That Day (2)
“Wow...”
Marisol's shot once again slices through space. But this time, there was no luck like before. Even I couldn't help but admire the beautiful trajectory of her shot.
It came from almost 35 meters away, closer than before, and it perfectly lodged into the upper left corner of the goal. Maximilena jumped desperately to block it, but there was almost no keeper who could reach that far corner of the goal.
But I couldn't blame Maximilena either. This season, she had conceded only 5 goals from long-range shots. Probably, no matter which keeper came out, stopping that shot would have been difficult.
-Woooaaah!!!!
So, even if the Bernabeu vibrated with the Madrid fans' roars, we couldn't back down.
“It's okay! It's still manageable! You weren't thinking of scoring easily at the Bernabeu, right?”
I shout while putting the ball that rolled out from the goal under my arm. The atmosphere of the players who were shaken by my mysterious performance changes.
“Yeah, as Sir Ryu said, thinking you can score easily here would be heartless.”
After Lucia left, Albaria, wearing the captain's armband, puts her hand on my shoulder and speaks. As an experienced player, she seemed to know the importance of team morale at this moment.
There were cases where a single opponent's unreasonable performance caused sudden collapse, especially with Camela who started today.
“Camela.”
“U, yeah?”
Calling Camela towards the center line, she looks up at me with a dazed expression, unlike her usual self. She was like a puppy before going for a walk, but now she looked like she had been caught in the rain?
After losing the body struggle with Marisol and giving up space, which became the cause of the first goal, it was no wonder Camela was in this state.
Of course, even in this appearance, Camela was cute, but since her usual appearance was better to look at, I pat her back with the hand not holding the ball and speak again.
“Don't be scared.”
“...Eh?”
“Don't worry.”
“If we concede three goals, we can score five. I'll score them for you.”
Camela laughs at my words. I smile back at her, then run to the center line with the ball.
“Hey, dating is for later.”
“Now that Lucia is on the bench, Albaria is doing this too? You don't need to follow the captain's armband for that.”
“That guy's face is red.”
“Of course, my face is red because I'm running. Albaria isn't red, so she's probably running at half speed, right?”
“Are you saying my face is black and turning it around? That's racism.”
“...Sorry. It wasn't that kind of meaning.”
“Haha, just kidding.”
Black people making such jokes had no answer. I was half non-white, but this was real cultural appropriation, after all.
“Anyway, let's do our best.”
“Yes. Let's go.”
About 25 minutes left in the first half. If we tie, we can regroup in the second half and try to win. After all, the Real Madrid guys were running hard today too.
And more important than scoring was not giving the ball to them. Given Marisol's state today, we needed to build up carefully because even one chance could lead to a goal.
So, Arnal rolls the ball to me and the game resumes. We slowly infiltrate the opponent's field.
After rolling the ball near the opponent's penalty box for a few minutes, they start getting anxious. Clemence, annoyed by the constant back passes, can't hold back and extends her leg. I anticipate the moment and dodge her foot, then dash forward. Josephin, guarding the line, comes out to block me.
And at the same time, Albaria and Eloya penetrate into the penalty box. Arnal, matching the movement, pulls Gabriela out. Suddenly, three choices appear in front of me: breakthrough, Albaria, and Eloya.
My choice is Eloya, where the centerback and fullback overlap. Josephin tries to block my pass with her leg, but her reaction is slow because she was aware of my breakthrough, so her foot doesn't touch the ball. After receiving the pass, Eloya steps on her heels and shoots quickly.
“Nice!”
“Nice!”
The score is 1:1. Originally, Real Madrid wasn't a team that would collapse this quickly, but the memory of being beaten 4:1 in the previous match still lingered, just like how we were a bit shaken by Marisol.
‘Good, this is manageable.’
Only about 7 minutes left until halftime, including stoppage time. If we hold out here...!
-Woooaaah!!!!
