toward the 18 yard box. Viergever stepped up to meet him, but Downing shifted inside, chopping the ball onto his right.

He shaped to shoot.

Didn’t.

Instead, he rolled it across to Suárez, who had found space in the channel.

The Uruguayan touched it forward, drew a defender in, then slipped a clever backheel to Sturridge.

Sturridge didn’t hesitate.

He hit it low and hard—near post.

Alvarado reacted.

Fast.

Down low again, palm strong.

The rebound popped loose.

Coutinho pounced—but Martens beat him to it, stretching every inch of his body to knock the ball away.

It rolled toward the sideline.

[It’s relentless now.]

[Alkmaar hanging by a thread.]

Minute eighty-one.

AZ Alkmaar tried to slow the rhythm. They knocked it around the back, each pass labored, their midfield tucked in tight.

Adam Maher came short. Took the ball, shielded it from Henderson, and turned. His pass found Altidore, who held off Skrtel with a shoulder and tried to link with Henriksen.

But Gerrard intercepted.

And went.

No delay.

One touch to control. Another to drive forward.

The pitch opened in front of him.

He shifted it wide to Johnson, whose first-time cross curled viciously across the six-yard box.

Alvarado shouted.

Didn’t come.

Suárez lunged but he missed it by inches.

Sturridge arrived late at the back post, sliding.

Too late.

Goal kick.

[It’s hanging in the air, this one.]

[Feels like something’s about to give.]

AZ Alkmaar looked gassed.

Minute seventy-seven.

AZ Alkmaar took the goal kick short this time, trying to keep the ball.

Martens dropped deep, then pushed forward.

But the pressure was instant.

Suso hounded him.

Henderson stepped up.

Martens lost it.

Coutinho pounced. Quick feet, quicker mind. He skipped past a sliding challenge, then looked up.

He spotted Suárez.

The pass came in—fast, direct.

Suárez took it on the half-turn and drove at the 18 yard box.

One defender in front.

He dipped right. Came back left. Then rifled a shot low and fast toward the near post.

Alvarado again.

Solid.

Down fast. Blocked it with his legs.

[What a night he’s had.]

[He’s kept them in this.]

The rebound was loose again, bouncing at the edge of the area.

Gerrard reached it first and tried to volley it through the crowd.

But Henriksen threw himself in front. Took it full on the chest.

He stayed down.

AZ Alkmaar cleared, but not too far out.

[Still not over.]

[They just can’t get it out.]

Johnson took the throw. Short to Henderson. Back to Johnson. Then in to Gerrard.

Gerrard opened his body and launched it to the far side, where Sturridge had already set off.

He controlled it with his first touch, bounced it past his marker, and whipped a ball into the mixer.

Suarez jumped, but he missed it. Downing followed it up.

Downing followed it up, sprinting from deep. He met the ball first time, lashing a right-footed volley with everything he had.

It connected clean. Too clean.

The ball flew high—rising from the moment it left his boot—and cleared the crossbar by a yard.

Groans from the Kop.

[He got under it.]

[Yeah, you could see his body lean back as he hit it. That was the moment.]

Downing slammed his hands to his knees, staring at the empty net. Alvarado had been nowhere. Beaten. But the finish let him off.

AZ Alkmaar survived again.

And now they broke.

Adam Maher took the restart quickly, switching it across the pitch to Martens, who had dropped into space near the halfway line.

Martens didn’t waste time. He turned and sent a diagonal long ball into the path of Altidore, who peeled away from Agger.

Skrtel was scrambling to cover.

Reina came out, hesitating at first—then committing.

Too late.

Altidore stretched to reach it just before the bounce, toeing it forward into space.

Skrtel slid in, mistimed it.

Altidore took another touch—he was inside the 18 yard box.

One-on-one.

He shaped to shoot with his left.

Reina spread wide.

And Altidore went for placement.

He side-footed it, low and across goal.

The ball rolled past Reina...

...and past the far post.

[Oh no!]

[He’s missed it!]

Hands went up in the away end. Then down again. The AZ Alkmaar bench dropped their heads.

Altidore couldn’t believe it.

He turned away, biting his glove, his face tight with disbelief.

[He had him. Reina was beaten.]

[That could’ve ended it.]

Back the other way.

No time to breathe.

Reina rolled it short to Skrtel. No delay. Skrtel passed forward to Allen, who tapped it left to Suso.

The Spaniard burst down the touchline, skipping past one defender. He cut back onto his left and curled a ball in behind the defense.

It was perfect.

Sturridge timed his run.

He ghosted between the centre-backs and met the ball eight yards out.

A free header.

He leapt.

Got there.

And sent it down the middle.

But straight at Alvarado.

[Oh he should score there.]

[Anywhere else and it’s 3–2.]

Alvarado held on. Just. The ball nearly squirmed free, but he wrapped it up on the second grab.

Sturridge stood there, stunned with his palms to his face.

It was end to end now. Wild and nervous tension.

Alvarado booted it long. AZ Alkmaar had no interest in passing it around anymore.