Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 95: Instant Double-Save

Chapter 95: Instant Double-Save

Ewerton looked clearly rattled now and he hesitated for a split second, undecided at what action to take next.

His hesitation proved costly and was just enough for Benjamin to exploit.

[Look at the confidence from Benjamin. He’s not afraid to take them on!] the lead commentator exclaimed.

Benjamin did a quick shimmy to his right and a burst of pace left Ewerton flat-footed once again.

He darted towards the 18-yard box, the crowd’s roar growing louder with every step he took.

Samba rushed to close him down, but Benjamin had already spotted Altidore making a run toward the far post.

He whipped in a curling cross with his left foot, the ball slicing through the air with precision.

Altidore lunged forward, muscling his way out of a challenge from his marker, Joao Carlos. His outstretched boot struck the ball just yards from the goal.

[Altidore! Surely this is it!] the lead commentator shouted.

But Gabulov was there again. The goalkeeper flung himself low to his right, his strong hands parrying the ball away. It rebounded out to the edge of the box, where Henriksen was waiting.

[What a save! Gabulov is a wall tonight!] the co-commentator said, barely able to contain his disbelief.

Henriksen took one touch to steady himself before unleashing a thunderous strike. The ball rocketed toward the top corner, only for Gabulov to spring back to his feet and tip it over the bar at full stretch.

[Henriksen! Denied again by Gabulov! How is he doing this?] the lead commentator bellowed.

The home crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and gasps, their frustration mounting despite the thrilling display of attacking football.

Benjamin, standing near the byline, shook his head in disbelief, his hands resting briefly on his hips before he turned and clapped his teammates.

[What a sequence! AZ Alkmaar are throwing everything at Anzhi Makhachkala, but Gabulov is single-handedly keeping them in this game,] the co-commentator said.

On the touchline, Gertjan Verbeek’s face was a mask of intensity. He barked instructions, urging his players to keep the pressure on.

Meanwhile, Guus Hiddink stood stoic in the technical area with his hands clasped behind his back, though his eyes betrayed a growing hint of concern.

Back on the pitch, Henriksen jogged over to take the corner.

Fweeee!

The referee blew his whistle, and the AZ Alkmaar playmaker delivered a wicked in-swinging ball into the heart of the penalty area.

The melee of players surged toward it, but once again, Gabulov rose above the crowd, punching the ball clear with authority.

It landed near Elm, who attempted a volley from distance, only for it to sail harmlessly over the bar.

[AZ Alkmaar are relentless, but they just can’t find the breakthrough,] the lead commentator said, his tone a mix of admiration and disbelief.

[And you have to wonder—how much longer can Gabulov keep this up?] the co-commentator added.

As the players retreated to their positions, the crowd buzzed with a mix of anticipation and impatience.

[They’re not giving up, not for a second,] the lead commentator remarked. [And neither should they. With the way they’re playing, it feels like a goal is just around the corner]

[If it doesn’t come soon, though, frustration might start to creep in,] the co-commentator warned. [And that’s when mistakes happen. They need to keep their heads]

Anzhi Makhachkala, who had spent much of the match pinned in their own half, suddenly found a spark against the run of play in the 30th minute.

It was a quick transition that caught AZ Alkmaar off guard, the kind of moment Guus Hiddink’s side had been waiting for.

Lassana Diarra intercepted a pass in midfield and launched a long ball forward to Lacina Traoré.

The towering forward controlled it on his chest, holding off Elm with his sheer physical presence.

Gorter, came scrambling to help and lunged in a second too late, clipping Traoré’s ankle just as he was about to turn and charge toward the box.

Fweeee!

The referee’s whistle pierced the air, and the stadium fell into a tense murmur as he flashed a yellow card at the AZ Alkmaar left-back and pointed to the ground a few yards outside the 18-yard box.

[Oh, that’s a dangerous spot to concede a free kick!] the lead commentator remarked. [Gorter had to do something there, but was that the right call?]

[It’s risky, no doubt. Traoré’s a handful when he gets going on the right wing, but now AZ Alkmaar are staring down the barrel of an Anzhi Makhachkala set piece just yards from their box,] the co-commentator replied.

Traoré sat on the turf for a moment, rubbing his shin as his teammates gathered around the ball.

Zhirkov stepped forward, gesturing animatedly as he conferred with Willian and Shatov.

Their discussion was short and the Russian midfielder positioned himself over the ball while his teammates took up menacing stances near the penalty spot.

[An indirect free kick here, and it looks like Zhirkov’s going to lay it off,] the lead commentator observed. [Watch for the defenders in the box—they’ve got the height to cause all sorts of problems]

Benjamin, who was standing at the far end of the defensive wall, craned his neck to keep an eye on Traoré.

Around him, AZ Alkmaar players jostled for position, each of them trying to anticipate where the ball might go.

Alvarado, the AZ Alkmaar goalkeeper, barked instructions to set up his blockade, his arms waving as he adjusted his defenders.

Fweeee!

The referee blew his whistle and Zhirkov stepped up with a smooth, confident stride and swung in a wicked, curling cross.

The ball arced through the air, dipping dangerously as it entered the crowded 18-yard box.

The tension was palpable as players scrambled and shoved, each trying to gain a vital inch.

Samba, towering above the rest, timed his leap to perfection. His massive frame rose high above his opponent, Martens, and he connected with a powerful header that rocketed toward goal.

[Here’s Samba! This could be it!] the lead commentator yelled, his voice electric with anticipation.