Author Takes Break Due to Injury, Issue Suspended (Seeking Collections and Monthly Votes)

What?

Beckenbauer could no longer sit still. He stood up, trembling, and looked at the field.

He had seen such scenes before.

But even he couldn't create two goals in two minutes in front of so many national players from Dortmund.

The Football Emperor stared at the Number Seven on the field with a complex expression.

This was exactly what he had expected from Müller, but it turned out that the player performing at this level was Müller's opponent, a young man who had just started playing in the top league.

A brilliant smile, strong charisma, the whole team huddled tightly together.

This was simply the football of his dreams.

It wasn't his intention to fight for influence with the Mönchengladbach faction back then, but the national team had to have unified thinking.

No wonder.

No wonder!

No wonder the media was hyping up this team from Northern Italy.

Beckenbauer saw something extraordinary in this Sampdoria.

A few steady veterans, a majority of middle-aged players, and young talents.

It was truly exciting.

After a brief stand, Franz Beckenbauer sat down and applauded with a smile.

Schmidt's expression was a little grim as he complained, "Shouldn't you be supporting Dortmund? After all, they are our team."

"Since we can't win, let's just enjoy the game," Beckenbauer said.

"You're blocking my view!" Deibel shouted, clapping his hands.

Schulz couldn't help but grit his teeth, pressing his tongue against the inside of his teeth.

Damn it, I just made a sliding tackle, and you're saying it blocked your vision?

Helmer pushed Deibel, trying to persuade him, "Just say a few less words. Nobody wants this."

"It's not like you're the one getting the ball." Deibel said irritably.

Helmer rolled his eyes silently.

This guy's temper was stronger than his skill.

Müller's expression visibly soured when he saw his teammates arguing.

Captain Zorc noticed this immediately.

Their talented attacking midfielder was someone whose play was very dependent on his mood. When things were going well, he was unstoppable on the field, but if he saw a gloomy movie or felt down for any reason, it would immediately affect his performance on the field.

For the team to counterattack, they needed Müller to perform well. He quickly returned to the penalty area to comfort his teammates, telling them not to create any more anxiety for Müller.

The West German television commentators also fell silent.

They had previously thought that Matthäus and Brehme were being held back by their teammates playing in Italy, but they hadn't expected Dejan Lu to give them a live demonstration at the Westfalenstadion today.

Dortmund was a championship contender, with many West German national players in their squad, and their only foreign player, McLeod, was a Scottish ace.

How could such a squad be dominated like this from the opening whistle?

"...We prepare for every match, we always defend our goal, we are united in spirit, cheering for football, Dortmund, cheering for us, Dortmund, Dortmund, never losing courage and confidence against any opponent, cheering for football, Dortmund!"

You can beat Dortmund, but it's hard to conquer the Westfalenstadion.

Even though the entire Dortmund team was feeling dejected, the stadium soon echoed with the rousing Dortmund team song again.

The distinct rhythm conveyed an infinitely optimistic spirit, as if no difficulty could defeat them.

Zorc looked up at the stands, clenching his fist silently.

At this moment, he deeply understood what it meant when football is nothing without its fans.

"Cheer up, don't be a coward!" Zorc shouted, waving his hand.

As a local born and raised here, he had to step up at this moment.

Dejan Lu glanced at Dortmund's half. Opponents like this were more interesting.

Kumatani Gensuke paid close attention to Dejan Lu's situation while he was on assignment. Fortunately, Dejan Lu had given him the manuscript before he left, allowing him to watch the game with peace of mind. He could transmit the manuscript back tomorrow.

Dortmund's technical skills were still up to par.

It was because their domestic players' playing styles were too typical that they had brought in Scottish international McLeod to complement Müller.

McLeod clearly realized that he had to draw Sampdoria out. After receiving the ball, he didn't rush to advance.

Mancini, clearly unable to contain himself, charged forward.

Vialli shook his head and could only follow.

McLeod waited until the two got close before passing the ball back.

Schulz, who received the ball, immediately passed it to Zorc ahead of him.

After Zorc passed it back again, Kutowski rushed up and hoofed it long.

Seeing this, Pari knew it was bad.

The ball landed directly on the right flank.

