Icardi was born in 1993. He was 21 years old that year.
Last year, during the summer transfer window of 2013, the Argentine striker transferred from Sampdoria to Inter Milan for €13 million.
In his first season with Inter, he made 23 appearances and scored nine goals.
After a season of experience, Icardi's striking skills had steadily improved.
This season, he had appeared in all of the league's first ten rounds, scoring seven goals.
With his strike partner Palacio gradually growing older, Icardi had perfectly inherited the mantle of his predecessor Diego Milito, developing into a new-generation predator in Inter's penalty area.
Across the entire Serie A.
Icardi's instincts in front of goal were among the very best!
At first, like his teammates, Icardi had thought Tang Long's assist from outside the penalty area was a fluke.
The shot had simply been too powerful, and the ball had happened to land at his feet.
But something about it struck Icardi as odd—
Had it really been a coincidence?
As a top-class Serie A penalty-area striker, Icardi's off-the-ball movement was among the best.
Was it really just chance that his run had coincided with the path of Tang Long's shot?
"Tunn, uh, I mean, were you shooting just now, or passing?" He couldn't help speaking to Tang Long for the first time.
"Move into space while there's still time. If you make the run, the ball will come!"
"Right."
When Genoa restarted play.
The clock at Stadio Giuseppe Meazza had already reached 88:35.
Another minute passed.
The fourth official on the sideline raised the board showing four minutes of stoppage time.
Genoa had already committed to defending with everything they had.
Their forwards had even dropped back to the defensive midfield position.
Mancini stood on the touchline and surveyed the pitch.
Genoa's penalty area was a sea of red, with everyone packed inside.
Kovacic repeatedly switched the ball from side to side, trying to stretch the opposition.
But an opponent determined to take a point simply kept their heads down and refused to come out!
"Why keep passing it around? Launch it into the box!
Ranocchia, Juan Jesus, get up there and play as strikers!"
Mancini swept his arm, and Inter shifted into a formation with five strikers.
As far as he was concerned, the most practical thing to do now was hoof the ball into the opposition penalty area!
They could create a scramble and maybe bundle one in.
Nagatomo Yuto, the right wing-back, was tasked with delivering the crosses.
He repeatedly lofted the ball from a diagonal 45-degree angle into the opposition box.
At 170 centimeters tall, Nagatomo Yuto was the shortest player on the pitch.
But he had tremendous stamina, so even in the final minutes of the match, he could still deliver crosses from the flank with consistent quality.
And with Genoa's players all hunkered down inside the box, nobody was marking him.
The balls he sent over had excellent placement, arc, angle, and power!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The ball kept flying into Genoa's penalty area like a cannonball, only to be headed clear. It returned to Inter's players, who sent it right back in.
In just two minutes, Inter had delivered eight high crosses!
Unfortunately, the opposition had packed so many players into the box that not one of those eight crosses had led to a dangerous shot.
The fans in the stands were practically jumping out of their skins!
Behind Genoa's goal was Inter's die-hard North Stand.
Everyone was on their feet, waving their fists.
"Head it into the net!"
"Come on, Icardi! Come on, Ranocchia!"
"Use your heads! We want headers!"
"Give us a last-minute winner! We want a winner!"
"Come on, smash Genoa! Smash those southerners!"
Tang Long had moved up to the edge of the penalty area.
He quickly realized that this wasn't working!
Nagatomo Yuto's crosses weren't doing much.
To be fair, his crossing technique was pretty good.
But when the ball came in so directly, no matter how well he delivered it, it would be difficult to pose a real threat to Genoa's goal!
Why?
Because there was no surprise!
When you telegraphed your intentions, everyone knew what you were about to do. Genoa's tall players were ready and watching for the ball.
Sure, your crosses were accurate, but we had more players defending!
We weren't afraid of them.
"At this rate, it'll probably end in a draw. I really don't understand what they're doing. Their crosses are so one-dimensional. How are they supposed to create a real chance like that?"
A friend of Sneijder's asked him from the VIP box.
Sneijder shook his head.
"They definitely need to change things up! But you don't even play football, and you can see it. Do you think the Inter players out there don't know that?
"But the situation is forcing them to keep sending in these direct, straightforward crosses!
"There isn't a single player in the entire Inter squad capable of splitting the defense with one pass. All they can do is make up for quality with quantity and keep bombarding the box with high balls. If they can somehow bundle one in, they win. That's it."
His friend nodded thoughtfully and said:
"Change things up? You mean like that number 99 youth player did earlier—turning a shot into a pass, getting lucky, and setting up a goal?"
Sneijder blinked twice.
The words on the tip of his tongue died away.
"Hey, look! Number 99 has the ball again!"
Nagatomo Yuto's cross was cleared by a Genoa defender once more.
But this time, the ball didn't travel far.
It dropped right toward Tang Long, near the top of the six-yard-box arc!
As the ball came flying down toward him, Tang Long's mind suddenly went blank!
Damn it, I'm going to smash this one on the volley!
He took a step back, raised his right arm, drew back his right leg, and fixed his eyes on the ball, ready to swing through it.
Then Tang Long was astonished to discover that time had suddenly slowed to a crawl!
The ball was dropping through the air as if in slow motion at one-tenth speed.
The two Genoa players diving in to slide-tackle seemed to be lying motionless on the ground.
Even Icardi, inside the penalty area, was frozen, eyes wide as he stared at him.
And the constant din from the North Stand had dwindled to a faint buzz.
Time seemed to have stopped!
A familiar notification sounded—
"According to big data analysis, a volley at this moment has a 63% chance of being blocked by a defender, a 35% chance of flying wide, a 2% chance of hitting the frame, and a 1% chance of resulting in a goal.
"Our right wing-back is completely unmarked on the right flank. An unexpected through ball to the wing, followed by a cross from the right wing-back, will raise the chance of scoring to 30%."
Tang Long immediately understood. He wanted to adjust his technique, turning his shot into a pass.
But it was difficult!
His body was already committed. With his current level of football skill, changing course at the last moment would be incredibly hard!
In the very next instant, time suddenly sped up!
Everyone on the pitch returned to normal speed!
First, the North Stand's continuous roar crashed into Tang Long's ears like a tidal wave!
Then the three Genoa defenders' sliding tackles shot right up in front of him!
He could even feel a wave of heat wash over him!
Almost instinctively, Tang Long twisted his body with all his strength!
He used every bit of energy he had and flicked his ankle, which was just about to strike the underside of the ball—
The ball sprang off the outside of his foot!
Then it soared high toward the right flank!
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