The Feeling of Scoring a Goal

At the edge of the penalty area, he cut inside horizontally after pushing the ball past the defender and unleashed a fierce shot—this was Batistuta's signature move and a key component of the Batty Goal.

Over the past period, whether in extra team drills or his private training sessions, Su Dong had practiced relentlessly, even using this technique to score several goals against Rony during their one-on-ones.

By now, this move was second nature to Su Dong.

As he pushed the ball past the defender and cut inside, his mind and body instinctively followed the rhythm he'd honed over the past stretch of training, and he completely forgot he was in a match.

Finally, at the top of the arc, he planted his left foot firmly, leaned his body slightly to the left, and felt like a tightly drawn crossbow, channeling all his strength into his cocked right leg in an instant.

Then, his right foot lashed out, striking the rolling ball.

The ball shot off like a crossbow bolt, flying at breakneck speed with thunderous force, drilling straight into the right side of Loretano's goal and slamming home.

The opposing goalkeeper stood frozen like a statue!

The entire crowd was stunned!

The referee paused for a split second, then blew his whistle to signal a valid goal.

The crisp whistle echoed across the stadium, jolting everyone inside back to their senses.

Immediately, a roar of cheers erupted from the stands.

Over a thousand Sporting fans were shouting, not even knowing the name of this player who'd just come off the bench—the only thing they remembered was his jersey number.

36!

Without looking, anyone could tell he was the last of the substitutes.

But this sudden strike was simply astonishing, utterly unexpected!

And incredibly satisfying!

"Whoa, beautiful, Su Dong!" Rony jumped up excitedly in the stands, shouting loudly.

"So cool, Su Dong, I love you!" Jose Semedo cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed.

On the pitch, Su Dong snapped back to reality.

A goal?

He'd actually scored a goal!

His mind went completely blank, a buzzing noise drowning out all thought, leaving him with nothing but doubt.

Is this real?

Did I really score?

A teammate sprinted over and wrapped his arms around him.

He was the one who'd passed the ball to Su Dong just now—though the quality wasn't great, it was decent enough.

But Su Dong had no idea what his name was; they'd never even exchanged a single word before.

"That was amazing! That goal was just like Batistuta!" the teammate shouted excitedly.

More and more teammates rushed over.

Celebrating a teammate's goal was standard practice for any team, unless there was bad blood between players.

"Yeah, it really reminded me of Batistuta, the God of War."

"So satisfying, a goal like that gets the blood pumping."

"Whoa, that was sick, right?"

"Kid, didn't know you had that in you—that goal was gorgeous."

His teammates' congratulations filled his ears, but Su Dong just stood there, dazed.

Over the past few years, he'd fantasized countless times about what it would be like to score in an official match.

He'd imagined all kinds of dreamy celebrations—a backflip, or a sliding knee?

At the very least, a flying airplane pose would do, right?

If that failed, he could pretend he had a girlfriend and kiss a ringless finger—that would work too.

But when Su Dong actually scored, he found himself completely stunned.

His mind was a blank slate; he couldn't think of anything.

He just stood there, foolishly, accepting his teammates' congratulations, listening to the cheers of over a thousand fans in the stands—no one shouted his name because they didn't know him.

There was no full-stadium worship like when Jardel scored, none of the imagined glory, not even a long goal call from the announcer—he just stood there, dumbly, grinning like an idiot.

So this is what scoring feels like!

A bit silly, but absolutely wonderful!

He savored this feeling, savored this bliss.

"Are you totally out of it?" Matello, the goalkeeper, was the last to run over. He hugged Su Dong first, then walked back shoulder to shoulder with him as Su Dong regained some clarity.

"A little bit," Su Dong said with a wry, happy grin.

"Everyone's like that with their first goal," Matello said with a smile. "It just means you haven't scored enough yet."

"Yeah." Su Dong nodded in agreement.

He couldn't remember who once told him that scoring goals was like doing the unspeakable—the first time was always nerve-wracking and thrilling, but gradually, you got used to it, even numb to it.

Turned out it was true.

Loretano's two center-backs were both embarrassed and furious.

Earlier, they'd thought the young substitute who'd just come on was a bit clueless, only to realize they were the fools all along.

Su Dong's goal had put Loretano on the back foot.

That was how lower-tier leagues worked—limited quality, weak at creating chances. Whoever seized more opportunities usually won, but often, grabbing just one or two chances in a match was already decent.

Su Dong's goal had all but dashed Loretano's pre-match goal of taking all three points on the road.

The head coach was fuming on the sidelines.

