The first shot that almost grazed their post rang like a warning, making the fans of red and white sowhat anxious. Even the assistant coaches on the sideline couldn't help but rub their temples.
For the next couple of minutes, the situation didn't change much for the fans of red and white. PSG continued to dominate the match with their position-heavy, positional play.
'This won't do…' Hiro thought with his brows knitted.
Hiro could see his side struggling to regain the position. But there wasn't much he could do without the ball.
'They are in complete control of the match. Both their defense and offense are good with the ball. Even when under pressure, they can calmly move the ball.'
With their defense and offense involved in the build-up, it was difficult for them to reclaim the montum. The ball moving full-backs made it even more difficult.
Their full-backs would constantly move up the field to support their offense. This gave them the advantage in numbers, making it difficult for the players of red and white to snatch the ball.
To counter this, even their striker had to drop deep to support the backline.
Hiro had been reading the match, trying to find a pattern. However, despite his ticulous observation, he struggled to find a single flaw. The more he looked, the more he realized how refined their playstyle was.
'Sothing like this can only be accomplished when all of the players have faith in the tactics,' Hiro couldn't help but roll his eyes toward the sideline to stare at Enrique.
He couldn't help but tremble at what Enrique had achieved with this team. He had managed to convince this bunch of superstars to abandon their ego.
There wasn't a single player on the opposing team who looked like he was playing for himself.
This realization caused a cold sweat to run down his back.
'No wonder, you're one of the best managers in the world. You knew it all along, didn't you? With Mbappe, you wouldn't have been able to achieve this. That's why you pushed for his transfer.'
Though Killian's desire to leave was vital to his departure, certain people also pulled strings from the shadows. One of those individuals was none other than Enrique.
He wanted to rebuild the team, and he knew he couldn't rebuild the team around Mbappe, even if he were considered one of the greatest talents.
Even if he were regarded as the hot prospect in the world, if he wanted to build a winning team, he knew he had to do sothing different.
He had already seen the consequences of building the team around Mbappe.
Football isn't a sport that can be played alone after all.
In his view, he didn't find this prospect of relying on a single individual appealing.
Though it was disheartening to see their side struggle, Hiro couldn't afford to be discouraged. The ga had only begun after all.
With that thought in mind, Hiro dropped back to support his teammates as well.
Well, the two sides sharply contradicted each other. So, it wasn't anything unusual for one side to look more dominant. One team relied heavily on attacking tactics while the other relied on defending tactics.
With their playstyle clashing against each other, it was inevitable for this outco to occur.
Hiro dropping deep provided a mont of respite, taking so burdens off the shoulders of the defenders. However, the addition of one more player wouldn't do much more.
In the 9th minute, while PSG were in control of the montum, Lucien suddenly dropped back. While retreating, he also drew the marker toward him, creating a gap in the box.
Though the defender next to him filled the gap, this allowed Dembele to make his run.
Using this opportunity, Dembele rushed to the goal from the flanks. Because of his quick feet, the opposing defender struggled to reposition.
Before he could even catch up to him, Dembele had already breached their defending third.
Just then, while the focus was on Dembele, Lucien slipped a through ball. The destination of the pass was to the opposite flank, where Kvaratskhelia made his run from the shadows.
No one saw this coming.
But by the ti they had noticed, it was already too late.
Oblak, however, managed to position himself in a spot where he could face him. He locked eyes with Kvaratskhelia, raising his guard.
Both the comntator and the fans were hyped for this mont.
Cutting from the flanks, Kvaratskhelia attempted a shot. Oblak stretched his hands as he dived to save the shot. However, he couldn't touch the ball, even with his arms stretched.
Oblak, however, felt relieved at this.
He knew he had covered the entire post.
If he failed to land a touch, then that would probably an the shot would miss the post.
However, what he hadn't expected was the decoy that he had missed. Dembele, who had made his run much earlier, was lying in wait.
The shot wasn't a shot but instead a pass.
This… Nobody had seen it coming.
Dembele thrived beneath the stadium lights, turning the grandest stage into his personal canvas. With ghost-like fluidity, he slipped in and out of his marker's blind spots—appearing, vanishing, reappearing—until he carved out the perfect pocket of space.
And then, with a silky touch as calm as a whisper, he guided the ball low and true, tucking it neatly past the keeper and inside the post.
GOAL!!
A mont of silence, then an explosion.
Wembley erupted, a tidal wave of sound crashing down from the stands. Cheers thundered like a storm rolling across the pitch. Blue shirts leapt in unison, faces alight with ecstasy, hands flung to the heavens.
"PSG draws first blood at Wembley!"
Less than ten minutes in, the French giants had drawn first blood, asserting their dominance with surgical precision and ruthless pace.
On the other end of the spectrum, the red-and-white half of the stadium stood frozen, faces pale, lips parted in disbelief. For them, the dream had jolted into a nightmare far too soon.
And the match had only just begun.
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