Tang Long's attempt looked incredibly awkward.
His whole body twisted in midair, turning half a rotation.
Then he hit the ground in a heap and collided with the Genoa player who had slid in to tackle him.
"Ah—"
The Inter Milan fans in the North Stand clutched their heads and sighed!
They had been hoping for a miracle.
They had hoped the unknown young reserve-team player wearing number 99 would score a last-gasp volley and seal the win!
But the ball he'd kicked went high and floated away.
It was heading toward the touchline.
Even Mancini, down on the sideline, covered his face and dropped to his knees, furious.
But just as the Genoa players breathed a sigh of relief—
Just as everyone thought that ridiculous shot would fly out over the touchline—
Just as everyone thought Genoa could use the throw-in to waste half a minute and see out the match—
A short, blue-and-black figure burst out of nowhere like lightning!
He was moving to a completely different rhythm from everyone else, accelerating all of a sudden!
It was right wing-back Nagatomo Yuto!
He leaped with all his might and intercepted the ball in midair!
His boundless stamina let him sprint down the flank in the final moment, still keeping his touch from breaking down.
"Damn!"
With his heart pounding at 150 beats per minute, Nagatomo Yuto had no time to think. He surged down the flank toward Genoa's penalty area on instinct!
Only then did the Genoa players snap out of it!
"Stop him! Don't let him cross!"
But they were all too late!
The sudden change in Inter Milan's attacking rhythm caught Genoa completely off guard!
In the blink of an eye, the little Nagatomo Yuto had burst into the penalty area!
Thump!
Thump!
Two sharp sounds rang out.
The first was Nagatomo Yuto's instep driving the ball across the six-yard box!
The second was Icardi meeting it and slotting it into the net!
"Ju-Ju-Ju—"
The ball was still spinning against the net when the referee's whistle blew!
The match was over!
The massive scoreboard at Stadio Giuseppe Meazza gave a sharp beep, and the score changed to 2–1!
Inter Milan had scored a last-second winner in stoppage time!
The sixty thousand home fans erupted!
Rumble!
Rumble!
A deafening roar swept through Meazza!
It felt like an earthquake!
"Icardi!"
"Icardi!"
"I-ca-rdi-di-di-di-di!!!"
Inter Milan's players piled onto the Argentine striker who had scored the winner, knocking him to the ground.
Even Mancini sprinted along the sideline, celebrating with a sliding airplane pose.
What a satisfying way to win!
Meanwhile, Tang Long rubbed his thigh and struggled to get to his feet, limping.
He lifted his shorts and saw a large bruise on his inner thigh.
It was from the collision with the opponent who had slid into him.
No one paid him any attention.
The Genoa players had all collapsed to the ground, covering their faces.
His Inter Milan teammates had gathered around Icardi, the scorer of the winner.
Tang Long looked at Icardi, buried beneath a pile of celebrating teammates.
He wanted to run over and join in, but the pain in his thigh made it hard to move.
So he simply looked toward Icardi and smiled faintly.
"Hey, are you okay?"
A deep voice sounded behind him. Tang Long turned around and saw the sweat-soaked captain, Ranocchia.
Ranocchia had been rushing toward Icardi when he noticed Tang Long lying on the ground in pain. Without a second thought, he'd doubled back to check on the young reserve-team player.
"I'm fine, Captain. I just got hit in the thigh."
"Yeah! You really are lucky, kid. You mishit a wild shot, and it just happened to land at Nagatomo Yuto's feet as he made his run. That's twice now—you've been lucky twice in this match!"
"Uh, no, Captain. I meant to pass it. I wasn't shooting."
"Hahahaha! Why are you pretending, kid? You think you can fool me? It's fine. You'll get plenty more chances. Sometimes being lucky is a talent in itself. You should be happy!"
Ranocchia punched Tang Long twice in the chest.
Then he ran off to celebrate with the others, calling back to him:
"Come on over!"
Tang Long let out a laugh, then lay back down.
He felt a little ridiculous!
And so unbelievably tired!
This match had been his Serie A debut.
He'd ended up on the pitch by a twist of fate. It was all so unexpected!
He had to admit, with his current fitness, playing half a match in Serie A was already his limit.
Although the Green Field Intelligence Engine System had given him a huge advantage through its advanced predictions and analysis,
the AI data let Tang Long read each moment of the match faster than anyone else.
But his own technique was still far too poor!
He'd made two brilliant passes, but one had too much power, and the other had come off in an incredibly awkward way.
His teammates had misunderstood him because of it.
They thought it was nothing but luck~
Tang Long's lonely figure stood in stark contrast to his teammates, clustered together in celebration.
Inside the VIP box in the stands,
the Dutchman Sneijder and his friend were celebrating wildly!
With their arms around each other, they sang and danced!
"Olé, olé, olé, olé~
Olé, olé, olé, olé~"
What a thrilling finish!
It might have been just an ordinary Serie A match,
but it had gone from falling behind to a last-second winner.
The whole thing had been so exhilarating, so beautiful to watch!
Sneijder braced both hands against the broad floor-to-ceiling window.
He watched Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, transformed into a sea of joy.
He watched the fans below the box wave their scarves at him.
He watched some of them wearing the number 10 Inter Milan shirts he'd worn back in the day.
Sneijder's eyes grew misty.
It was as if he'd returned to that summer in 2010, when he and his teammates won the European treble at Santiago Bernabéu Stadium!
"Haha, cheers!"
Sneijder raised his wineglass and clinked it against the glass.
"Wesley, your old club was unbelievably lucky today," his friend said. "That number 99 kid is one lucky fool. He mishit two shots, and somehow both turned into key passes!"
"Especially that second-to-last pass before the winner. I'm dying laughing," his friend giggled. "That ballooning shot was about to go out for a throw-in, but it turned into a brilliant pass and opened up the whole game. That's hilarious!"
Sneijder turned and took a sip of red wine.
"That pass caught Genoa completely off guard. It was an excellent pass."
Sneijder paused, then continued:
"This is the change of rhythm I was talking about. Do you understand?
Nagatomo Yuto's crosses are definitely accurate, but those straightforward passes don't catch anyone by surprise. I don't like that kind. I like to play unexpected balls, like that number 99."
His friend smiled dismissively.
"Wesley, are you kidding? What right does that hothead have to compare himself to you? You pass the ball on purpose. He passed it by accident!
You've got skill; he's got luck. He just got lucky, hahaha!"
Sneijder swirled the wine in his glass, downed it in one gulp, and set it back on the table.
"Why do I feel like neither of those two passes was an accident?"
His friend froze, then asked in astonishment:
"Not an accident? Wesley, are you saying that number 99 meant to pass the ball?"
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