I Am Jose-Chapter 115 - : We Can Do It!
Chapter 115: Chapter 115: We Can Do It!
Bosque was busy envisioning his plan to shatter a record at Real Madrid—a record that no one had ever come close to before—and José was equally eager.
But what José was truly anticipating wasn't the breaking of club records—he wasn't yet that lofty-minded. In fact, Mallorca's own history held hardly any records worth shattering; the club's most glorious achievement to date was last season's UEFA Cup win, which ended an embarrassing spell of having no European honors—a triumph José himself had orchestrated. What José was really waiting for was simply an opportunity to launch a brilliant counterattack.
Even though he could see that Real Madrid had never stopped pressing Mota, marking Ronaldinho, and tracking Eto'o, José's plan wasn't to rely solely on those three. Luke, for instance, might frequently track back on defence, but that doesn't mean he won't play a crucial role in attack—if Real Madrid sometimes overlooked him, he could become a game-changing secret weapon. And then there was Ngonga—often involved more in defence—who had long been the undisputed midfield general of Mallorca; after a period of relative silence and with Mota's meteoric rise, many seemed to have forgotten Ngonga's importance.
At halftime, José had reminded his players: if Mota were to be pressed too hard, Ngonga would step up as the secondary playmaker. And if Ronaldinho and Eto'o were marked excessively, the responsibility for counterattacks would fall on Luke.
"One determined heart, two backup plans. Never put all your eggs in one basket. When one door closes, another will open."
José silently repeated these truths to himself. Though he knew that reality often diverged from theory, in that moment he could only rely on such mantras to steady his nerves. After all, sometimes a coach can only steer the game as close as possible in the direction he desires; the finer details must ultimately be executed by the players. No matter how brilliant a coach may be, he can't win with a substandard team—and even the best coach is powerless when his players refuse to give their all.
Still, José was convinced that he had a tremendous chance—as long as the opportunity presented itself, as long as they seized it...
Thirteen minutes into the second half, that long-awaited chance finally arrived.
After absorbing nearly ten minutes of relentless pressure and attacks from Real Madrid, Mallorca began a determined counter. Though they could no longer dominate Madrid as they had in the first half, they managed to push their defensive line forward by several tens of meters, freeing their penalty area from the suffocating pressure.
Visit freewёbnoνel.com for the best novel reading experience.
Real Madrid's players, having expended a significant amount of energy in their furious offensive, were forced to catch their breath and regroup for another assault on Mallorca. For Mallorca, this provided a rare moment of respite.
Capdevila, working on the left, received the ball; Figo and Salgado converged on him with intense pressing. With no other option, Capdevila quickly passed the ball to Mota in midfield. But then Savio and Robert Carlos surged in simultaneously, pressing Mota hard. Real Madrid's two left-sided players rushed to intercept Mota—a clear tactic to sever the connection between Mota, the creative spark of Mallorca, and Ronaldinho, the lynchpin of their counterattack. Bosque's tactical insight was unmistakable.
As Savio and Robert Carlos closed in on Mota, Maklélé maintained a tight mark on Ronaldinho near the centre circle. The space there was limited, yet every inch was fiercely contested. Mota struggled to maintain control, indifferent to Savio's pressure but clearly troubled by Robert Carlos's intensity.
Just as Mota was about to pass the ball back, a familiar figure appeared in his field of vision.
Ngonga was sprinting down the right flank, completely unmarked. Recognizing an opportunity, Mota instinctively realized that, even though he had gradually reclaimed his starting spot from Ngonga, he couldn't afford to disregard his teammate entirely. In a swift half-turn, Mota used his imposing frame to block Savio and Robert Carlos. Just when everyone expected him to pass to Nadal or Nino behind him, he lifted his foot and sent a crisp, lateral pass to Ngonga on the right.
Robert Carlos immediately turned to challenge Ngonga, but at that very moment, George had surged up the right side. This unexpected movement caused Robert Carlos to hesitate, uncertain whether to retreat via the left—after all, George's speed was formidable. That momentary lapse allowed Ngonga to survey the attacking situation; Real Madrid's defence remained organized, with Maklélé still shadowing Ronaldinho and Eto'o tightly marked by Jerzy and Elgra. Only George, for the moment, was unchallenged.
