"Galatasaray, move forward!"
"Die, you Spanish bastards!"
"Hakan, tear apart their defense, go for it!"
"Haha, led by a kid still sucking on his mother's breast—no wonder they're a bunch of cowards!"
The Galatasaray fans in the stands were fired up as they watched their team relentlessly press Mallorca back into their own half. In their eyes, those cowardly Spaniards had already been firmly suppressed by their team, and scoring was just a matter of ti!
What bothered them was Mallorca's strong defense—almost eight players were involved, tightly packing the penalty area and surrounding spaces, making Galatasaray's offense look quite difficult.
"Are you cowards only good at being turtles? Haha, co out here! If you don't dare, go crawl back into your mama's arms and suck your thumb!"
"Spanish teams are all cowards! Even worse than the Italians!"
Listening to the insults from the stands, José just sneered. It was all so childish. They were shouting loudly, but in the end, football is about how well you play with your feet. Galatasaray was indeed aggressive, but so far, they hadn't created many good shooting chances. Hagi was being tangled up by Mallorca's two veterans. Against their rich experience, Hagi's skills and awareness were rendered less effective, and he barely had a chance to touch the ball.
Galatasaray had created so opportunities on the wings, but although they had tall players in the box, Mallorca's aerial defense was also strong. Aside from Nino marking Hakan?Suk, Nadal's positioning and Franco's interventions managed to shut down most of the crosses. Franco, standing 1.88 ters tall with excellent jumping ability, was a goalkeeper with a large reach. Though still young and inexperienced, he didn't lose focus in such a dense defense.
The Galatasaray players, however, were quick-tempered. If they had remained calm in the beginning, they might have had more success in their attacks. But now, after failing to break through, all three of their center-backs had moved forward to join the attack, leaving massive open spaces at the back.
This was exactly what José loved—the perfect setup for a counterattack.
Last season, under Cooper's direction, the team had gotten used to this strategy, and since José took over, it had beco their focus. Eto'o was a master of counterattacks, and Tristan was also a great supporting player. In this match, besides relying on them, José also had Ibágaça on the right side as a powerful weapon.
Galatasaray's weak point was on the wings. The right side was Ibágaça, and on the left, it wasn't Stankovic, but Eto'o.
José was waiting for the mont when Galatasaray would push forward with almost all their players and then strike with a lethal counterattack!
Just as Terim started to feel sothing was wrong, the mont José had been waiting for finally arrived!
The 27th minute of the match.
Hagi, under pressure from N'Gonga and Soler, had finally gained possession of the ball. As he received it and tried to turn, he was intercepted by Stankovic, who had been lying in wait. Today, Mallorca's formation was more like a 4-3-3, with Stankovic moving back to the center to defend.
The ball was cleared by N'Gonga, who didn't hesitate to make a pass with his right foot while turning. The ball flew through the two defensive midfielders of Galatasaray, and even though Umit Davala dove in with a sliding tackle, he was just a bit too late to make contact, and the ball landed at Tristan's feet!
Brent and Popescu, the two center-backs, blocked Tristan's turning route from behind. Terim had warned before the ga that this forward was Mallorca's top scorer, and they needed to strengthen defense—simply don't let him turn and control the ball.
Seeing the two center-backs closing in from behind, Terim nodded slightly. As long as they could disrupt him a bit, there would be no counterattack opportunity.
Mallorca's other forward, Eto'o, was still lurking on the left wing and couldn't directly support Tristan. The counterattack seed like nothing special.
But José's smile started to form on his face...
On the field, Tristan didn't force a turn and break through. Amid the deafening boos from the stands, he raised his foot and sent a diagonal pass to Ibágaça, who had pushed forward on the right.
Galatasaray's left midfielder, Hakan Yunsal, was desperately chasing after Ibágaça. Ibágaça had been pulling back to help defend against Soler, but now he decisively made his way up the wing—there must be a plan!
Hakan reacted quickly, but it was still a step too late.
