My Football Legends Chat Group-Chapter 28: Football Hell

The Girona players crowded around the penalty box, their eyes shining with a mix of horror and desperation.

Rio took the initiative and froze in his tracks, his eyes glued to the ball rolling across the grass.

The rest of the stadium did the same.

"SHOOT! MATEO!"

"KILL IT!"

That desperate scream seemed to fire Mateo up even more as he adjusted his feet.

The exhausted midfielder and his best friend both watched the leather sphere spinning slowly towards the sweet spot.

Mateo swung his left leg, raring to end the suffering. He did his usual technique of locking his ankle before striking through the center of the ball.

The goal looked massive in every way whether it was width or height it was unguarded.

’This goal will save us...’ He commented inwardly, however, his leg trembled in the next moment.

"DO IT!"

A few milliseconds after Rio screamed the command, Mateo sent a low shot right towards the center, shocking everyone with the lack of power.

’Please go in!’

THUD

Mateo noticed that the contact felt a little weird, a scuffed connection caused by his cramping calf muscles, yet he still watched as fast as he could towards the net.

The ball skidded along the ground, kissed the outside of the post, and rolled out for a goal kick...

"Miss."

"What the fuck?" Mateo began his collapse to the grass with a confused, broken expression.

Rio’s face turned solemn..

..This miss was one of those moments that haunted players for a lifetime, sending a dagger into their hearts and relying on the cruel nature of the sport to break their spirits.

He also noticed that the Real Madrid defenders had come rushing back to the box, crowding the referee and celebrating the miss like a victory.

Unless a person was strong enough to ignore the crushing weight of guilt, or a psychopath like Rüdiger, they could only dream about recovering from such a blunder.

While this reaction had its obvious drawbacks, it was perfect for Real Madrid as they thrived on the despair of their opponents to kill the game.

Rio’s gaze moved to the opposition’s manager who was watching the game with a smug look on his wrinkled face.

Out of everyone on the pitch, only himself, Mateo, and Dovbyk had even threatened the goal this half.

He stepped up to his fallen friend and let the first couple of tears fall from Mateo’s eyes. They were heavy tears, born from the center of his soul. This backed up his conjecture.

Thankfully he had managed to keep his "Ferrari Engine" active during those few seconds, so the next play would be the one he’d go after.

[Chat Room Active]

Hand_Of_King: He missed!? I am going to fly to Spain and kick his ass! How do you miss an open goal!?

Total_Football_14: His technique collapsed. The mind said shoot, but the leg said sleep. Cruel.

The_Phenomenon_9: It happens. I missed open goals too. But... not like that. Rio, wake him up!

"Get up!"

Rio pulled the midfielder with force, however, he did not manage to lift him completely off the ground.

Mateo’s body was heavy with shame and slid its way back down to the dirt while Rio screamed at full volume towards his face.

"It’s not over!"

He clicked his tongue in annoyance after having just been beaten by a fraction of an inch by the post.

However, he made his way back to the center circle and passed by Aleix Garcia and David Lopez.

"We need the ball back. The defenders are too relaxed in their box, as long as you hit it deep we’ll get a chance." He kept his voice low before wishing them luck and walking off to the wing.

David Lopez was up next, his face looking more determined than ever.

He had already decided he was going to break through the exhaustion and get the ball back for the kids.

BOOM!

The goal kick was smacked hard into the midfield, sailing over the center circle with speed.

David threw his body forward and ran with all his might towards Jude Bellingham, lifting his head up to check on the status of the ball every so often.

Thanks to the Englishman being so arrogant, it took him some time to realize the veteran defender was charging like a bull.

By the time he tried to shield the ball, David had already slid through him and was winning possession.

Rio pumped his fist, inwardly praising the veteran for his remarkable tackle. As usual, David’s face was grimacing widely as he sent a long ball towards Dovbyk who was making his way to the penalty box.

It was now Dovbyk’s turn to hopefully convert this into a chance. He would have preferred that they didn’t have 94 minutes on the clock already, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Since Dovbyk couldn’t rely on his speed against Rüdiger, he would need a big hold-up play to flick it to the winger or a support striker.

If they didn’t convert during this final attack, they wouldn’t get a chance until next season in the second division to put runs on the board.

Therefore, Dovbyk gripped the defender’s jersey and waited for the ball.

THUD

’Damn, too strong.’

The ball was slightly heavier than the passes that had been thrown earlier, causing Dovbyk’s chest control to bounce too far, sending it flying into the danger zone.

Thankfully the ball reached the ground before Courtois could catch it.

Dovbyk rolled his shoulders and fought Rüdiger for the scrap with a serious expression. Rio gazed at his figure, clenching his fists and praying for a miracle.

’If he wins the header we’ll have a shot on goal.’

The defender threw an elbow, this time harder than the last one, trying to throw off his balance. However, Dovbyk’s strength and coordination were top tier.

HEAD!

The timing was immaculate, as was the placement of the header. The sweet sound of the ball hitting the middle of his forehead reverberated in everyone’s ears, followed by cheers from the Girona bench.

Dovbyk could finally let out a grunt after seeing the ball sail grandly over Rüdiger’s head, making a beeline towards the corner flag.

He ran around the defender with the cheers from a few spectators and the rest of his teammates.

With Dovbyk’s flick-on, the ball was now rolling into open space.

Rio let out a sigh of relief, a smile creeping onto his face. With this pass, he felt a little more comfortable going up against the sliding tackle of Dani Carvajal.

"One last time," Rio whispered, feeling the Ferrari Engine humming in his veins.

The clock read 95:12.

The referee put the whistle to his lips.

"Not yet!" Rio roared, sprinting faster than he had ever run in his life. The pink boots became a blur.

Carvajal was closer to the ball. He had the angle. He had the experience.

But Rio had the desperation of a man fighting for his life.

SWISH

Rio didn’t trap the ball. He didn’t dribble. He poked it past Carvajal, jumping over the veteran’s desperate lunge.

"Foul!" The crowd screamed.

"Play on!" The referee waved his hands.

Rio was free. He was on the byline. But the angle was impossible.

There was no one in the box except a depressed Mateo and a heavily marked Dovbyk.

Courtois stood at the near post, looking like a giant wall of yellow.

Zizou_5: Do not cross. There is no one.

Hand_Of_King: Then what? He cannot shoot from zero angle!

Total_Football_14: Create chaos. Win a corner. Or... do something stupid!

Rio looked at Courtois’s legs. He looked at the slight gap between the keeper’s knees.

"Stupid it is," Rio grinned maniacally.

He didn’t cross. He smashed the ball as hard as he could, not at the goal, but at Courtois’s shins!

BANG

The ball hit the shin guard. It ricocheted. It hit the post. It spun wildy across the face of the goal..

"Corner!" The linesman pointed his flag.

It wasn’t a goal. But it was a lifeline..

The referee checked his watch. He held up one finger. One last play.

"Everyone up!" Michel screamed from the sideline, looking like he was about to have a heart attack. "Even the keeper! Gazzaniga! Go!"

Rio fell to his knees near the corner flag, gasping for air. The Ferrari Engine flickered and died.

[Skill Expired: The Ferrari Engine]

[Status: Extreme Fatigue]

He looked up. His goalkeeper was sprinting up the pitch. His captain was limping into the box. Even Mateo was dragging his sad body toward the penalty spot.

It all came down to this. One kick to save them from hell.