My Football Legends Chat Group-Chapter 37: A-Grade Ball Control

Meanwhile, on the pitch, Rio called for a calm head during a break in play and walked up to the center circle where Mateo was standing, bending over with his hands on his knees.

Mateo was still rattled after he made such a bad decision and allowed a Harrogate midfielder to flatten him with a crunching tackle. They were now in a tight situation with the ball in their own half and Harrogate pressing like mad dogs, putting significant pressure on the Leeds backline.

He expected to receive a grilling from Rio for losing possession, however, it was the opposite.

"Mateo, why didn’t you play the first-time pass?"

’Huh?’ Mateo, who was busy looking at the mud stains on his shorts, suddenly raised his gaze and looked at Rio oddly.

"A-Ah sorry. Everything happened so fast. The guy was massive, Rio. I froze." Mateo replied, also a little perplexed that he was the one being comforted rather than roasted.

Rio looked over his shoulder at the opposition striker who was currently chatting with the referee, probably explaining why he tried to break Mateo’s ankles. His intuition was telling him that they would likely try the same thing after seeing Mateo’s hesitation.

He let out a small sigh and turned back to his best friend. "It’s okay. The next time I get the ball, I’m going to drag that giant out of position. This time I need you to preemptively run into the space he leaves behind. Once you get the ball, don’t dribble. Send it straight to Piroe."

"As long as we can get this right, we’ll get out of this mess without needing a stretcher." Rio held out his fist, prompting the other to bump it.

Mateo didn’t say a word of complaint, returning back to his position. He trusted Rio’s feel for the game, considering he knew how much of a "cheat code" his friend had become since the system upgrade.

The Harrogate midfielder came back into the zone with a smug look on his face. He had just finished laughing with his captain and couldn’t help but look at Mateo a few times, licking his lips like a predator.

Summerville also noticed this and couldn’t help but be amazed at Rio’s ability to remain calm in this lower-league warzone.

Rio requested the ball from Meslier, the goalkeeper, to which the Frenchman nodded in response. He rolled the ball directly to Rio’s feet, only for the Harrogate giant to make contact with the turf and send a sliding tackle towards Rio’s ankles.

"Break his legs!" A fan screamed from the stands.

As soon as the ball arrived, Rio didn’t panic.

[Passive Skill: A-Grade Ball Control Active]

The ball felt like it was glued to his boot. It didn’t bounce. It didn’t bobble. It stuck.

Rio shifted his weight. He didn’t pass immediately. He waited. He waited until the defender was committed to the tackle.

"Now!"

Rio flicked the ball with the outside of his boot. It wasn’t a clearance; it was a surgical pass into the vacuum of space behind the rushing defender.

Mateo, remembering the instruction, was already sprinting into that space. He arrived way ahead of the covering defensive midfielder.

He pounced on the ball and quickly threw a look to Piroe who was making a run. Thankfully his vision was on point, allowing Mateo to send a lightning-fast through ball to the striker.

"Go on!"

"Shoot!"

"Corner!"

"Nice ball!" Rio sent a thumbs up to Mateo before turning to the angry Harrogate defender with a smile. Things went exactly how he had predicted, allowing them to escape the press just before the heavy tackles arrived.

The Harrogate giant who had tried to kill the play seemed to be shocked. He slowly made his way back to his position with a sour expression, not having expected the skinny Spanish kid to embarrass him with a simple flick.

[Chat Room Active]

Hand_Of_King: Hahaha! Did you see the big man fall? He slid all the way to London!

Total_Football_14: The touch was exquisite. Rio, your ankle is made of velvet. That is how you nullify aggression. You make them chase shadows.

Zizou_5: Good vision from Mateo too. But he needs to stop looking scared. Fear smells like blood to these English defenders.

Carlos, who was in the stands, finally felt as if he could let out his pent-up breath. Now that Leeds had gotten out of the pinch, he could finally search for his seat number.

He had arrived late due to a delayed flight from Barcelona and a confused taxi driver who thought "Harrogate" was a type of tea.

