Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 51: Referee’s Decision

Chapter 51: Referee’s Decision

On the sidelines, Gertjan Verbeek threw his arms up in disbelief, shouting at the fourth official.

His face was filled with frustration, as a coach watching his team come agonizingly close yet being denied by the smallest of margins.

"How is that not a penalty?" Gertjan Verbeek barked at the fourth official, his voice audible even over the din of the crowd.

Martin Haar hurriedly placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm him, but Gertjan Verbeek brushed it off, pacing the technical area like a caged lion.

Booooo!~

In the stands, the traveling AZ Alkmaar supporters erupted into a cacophony of whistles and jeers.

Their chants grew louder and was aimed squarely at the referee. Their frustration was boiling over.

A group near the front waved their scarves furiously, while others shouted cuss words and made indecent gestures at the officials.

Their emotions were spilling out as the moment replayed in their minds.

[Listen to the AZ Alkmaar fans—they’re livid! You can hear their protests echoing across the stadium,] Willem remarked, the tension evident in his voice.

[And rightly so. They’ve traveled all this way, endured the cold, and seen their team fight tooth and nail with a top Russian club. To have a moment like this dismissed—it’s gut-wrenching, Willem,] Paul added, his tone sympathetic.

Berghuis was still animated as he jogged back into position but continued to shake his head, his expression was a mix of disbelief and anger.

The captain, Martens, approached him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder while saying something that seemed to calm him, if only slightly.

On the pitch, the game resumed, but the momentum had clearly shifted slightly.

The AZ Alkmaar players seemed spurred on by their frustration, and pressed higher up the field with renewed aggression.

Every touch, every pass carried an extra edge, as if they were determined to channel their disappointment into action.

[It’s moments like these, Paul, that can define a match. AZ Alkmaar have every reason to feel aggrieved, but how they respond now will be crucial. Do they let this frustration weigh them down, or do they use it to drive them forward?] Willem questioned.

[That’s the hallmark of a good team, Willem. When decisions go against you, you have to dig deep and find a way. Let’s see if AZ Alkmaar have that fight in them tonight,] Paul replied, his tone tinged with anticipation.

As the clock ticked past the 73rd minute, the tension in the air was palpable.

Both teams knew the next goal could decide the match. The referee’s earlier decision lingered like a shadow over the pitch, fueling the fire in AZ Alkmaar’s pursuit of an equalizer.

The players pushed forward, moving the ball quickly and probing every gap in Anzhi Makhachkala’s defense.

Henrikson orchestrated from midfield, spraying precise passes to Gudmundsson and Berghuis on the wings.

The duo worked tirelessly, darting past their markers and whipping in crosses, each one met with groans or gasps as Anzhi Makhachkala’s defenders cleared them away.

Gertjan Verbeek paced near the touchline, his hands clenched behind his back. His sharp eyes darted between the action on the field and the clock ticking mercilessly forward.

He watched on, and his brows knitted in thought. ’The team’s ability to create chances is commendable but we are lacking in the goal scoring department.’

He glanced at Martin Haar and then at Benjamin, who was seated at the end of the bench.

"Martin," Gertjan Verbeek muttered, gesturing toward Benjamin. Martin Haar nodded immediately in understanding, and jogged over to the young substitute.

"Benjamin, go warm up. Quickly," Haar instructed in a calm tone.

Benjamin excitedly shot up from the bench, ’Why did you have to wait this long?’ he thought while glancing at the glum Gertjan Verbeek.

Though, he knew that the manager had his reasons for keeping him on the bench, it still left a sour taste in his mouth and he was a little vexed.

He quickly grabbed his training bib and jogged to the touchline, going through his stretches while stealing glances at the pitch.

The match continued, but Anzhi Makhachkala began to find openings as AZ Alkmaar’s high press left them exposed at the back.

In the 75th minute, Lassana Diarra won a tackle in midfield and immediately launched a counterattack.

The ball found Samuel Eto’o near the center circle, and with a deft touch, he turned past Viktor Elm.

Gudmundsson sprinted back with the intention to help the defence, but Eto’o shielded the ball expertly to draw the Icelandic winger in.

After seeing Gudmundsson’s movements, Eto’o feinted to his right, and Gudmundsson took the bait, his foot slightly brushing against Eto’o’s shin and the striker took advantage of that touch to fall down at the edge of the 18-yard box.

Fweeee!~

The referee’s whistle sliced through the air as he pointed to the penalty spot.

"He’s given a penalty!" Paul shouted, his voice rising above the roar of the crowd.

[Oh, come on! How is that any different from the earlier incident with Berghuis?] Willem interjected, his tone laced with disbelief.

[It’s a tough call, Willem, but the referee seems certain. Eto’o is well experienced to know exactly how to win these fouls—he’s been doing it for years,] Paul replied while shaking his head.

Booooo!~

The AZ Alkmaar supporters erupted in fury, their chants and jeers growing deafening.

In stark contrast, the Anzhi Makhachkala fans celebrated wildly, their cheers echoing through the stadium as Eto’o got to his feet, a sly smile playing on his lips.

Gertjan Verbeek looked livid. He stormed toward the fourth official, his face flushed with anger.

"Are you serious? That’s the same as the one we didn’t get!" he shouted, gesturing emphatically toward the spot of the foul.

"Please calm down Mr. Verbeek, the referee is just doing his job."

The fourth official tried to calm him down but Gertjan Verbeek was having none of that. He furiously complained but the decision was made and he could do nothing to change it.

[Well, the referee’s made his decision, and you have to feel for AZ Alkmaar here. They’ve been on the wrong end of two critical calls tonight,] Willem said, his tone sympathetic.

[It’s cruel, Willem, but this is football. The question now is whether Alvarado can keep AZ Alkmaar in the game. Eto’o from the spot—this is as tense as it gets,] Paul added, his voice thick with anticipation.

The players stood at the edge of the 18-yard box watching as Eto’o placed the ball on the penalty spot while Alvarado crouched low, bouncing lightly on his toes.

The stadium fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the chants of the Anzhi Makhachkala fans and the occasional boos from the AZ Alkmaar contingent.

On the sideline, Benjamin tightened his laces, glancing at Verbeek, who gave him a curt nod to get ready. His moment was fast approaching.