The 2019-20 European Super Cup (2)
The match kicked off as Müller, preparing for the kickoff, lightly tapped the ball back to Boateng. I naturally sprinted forward to press the opponent's center-backs.
Boateng was a center-back who perfectly embodied the term "all-rounder." Among his traits, the one rated as world-class was his superb build-up play and comfort with the ball at his feet.
In particular, Boateng's long passes were one of Bayern Munich's primary attacking routes. They had the blistering speed of Robben and Ribéry, Lewandowski's dominance in aerial duels, and Müller, whose off-the-ball movement was second to none.
A long pass from Boateng to any of those four would spell trouble for us. Thus, my defensive duty today was simple: shut down Boateng's long-range distribution.
Seeing me charge, Boateng casually rolled the ball to Rugani. Kroos, who was in charge of their distribution, also dropped deep to assist the center-backs with the build-up.
Meanwhile, both our players and Bayern Munich's settled into their respective positions.
About a minute or two passed. Once everyone was in position, Munich began to move. It started with Boateng receiving a return pass from Kroos. I closed in on him, pressing relentlessly, but Boateng lived up to his reputation. With a deft touch, he shifted his body weight, pivoted, and launched a long ball down the pitch.
Tch...!
I tugged at Boateng's jersey the moment he bypassed me, but his long pass was already flying true, landing precisely at the feet of Robben on the right wing. Tierney rushed over to stop him, but Robben shielded the ball, brought it down cleanly with his chest, and immediately accelerated, cutting inside.
Chasing from behind, it was impossible for Tierney to catch Robben, one of the fastest wingers in the world.
However, Fàbregas was lurking in the midfield along Robben's path. The moment he saw Robben cutting inside, Fàbregas threw himself into a challenge without a second thought.
"Aaargh!"
Tweet!
Whether it was due to a lack of tackling skill or a deliberate attempt to clip his ankles, Fàbregas's boot caught Robben, sending the winger crashing to the turf.
"Stop exaggerating."
Having already gotten back on his feet, Fàbregas spat near the fallen Robben. The referee immediately ran over, reaching into his pocket.
Oh, what's gotten into him?
Fàbregas hadn't made such a reckless tackle even in the season opener. Was it because there was a trophy on the line? Less than five minutes into the match, and he was already fired up.
Of course, we weren't the only ones fired up.
"You son of a bitch!"
"..."
The Munich players rushed Fàbregas, shouting harsh German insults. Naturally, I ran over to protect my teammate.
I wasn't on the best terms with Fàbregas, but defending a teammate was a given. The same went for Vieira, whose relationship with Fàbregas was even worse than mine. Being closer to the action, Vieira had already stepped in, inserting his massive frame between Fàbregas and the furious Munich players.
"Stop acting like a bunch of schoolgirls. Getting this worked up over a simple tackle? Then again, what do you farmers know about real football when you spend all year playing king of the hill in your own league?"
Vieira glared menacingly at Schweinsteiger, the opposing captain who had rushed over. Anyone else might have wet themselves under Vieira's terrifying gaze. Schweinsteiger held his ground, staring back, but he stopped trying to get past Vieira to reach Fàbregas.
Once the tension simmered down slightly, the referee pushed through the crowd of players and brandished a card at Fàbregas.
It was yellow.
"Are you kidding me? That's only a yellow? He clearly went for the ankles! That's a red card!"
Schweinsteiger protested vehemently, but the referee remained unmoved. From the ref's perspective, sending off a key midfielder with a straight red less than five minutes into a massive early-season match was too harsh. Besides, it wasn't a red-card offense to begin with, so it was the logical decision.
"Hey."
As I silently applauded the referee's decision, Fàbregas called out to me.
"What?"
"Can't you block a simple pass? How do you let a defender bypass you so easily? I got booked because of you, idiot."
His words were an absurd, childish complaint. If Boateng were the type to lose the ball to me that easily, his build-up play wouldn't be hailed as world-class. Expecting that level of defensive work from a striker was ridiculous.
Besides, they had two center-backs. Expecting me to mark both of them alone was nonsense. The standard defensive tactic, which even I as a forward knew, was to hold my position and then double-team Robben once Tierney caught up.