Like the players in his squad, Loretano's coach had previously managed in the Portuguese League and had a bit of a name in Portugal. But precisely because of that, he looked down on the Portuguese Second Division from the start.

Facing the mediocre Sporting Portugal, he'd been dead set on three points, yet Su Dong's goal felt like a stinging slap to the face—how could he not be furious?

With a clear advantage in strength, they'd failed to beat the opponent and had been caught by a sucker punch. What now?

Loretano's choice was to keep pressing forward, with the backline—especially the two center-backs—told to stick close to that kid who scored.

But Sporting wasn't stupid either.

Pereira, who'd been as still as a meditating monk before, now animatedly directed the defense from the sidelines, signaling Su Dong to stay up front and look for more counterattacks.

The way he carried on, you'd think he'd scored that goal himself.

One side, playing at home with the lead, grew tougher the more they defended; the other, after two substitutions, still couldn't create any threat, getting more anxious with every attack.

And then...

A gap opened on the right flank!

When Loretano's left-back pushed forward and didn't get back in time, Sporting's midfield linchpin decisively spread the ball to the right, and Su Dong reacted instantly.

Loretano's left center-back shifted toward the sideline, with Su Dong trailing behind him.

The moment came, and Su Dong pointed ahead, shouting, "Send it forward!"

Before the words were out, he pushed off with both legs, sprinting forward at full speed.

Loretano's right center-back stayed alert, tracking Su Dong's movement. When Su Dong burst forward, he followed suit, one hand pressing on his shoulder, the other grabbing his arm, trying to stop him.

Su Dong reacted quickly, shaking off the grip with his left hand.

But the defender, failing to hold his arm and shoulder, reached out again to grab his jersey.

Su Dong was no stranger to this—it was exactly how he'd defended Rony back in the day. Knowing there was no other option, you just threw everything at it, hands and feet, foul or not.

Besides, what if the referee didn't notice?

Su Dong could clearly feel his jersey being pulled so hard it was nearly tearing, the tug holding him back from a full sprint. But as he swung his arm, he slapped his left hand hard onto the defender's hand gripping his shirt.

The jersey was soaked with sweat, slippery as grease. The sharp slap loosened the grip, and the shirt slid free.

Su Dong surged forward, receiving a diagonal pass from his teammate on the right flank just outside the box.

As soon as he settled the ball inside the area, the center-back was on him again, and the goalkeeper charged out without hesitation.

Su Dong had no time to think. His first touch wasn't solid enough—he hadn't controlled it well—so he had to quickly adjust with a light tap, then chased it down and smashed a right-footed shot.

The ball slipped past the goalkeeper's right side.

Though Loretano's keeper bent low to block, he couldn't match the ball's speed.

And the center-back, chasing desperately, could only watch as the ball hit the net again.

Two-nil!

After the shot, Su Dong lost his balance and slid onto the grass.

But when he saw the ball go in again, he scrambled to his feet, sprinting to the sideline, shouting all the way, "I scored! I scored! I scored again!!!!!"

The Sporting fans in the stands erupted once more, many leaping from their seats, yelling at Su Dong as he raced along the touchline.

"Way to go, kid, brilliant!"

"What a beauty of a goal! What's your name?"

"That was incredible!"

"A brace! You actually scored a brace!!!"

Su Dong ran all the way to the section where Rony and Semedo were sitting, panting, hands on his hips, grinning up at his friends.

"Tch, just two goals? You dare show off in front of me?" Rony scoffed, pretending to look down on him.

Semedo, on the other hand, laughed heartily and gave Su Dong a thumbs-up. "Well done, that's my buddy. You've improved a lot."

He genuinely admired it, because he knew that a month ago, Su Dong hadn't been this good.

"That's right, just look at who's been training him all this time!" Rony said smugly from the sidelines.

Teammates came up one after another to celebrate the goal with Su Dong, and some recognized Cristiano Ronaldo, noticing the close bond between him and Su Dong.

Matello was quite surprised by this.

He knew Su Dong had been training outside on his own and had friends in the youth academies of Portuguese Super League clubs, but he never expected it to be Cristiano Ronaldo.

This was the top talent in Sporting Lisbon's youth setup, no less impressive than the rising star Quaresma.

Thinking about Su Dong's recent progress, Matello felt it all made sense.

Of course, he had no idea that Su Dong was being guided not just by Rony, but also by Pontes and Nare—some of the best youth development experts in Sporting Lisbon and even Portuguese football.

Otherwise, Matello would have been even more astonished.

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