Godfather Of Champions

Chapter 538 - A Confrontation

Chapter 538: A Confrontation

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

No matter how the Nottingham Forest players protested or begged, the referee insisted on the decision he had just made: Leighton Baines had made a handball foul and Chelsea was awarded a penalty.

Not only that, he even pulled a yellow card out of his pocket and gave Baines a warning.

“Damn it, should I thank him for not giving Baines a red card straight off?” Twain asked disgruntledly when he saw the scene outside of the field.

Next to him, Dunn did not answer. He had matters to attend to. While everything was in a disarray, Dunn called back Eastwood, who was the closest to the coaches’ seats. He handed him a note to give to the goalkeeper, Edwin van der Sar.

Eastwood was a little puzzled but did as he was instructed. He ran back to the field and skirted around the squabbling crowd and came to Edwin van der Sar.

“Assistant Manager Dunn asked me to give this to you.” Eastwood handed the note in his hand to Edwin van der Sar.

“What is this?” Edwin van der Sar was puzzled.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

With his task completed, Eastwood stood next to him and watched his teammates plead with the referee. He did not join in because he knew that even if he talked until his mouth went dry, the referee would not change his decision, especially when it was such a severe penalty. He refused to do such a meaningless thing nor was he a captain. He would not force himself to do such a thing knowing perfectly well that it could not be reversed.

Next to him, van der Sar suddenly exclaimed in surprise, which attracted his attention. “What’s the matter?”

“Hee hee, nothing.” Edwin van der Sar smiled as he put the note away in his socks.

Eastwood looked suspiciously at Edwin van der Sar but did not press him.

As he watched his teammates still harrassing the referee, Edwin van der Sar patted Eastwood on the shoulder. “Freddy, you look like you’re not worried about this penalty, are you?”

Eastwood looked at the men. “The verdict is out. No use worrying about it. If you can’t save it, I’ll just go and score another goal. Ribéry equalized the score in forty-five seconds after we conceded the goal. I think I can too.”

Edwin van der Sar smiled. “Then don’t go too far away from me. If I catch the ball, I’ll just throw it to you.”

“It’s a deal.”

???

Since the penalty could not be changed, it was pointless to continue the entanglement. The Forest players dispersed one by one and withdrew from the penalty area.

After the Chelsea players had a brief celebration, Lampard came up with the football in his hands. He was the top penalty player in Chelsea.

Edwin van der Sar stood in front of the goal line and slightly lowered his center of gravity as he opened his arms.

Looking at Lampard placing the football, he thought of the note he had just read.

Just like last season’s Champions League semi-final game, that note was filled with intelligence on Chelsea’s penalty kick habits, and Lampard was ranked first.

Edwin van der Sar originally had not been a goalkeeper who was good at taking penalties, but with those details, he was confident that he could throw out Lampard’s ball.

Moreover, since the World Cup, Lampard’s standard of penalty kicks seemed to have suddenly dropped. There had been several penalty kicks that did not enter the goal. This game was a death match and this penalty determined whether Chelsea could eventually advance. Could Lampard withstand such intense pressure? Edwin van der Sar could grab hold and make use of them.

He stood in front of the goal with open arms, trying his best to expand his defensive area while creating a psychological sense of oppression for Lampard.

Lampard put the ball on the penalty spot, and repositioned it three times before he got up and retreated with satisfaction.

The noise in the stands of the stadium faded away. Everyone was watching the small area in front of the Forest team’s goal with a bated breath.

This was the moment that determined their fate.

It was not an exaggeration to say so. If Chelsea could score this goal, the impact on the situation of the game would be far-reaching. Chelsea could take the opportunity to stabilize their defense and contend with the Forest team. It would be difficult for the Forest team to counterattack again because the void in the back that they could exploit would be greatly reduced.

And what if Chelsea did not score? It would a massive blow to not just to the Chelsea fans, but the Chelsea players and the coaching staff as well. They did not manage to grasp a hard-to-come-by opportunity. It would not be a stretch to use “anguish” to describe it. Then there would be time after that the Chelsea players would decline into a state of confusion and be demoralized. It would be normal if anything unfavorable happened to them during this period, and the Forest team would be energized as a result.

There was another point.

It was now the seventieth minute and a lot of Chelsea players who had been running for a long time had actually reached a tipping point in their physical strength. It was their weakest moment. If they wanted to lift their legs, they had to be supported by willpower, and not everyone’s willpower was so remarkable.

Obviously, if they could survive the tipping point, the next twenty or so minutes of the game would be manageable. They could continue to entangle with Nottingham Forest. And if they could not overcome it, the results would be self-evident.

Twain said he was a gambler. And who was to say Mourinho was not one either?

Lampard stood three paces away from the ball, waiting for the referee to blow the whistle.

The City Ground stadium, that could accommodate up to 30,000 people, was silent in this moment, whether it was the substitutes’ bench of both teams, the technical area, or the VIP box, everyone stared at the two players in the middle of the stage.