He was just venting his frustration on me because he lost his temper and made a reckless tackle.
Still, arguing with someone who was so worked up that he spat on the ground after a dirty tackle was pointless. I decided to just let it slide.
"Ah, sorry."
"Useless prick, all talk..."
No wonder Vieira hated him. In any case, I let his grumbling go in one ear and out the other, returning to my position to prepare for a counter-attack before the free kick was taken.
The free kick followed. Kroos lofted the ball into the penalty box, but Campbell cleared it, launching our counter. However, Munich's double-line defense held firm, preventing us from creating any major chances.
Yet, there was a silver lining: Robben's movement.
Having had his ankle clipped by Fàbregas just five minutes into the game, Robben was now visibly limping.
This is a win for us.
Fàbregas, if he had any brain cells left, wouldn't do anything to risk a second yellow—not that he was the type to defend with much passion anyway. Trading a yellow card on Fàbregas for a hobbled Robben was a highly profitable exchange.
Although Fàbregas's tackle was reckless and lacked basic sportsmanship, it had ultimately tilted the match in our favor.
Of course, that didn't automatically solve our attacking issues. Fàbregas and Bergkamp tried to carve out opportunities, but Munich's defense kept them at bay. I received the ball a few times, but in a slow, structured attack, bypassing an established Boateng was difficult, forcing me to recycle the ball sideways.
Time ticked away as both sides traded blows. We attempted several shots from outside the box, but Neuer's beastly reflexes kept the back of the net from shaking.
We were dominating possession, roughly 65 to 35. During a spell where they were starved of the ball, Munich managed to regain possession. Ribéry drove forward before switching play to the opposite flank, sending the ball to Robben.
Once again, it was Robben versus Tierney in a one-on-one. Robben tried to cut inside to exploit Tierney, just as he had done before. However, as the minutes wore on, Robben's speed was noticeably dropping. Tierney, who had already been beaten three times, read the move perfectly, intercepted the ball, and passed it to Fàbregas.
Tierney actually made a defensive stop like that!
A fullback making such a clean tackle. It was almost tear-inducing, but I didn't have time to get emotional. I locked eyes with Fàbregas as he received Tierney's pass. Capitalizing on Munich's disorganized defensive line from their failed attack, Fàbregas immediately launched a long ball forward.
"You little...!"
I sprinted forward, leaving Boateng in my dust as he cursed behind me. A quick glance showed I had already pulled five or six paces ahead. Relieved that I would have enough space to get a shot off, I looked back ahead, only to freeze.
What kind of goalkeeper...!
Neuer was already rushing out to the spot where Fàbregas's pass was about to land.
But I'm still faster!
Just as the ball bounced in front of me, Neuer threw himself forward. If the ball bounced any further, I would lose possession. With no time to control it, I poked the ball with the tip of my boot, aiming right between Neuer's legs.
*Thwack!*
But the moment I shot, Neuer's legs snapped shut.
What a beast...
Manuel Neuer. Even in this world where legendary keepers like Casillas, Buffon, and Cech were still active, he was regarded as the best of his era. In my previous life, by the time I was playing, he had already retired and was widely considered the greatest goalkeeper in history, second only to Lev Yashin.
He was a player who had redefined the goalkeeper position, but his beastly reflexes and shot-stopping ability alone were enough to justify his reputation. That was Neuer, the starting goalkeeper for Munich and the German national team.
Still, I hadn't expected him to block that shot...
"You're definitely fast, kid. Though, not fast enough to beat me."
"You rushed out here in a panic. Pretending to be calm now is a bit pathetic, don't you think?"
"I think you know best whether I'm pretending or not."
It was annoying because he wasn't wrong. Feeling that talking to him any further would only irritate me, I turned away, only to see Fàbregas staring at me.
Here comes the nagging.
Honestly, considering Neuer's tendency to sweep outside the penalty box, Fàbregas should have delivered the pass closer to me or with some backspin. I had already created a five-to-six-step gap between myself and Boateng.
And Fàbregas was more than capable of making that kind of pass.
