Jesus' Advent -3
With the referee's whistle, the first half came to an end. The shrill sound in my ears snapped me awake like a splash of cold water. Had Yohan's birth made me all sentimental? Getting lost in memories out of nowhere like this.
They're all just old ties from the past. I can't forget the vows I made each time I regressed. The present is all that matters. Past connections should stay as past memories.
During the 15-minute halftime, I reined in my momentary sentimentality. Right, my top priority right now is feeding experience points to Youngbeom, leveling him up, and pushing the World Cup to the semis. I pulled myself together and stepped back onto the pitch.
I spotted the Mallorca players, their resolve freshly steeled during halftime.
The referee's whistle blew, and with Mallorca's kickoff, the second half kicked off. From the start, they pushed aggressively, scrambling for chances.
As if the god of soccer was moved by their desperate attitude, he delivered his reward. And that merciful god of soccer—me, Jesus—snatched away Mallorca's futile hopes.
In the midst of the tense midfield battle between Real Madrid and Mallorca, I sauntered around, reading the flow of the game. The moment I positioned myself at the penalty arc, Luis Garcia went down after a tussle with an opponent, leading to a turnover.
Mallorca, hunkered down tightly, lost their balance in the transition. The instant they stole the ball, they lofted a pass to their left winger, Jose Gaya. But the ball never reached him.
Alejandro Jimenez cleanly tackled to intercept Mallorca's pass. Then, spotting my run with a raised hand, he whipped in an early cross to the space ahead of me.
As I surged forward, Youngbeom charged out from his goal. In that razor-close duel, I came out on top. The ball, spinning back fiercely, bounced toward me. Without slowing my run, I chipped it over the keeper's head.
The ball just cleared Youngbeom's fingertips and rippled the net. The Santiago Bernabeu crowd erupted. "Waaaaaaah—!"
While Youngbeom fired up the dejected Mallorca players—"Puta! Don't hang your heads!! The game's not over yet!!"—I grabbed the ball from the net, sprinted to the center circle, locked eyes with Youngbeom, and shouted.
"Jesus! Resurrection!"
[Ah… Mallorca's crumbling right from the second-half kickoff.]
[They're hyper-aware of Jesus right now! You can see them flinching at his slightest move!]
[Yoo Youngbeom's barking at his teammates, but Mallorca looks like they need time.]
[But Real Madrid isn't giving them any! Luis Garcia spots the overlapping Iker Bravo on the flank. Mallorca's defense is all lopsided.]
[Iker Bravo's cross! Jesus' header! Yoo Youngbeom's super save!!! Corner kick to Real Madrid!]
[Wow! Iker Bravo's cross, Jesus' header, and Youngbeom's super save—everything was perfection!]
[Beautiful buildup, precise clean shot, and a world-class save. This match is a blast!]
[Yes. Real Madrid's attack shows it again: with all eyes on Jesus, space opens up for Iker Bravo on the other side. Garcia switches play instantly, and Bravo crosses half a beat ahead of the defense.]
[The ball finds Jesus' head perfectly, but Youngbeom's super save spares Mallorca another goal. That said, Iker Bravo's age is unbelievable.]
75th minute of the second half. Iker Bravo's activity dropped noticeably as fatigue set in. Watching from the sidelines, Coach Valverde subbed in Jesus Gonzalez for the veteran.
Replacing the aging Iker Bravo, whose joints were aching, young Jesus Gonzalez—with his fresh blood and lively cartilage—hit the pitch and immediately sparked chances for Real Madrid with his lively runs.
"Puta! Madre!"
Under Jesus Gonzalez's fierce forward press, Mallorca's right fullback botched a pass. Balding Felix rushed to cover, but Gonzalez was a hair faster. Felix's foot missed the ball and raked Gonzalez's shin instead.
The ref signaled a free kick for Real Madrid. I shooed away Luis Garcia, who was hovering near the ball again, and yielded the kick to Jesus Gonzalez.
"You won it, so you take it."
"Huh…? You sure?"
"We're already ahead, and you earned it with that hard press. Go for it."
Luis Garcia, seeing me hand over the free kick, came charging in frothing at the mouth. I switched to street-vendor Jesus mode and grabbed his nape.
"Grrrrr—! Free kick! Free kick! I'm taking it!"
"Coo coo coo— pigeon, today's your boiled soup day, coo coo coo!"
The rabid mutt Luis Garcia, possessed by madness, locked eyes with street-vendor Jesus's clear gaze and instantly calmed down. Once he settled, I dropped the mode, turned to Jesus Gonzalez with a warm smile, and encouraged him.
"Relax and hit it easy."
But despite my words, Jesus Gonzalez stayed tense, face stiff as he set up. Wait, why's his body shaking? Free kicks that scary?
Beep—!
With the ref's whistle greenlighting the kick, Jesus Gonzalez took a slow run-up and unleashed a trivela with the outside of his instep.
Whoosh—!
His shot rocketed precisely into the top corner for a goal. Seeing it bypass Youngbeom untouched and bulge the net, Jesus Gonzalez flushed with excitement and dashed to the corner flag to kiss the badge.
As the Madridistas cheered the La Fabrica youth product Jesus Gonzalez's strike, I couldn't hide my shock at his free kick.
"Insane—!"
It wasn't a full curl, but unmistakably similar to mine from the first half. I'd faked a run-up to disrupt Youngbeom's timing before he took it, yet he pierced a keeper on par with legends like Manuel Neuer and Thibaut Courtois. But the real madness?
"Jesus! You ever practiced outside-of-the-foot shots?"
"Huh? Oh… no! I saw your goal earlier—it was so cool, so I tried mimicking it clumsily… didn't quite nail it, huh? Haha… pretty rough next to yours, right, Jesus?"
He'd replicated—roughly, sure—my first-half free-kick goal after seeing it just once from the bench.
"I'll keep working to nail cool free kicks like yours, Jesus!"
The whole chat with Jesus Gonzalez, something about his ankle bugged me.
Is this a divine signal to remove it?
As if reading my mind, Jesus Gonzalez shuddered.
[Oh my days! Jesus Gonzalez's goal was beautiful, but it can't compare to Jesus.]
[Beautiful touch, trajectory, power, and celebration. Pure art.]
[Camera on Mallorca's keeper Yoo. Not a good look.]
[The ever-smiling Yoo yelling at teammates—rare sight. Mallorca's defense was disastrous against Real Madrid.]
[Mallorca's kickoff, ref's whistle—full time! Luckily for them, Real Sociedad lost too, keeping the 3-point gap.]
[Real Madrid grabs another 3 points against Mallorca, inching closer to most-wins La Liga title.]
Match End: Real Madrid 4 : 0 Mallorca.