A second ago, Dunga had been delighted to get there first. The next second, he realized he had been duped.
Fuck!
Dejan Lu charged down the right, and even more infuriatingly, the ball had been played to the right as well.
Fortunately, the defense on that side was not weak.
Volpecina pounced straight at him. Dejan Lu pushed the ball forward with his right foot, immediately shifted it to his left, then blocked it ahead with his left foot, sending the ball behind his opponent.
Sombrero flick!
One clean Sombrero flick sent Volpecina packing.
With Celeste absent, Pioli was utterly panicked.
As he retreated, he kept trying to close the lateral distance to Dejan Lu, but Dejan Lu unexpectedly slowed down for a slight change of rhythm. A light tap with his right foot sent Pioli charging straight past him.
"Boo!!!"
"Boo!!!"
"Boo!!!"
Deafening boos erupted from Frankie Stadium.
They were scared. They were terrified.
What made their eyes split even wider was that Pioli adjusted his balance, turned, and stretched out a foot—only to be read by Dejan Lu again.
Another stationary cut sent Pioli sprawling, and Dejan Lu carried the ball into the box.
Barely ten minutes into the match, several of their defenders had already become background props.
Marco Landucci kept psyching himself up in front of goal.
He had yet to decide whether to rush out or hold his position.
Marco Landucci had been watching Dejan Lu from the side and did not even notice his teammate tracking back into the box. He still chose to shuffle over and cover the near post.
Landucci screamed wildly in his heart.
Come on, come on!
He wanted Dejan Lu, dribbling diagonally, to charge straight at him for a head-on showdown.
At that moment, Dejan Lu raised his right foot.
Landucci immediately went to ground to block him. Dunga, who had tracked back into the box, also slid in to cut off Dejan Lu's shooting angle.
But Dejan Lu's right foot rose high and came down softly, nudging the ball lightly on its right side.
Smack—
The ball rolled sideways. Dejan Lu took another two steps before twisting his body and shooting with his left foot.
Two Fiorentina players stood in front of goal, yet neither was still standing. They could only watch as the ball rolled into the left side of the net.
A stunning display!
Frankie Stadium once again became a stage for the away fans.
"Dejan!!!"
"Dejan!!!"
"Dejan!!!"
Sampdoria supporters roared in excitement.
A goal like that, a performance like that—it let them see hope for the team's rise.
Quite a few crazed fans had shouted themselves hoarse. Some tore off their shirts and waved them wildly, leaving the stands a sea of pale flesh.
Boskov raised his left fist and threw straight punches with his right hand again and again. Who could have imagined the old manager would throw five or six in a row? In that brief instant, his punching speed might not have been any slower than Tyson's.
"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
In the broadcast booth, Rossi fell silent for a moment before suddenly raising his voice an octave. "Dejan, Dejan first carried the ball from the left to the right, then used a behind-the-back elastico to toy with Dunga. His cross was cleared, creating a corner kick."
"After the corner was cleared by the opposition, Dejan produced an even more astonishing performance. Facing their frantic pursuit, Dejan calmly had his teammate play the ball to the right. From the Sombrero flick past his man to the two cuts that toyed with Pioli, every move was magnificent. That final cut fooled both Dunga and goalkeeper Landucci, allowing this great performance to last until the very end and conclude with a perfect finish."
"Before the match, Italian media had focused on the battle for position between Baggio and Roberto Mancini. Only Galliani believed this was a war between Baggio and Dejan. Perhaps we really misunderstood Galliani—was he actually the man who understood football best in the Apennines?"
Baggio stood behind the edge of the arc.
He had been dropping deep very frequently today.
But Sampdoria marked him tightly, leaving him with only scattered chances.
Yet after seeing Dejan Lu's performance, and considering that Dunga had given him little support today because he had been occupied with marking Dejan Lu, Baggio clenched his fists.