He looked around for a little while, trying to navigate the small, packed stadium, only to hear a grunt from the seat next to the empty one.

"You’re blocking the view, mate. Sit down."

He turned to the sound of the voice and saw an older man wearing a flat cap and a thick Leeds United scarf.

"Ah, sorry. Is this seat taken?" Carlos replied in broken English, making his way over.

The man, whose name was Bill, shifted his legs to let him pass. "Nah. Sit yourself down. You missed the kick-off. Bloody traffic, I bet."

"Yes, traffic," Carlos agreed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "And the plane."

"Plane?" Bill raised an eyebrow. "You came a long way for a friendly against Harrogate Town. Must be a die-hard fan."

At these words, Carlos couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

"I am a fan, yes. But... my son is playing."

"Son?" Bill was a little caught off guard. He took a sip of his Bovril.

"Yeah. Rio Lance. Number 37."

The old man’s eyes widened at these words. It just so happened that the most talked-about player on the Leeds forums was this man’s son.

"The loanee? The lad from Girona?" Bill asked, squinting at the pitch. "Well, I’ll be damned. It looks like you raised a quick one."

He had been a season ticket holder for forty years, which was how he knew every player’s stats better than the manager. It had been many years since he saw a winger with that kind of balance, hence why he was surprised that Rio’s father was sitting next to him in the cheap seats.

Carlos smiled widely. There was nothing that would make a father happier than hearing his son be complimented in such a way. His mood had improved so much that he had even forgotten he missed the first ten minutes.

Bill suddenly spoke up, pointing a sausage-like finger at the pitch. "Your lad on the wing... can you tell me a little more about him? Particularly regarding his stamina."

Carlos frowned a little. Since Rio had never told him about the "Ferrari Engine" skill, he did not have much information, only that Rio used to get tired after sixty minutes.

"I don’t know much, unfortunately. You know how teenagers are with their secrets. But I can say that he used to be the fastest kid in the academy."

His eyes were resolute, implying that he was telling the truth. Bill also knew that when it came to football, Spanish parents were always serious.

"Ah, right. Well, he looks sharp," Bill muttered, watching Rio sprint back to defend. "But he looks a bit light, doesn’t he? A stiff breeze might knock him over."

Bill shook his head, looking at the monstrous Harrogate defenders. "It’s a shame. In the Championship, they don’t tackle the ball, they tackle the man. If he can’t take a hit, he won’t last until Christmas."

Carlos’s expression flickered for a moment, a wave of worry washing over him. However, he managed to keep his composure.

"He is stronger than he looks," Carlos said, more to convince himself than Bill. "He is... slippery."

"We’ll see," Bill grunted. "Oh, look. He’s got the ball again."

On the pitch, Rio received a high ball. It was swirling in the wind. A Harrogate defender was charging at him, leading with his elbow.

"Watch out!" Carlos whispered.

Rio didn’t flinch. He didn’t jump away.

[A-Grade Ball Control]

He cushioned the ball with his chest, letting it drop dead at his feet. As the defender flew in, Rio simply rolled the ball through the man’s legs—a nutmeg so clean it looked disrespectful.

"Olé!" The Leeds fans in the away end roared.

Bill choked on his Bovril. "Bloody hell. Did you see that touch?"

Carlos grinned. "Yes. That is my son."

"Maybe you’re right," Bill admitted, wiping his mouth. "Maybe he doesn’t need to be big if they can’t catch him."

Just then, a man in a sleek suit sitting a few rows down turned around. He held a notebook.

"Excuse me," the scout said to Carlos. "Did you say you’re Lance’s father?"

Carlos nodded, wary.

"I’m from Manchester United’s scouting network," the man said, handing over a card. "We’re just keeping an eye on the loan market. Your son... he has an interesting first touch."

Carlos took the card, his heart hammering. Manchester United?

"Don’t get too excited," Bill grumbled. "He’s a Leeds player for now. Hands off, vulture."

The scout smiled politely and turned back to the game.

Carlos looked at the card, then at Rio, who was currently dancing past another defender.

"England is going to be fun," Carlos whispered.