Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 327: Halftime

Chapter 327: Halftime

The scoreboard stayed at 1-0, 29th minute. Feyenoord’s players jogged back, Pellè muttering to Clasie, their momentum dented but not broken.

AZ Alkmaar reset, Esteban Alvarado rolling the ball to Reijnen, the away fans chanting Benjamin’s name, their pocket of scarves a defiant splash in the De Kuip sea.

[Rob’s voice softened. Gut punch for Feyenoord, Jon. That was a beauty, but the flag kills it.]

[Jon nodded, mic close. Tight call, Rob. AZ Alkmaar are hanging on, but Feyenoord’s got blood in their nostrils now.]

AZ Alkmaar pushed back. Maher scooped a pass to Berghuis, who sprinted down the right, outpacing Nelom. His cross was sharp, Altidore rising, but Mathijsen matched him, heading clear.

The ball landed with Clasie, who broke, feeding Verhoek. The winger’s shot sailed high, the crowd groaning.

[Jon’s voice lifted. Berghuis is lively, Rob! But Mathijsen’s a wall!]

[Rob chuckled. Feyenoord’s still in this, Jon. That offside’s fired them up!]

#32nd minute.

Feyenoord kept pressing. Immers passed to Boëtius, who darted past Johansson, crossing low. Pellè lunged, but Viergever slid, deflecting it out.

The corner came—Clasie’s delivery dipped, but Reijnen headed clear, sparking an AZ Alkmaar counter. Benjamin sprinted, chopping past Janmaat with a step-over, but Nelom’s tackle was clean.

[Rob’s voice surged. Boëtius is dangerous, Jon! Viergever’s holding the fort!]

[Jon’s tone tightened. AZ Alkmaar are living dangerously, Rob! Feyenoord’s not letting up!]

AZ Alkmaar struck back. Henriksen won a loose ball, firing it to Martens. The midfielder darted forward, slipping it to Altidore.

The striker held off Martins Indi, firing low, but Mulder dove, gloving it wide. The corner fizzled—Mathijsen headed clear.

[Jon gasped. Altidore’s hunting, Rob! Mulder’s keeping Feyenoord in it!]

[Rob clapped, grinning. Both keepers are on fire, Jon! This game’s a belter!]

Feyenoord pushed again. Clasie passed to Vilhena, who darted through midfield, slipping past Maher. His shot was tame, rolling to Esteban, but the intent was clear. Pellè lurked, waiting for another chance, his eyes scanning AZ Alkmaar’s backline.

[Rob’s voice sharpened. Vilhena’s not fazed, Jon! He’s itching to make up for that offside!]

[Jon exhaled. Feyenoord’s got momentum, Rob. AZ Alkmaar need to tighten up!]

The match stayed breathless, Feyenoord’s physicality clashing with AZ Alkmaar’s pace. The offside call stung, but the home fans roared louder, urging their team to strike again.

Benjamin danced on the left, Altidore battled up top, while Pellè loomed, Clasie’s passes slicing through. The De Kuip was a powder keg, the scoreline still 1-0, but the next spark was coming.

Benjamin adjusted his shin guards, eyes sharp, while Pellè loomed, his presence a constant threat to the AZ Alkmaar backline.

AZ Alkmaar pressed forward. Maher scooped a loose ball, firing it to Benjamin on the left. The winger took off, chopping past Janmaat with a quick La Croqueta, his boots flashing under the lights.

He darted toward the 18 yard box, Nelom trailing, and crossed low. Altidore lunged, but Mathijsen slid, deflecting it out for a throw. The away fans roared, scarves waving, urging more.

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

[Rob clapped, mic crackling. He’s tearing them apart, Jon! AZ Alkmaar are flying!]

#35th minute.

Feyenoord countered. Clasie collected the throw-in, turning past Henriksen’s press. His pass was crisp, finding Boëtius on the left. The winger sprinted, outpacing Johansson, and crossed deep.

Pellè rose, outjumping Reijnen, but his header looped just over, clipping the bar. The home fans groaned, scarves slumping, as Esteban watched it sail into the stands.

[Rob whistled. Pellè’s so close, Jon! He’s got Reijnen on strings!]

[Jon’s tone tightened. AZ Alkmaar got lucky there, Rob! Feyenoord’s knocking loud!]

AZ Alkmaar pushed back. Reijnen passed short to Martens, who darted through midfield, slipping it to Berghuis on the right. The winger cut inside, past Nelom, and fired a curler toward the top corner.

Mulder leaped, fingertips brushing it wide. The corner came—Benjamin’s delivery dipped, Altidore rising, but Martins Indi headed clear, sparking a Feyenoord break.

[Jon gasped. What a save, Rob! Berghuis nearly doubles it!]

[Rob’s voice buzzed. Mulder’s a hero, Jon! Five saves now—Feyenoord’s hanging on!]

Feyenoord struck back in the 40th minute. Immers won a loose ball, firing it to Verhoek. The winger sprinted past Gorter, crossing low. Vilhena darted in, slipping past Maher, but his shot was tame, rolling to Esteban.

The keeper rolled it quick, sparking an AZ Alkmaar counter. Henriksen passed to Altidore, who held off Martins Indi, firing low. Mulder dove, gloving it wide.

[Rob’s voice surged. End to end, Jon! Vilhena’s hungry after that offside!]

[Jon chuckled, warm. Both sides are swinging, Rob! This is pure Eredivisie fire!]

The fourth official signaled two added minutes in the 45th minute, the crowd roaring louder, sensing a breakthrough.

Feyenoord pushed hard. Clasie scooped a pass to Boëtius, who darted down the left, chopping past Johansson with a step-over. His cross was sharp, Pellè jostling with Viergever.

The striker’s header was fierce, but Esteban sprawled, gloving it wide. The corner fizzled—Reijnen headed clear.

[Rob gasped. Esteban’s a wall, Jon! Pellè’s throwing everything at him!]

[Jon’s voice tightened. AZ Alkmaar are hanging on, Rob! Feyenoord’s turning up the heat!]

AZ Alkmaar made one last push before the break. Benjamin picked up a loose ball, chopping past Nelom with a Snake Bite. He slipped it to Martens, who fired from 22 yards.

The shot dipped, but Mulder tipped it over, the bar rattling. The corner came to nothing—Mathijsen headed clear, and the whistle blew for halftime.

Fweeee!~ Fweeeee!~

[Jon exhaled. Half-time, Rob! AZ Alkmaar lead 1-0, but Feyenoord’s been inches away!]

[Rob leaned back, sipping water. What a half, Jon! Altidore’s goal’s the difference, but Pellè and Boëtius are knocking. This ain’t over!]

The players trudged off, Benjamin wiping sweat, muttering to Altidore. Pellè jogged to the tunnel, head high, Clasie beside him, both plotting.

Gertjan Verbeek clapped his squad, his nod firm, while Koeman barked at Janmaat, hands waving. The big screen flashed replays of Pellè’s header, the De Kuip buzzing with anticipation.

[Jon’s voice softened. AZ Alkmaar are holding firm, Rob, but Feyenoord’s got the crowd behind them. Second half’s going to be a storm.]

[Rob nodded, scribbling notes. Benjamin’s killing Janmaat, Jon, but Clasie’s pulling strings. I’m sticking with my 2-2 call.]