Twain did not speak; he just bit his lips hard. He said he was going to give Albertini a perfect farewell game, he said he wanted George to set foot in the UEFA Champions League finals again, and a year ago, he promised Ribéry that it would not be the only time they had broken into the Champions League final...

How could he watch them disappear when he had made so many promises?

Just as Twain was a mess inside, the referee’s whistle rang out, particularly clearly in the silent stadium.

???

Lampard started to run up after he heard the whistle. Three paces was very close. He finished his run in a flash and his body inclined to the left as he swung his right foot...?and volleyed.

At the same time, Edwin van der Sar pounced. He observed Lampard’s run and the swing of his leg. He thought that while Lampard leaned to the left, he did not push football to the left, and that the tilt of his body was just a feint to lure him to pounce in that direction.

Therefore, van der Sar chose to pounce toward the right side of Lampard and the left side of his own body.

He had just pounced, when he realized that Lampard did not push toward any side. The football flew straight in the middle!

This was a totally unexpected situation!

Coming from the middle in addition to its fast speed and powerful force, it looked unstoppable!

Can I stop it?

This idea was tossed out of van der Sar’s mind the moment it came up.

The speed of the ball is fast, it’s half a high ball, and from the middle...

The speed of the ball is fast?!

Thank God!

Edwin van der Sar flew across the air and straightened his legs, which looked a little awkward and comical, but he knew it was the only chance.

If Lampard’s shot was powerful enough and the speed would be fast enough. Then in that case, when Van der Sar’s body had not quite flown out yet, his legs could still run into the football flying into the middle!

Edwin van der Sar would have loved to have Michael Jordan’s ability to remain airborne for a while, which would allow him to hover over this spot and wait for the football to strike.

“Boom!”

There was a pain from the impact on his legs, which made him ecstatic. I blocked it!

“Unbelievable! Lampard’s penalty kick did not go in!” The commentator could not hide his disappointment. Twain is one lucky bastard!

Lampard looked up in a trance to see the football fly over his head.

It was the penalty kick nightmare that had been haunted him since the World Cup and would not let him go.

He seemed to be back at the 2006 World Cup in Germany all of a sudden. The man in the red Nottingham Forest jersey suddenly became a Portuguese player dressed in red...

He was the first to play in a penalty shootout in that painful and wretched night. He was very clear what being the “first player” meant, but he failed everyone’s expectations and sent the penalty shot directly to Ricardo’s arms.

After he missed the penalty shot, the terrible mood spread to his teammates, and the second player, Steven Gerrard, was mentally on the verge of collapse after he saw Lampard miss the shot. He fought back tears in his eyes and walked up to kick the second penalty shot. And the consequences were conceivable.

England’s two most stable players on penalty kicks had both missed their shots. England once again went down in front of the Portuguese and lost again to a penalty nightmare.

Loud cheers pulled him back from his distracted reflections, and he turned around to see his teammates desperately running back to defend. Everyone only had one target — Nottingham Forest number 11, Eastwood who was sprinting with the ball!

Did the ball not become a dead ball?

“Come on, Freddy!” van der Sar roared loudly as he waved his fist behind him. He did not care that he did not have time to appear in a close-up of him celebrating the save of that penalty kick. It was now a great opportunity for the Forest team to fight back.

Chelsea had fought for seventy minutes and got a penalty kick. Nottingham Forest fought desperately for seventy minutes.?Wouldn’t they be also waiting for such an opportunity?

“Charge! Our Romani Rooney!” The Forest fans in the stands rallied with Edwin van der Sar.

???

Mourinho saw with his own eyes that his most valued player had missed the penalty shot again but did not have the time to get angry or fly into a rage. He now had to worry about his goal because most of his players had rushed up for the penalty kick. There were only two center backs other than the goalkeeper, ?ech, in the back.

He swore under his breath, but it was not known whether it was to cuss that the penalty shot did not enter or curse the Forest team’s quick counterattack.

???

Dunn patted Twain on the shoulder. “I said that things weren’t that bad.”

Twain did not have time to praise his foresight. He murmured excitedly, “come on! Freddy, strike a fatal blow to them!”

???

“José, maybe things aren’t not that bad...” The technical advisor, Grant stood next to him. “We still have Terry and Carvalho.”

“That’s what I’m f**king worried about!” Mourinho rebuked.

Grant’s expression changed and did not speak any more.

Terry had a yellow card on him, and he was the first to take on the enemy now.

“Mark him but don’t make a move!” Mourinho rushed to the sidelines and roared loudly.

???

There was a clamor in the stadium, and Terry did not hear Mourinho yell from the sidelines. He did not have time to turn his head and look at the manager’s anxious look. There was only one man in his eyes — Eastwood, rushing over and dribbling the ball.

“The situation is like a massive hunt on the African plains. A pride of lions in pursuit of a single zebra while the king lion is up ahead of its prey, eyeing it greedily.” The commentator’s speech was very graphic.

