Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 74: Stunning Freekick

Chapter 74: Stunning Freekick

Zomer looked devastated by the referee’s decision. He groaned while shaking his head as he trudged off the field under a chorus of boos from the home crowd.

His teammates looked deflated, already stretched thin by AZ Alkmaar’s relentless pressure.

[You have to feel for Zomer,] Martin said, his tone more measured. [He’s been under siege tonight. Benjamin’s pace and trickery were always going to cause problems, but that challenge was just asking for trouble]

As Benjamin was helped to his feet by Henriksen and Martens, the young winger nodded to the referee, signaling he was okay to continue.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and their appreciation for his resilience echoed around the stadium.

[Listen to this place,] Dirk said, his voice rising above the din. [The fans love this kid. And why wouldn’t they? He’s been electric tonight... He’s their Golden Boy]

As the players reset for the free kick, Marco van Basten rose from his technical area, waving his arm toward the fourth official.

His movements were a clear signal to make changes. The referee glanced toward the sideline, pausing the game with a quick blow of his whistle.

[Here come the substitutions,] Dirk noted as the fourth official lifted the board. [It looks like Marco Van Basten is looking to steady the sinking ship]

The electronic board glowed bright: 22 OFF, 18 ON.

Zuiverloon, who was looking visibly drained from his battle with Benjamin, glanced at the sideline and jogged off with his head down. His replacement, Maracek, sprinted onto the field while clapping his hands to rally his teammates.

[Zuiverloon’s had a night he’d definitely want to forget,] Martin remarked. [But you can’t fault his effort. Marco van Basten’s clearly recognized the need for fresh legs on that flank]

The board flashed again: 10 OFF, 4 ON.

Djuricic, Heerenveen’s supposed creative spark in the midfield but had been quiet since the first half, looked puzzled as he was called off. Otigba, a tall, imposing center-back, replaced him.

[This one’s interesting,] Dirk said, raising an eyebrow. [Djuricic has been one of their few players capable of holding the ball in the middle. Bringing on Otigba sends a clear message]

[And that message is?] Martin prompted with a knowing smirk.

[Park the bus,] Dirk replied flatly. [Marco Van Basten’s throwing on defenders to plug every gap he can find. He’s trying to keep this from turning into a rout]

Finally, the board displayed the last substitution: 11 OFF, 15 ON. Van la Parra, who had provided fleeting moments of danger on the wing, jogged off with a shrug. And Mulder, a defensive midfielder, took his place.

[Three defensive substitutions in one go,] Martin observed. [Marco Van Basten’s given up chasing this game. It’s all about damage control now]

The Heerenveen players shuffled into a deeper formation, with Otigba and Maracek slotting into the backline while Mulder, van de Berg and de Roon shielding the defense.

Finnbogason and Mark Uth lingered in front, looking to sniff out any opportunity. Their shape was compact, and their intentions were clearly obvious.

[You can’t blame him, though, can you?] Dirk asked, his tone almost sympathetic. [They’re down to ten men, and AZ Alkmaar are in full control. If Marco Van Basten opens up, this could get ugly]

[True,] Martin replied, [but it’s always risky to sit back. AZ Alkmaar have so much firepower—they’ll find a way through eventually. And with Benjamin running riot down the left, you’re asking for trouble]

Fweeee!~

The referee’s whistle echoed across the stadium, signaling for play to resume.

Benjamin stood poised just outside the 18-yard box with his gaze fixed on the ball. His stance was relaxed but his gaze remained focused as the crowd buzzed in anticipation.

[This is a dangerous position,] Dirk remarked. [He’s got the technique to make something happen here, going by the previous two games he’s played]

[And with how he’s playing tonight,] Martin added, [you wouldn’t bet against him]

Benjamin began his run towards the ball, striking it cleanly with his right foot. The contact was made with enough force, sending the ball soaring over the defensive wall. It had the much needed pace, a slight bend, and just enough dip.

The goalkeeper, Nordfeldt, dived towards the ball and stretched out his hand desperately, but the shot was too precise, too quick.

Clang!

The ball clipped the underside of the left post with a satisfying clang before nestling into the back of the net.

GOAAAAL!~

The home crowd erupted into a deafening roar, and the stands were vibrating with sheer joy as Benjamin sprinted toward the corner flag.

On the touchline, Gertjan Verbeek pumped his fist in celebration, his usual stoic expression replaced by a broad grin.

[WHAT. A. GOAL!] Dirk shouted, his voice barely audible over the noise. [Benjamin Rijkaard! Take a bow! That was unstoppable!]

[The kid’s got ice in his veins,] Martin exclaimed. [Over the wall, under the bar, no chance for the keeper! That was... Perfection!]

The Heerenveen fans slumped in their seats, groaning in frustration. A few even buried their heads in their hands, while others hurled abuse at the celebrating AZ Alkmaar players.

The away end simmered with anger, and their jeers cut through the celebratory chants of the Alkmaar faithfuls.

Benjamin slid onto the turf near the corner flag with his created celebration now on full display. He mimicked drawing an arrow from an invisible quiver, pulling the string of an imaginary bow taut, and releasing it deliberately towards the away supporters.

Booooo!~

Their reaction was immediate—boos raining down with colourful curses.

[Oh, he’s playing the villain now,] Dirk chuckled. [The away fans won’t like that, but he’s earned the right tonight]

[It’s cheeky, but you can’t argue with the performance,] Martin added, laughing. [Five-nil in the 60th minute, and he’s the star of the show]

The scoreboard updated, the numbers glowing brightly: AZ Alkmaar 5-0 Heerenveen.

On the Heerenveen sideline, Marco van Basten stood with his arms crossed, his expression dark and unreadable. His defensive substitutions had done little to stem the tide, and now the match looked irreparable.

[Marco Van Basten must be wondering what more he can do,] Martin said, his tone shifting to sympathy. [They’ve parked the bus, and Benjamin’s just driven straight through it]

[It’s the confidence, isn’t it?] Dirk replied. [Every time he touches the ball, something happens. And that free kick—well, that’s the mark of a special player]

As the players reset for the restart, Benjamin jogged back to his position, acknowledging the cheers from the stands with a quick wave.