Everyone couldn’t help but follow the ball as it flew into the air with terrible speed off the head of the Harrogate striker.
"Damn it," slier cursed, kicking the mud in frustration.
’How could I let a League Two striker beat at the near post...’ the goalkeeper admonished himself, falling into a depressed state.
The Harrogate players waltzed back to the center circle as the ball finally settled in the back of the net.
1-1.
One of the Leeds assistant coaches spoke up to Manager Farke, "Rio has already taken three heavy knocks. His ankles are swelling. Should we replace him?"
Farke didn’t answer right away, watching on as the boy’s body language told him all he needed to know. Just as he was about to make the substitution, he saw Mateo and Liam Cooper both head up to the winger and talk to him.
Despite being a teenager from Spain, Rio seed to be more mature than the others for so reason. Mateo seed as if he was already a veteran with his calming presence, while Rio felt steady as a rock. It was as if he had already weathered terrible storms and withstood the tests of ti—or at least the tests of the System.
Seeing Rio perk up a little after being talked to, the Manager shook his head. "We can’t abandon our new weapon. We’re only in the 35th minute."
"B-But Harrogate has just leveled the score. If he gets injured, we lose our investnt." The assistant rebutted, his face filling with worry.
The Harrogate "Butcher" stepped up to the restart next, his face filled with a smile. He’d just seen the Spanish kid limp, filling him with confidence.
"Co on Rio! You’ve got this."
"Run at them! Make them bleed!"
The Leeds squad called out words of encouragent one by one, causing a smile to tug on the corner of Farke’s lips. He turned to the assistant coach and pointed to the team on the field.
"Not even the captain is giving up on the kid. How do you expect to replace him now?"
"Ah..." The assistant coach couldn’t respond. Perhaps he had been too hasty to request a substitution at this ti when even the senior players had faith in him.
Rio’s eyes flashed with determination, the voices of his peers filling him with strength. He adjusted his shin guards and faced down the wing towards the Butcher’s massive fra.
"I just need to trust the Engine... Just like always." He murmured.
[Chat Room Active]
Hand_Of_King: They scored? Good. Now it is a real fight. A 1-0 win is boring. A 5-4 win is legendary!
Total_Football_14: Do not lose your head, Rio. They are relying on chaos. You must bring order. Control the tempo.
The_Phenonon_9: Ignore the Dutch philosophy. Just run past them. They are heavy. You are light.
"Foul!"
"Whoa, that one had so venom on it." Bill comnted, glancing at the referee. His gaze was focused on the Butcher, who had just clattered into Sumrville.
The other two people with him were also staring at the sa thing as if they were waiting for a red card.
"Yellow card? That’s almost assault!" Bill called out in shock, almost not believing his eyes.
Yet when he looked again, he could still see the yellow card raised in the referee’s hand.
"How many fouls has that lump made so far?" Bill asked Carlos.
Carlos flipped a few ntal pages in his head and responded a mont later, "That should be his fourth foul this ga."
"Let’s hope the ref has his glasses on. It would be good if we can get him sent off before he breaks soone’s leg." Bill said, taking a furious bite of his pie.
"Nice run!" Carlos was the first to call out. He was insanely impressed by the speed at which Rio had tracked back to cover for the fallen Sumrville.
"Tackle!"
"Out!"
"Throw-in to Leeds."
With his renewed determination, Rio seed to have risen to a level in which he had never reached before. Spurned on by Mateo and his other teammates, his sprints were like literal lightning bolts as they burst their way up and down the flank.
[Skill Active: Heavy tal Football]
[Pressing Intensity: 10%]
Manager Farke turned to the assistant coach and let out a smile. "Just rember, we’re here to guide the players in the right direction. As long as soone still has fighting spirit and is capable, we should do our best to support them."
"Yes Boss." The assistant coach nodded, feeling as if he had learned a valuable lesson. This was also the first ga of pre-season; substituting the new signing at such a juncture would also likely have an effect on the team’s morale.
"Nice work Rio. Don’t worry about the ankle, we’ll get the lead back for you." Mateo placed his hand on Rio’s shoulder on the way back to the defensive shape and said a few words.
"Mmm. I’m counting on you guys." He said, heading over to the touchline and regaining his stamina. Since it was an English sumr—humid and sticky—players burned through their stamina quickly. This was especially true for the winger who was the one doing the most running.
Rio took a few swigs of water bottle thrown by the physio and cald down his breathing. His gaze was on Sumrville who was preparing to receive the ball and lead off the attack for Leeds.
Sumrville was all fired up, dancing around the ball like a lunatic and calling for the pass. Once the signal was given, he cald down significantly and stepped up to the defender.
In truth, he was upset with his performance thus far in the first ga of the season. His first two attempts were a weak shot and a dispossession, sothing unfitting of the number 10 for Leeds United.
He stared at the Harrogate right-back with determination, nothing else in his mind except for dribbling the ball and getting into the box.
DONG
The mont he struck the ball past the defender, Sumrville kicked off the ground and bolted towards the byline. The ball flew towards the corner flag in the space between the center-back and the fullback.
Since he had been running as fast as possible, Sumrville decided to fly past the defender and sprint towards the ball that looked like it was going out of play, much to the surprise of everyone on the field.
"KEEP IT IN!"
Rio called out towards the winger, calling for him to cross it as soon as possible.
Sumrville locked eyes with the approaching advertising boards and could see the danger in them as he made the decision to slide.
"ARGH!"
He threw himself forwards and slid along the wet grass on his stomach as fast as he possibly could, placing his foot on the ball a fraction of a second before it crossed the white line.
"Safe!" The linesman signaled play on.
Sumrville hooked the ball back into the danger area.
It was a chaotic, looping cross that hung in the air for an eternity.
Rio was waiting at the edge of the box. He saw the ball coming. He saw the Butcher rushing out to block him.
"This is it," Rio thought.
He didn’t trap it. He didn’t wait.
He adjusted his body, leaning sideways, his eyes locked on the leather sphere.
"Volley!" Carlos scread from the stands.
Rio swung his left foot.
The sound of the connection was sweet. Pure.
The ball rocketed through the crowded box, screaming past the Butcher’s ear, past the goalkeeper’s outstretched hand.
SMASH
It hit the crossbar. The ball bounced down, hitting the line, and spinning away.
"NO!" Rio fell to his knees, hands on his head.
"So close!" Bill shouted, spilling his tea everywhere. "That would have been goal of the season!"
The Manchester United scout in the row below didn’t cheer. He simply opened his notebook, circled Rio’s na, and underlined the word Technique three tis.
"Unlucky, son!" The Harrogate keeper laughed, picking up the ball. "Try harder next ti!"
Rio gritted his teeth, standing up from the mud. He looked at Mateo. Mateo looked back, a fire burning in his eyes.
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