A large number of Chelsea players were trying their best to give chase, and they were now counting on Terry to force Eastwood to slow down. As long as he was forced to slow down, they could besiege him. Then the Forest team’s quick counterattack would die with him.

“There appears to be no way of escape for this zebra...”

Eastwood had intended to change direction and go around in a big circle to bypass Terry while the distance between the two sides was still far apart. Suddenly, he recalled that Terry had gotten a yellow card in the first half.

The incident that had happened to Wood flashed before his eyes.

The Romani changed his mind and accelerated again as he rushed straight toward Terry.

In the Nottingham Forest team, Eastwood was not as fast as the four wingers, but he was definitely not considered slow. He was not be underestimated in short distance sprints.

Running from the backfield to the thirty-meter zone on the other side was nearly forty meters away. Eastwood knew he was at his limit. He could even feel his knee, which had undergone three surgeries, groaning in pain. If this continued, he would soon be caught up by the pursuers behind him, and then the Forest team’s quick counterattack would end. How could van der Sar’s gift be so easily wasted?

If it was destined to end, it would be better to serve as a sacrificial victim!

John Terry saw Eastwood coming straight at him, and he met him without any hesitation.

He certainly knew he already had a yellow card on him.

But as he told Mourinho during the halftime interval, he would not hesitate to do what he had to do if he faced an urgent situation. Stopping the other player was what he needed to do.

The distance between the two men was rapidly shrinking.

Ten meters, eight meters, six meters, five meters...

Eastwood’s upper body swayed, and he made a feint to break through, but Terry was unmoved. He waited for the instance the football left Eastwood’s control, which was the prime time to grab the ball.

And suddenly!

A dark figure charged from the side and knocked Eastwood out in front of Terry’s eyes!

This time it happened so suddenly that Terry was completely unresponsive. He froze in place and watched the football rolled past himself. Then he heard the referee’s shrill whistle ringing again.

There was a deafening booing in the stands. The disgruntled anger of the Forest fans was certainly not directed at Terry. Their target was “the culprit” that had knocked Eastwood out and fell to the ground with Eastwood—Carvalho!

Terry was a little shocked when he saw clearly the player who had fouled.

The referee ran towards the two men who had fallen to the ground. He beckoned Carvalho, who had made the foul, to stand up with a yellow card in his other hand.

???

“G*ddamn it!” Twain could not contain the anger in his heart. “Just a yellow card?! That son of a bitch referee!”

The fourth official’s ears pricked and walked toward him. Twain caught a glimpse of the man and immediately shut his mouth.

Kerslake interjected from one side and pointed to the scene on the field to complain to the fourth official. “Sir, how can that be just a yellow card foul? Shouldn’t he just be sent off with a red card? Carvalho ruined one of our quick counterattacks in such a savage way!”

He managed to attract the attention of the fourth official, and Twain managed to dodge a bullet.

???

On the other side, Mourinho saw Terry unharmed and breathed a sigh of relief. He had been really scared. Off the field, he could tell that Eastwood was going to deliberately find Terry’s trouble. Otherwise, there were so many blank areas in the back, why did he have to take the initiative to look for Terry?

Fortunately, Carvalho stepped forward at a critical moment to help Terry fend off the crisis.

At the cost of Carvalho getting a yellow card, Terry got to stay on the field.

The Forest players rushed in to harass Carvalho, and Terry quickly stepped in to separate the two sides.

“This was a foul, but your teammate seems okay.” He said to the excited Forest players, pointing to Eastwood, who was slowly climbing up.

When everyone heard him, they found that Eastwood had indeed stood up on his own. He moved his body and found that there was no major harm except that his arm was a little sore from being knocked down.

“Hey, Freddy! Are you okay?” The Forest players immediately diverted their attention and Carvalho was able to extricate himself.

Terry looked at his center-back partner. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Carvalho grinned. “This is a game that needs to be fought hard to win and I’m just trying my best.”

Listening to him say so, Terry laughed. “But we both have a yellow card on us now.”

“What’s there to be afraid of? I still don’t have a single card on me,” Makelele said suddenly, next to them.

The other two men stared blankly for a moment, and then all three people smiled.

???

The teammates around Eastwood enquired carefully for fear that his fragile knees would suffer from the hard impact again. But Eastwood was upset instead and swore, “Damn it! Damn Carvalho! If it wasn’t for him, Terry would have been sent off with a red card by now!”

Ribéry shrugged. “Well, it looks like Freddy is all right. Let’s disperse, everybody!”

Eastwood’s frontline partner, van Nistelrooy, patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t think about the yellow card. Just try to score another goal. That’s the right thing to do.”

George Wood quietly walked away after he saw that Eastwood was all right outside the crowd.

He looked up at the score on the big screen, which had remained unchanged at 1:1.

Chelsea’s penalty shot did not go in and our counterattack didn’t succeed.

No one had managed to seize on this amazing opportunity...

What a pity.