However, Ngonga's wide vision and extensive experience allowed him to spot a singular weakness in Real Madrid's defence: Luke, who had been diligently tracking back, had now slipped in from the left wing—leaving that flank under-defended.
With a quick flick to the right and a precise pass with his right foot, Ngonga sent a 30-meter diagonal ball soaring above everyone's heads, landing exactly in the space on the right side of Real Madrid's defence.
On Real Madrid's right, Salgado had already pushed into the attack, while centre-back Jerzy was marking Eto'o slightly to the left. In that expansive area, only one Real Madrid player—Grémi—was available to provide cover, until suddenly Luke burst forward from the back line.
Luke's pace, though not the fastest in the league, was more than sufficient; he had already been sprinting with determination earlier. "Ngonga has got the ball... a long pass straight ahead! It might seem trivial in an area almost devoid of our players... but look—Luke has surged forward from the back and reached the ball before Grémi! Now he's facing only Grémi!" the excited commentator shouted.
At that moment, over 80,000 Real Madrid fans in the stadium gasped in unison—the area where the ball was descending was now only 30 meters from the goal, mere steps from the penalty box.
At the same time, more than a thousand passionate Mallorca supporters, long subdued at home, erupted in thunderous cheers. Their voices, bold and resolute, shattered the dominant atmosphere cultivated by the Real Madrid fans—a reflection of Mallorca's attacking play, which, despite all obstacles, was beginning to shine through.
On the touchline, Coach José leaped to his feet, clenching his fists and stretching his arms outwards—he had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity.
"Come on, shoot it in! Alberto, trust your ability—you're an excellent finisher, and you can absolutely make this count!" José's silent mantra resonated in his mind, just as it had helped Luke shake off the haunting memory of several missed one-on-one opportunities.
Luke, of course, couldn't hear José's inner chant. But as he dribbled forward, the combined roar of Real Madrid fans and the exuberant cheers of the Mallorca supporters filled him with immense courage and calm determination.
"This is the Bernabéu—the hallowed ground of Spanish football, one of the greatest stadiums in the world! It's the centre of attention for millions of fans around the globe!" Luke thought, his heart pounding. "Now, here I am, on this iconic stage, with the best goal-scoring opportunity of the season!"
He recalled a similar chance in the first half, but due to the timely intervention of a recovering Jerzy and Casillas's brilliant save, that opportunity had slipped away. Now, facing Grémi on his flank and Casillas guarding the goal once again, Luke adjusted his dribbling, and in a split-second decision, he chipped the ball toward the centre.
Grémi turned partially, preparing to block Luke's advance, but at that very moment, Luke deftly flicked the ball past him, dashing by and leaving Grémi trailing.
With Grémi left behind, Casillas decisively charged out of his goal. He could tell that the other defenders wouldn't recover in time, and Grémi, forced into a hurried turn, had lost his balance. Only Casillas remained capable of stopping Luke.
Luke had squandered at least five one-on-one chances in previous matches. If only he could be more decisive now, perhaps the opposition's counterplay would crumble under the pressure.
Casillas was taking a gamble—yet in the heat of battle, there's never a moment when you can afford not to take risks. Unfortunately, this time, Casillas's gamble backfired.
As Casillas advanced halfway, Luke extended his foot and executed a low, perfectly-timed chip underneath him. The ball traced a beautiful arc—a vivid rainbow—over Casillas's head inside Real Madrid's penalty area.
When everyone saw the ball soaring along that trajectory, a broad smile spread across José's face.
Under the gaze of the entire stadium, the ball began its diagonal descent, landing squarely in the net of Real Madrid!
A lone figure burst toward the goal—none other than Robert Carlos, who, despite sprinting fifty meters in a desperate attempt to recover, couldn't match the speed of the ball.
Robert Carlos's sprint, marked by a hint of tragic heroism, was ultimately in vain; the ball slipped past his outstretched leg and crashed into Real Madrid's net.
In the 59th minute, following a dazzling sequence of attacking moves, Mallorca had finally breached Real Madrid's defence and secured the lead in a fiercely contested match.
The moment the ball crossed the line, José exploded with joy—he dashed off the pitch, stopped just beyond the touchline, and began waving his fists vigorously, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Joining him were the shouts and cheers of over a thousand impassioned Mallorca supporters.
"We did it! A goal at the Bernabéu! We're leading at the Bernabéu! Now, we must take these three points and secure the victory!"
And we are certain—we can and will do it!