Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 325: Early Punch

Chapter 325: Early Punch

The De Kuip pulsed with raw energy, Feyenoord’s red and white flags clashing with AZ Alkmaar’s scarlet scarves as the 10th minute ticked over.

The score held at 0-0, both teams trading blows like boxers, every pass a jab, every tackle a hook. The floodlights cast sharp shadows, the pitch alive with the thud of boots and the crowd’s relentless roar.

Feyenoord pushed forward. Clasie scooped a pass to Boëtius, who darted down the left, outpacing Johansson. His cross was low, Pellè lunging, but Reijnen slid in, deflecting it to Esteban.

The keeper rolled it quick, sparking an AZ Alkmaar break. Maher fired a pass to Benjamin, who chopped past Janmaat with a La Croqueta, drawing a gasp from the stands.

[Jon’s voice surged. Benjamin’s at it again, Rob! Janmaat’s got no answer!]

[Rob clapped, mic crackling. He’s carving them up, Jon! That kid’s electric!]

Benjamin crossed, aiming for Altidore, but Mathijsen headed clear, the ball landing with Immers.

The midfielder broke, feeding Verhoek, who sprinted past Gorter. His shot was fierce, but Esteban dove, gloving it wide. The corner came—Clasie’s delivery curled, but Viergever rose, nodding it out.

[Rob whistled. Esteban’s sharp, Jon! Verhoek nearly sneaks one in!]

[Jon’s tone tightened. AZ are hanging tough, Rob. Viergever’s a rock back there.]

AZ Alkmaar countered. Henriksen won a loose ball, firing it to Martens. The midfielder darted through midfield, slipping it to Berghuis on the right.

The winger cut inside, past Nelom, and curled a shot toward the top corner. Mulder leaped, fingertips brushing it over. The corner sparked chaos—Benjamin’s delivery dipped, Altidore rising, but Martins Indi headed clear.

[Jon gasped. What a save, Rob! Berghuis was so close!]

[Rob’s voice buzzed. Mulder’s earning his keep, Jon! AZ Alkmaar are knocking loud!]

Feyenoord struck back. Vilhena scooped a pass to Pellè, who held off Reijnen, laying it back to Clasie. The midfielder’s through ball split AZ Alkmaar’s defense, finding Boëtius unmarked.

The winger fired low, but Esteban sprawled, gloving it wide. The crowd roared, scarves waving, as the corner fizzled—Gorter headed clear.

[Rob’s voice surged. Boëtius is dangerous, Jon! Esteban’s standing tall!]

[Jon exhaled. That was close, Rob. AZ Alkmaar need to plug those gaps!]

AZ Alkmaar pushed hard in the 15th minute. Adam Maher passed to Benjamin, who danced past Janmaat with a Snake Bite. He crossed low, Altidore lunging, but Mathijsen intercepted, booting it to Clasie.

The midfielder broke, feeding Immers, who fired from 25 yards. The shot sailed high, rattling the boards, but the intent was clear.

[Jon’s voice lifted. Benjamin’s running riot, Rob! Mathijsen’s just holding on!]

[Rob chuckled. But Feyenoord’s not backing down, Jon. Immers is swinging!]

The highlight of the match sparked. AZ Alkmaar built patiently, Reijnen passing to Maher. The midfielder turned, spotting Benjamin breaking down the left.

His pass was crisp, threading through Vilhena’s legs. Benjamin took it in stride, chopping past Janmaat with a quick La Croqueta.

The winger darted into the 18 yard box, drawing Mathijsen out, then rolled it back to Altidore, who spun past Martins Indi.

The striker struck it—low, hard, arrowing past Mulder’s dive, kissing the post before rippling the net.

GOOOAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!!~

The away fans erupted, scarves flying, a pocket of red and white in the De Kuip sea. Altidore sprinted to the corner, fists pumping, teammates piling on.

Benjamin grinned, clapping his back, while Gertjan Verbeek punched the air, his shout drowned by the roar.

[Jon shouted. Goal! Altidore! AZ Alkmaar take the lead!]

[Rob roared, mic shaking. What a strike, Jon! Benjamin’s magic, Altidore’s finish—pure class!]

The scoreboard flicked to 1-0, 17th minute. Koeman kicked the turf, barking at Mathijsen, who shook his head, grass staining his shorts.

Mulder slapped the post, muttering. Feyenoord’s fans fell silent, then rallied, their chant rolling louder.

[Rob chuckled, buzzing. That’s been brewing, Jon. Benjamin tore Janmaat apart, and Altidore buried it!]

[Jon exhaled, warm. Textbook, Rob. AZ Alkmaar’s pace is killing Feyenoord. Can they hold on?]

Feyenoord restarted quickly, pushing for an equalizer. Clasie fired a long ball to Verhoek, who sprinted past Gorter.

His cross was sharp, Pellè outjumping Reijnen, but his header looped wide, landing in the stands. The home fans groaned, scarves slumping.

[Jon whistled. Pellè’s so close, Rob! He’s sniffing something!]

[Rob’s voice tightened. Feyenoord’s not done, Jon. AZ Alkmaar need to stay sharp.]

AZ Alkmaar nearly doubled their lead in the 20th minute. Benjamin picked up a loose ball, chopping past Nelom with a step-over. He slipped it to Henriksen, who darted through midfield, firing from 20 yards.

The shot dipped, but Mulder tipped it over, the bar rattling. The corner came—Benjamin’s delivery curled, but Mathijsen headed clear.