After receiving the diagonal pass from Tristan, Ibágaça didn't choose to dribble but, using the montum of his sprint, swung his right foot and sent the ball flying across the field, deep into Galatasaray's half!
It was a long, ground-level diagonal pass, covering the entire field from the right side to the left side of Galatasaray's half.
And along the ball's flight path, a figure in a red Mallorca shirt, like a lightning bolt, sprinted toward Galatasaray's half!
"Run, Samuel!" José stood up from the sideline, waving his arms and shouting.
At nearly the sa mont, Terim jumped out of his coach's seat, and the shout of the "Tyrant" cut through the air at Ali Sami Yen Stadium: "Get back—"
Now, there was no one left sitting in the stands. All the Galatasaray fans had jumped out of their seats, staring in disbelief at Eto'o's magnificent sprint across the field!
Though it was just one person, Eto'o's sprint created an overwhelming atmosphere, as if a cavalry, ard and fierce, were invading the enemy's territory.
Eto'o's muscles rippled as he ran, resembling a cheetah racing across the wild plains, swiftly pouncing on his prey—the ball that had just hit the ground and was rolling across the pitch!
The first to return was Popescu, who tried to stretch his foot to clear the ball, but just before he made contact, Eto'o reached the ball, quickly nudged it forward, jumped over Popescu's outstretched leg, and continued his chase!
"Block that guy!" A Galatasaray fan shouted urgently, while others were yelling racist slurs, such as "monkey" and "n****r," in an attempt to provoke Eto'o and disrupt his performance.
The loud insults reached Eto'o's ears. Galatasaray fans had succeeded, but they only fueled his anger!
"I'll make you all shut up!" Eto'o scread inwardly, his steps quickening as he closed in on the ball, tapping it into the penalty area and adjusting his path.
At the slightest delay, Galatasaray's last center-back, Emre, lunged at him from the side, attempting to make a sliding tackle as Eto'o slightly lost control of the ball.
But Eto'o was faster, nudging the ball toward the center of the box with his right foot and dodging Emre's tackle.
Galatasaray's goal, guarded by Tafarel, was wide open, bare and exposed to Eto'o's deadly strike.
Tafarel rushed out.
But Eto'o didn't waste a mont. After pushing the ball past Emre's sliding challenge, he quickly took a step to his right and swung his right foot across the ball!
The ball flew toward the goal, rolling along the ground and taking a sharp 90-degree turn, passing right under Tafarel's arm and into the net!
Though Tafarel was a skilled goalkeeper, he was better known for saving penalty kicks, and at 34 years old, his reactions had slowed down. He was simply too late to stop Eto'o's tily, decisive shot!
The ball rolled into the goal, and Brent, the last-ditch defender for Galatasaray, flew in to try to clear it, but he was too slow. By the ti he touched the ball, it had already crossed the goal line and was accelerating into the net.
Seeing the ball go in, Eto'o raised his hand and imdiately stood up, running toward the stands, spreading his arms wide!
While running toward the stands, Eto'o kept pointing down with his right finger, shouting, "You bastards! You only dare to shout from up there! Co down here! I've scored on your team! Right here on this field!"
With every yell, Eto'o felt his frustration release. After shouting for over ten seconds, he felt like he had just had an ice cream on a hot day, feeling cool and refreshed to the core!
At this mont, the rest of the Mallorca players joined Eto'o, standing with him and shaking their fists at the Galatasaray fans. From the warm-up to now, the insults had never stopped. Even a Buddha would get angry—and this goal was their perfect opportunity for retaliation!
The Mallorca fans, who had been silenced for so long, now began to celebrate, shouting Eto'o's na in joy over the victory!
As Eto'o vented his emotions, José, on the other side, also took action.
When Eto'o scored against Tafarel, José smiled and turned toward the stands.
Once he turned, he retracted his left hand, leaving his right arm raised. Then, with a powerful swipe downward, he slapped the air!
A loud slap.
Those who had insulted him would pay the price!
This was just the first slap. There would be a second, a third to follow!
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