Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Copa del Rey Semifinal 1st Leg (2)
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Adam Dolan was putting on a better show than I'd imagined, which let us seize control of the game.
Up until now, his passes had mostly been funneled my way, and Valencia couldn't possibly have missed that fact.
But now Adam Dolan had broken out of his shell on his own, adding personal dribbling breakthroughs as a new option.
That would naturally make it much easier for him to pass to me.
The opposing players could no longer ignore the possibility of Adam Dolan's individual runs.
With the momentum on our side, we kept pressing forward.
As expected, the most dangerous attacks were coming from the left flank.
Lorenzo was drawing at least two defenders, and sometimes even shaking them off completely.
Valencia's fullback, who had been repeatedly beaten by Lorenzo's dribbles, finally got booked with a yellow card after lunging in late to stop one.
One more card and he'd be off, so the player had noticeably gone into a shell.
He'd probably be subbed soon, but not yet.
It might be smart to bag another goal from the left before that happened.
Valencia looked shell-shocked, just absorbing our relentless attacks down that flank.
"Lorenzo!"
I called out to him after he'd shaken a man on the sideline.
The ball arrived right at my feet in an instant.
This was only my fifth professional match.
No matter how hard the opponents had scouted me, there were still tons of moves I hadn't shown yet.
Even though I received the ball just outside the penalty box, only one defender was marking me.
And he was at a decent distance, not an immediate threat.
I tapped the ball sideways short, then unleashed an infield shot right away.
My plant foot was solid.
No one was in the path I'd curved it toward.
Pang—
The ball, already off my foot, arced exactly along the line I'd envisioned.
No need to watch; I bolted straight for the corner flag.
"Yeeeeeeah!!!"
I soaked in the roaring crowd before jogging back to the pitch with my usual strut.
Even as a fullback in my past life, I'd never skipped shooting practice during my playing days.
Whether it was dreaming of playing in my ideal position someday or just wanting to be a more competitive fullback, I couldn't quite remember anymore.
But thanks to that, I could fire off shots from certain spots like they were programmed macros. The prime example was the so-called "Sonny Zone," where a right-footed curler was possible.
As a kid who'd devoured Sonny's games, I loved attempting shots from there and practiced them the most.
I'd briefly worried if I could pull it off in a real match, but the moment the ball hit my foot in that spot, my body moved on instinct.
My goal seemed to crush Valencia's chasing spirit entirely. The rest of the first half flowed in our complete dominance.
They didn't manage a single attacking move, and the half ended just like that.
It was almost frustrating we hadn't scored more.
The locker room was buzzing more than ever when we got back.
A match way easier than expected.
It felt even smoother than the quarterfinals, so they were acting like victory was in the bag.
At the very least, we could count on taking this first leg.
"You all did great. Build on that confidence. We're not winning by luck. If anything, we've been unlucky relative to our play. We could've had at least one more goal!"
"Keep this up, and this match is ours."
-Waaaaaaah!!!
The players were hyped by the manager's rare praise.
There was still the second leg, but a two-goal lead was comforting, and having faced them firsthand, they probably thought we could handle it.
In other words, their minds were already in the Copa del Rey final.
I stood up and headed to the center of the locker room.
"I get that everyone's excited, but this is just the end of the first half of the first leg. We haven't even won the first leg yet, and there's a second one to go. This isn't time to celebrate—it's time to prep for the second half."
I was raining on their parade, but it needed saying.
The opponents would come out snarling in the second half to close the gap, and if we slacked off thinking we'd already won, disaster was inevitable.
"This isn't some rote 'don't get complacent' line. They'll throw everything at us after halftime, and if we go in carefree with no plan, they'll be the ones laughing at the end."
...
No one spoke up against me—not even inwardly—since I'd been the biggest factor in recent games, including this one.
The manager stayed silent too, backing me up in his own way.
"I'm not saying we could get overturned. I came to Espanyol to win it all. Save the celebrating for after we win every match and lift the trophy. And we need to build an even bigger lead in the second half."
"Si-eon..."
After relegation to the second division and another season down there, their ambitions had shrunk to rock bottom.
Just scraping a win meant fewer curses that day.
But now, everyone had to change.
My words seemed to spark thoughts of loftier goals. The vibe was still chilly, but I could feel the inner fire igniting.
"Manager, I won't play in the second leg."
!!
The players who'd been ignoring me irritably as the cocky newbie, and those lost in thought with some realization—all eyes snapped to my bombshell.
"We'll dominate the second half too, and I'll sit out the second leg. That's the way if we want to win the league too."
"If things go your way, that'd be the ideal scenario, sure."
Martin Leo indirectly endorsed my stance.
Satisfied with the shift in attitudes, I sat back down.
"Dolan, I've got a good idea for you."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Since Valencia kicked off first in the first half, we Espanyol started the second with the ball.
Right after kickoff, I played it back.
As I received it, I scanned Valencia's movements.
'As expected...'
Having conceded two in the first half, I'd predicted they'd come out aggressive after the break.
Sure enough, they pressed hard right from the start, eager to win the ball high up.
Thinking our two-goal side would sit back defensively, they wanted a quick strike before we fully parked the bus.
I held possession until they committed fully, then passed to Dolan.
Before the game, I'd told him to start between the center backs.
Adam Dolan, who followed my every word to the letter.
If we hadn't planned this, a center back receiving under that pressure would've just cleared it in a panic.
In the worst case, they'd lose the ball without clearing.
Even if cleared, Valencia would've regained possession.
But it was Dolan who took it at the back.
A player stable on the ball with good passing, and it filled out our defensive numbers naturally.
Valencia hadn't clocked this tweak and stuck to their halftime instructions.
I shifted into the space to Dolan's left and waited for his pass.
"Argh!"
Sure enough, Valencia striker Umar Sadiq stretched out those long legs to intercept, but Dolan, anticipating it, chipped the pass over him.
It sailed just above Sadiq's calf and reached me cleanly.
They knew our link-up well and had prepped for it, but that backfired spectacularly.
What happens when a path you thought you'd covered gets breached so easily?
High pressing isn't just forwards squeezing strikers.
The wider the gaps between lines, the more vulnerable those spaces become—so midfielders push up, and to cover those gaps, defenders do too.
One forward pass from Dolan shook off four Valencia attackers at once.
When organized pressing cracks, the whole structure crumbles.
I fired a ground pass into the empty space ahead.
The Valencia players, who'd advanced to raise their line, couldn't react in time—and naturally, our infiltrating teammate got there first.
A massive chance, but one he'd have to finish solo.
And the man in that spot was, of course, Lorenzo Torres.