[Rob gasped. Mulder’s a hero, Jon! Henriksen nearly seals it!]

[Jon’s tone surged. AZ Alkmaar are flying, Rob! Feyenoord’s defense is creaking!]

Feyenoord pushed forward. Immers scooped a loose ball, firing it to Boëtius on the left. The winger darted past Johansson, his boots chewing turf, and crossed low.

Pellè lunged, outmuscling Reijnen, but his flick sailed just wide, grazing the post. The home fans erupted, scarves swinging, urging their team on.

[Rob’s voice surged. So close, Jon! Pellè’s inches from leveling it!]

[Jon exhaled, tense. AZ Alkmaar got lucky there, Rob. Reijnen’s got to stick tighter!]

AZ Alkmaar countered. Viergever passed short to Maher, who turned and sprayed a long ball to Benjamin.

The winger chested it down, chopping past Janmaat with a quick Snake Bite. He darted toward the box, drawing Nelom, then slipped it to Berghuis.

The winger fired low, but Mulder dove, gloving it wide. The corner came—Benjamin’s delivery dipped, but Martins Indi rose, heading clear.

[Jon’s voice lifted. Benjamin’s tearing them apart, Rob! Mulder’s on fire!]

[Rob clapped, mic crackling. That’s three big saves, Jon! Feyenoord’s hanging on!]

Feyenoord struck back. Clasie collected a clearance, threading a pass to Vilhena. The midfielder darted past Henriksen, slipping it to Verhoek on the right.

The winger sprinted, outpacing Gorter, and crossed deep. Pellè leaped, outjumping Viergever, but his header looped high, landing in the stands. The crowd groaned, scarves slumping.

[Rob whistled. Pellè’s a beast, Jon! He’s sniffing that equalizer!]

[Jon’s tone tightened. AZ Alkmaar’s defense is wobbling, Rob. They need to shut him down!]

AZ Alkmaar pushed for a second. Martens won a loose ball, firing it to Altidore. The striker held off Martins Indi, laying it back to Maher.

The midfielder darted forward, passing to Benjamin, who chopped past Nelom with a step-over. His curler aimed for the top corner, but Mulder tipped it over, the bar rattling. The corner fizzled—Mathijsen headed clear.

[Jon gasped. What a save, Rob! Benjamin’s cooking, but Mulder’s a wall!]

[Rob’s voice buzzed. Four saves now, Jon! AZ Alkmaar are throwing everything at them!]

Feyenoord broke through in the 25th minute. Janmaat overlapped, collecting from Clasie, and crossed low. Boëtius darted in, beating Johansson, but his shot was tame, rolling to Esteban Alvarado.

The keeper rolled it quick, sparking an AZ Alkmaar break. Henriksen passed to Berghuis, who sprinted down the right, crossing sharp. Altidore lunged, but Mathijsen slid, deflecting it out for a throw.

[Rob’s voice lifted. End to end, Jon! Both sides are going for it!]

[Jon chuckled, warm. Proper Eredivisie stuff, Rob. No one’s backing off!]

AZ Alkmaar kept probing. Reijnen fired a long ball to Benjamin, who trapped it clean and sprinted. He feinted past Janmaat with a La Croqueta, drawing a roar from the away fans.

His cross was low, aiming for Altidore, but Martins Indi intercepted, booting it to Immers. The midfielder broke, feeding Verhoek, who fired from 20 yards. The shot sailed wide, clipping the boards.

[Jon’s voice surged. Benjamin’s running riot, Rob! Janmaat’s lost him again!]

[Rob’s tone matched him. But AZ Alkmaar need to finish, Jon. Feyenoord’s backline’s just holding!]

Feyenoord pushed hard. Clasie passed to Vilhena, who darted through midfield, slipping past Maher. His pass found Pellè, who held off Reijnen, laying it back to Boëtius.

The winger cut inside, past Gorter, and fired low. Esteban sprawled, gloving it wide. The corner came—Clasie’s delivery curled, but Viergever headed clear, sparking an AZ Alkmaar counter.

[Rob gasped. Boëtius is dangerous, Jon! Esteban’s keeping AZ Alkmaar ahead!]

[Jon’s voice tightened. That was close, Rob! AZ Alkmaar can’t keep inviting these chances!]

The counter gained steam. Maher scooped the clearance, firing it to Benjamin. The winger sprinted, chopping past Nelom with a quick step-over. He slipped it to Altidore, who wrestled with Martins Indi, firing a low shot.

Mulder dove, palming it wide. The corner came—Benjamin’s delivery dipped, but Mathijsen rose, nodding it out.

[Jon’s voice lifted. Altidore’s hunting, Rob! Mulder’s earning his stripes!]

[Rob clapped, grinning. Both keepers are stealing the show, Jon! This is relentless!]

The game stretched, a breathless dance of attack and counter. Feyenoord’s physicality clashed with AZ Alkmaar’s pace, Pellè’s aerial threat met by Viergever’s grit, Benjamin’s flair testing Janmaat’s resolve.

The De Kuip roared, every near-miss a spark, the scoreline teetering at 1-0 but far from settled.

[Rob leaned forward, buzzing. This is why we love the Eredivisie, Jon. No let-up, pure fire!]

[Jon nodded, mic close. Could go either way, Rob. AZ Alkmaar’s got the lead, but Feyenoord’s not done.]