Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 39: Jinx!

Chapter 39: Jinx!

Benjamin, Henriksen, and Altidore gathered around the ball, seemingly discussing who should have a go at the freekick.

The stadium was filled with anticipation from the home fans as their voices drowned the three’s discussion.

Henriksen bent down to adjust his socks while glancing at the ball.

"I think I should take it," he said with a convincing tone. "I’ve got the height to clear the wall and also the accuracy for this angle."

The distance of the goalpost from the freekick spot was twenty-four meters on the slight left of the pitch which was a little tricky and would require someone with good ball technique and aim to have a chance at scoring.

Altidore crossed his arms and said while shaking his head. "C’mon on, man! We need power for this kind of distance. If I hit it with enough force, the man in goal won’t even see it coming."

Benjamin stood quietly in the midst of their bickering. He ignored their words and instead fixed his eyes on the ball, visualizing its path to the goal.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his left ankle was still throbbing slightly from the foul. After confirming the ball’s supposed path, he calmly said despite the adrenaline still coursing through him.

"I’ve got a better chance at hitting the target from here. It’s my strong side from this angle and distance, and I’ve got good power and curve on my leg."

Before either of them could respond, their captain, Martens, jogged over with a mixed expression of urgency and calm authority. He placed a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder, glancing briefly at Henriksen and Altidore.

"Let Benjamin take it," Martens said decisively. "He’s having a great game today and luck might just be the deciding factor." He didn’t wait for a response from the both of them as he jogged back toward the wall and the other two nodded reluctantly.

"Don’t jinx it, dude." Benjamin muttered, but Martens was long gone already.

Mentioning luck in a situation where it could be a deciding factor was as good as offsetting any opportunity you had. Now he could only hope that his main character moment doesn’t slip away at the dying minute of the game.

The referee stood a few yards away with the whistle pointed at his lips after he finished arranging the front wall of the Heracles players.

The players lining up in front shuffled nervously as they followed the goalkeepers barking orders on where to position the wall. Their eyes kept glancing between the ball and Benjamin.

Fweeee!

The shrill blast of the referee’s whistle cut through the tension.

Benjamin moved back a few steps while measuring his run-up to the ball. He took a deep breath to shut out the noise of the spectators.

He began with a single step as his stride started building momentum.

As he paced towards the ball, Benjamin placed his left foot firmly behind it while bending his body slightly. His right foot struck it cleanly, sending the ball hurtling forward with both power and a little curl.

The contact reverberated through his leg, and he immediately knew it was a good hit.

The ball soared over the wall even as the Heracles players leaped in unison to block its trajectory or deviate it from its intended path. Their outstretched heads missed by inches as the ball dipped just in time, curving slightly toward the top left corner of the goal.

[What a strike from the youngster!] the lead commentator exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe. [It’s curling beautifully! Pasveer’s in trouble!]

Pasveer reacted quickly by diving full stretch and his fingers brushing the ball’s surface. For a split second, the stadium seemed to hold its breath.

The ball looked bound for goal as it brushed past Pasveer’s outstretched arm but it suddenly struck the underside of the crossbar with a resounding thud and bounced down toward the goal line.

Time seemed to freeze.

The crowd erupted in a collective gasp as Pasveer scrambled to smother the ball from the ground, clutching it tightly against his chest.

The referee glanced at his watch, checking the goal-line technology. And soon his verdict was given, since there was no vibration on the watch, that meant no goal for the home team.

[Oh, what an effort from Benjamin! But the crossbar denies him!] the co-commentator shouted, his voice tinged with disbelief. [Pasveer’s got the luck of the century there, no doubt about it! That ball could’ve gone anywhere, but it bounced straight to him!]

The AZ Alkmaar fans groaned in unison, some clutching their heads while others were throwing their arms up in frustration. Verbeek slammed his fists on the bench railing, pacing furiously.

On the field, Benjamin stood frozen on the spot, his hands were on his hips as he stared at the goal in a mix of disbelief and irony while thinking, ’F*ck my luck, what a jinx!’

Pasveer took his time getting up from the ground and his face was a mask of relief as he clutched the ball tightly. The Heracles defenders patted him on the back and their expressions wer a mix of gratitude and astonishment.

[Pasveer saves Heracles from last minute defeat! His slight touch made the difference and that was an incredible moment!] the lead commentator said. [But credit to Benjamin for the freekick—what a strike from the young man. That could’ve easily been the winner]

On the sidelines, Verbeek turned to his assistant, shaking his head. "That was perfectly struck. Just... unlucky." His voice was low and his frustration could be barely contained.

The Heracles fans, sensing that their team had narrowly escaped defeat, began chanting loudly while drowning out the groans of the AZ Alkmaar supporters.

Meanwhile, Benjamin jogged back toward the center circle as his teammates offering pats on the back and murmurs of encouragement.

"That was class, Benjamin. Don’t let it get to you." Martens said in encouragement.

Back in the commentary box, the conversation continued. [You have to feel for Benjamin there,] the lead commentator said. [He’s had a fantastic game today, and that free kick was nothing short of spectacular]

[Absolutely,] the co-commentator agreed. [But football is cruel sometimes. Pasveer was beaten, but the crossbar? That’s a different kind of opponent entirely]

The tension remained high as the match came to a close. Both teams tried to push for a late winner, but time was not on their side. The scoreline did not change when the referee sounded the final whistle:

[AZ Alkmaar 2:2 Heracles Almelo]

With their faces reflecting the emotional rollercoaster they had just experienced, the supporters started to file out of the stadium while the players shook hands wearily.

Although Benjamin was still hurt by the lost chance, the AZ Alkmaar fans’ cheers as he left the field served as a reminder that he had proven himself. And these moments would not end yet.

He suddenly found himself caught in a rush of desperate media reporters as he was heading for the player’s tunnel.