He even felt that the opposition's tight marking was just an excuse—an excuse he had made for himself.
If others could do it, why couldn't he?
There was no room for too many people in a genius's world. Not even for himself.
Baggio immediately wanted to produce a better performance to match such a formidable opponent.
Not long after the restart, Baggio received the ball in the attacking third and unexpectedly attempted a Maradona turn. But he went down in the challenge, making many Fiorentina fans clutch their hearts.
"Baggio is getting impatient."
"The Genoa Spin. If he had watched footage of Dejan's matches, he would have noticed that when Dejan uses this dribbling move, he actively initiates contact and puts part of his weight on the opponent. Baggio's turn this time was purely a stationary spin to escape his marker, making it very easy for him to get knocked down."
"Still, the referee awarded a free kick. That call is somewhat controversial."
Rossi had possessed tremendous tactical discipline as a player, and his eye remained razor-sharp.
He immediately saw the problem with Baggio's turn.
Using a move like that while facing so many people was never a good choice.
The Sampdoria players immediately returned to their half to demand an explanation from the referee. Dejan Lu walked over and bent down, extending a hand.
Baggio froze for a moment, but he still took Dejan Lu's hand and got up.
"Why?"
Baggio asked.
He did not understand why Dejan Lu was being so generous.
After all, the media and former stars had been stirring things up. Under such circumstances, they were competitors.
"No reason. Maybe I just have better sportsmanship."
Dejan Lu said with a smile.
"Then you should be called Lu Joe." Roberto Mancini said sarcastically from the side. He was not pleased that Dejan Lu was talking to Baggio.
"See? Even he thinks I'm a gentleman."
Dejan Lu said with a grin, then turned around and punched Roberto Mancini.
Baggio watched the two bicker their way toward the box and felt an inexplicable envy toward Roberto Mancini.
Roberto Mancini already had Vialli, and now he had Dejan Lu as well.
Roberto Baggio might have more talent than Roberto Mancini, but the other man had never experienced what loneliness meant.
Was that the price genius had to pay?
Baggio shook his head and walked toward the spot of the foul.
Many fans in the stands had already risen to their feet, waiting for Baggio's performance.
As the referee's whistle sounded, Baggio took one step in his run-up and swung his right foot. The ball curled over the wall and flew straight into the left side of the goal. Pagliuca dove immediately, but he could not stop it.
"Roberto!!!"
"Roberto!!!"
"Roberto!!!"
Frankie Stadium, suppressed for half an hour, finally unleashed its passion like an erupting volcano.
But as Baggio ran toward the sidelines to celebrate, he could not help glancing over. Sure enough, Dejan Lu was still chatting and laughing with Roberto Mancini.
"Did you hear that? We're both Robertos, but we're clearly not on the same level."
Dejan Lu said, pointing at the stands.
"Bullshit! If I got a free kick, I could score too!"
Roberto Mancini shouted with his neck craned out.
What man could admit he was not good enough?
And he really did have a knack for free kicks.
In the stands, Gigi Riva applauded. He had not invited Rivera today, mainly because that guy seemed to have political ambitions lately.
He felt that once Rivera saw the footage, he would definitely regret not coming to watch the match in person.
There were simply too many highlights in this game.
The battle for the Italian National Team's core, the battle for the league's best attacker, and even confrontations between several defensive midfielders. By comparison, the two teams' back lines had far fewer talking points.
Verchowod was the strongest defender on the pitch, and it was precisely because he had been constantly organizing and covering that Sampdoria had managed to limit Baggio's performance.
Outstanding Italian players could always see more tactical details in a match.
Marco Lanna's attacking support had been sharp today.
But Riva felt that this style might not necessarily win him favor with the national team. More importantly, was he prepared to compete with Paolo Maldini for a starting spot?
That young man had been winning constantly alongside his teammates, so he surely had no idea what kind of monsters filled the national team.
Sampdoria's overall strength made its players look stronger than they actually were.