Contrary to my expectations that he would blame me, Fàbregas tapped his chest, offering an apology. It seemed he realized his pass had been too long.
Well, he might have a terrible personality, but he sure can play.
I gave him a thumbs-up and took my position to prepare for the throw-in.
Bellerín threw the ball to Ljungberg. Since Ljungberg wasn't a dribbler by nature, he chose to recycle possession rather than take on his man, and the ball soon found its way back to Fàbregas.
I followed Wenger's pre-match instructions. Positioning myself near Rugani, I suddenly burst forward toward Boateng. Just as Rugani and Boateng's defensive lines crossed, the ball went to Bergkamp, who had momentarily freed himself from his marker. Bergkamp looked to play a quick one-two with Fàbregas, who was making a run into the open space.
At that moment, my marker switched to Boateng. Just as Rugani moved to intercept the pass from Bergkamp to Fàbregas, Bergkamp pulled his foot back, dragging the ball behind him in a brilliant Cruyff turn. Creating a shooting angle for himself, he let fly.
*Thwack!*
It was aimed perfectly at the corner of the goal, and he still saved it...
Patrício had put on a great performance in the last match, but this was on a completely different level. It was a jaw-dropping save.
No wonder Real Madrid struggled to break down Munich even with their star-studded squad. Tch. Unless we create a clear one-on-one chance, it's going to be tough to score.
The only way to break the deadlock was to either cause chaos in the box or create a clean one-on-one opportunity on the counter.
The corner kick ended with Neuer safely catching the ball, and Munich began their attack once more.
I won't miss next time. Just give me one chance.
Perhaps my prayers were answered. Vieira intercepted the ball and fed it to Fàbregas. Once again, our eyes met.
Now!
Since Munich had held their line the moment Vieira made the interception, it wasn't a perfect opportunity. However, I shook off Boateng and sprinted forward. Fàbregas's pass found my feet. Three players surrounded me: Kroos closing in from the front, with Boateng and Rugani pressing from behind, forming a triangle to trap me.
But because I had made my run early, I had managed to create some distance. The moment I received the ball, I spun around and accelerated.
A slow build-up won't work anyway!
I could recycle the pass here, but that wouldn't beat Neuer. What I needed to do was bypass these defenders and drive straight toward the goal!
Having received the ball near the center circle, I was about forty-five to fifty meters away from the goal. If I could beat just one man, I would have enough momentum to create a clear chance.
Naturally, my target was Rugani, the weaker defender of the pair. The moment I drove toward Rugani, Ljungberg read my intention and began making a run toward Boateng, dragging Alaba with him.
Perfect. This means...!
Rugani moved to block my path. Boateng left Ljungberg to Alaba and tried to close in on me, but his hesitation cost him, leaving him a step too late.
But that was more than enough. Seeing Boateng rush over, Rugani's right side became exposed.
I feinted left, dropping my shoulder. Trusting Boateng to cover, Rugani shifted his weight slightly to his right. In that split second, I maintained my momentum, pushed the ball with my left foot, and cut sharply to the right.
"Stop him!"
Boateng yelled as he tried to put his shoulder into me, but I slipped past him by a hair's breadth. The distance to the goal was now about thirty meters.
If the angle narrowed any further, it would be dangerous. I unleashed a shot toward the left corner and immediately kept running forward. Knowing Neuer, he might just save this one too.
*Thwack!*
That absolute monster...!
Just as I feared, Neuer dived and parried the ball. The rebound spilled forward. Meanwhile, Boateng, who had caught up right behind me while I was shooting, slid across the grass.
He was trying to block the follow-up shot.
However, instead of shooting immediately, I collected the rebound and paused.
"Damn it...!"
Boateng cursed as his sliding tackle carried him past me. Neuer scrambled to get back on his feet from his diving position.
But no human could move faster than the ball.
*Tap.*
I gently chipped the ball. It sailed over the sliding Boateng and floated into the unguarded net.
—*WAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!*
—*LUKA! LUKA! LUKA! LUKA! LUKA!*
"Still feeling... relaxed? Doesn't look like it."
I tossed the remark at Neuer, who was staring blankly between me and the goal, but unfortunately, I received no reply.