...For a moment. Real Madrid starts the kickoff and non-stop passes the ball to Marisol. When the pass from Lucy reaches the penalty box, Marisol, with Tiana in front, shows an unbelievable turning shot and shakes our goal again.
‘Crazy woman...’
A performance that makes you want to curse.
“...Let's do well in the second half.”
With only 3-4 minutes left, all we can do is look forward to the second half.
“...In the second half, instead of Lorenza, Valentina comes in. And Valentina replaces Camela. However, move more defensively than Camela.”
Half-time starts and Angela immediately makes substitutions.
Lorenza was a midfielder strong in attack, but her passing and tackling were inferior to Camela's, so she lifts Camela up to maintain possession and brings in Valentina, who has strengths in physical and defensive abilities, to block Marisol.
But the problem is that even if Valentina replaces Camela, it doesn't feel like she'll block Marisol. Marisol is showing world-class player performance today.
Valentina also knows this, so her usually expressionless face is a bit harder than usual.
‘Ha... Why did she have to menstruate today...’
If Marisol wasn't in that condition, Real Madrid players would have come to their senses and we could have won easily, but the fact that Marisol is in that state today is a variable.
And the second half begins.
The game starts with our kickoff and flows like a usual El Clasico. We slowly build up and eat space, pressuring Real Madrid.
In the continued attack, Clemence, marking me, blocks my path as much as possible without repeating the first half mistake, waiting for her teammates' cooperation, and the attack has to connect unsteadily.
But there's one difference from the first half: Camela has moved up one spot.
“Camela!”
I trust Camela's dribbling ability, pass to her, and when the opponent's defense concentrates on Camela, I dash to break through the line. Camela lightly evades with both feet dribbling, then passes to me at the perfect timing we've synced.
Thud.
Camela's perfect pass hooks my foot, and now it's 1v1 with the keeper.
As I prepare to shoot, remembering the memory of hitting the post in the previous match, I notice Yasmin's leg slightly spread to block the post.
And I don't miss that moment, using my toes to kick the ball between her legs, and the low shot passes straight through Yasmin's legs.
-Woooaaah!!!
‘35 minutes left... If I keep playing like this, we can at least make a draw? A draw away from home isn't bad.’
Now tied, no need to rush.
Fortunately, Valentina blocks Marisol well and doesn't give her a shooting angle, and we slowly dominate the game like usual.
As the game becomes a stalemate and we think we can secure a draw, a player I forgot in Marisol's amazing performance starts breaking through.
“Block!”
Francesca, the 2017 Ballon d'Or winner and key player who led Real Madrid's Champions League back-to-back before Marisol joined, smashes our right line and sends a cross.
And the cross from Francesca heads towards Marisol who is running towards the goal.
‘...Shit!’
With a bad feeling, a "bang" sound starts from Marisol's head and echoes in the stadium.
-Woooaaah!!!!
‘Wa... Fuck. This is too much, right?’
A perfect hat-trick made with right foot, left foot, and head...
And that goal is the last goal of this match. A painful defeat at Real Madrid's home. But instead of being beaten, it felt like encountering a natural disaster, which was surprising.
“...How do you even stop that. Ha...”
“Speaking of which, in the match you played, was this the first El Clasico loss? Ha-neul, there are days like this. You can't always win.”
On the way back to the locker room in a dazed defeat. Albaria reacts to my monologue.
“That’s right, honestly, our performance was better. It's just being beaten like this by one person...”
“Well, what can you do if the world's best player is menstruating.”
So far, even if opponents had menstruating players, it didn't stand out, but with Marisol at that level, it made sense that the performance was off. Well, we had players who menstruated too, so there were games we lost easily.
“...By the way, when does Albaria menstruate?”
If I knew that, it would help in planning future matches...
“Haha, too straightforward? Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
“You don't need to follow Lucia for that either.”
Albaria was joking to cheer me up, but the first loss in El Clasico still hurt.