After the restart, Dunga charged straight into Sampdoria's half. He was still prepared to mark Dejan Lu.
Dejan Lu had only just received the ball on the left when he immediately knocked it forward.
The attack suddenly became simple, brutal, and direct, and Dunga was somewhat unaccustomed to it.
By the time he turned to chase back, Dejan Lu had already burst away with the ball. Battistini and Volpecina rushed toward Dejan Lu almost simultaneously, but Dejan Lu did not hesitate. He turned sideways and scooped the ball with his foot.
Bang—
The ball flew from the left straight toward the right side of the penalty area. Celeste caught sight of Vialli out of the corner of his eye and nearly died of fright.
He turned too quickly and lost his balance, scrambling back on all fours in an attempt to stop Vialli from receiving the ball.
But one step late meant late every step after. Vialli got to the ball first, raced to the byline, and whipped in a cross. Unfortunately, it was too close to goal and Landucci collected it.
Even though the attack did not succeed, it still scared Fiorentina's players into a cold sweat.
Unable to remain seated, Bruno Giorgi walked to the touchline and shouted, "Keep that Number Seven under close guard! Treat him like he came from the Soviet Union! If you don't want to become Democratic Italy, then fucking keep him under close guard!!!"
It was fucking terrifying.
One moment of inattention, and he could switch play forty meters across the field.
That was testing the limits of his heart.
He had previously believed Baggio was the best player in the world, but after today, Baggio could only be one of the best.
Yet not long after the restart, possession was lost again.
Battistini made a mistake with a pass in the attacking third, and Pari intercepted it with an outstretched foot.
The ball bounced back into the center circle.
Dejan Lu immediately burst toward the ball, and Dunga was so furious he nearly laughed.
He was standing right there, with Battistini beside him. Dejan Lu was treating neither of them like human beings.
Dunga immediately turned and chased back.
But Battistini did not move, making Dunga want to curse his mother.
Fuck, Dejan Lu got the ball.
One body length, then two.
Only then did Dunga realize just how vast the gap in speed between them was.
Before this, the other man had possessed the speed but used skill to toy with him.
Now Dunga had no time to think. He could only grit his teeth and chase.
Even so, the distance between them kept growing.
His strides were not large, but his cadence was incredibly quick. His long legs flashed up and down, and the ball seemed glued to his boots.
Seeing this, Pioli immediately rushed out.
He charged head-on at Dejan Lu. Pioli had already planned his response: stretch out a foot at the first opportunity to slow Dejan Lu down, then work with his teammates to win the ball and defuse the danger.
But when he reached Dejan Lu, Dejan Lu feinted with his shoulder, his body shifting slightly right to immediately fool Pioli's center of gravity. Then he cut the ball left with his right foot, accelerated, and breezed past him.
He did not waste even half a second.
Bruno Giorgi stood tensely by the touchline, barely daring to breathe as he stared fixedly at the pitch.
Dejan Lu had already charged into the box with the ball. Fortunately, three defenders had tracked back into the area.
Slide in!
Before he could even question his player's decision, he saw Dejan Lu evade the tackle.
Fuck!
Dejan Lu twisted and turned inside the box, beating the defenders and the onrushing goalkeeper with two successive cuts. He pushed the ball left, accelerated after it, twisted his body, and sent it straight into the empty net.
"Dejan!!!!"
"Oh my God, ahhhhhhh!!!!!"
"Oh my God! Dejan, Dejan, Dejan Goal!!!!!"
"My meager knowledge cannot explain the greatness of this goal, but I have to say this is not a stage for the best Number 9.5—it is a battle to defend Earth!!!"
"The UFO that appeared at Frankie Stadium decades ago was waiting for Dejan's performance!!!"
Thanks to LeiCigol for becoming a patron. Old Ye wrote a little extra too.
There was really no way to add more updates during the new book period. Please forgive me.
Before you continue