Müller received the ball and tried to move towards the center. As Pellegrini shifted his feet horizontally, Müller changed direction and continued to dribble forward.

With both sides running at high speed, it was difficult to find an opportunity to adjust.

While running, Müller unleashed a powerful shot that struck Verchowod's chest and bounced away. Deibel, receiving the ball with his back to the play, was fouled from behind by Dossena.

Beep—

A free kick.

The sudden opportunity sent the Westfalenstadion into a frenzy.

McLeod immediately ran up to discuss the free kick with Müller.

As the referee's whistle blew, McLeod ran past the ball. Müller took a run-up and blasted it. The ball flew almost over the heads of the wall, heading straight for the bottom left corner of the goal.

Pagliuca dove to his right, but couldn't reach it. The ball hit the inside of the post and bounced into the net.

Boom—

Müller, who scored, immediately rushed to the sidelines.

The entire Westfalenstadion was already boiling.

They seemed to see a comeback unfolding; their Dortmund would never give up.

"Andy!!!"

"Andy!!!"

"Andy!!!"

Behind the isolation net, the Dortmund fans shook the net frantically, as if they could transfer their strength and excitement onto the field this way.

The TV commentator for West Germany also began to shout wildly.

European competitions were still very important honors in this era.

Although no team had ever successfully defended the Cup Winners' Cup due to its format, the competition's prestige was not low.

Last year, Sampdoria reached the final and lost to Barcelona.

If they could turn the game around, wouldn't it mean Dortmund also had the strength to win the championship?

Pezzotti walked to the sideline and asked, "Should I remind the kids that they're pressing too far forward?"

With a two-goal lead, they could completely play on the counterattack.

"It's fine, let them play."

Boskov looked at the figure on the field and said.

He believed that his goal and assist were just the beginning.

Dortmund's momentum was visibly rising.

As soon as Sampdoria restarted the play, Wegmann charged forward.

Mancini didn't pay him any mind at all. In his eyes, West German players were synonymous with poor technique. Mancini flicked the ball with his left foot, feinted, and got past the opponent.

However, Zorc followed up and slid in, kicking the ball behind Mancini.

Fortunately, Dossena had already charged forward and successfully received the ball.

The players from both sides began a fierce battle in midfield. Dortmund clearly intended to win the match in a different way.

Within a few seconds, players from both teams fell multiple times, and possession of the ball was constantly exchanged between the two teams.

Pari rushed forward and kicked the ball, sending it into the opponent's half.

Seeing this, Vialli immediately headed the ball towards the left flank.

Just as Zorc was about to warn his teammates to be careful, he noticed that besides Vialli, only Dejan Lu was in the frontcourt. Furthermore, there were five defenders around him, front, back, left, and right. McLeod was also tracking back, which made him breathe a sigh of relief.

Even Beckenbauer couldn't manage under such defense, right?

But the next second, his eyes widened.

After the ball bounced, Dejan Lu, who was charging forward with McLeod, had already swung his left foot.

Was he crazy?

That was over 40 meters.

Even if Deibel wasn't a top goalkeeper, he wouldn't allow an attack from that distance.

BANG—

Roar of the Bear, Dragon's Cry, Yin Yan Spring, Deep Chestnut Forest, Startling Layered Peaks.

McLeod, in pursuit, felt a sharp pain in his eardrums as he watched the ball take flight.

Players and fans alike looked up at the ball. Under the gaze of tens of thousands of eyes, the ball began to descend rapidly from the edge of the penalty area. It slipped through Deibel's grasp and shot into the goal.

Ten Thousand Horses Silenced!

The West Germans hadn't expected that after seeing a glimmer of hope, someone would immediately step up to deliver a heavy blow.

Kumatani Gensuke, watching on television, finally breathed a sigh of relief. Now he wouldn't have to worry about Dejan Lu making excuses to delay his manuscript after losing. He took out the manila envelope Dejan Lu had left for him, and his expression immediately changed as he opened it.

White, all white. The last page showed a cute Pikachu bowing, while a cartoon version of Dejan Lu lay in bed. In clumsy Japanese, it read: "Due to author Dejan Lu's injury, this issue is suspended. Please write letters to comfort Mr. Lu..."