Reijnen rose highest, nodding it away. But the clearance lacked distance, falling to Post at the edge of the 18 yard box.
Rob: [Post lines one up—]
He struck it first ti. The shot fizzed low through a crowd of players—
Chris: [Through traffic!]
Esteban reacted late but dropped quickly, smothering the ball. A collective sigh of relief swept through the stadium.
Rob: [That’s better from VVV-Venlo. They’re growing into the ga now.]
Benjamin took a deep breath. This was getting uncomfortable. AZ Alkmaar had dominated for so long, yet here they were, scrambling.
Esteban wasted no ti. He rolled the ball to Maher, who imdiately turned and sprinted forward, trying to reignite AZ Alkmaar’s attack.
Chris: [AZ Alkmaar need to regain control. That’s what Maher is trying to do here.]
A quick exchange with Henriksen. Then another with Berghuis. The ball zipped between the white shirts, each pass crisp, precise.
Rob: [This is more like it.]
Berghuis checked his options, then switched play with a brilliant diagonal to Guðmundsson, who took it down with a velvet touch on the left.
Chris: [AZ Alkmaar building again... can they finally break through?]
Benjamin sat forward. This was it. They were finding their rhythm again. One mont of quality—that’s all they needed.
Guðmundsson didn’t hesitate. He pushed forward, dragging the right-back with him before cutting inside. The movent opened space on the flank—Martens saw it and burst forward.
Chris: [Martens on the overlap—this looks dangerous!]
Guðmundsson slipped the ball into his path. Martens didn’t break stride. One touch to steady himself, then a whipped cross toward the near post.
Rob: [Great ball! Altidore’s there!]
Altidore lunged, stretching out a boot—
But Röseler got there first, deflecting it behind for a corner.
Chris: [Brilliant defending again! Röseler had to get there!]
The frustration in the stands was growing. AZ Alkmaar had done everything but score.
Benjamin exhaled, shaking his head. How many more tis?
From the corner, Berghuis raised a hand, signaling the play. He curled it in—deep, toward the back post.
Henriksen rose, beating his marker to the ball—
Rob: [Henriksen—]
His header smacked off the shoulder of a defender, looping toward the penalty spot. Chaos. A scramble. Legs and bodies flying—
Then suddenly, the ball broke free.
Chris: [Loose ball!]
Henriksen swung a boot at it—
Blocked!
Rob: [Still alive!]
Elm pounced, trying to guide it goalwards but it was cleared off the line!
The ball bounced out to Berghuis. He wound up—struck it hard, low—
Chris: [Another shot!]
Mäenpää, unsighted, reacted late—just enough to push it wide.
Rob: [HOW has that not gone in?!]
Groans echoed through the stadium. Heads in hands. AZ Alkmaar couldn’t believe it.
Benjamin ran a hand through his hair. That was three, maybe four golden chances in a matter of seconds.
Chris: [AZ Alkmaar must be wondering what more they have to do!]
Rob: [And look at Mäenpää—he’s keeping VVV-Venlo in this singlehandedly!]
Mäenpää punched the air, roaring at his defenders to stay focused. VVV-Venlo had survived—barely.
But AZ weren’t backing down.
The next attack ca imdiately. Gorter intercepted a pass in midfield and drove forward, ignoring the challenge coming from his left. He spotted Guðmundsson making a run inside the 18 yard box—
Chris: [Gorter... clever pass! Guðmundsson’s in!]
Guðmundsson took a touch, shifting the ball onto his left foot. He opened up his body, aiming for the far corner—
Rob: [This HAS to be it—]
But his shot flew inches wide.
The crowd groaned again.
Guðmundsson buried his face in his hands. He knew that should’ve been the one.
Chris: [It’s just not happening for AZ Alkmaar!]
Benjamin let out a slow breath, gripping his Coke can. The pressure was suffocating. One goal. Just one goal, and the floodgates would open.
But VVV-Venlo were still standing. Still fighting.
And as long as the score stayed 1-1, they still had hope.
The clock ticked past the 60th minute, but AZ Alkmaar weren’t slowing down.
Henriksen picked up the ball in midfield, scanning ahead. VVV’s defense was packed tight, bodies behind the ball, leaving no gaps. He needed sothing special.
Chris: [AZ Alkmaar need a spark. Can they find it here?]
A quick shift of weight, then Henriksen drove forward. A one-two with Martens. A flick to Berghuis. Suddenly, space opened up on the right.
Rob: [Here they co again!]
Berghuis spotted Altidore peeling off his marker and whipped in a teasing cross—
Altidore t it with a towering header—
Straight at Mäenpää.
Chris: [Comfortable save, but that was better from AZ Alkmaar.]
Benjamin leaned back, exhaling sharply. It felt like a pattern now—attack after attack, but no reward.
On the pitch, frustration was creeping in. Berghuis clapped his hands, urging his teammates to keep going. Henriksen shook his head. Altidore ran a hand down his face.
Rob: [You can see the frustration setting in. AZ Alkmaar are doing everything right—except scoring.]
But there was no ti to dwell. VVV-Venlo weren’t just sitting back anymore. Their counters were getting sharper.
Post won the ball in midfield and imdiately looked to release Van Crooij on the right. The winger took off, sprinting past his marker with fresh energy.
Chris: [Uh-oh! VVV-Venlo breaking forward!]
Benjamin tensed. This was dangerous.
Van Crooij cut inside, eyes on the 18 yard box. He spotted Nwofor making a run between the center-backs and threaded a pass through—
Rob: [Nwofor’s in!]
One touch, then a quick strike—
Blocked! Reijnen threw himself in the way, sending the ball spinning wide for a corner.
Chris: [Massive block! AZ Alkmaar were in trouble there!]
Benjamin let out a breath. That was close. Too close.
The corner ca in, curling toward the far post—
Cleared by Gorter.
AZ Alkmaar wasted no ti turning defense into attack. Henriksen collected the ball and imdiately drove forward, skipping past one challenge, then another. The crowd roared.
Chris: [Here cos Henriksen—he’s got options!]
Guðmundsson sprinted down the left, Altidore making a run through the center. Henriksen hesitated for a split second—then slid the ball to Guðmundsson.
Rob: [It’s opened up! Guðmundsson’s through!]
Guðmundsson charged into the 18 yard box, defenders scrambling to close him down. He steadied himself, lifted his head—
Chris: [Can he finish this ti?]
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