A Perfectly Executed Goal!

A Perfectly Executed Goal! "Hello, viewers, this is British Sky Sports, bringing you live coverage of Championship Round 2 of the 10-11 season.

"In this match, Cardiff City are at home to visiting Sheffield United Team! First, let's take a look at the starting lineups for both teams!

"Cardiff City have lined up in their usual 4-4-2 Formation. Their Starting Lineup is unchanged from last match, with Ma Zhaor in goal. "Sheffield United are still using their traditional 3-4-3 three-defender formation. Compared with their previous two matches, the appearance of Arsenal's seventeen-year-old youngster Maël is their only change, and a bold one at that!"

On the pitch, as Cardiff City's Center Forward kicked off from the center circle, the match officially began.

Maël and the other two members of his own forward line sprinted together toward the opposition half, launching an opening press.

Cardiff City exchanged a few simple passes in the back and middle before moving the ball to the feet of their right back.

"Ha!" Maël arrived at just the right moment, roaring to intimidate him as he charged up at full speed, putting on an air of not stopping until he had won the ball.

This was a common method when pressing. You had to show your determination before you could possibly scare the opponent out of continuing to hold the ball.

Bang!

Cardiff City right back Gabor did not get greedy, directly smashing a Long Pass up toward the front.

Maël simply turned around again and moved as a unit with his own line.

He had played football for many years now. In terms of basic tactical awareness, he was no worse than these Championship players. What he might lack was the positive reinforcement of successful attempts.

"You're that young kid?"

Gabor followed behind him with a cold laugh. "If you've got the guts, then go ahead and try to get past me!"

Clearly, he had also begun playing the kind of psychological warfare defenders often used against forwards.

This was very common in matches. Everyone was extremely fired up; it was impossible to stay dull and silent. Trash talk was the norm.

"Sure."

Maël turned his head and replied, feeling tens of thousands of gazes around him while looking at the seasoned faces of these Championship players.

Only then did it truly hit him: he was playing in a Championship match. It made every pore on his body open, his blood heat up, and every step he ran became especially forceful.

"Watch the shape! Watch the shape and protect the second ball!!"

By the coaching bench on the sideline, Sheffield United manager Kevin stood at the edge of the pitch, gesturing as he reminded his players, "Don't spread out too loosely!"

The opening of a Championship match was still relatively chaotic.

Most of the time, there would be a spell of aerial battles, and possession changed hands extremely quickly.

Whoever could calm down first and fully execute the tactics and techniques from training would have the chance to strike first.

But it was obvious that, apart from a newcomer with ambition like Maël, very few people would listen to Kevin's instructions.

Sheffield United were playing impatient football. Most of the players were not taking it seriously. Forget combination play and holding the line— they often even lost out in local scrambles.

In the thirteenth minute, Cardiff City attacked in waves, their forces pressing into Sheffield United's half.

"Sheffield United's wide defenders still haven't gotten into position. Cardiff City are advancing quickly, and they have the numbers!"

In the live broadcast room, the Sky Sports commentator wore a headset, his expression impassioned. "Danger!!"

He could not wait to stand up from his seat, watching the pitch with his own eyes. "It's played out wide, Gareven brings the ball down! A low Cross, someone arrives to shoot!!

"Robert saves it! Sheffield United's captain has rescued them. Oh! There's still a follow-up shot!! "It's in!! Drinkwater, the loan player from Manchester United, opens the scoring for the team. Sheffield United's form is simply far too poor!"

Inside the grand arena, more than twenty thousand home fans quickly rose from their seats, waving their arms and shouting madly in celebration.

"Yeah!!"

Wrapped in this atmosphere, the goalscorer Drinkwater placed one hand by his ear and used the other to signal for the fans to get louder, fully enjoying the hero's treatment.

The Cardiff City players all surged toward where he was, each of them shouting with their mouths wide open, celebrating.

By contrast, the Sheffield United Away Fans' section was deathly silent. The fans sat back down in utter disappointment, even a trace of despair in their expressions.

It was the same old story, no different from the previous two matches!

The players' situation was not much better. Some had their hands on their hips, some were expressionless, as if they had already lost all sense of shame.

Maël stood near the center circle and blinked hard several times to avoid being dazed by the roaring, tsunami-like celebration.

For the first dozen minutes or so, he had been running seriously with all his strength, desperate for a chance and hoping he could wake up the older players whose fighting spirit was low.

But now, it seemed everything he had done was useless.

In their current situation, other than changing the manager, there was no solution at all.

Maël walked toward his own half, his gaze falling on the back of that young midfielder opposite him, and briefly envied him.

Drinkwater. A core player in the Leicester City title-winning side later on, and today, he was also the star player here.

He longed to have a chance to celebrate that wildly too, especially on such an important day as today.

I can't give up. If I can produce numbers in my debut, it'll be a huge boost to my confidence for my whole career.

Encouraging himself inwardly, Maël tried to rally again, clapping his hands to encourage the teammates around him, which made quite a few Sheffield United players turn to look at him.

Someone opened his mouth, as if about to say something to him, but in the end, he swallowed those words back.

After all, he was a new player, and today was his debut. Thinking of that, some of those who usually had a decent relationship with Maël wavered inwardly.

Should they really ruin Maël's debut because of their conflict with Kevin?

Beep!!

They were not given much time to think. The match immediately kicked off again, and both sides were once more locked in a fierce scramble.

As Maël called for his teammates to pick themselves up, he moved at speed through the left-side area, sometimes helping his teammates cover on defense, sometimes pulling wide to create space and draw defenders away.

His visibly positive attitude made many Sheffield United Team players waver again. Their minds were already a complete mess.

Riiip! A few minutes later, after another muddled hospital pass from them got Right Winger Ward caught by a flying tackle, someone finally exploded from the silence.

On the coaching bench at the sideline, Gareth Speed, now changed into a black suit, suddenly stood and rushed out of his seat, sweeping past a stunned Kevin and charging to the touchline.

"Are you still professional footballers?!"

He pointed at some of the players on the pitch and roared, "I still dream of staying on the field, and you're wasting time here!"

The fourth official on the sideline quickly came over to warn him, and Gareth Speed was soon pressed back into the coaching area by the assistant coaches. Only his chest kept heaving, as if there was a sense of release from finally saying words he had suppressed for a long time.

His words had an immediate effect on the players on the pitch.

Many of those who had already been wavering suddenly felt strength surge through their bodies and began sprinting. The rhythm of the match sped up in an instant.

The Cardiff City midfield did not have time to react to the increase in pace. Sheffield midfielder Lotton cut the ball off with one touch and passed it to Left Winger Maël's feet.

"Good ball!"

Maël controlled the ball and turned, driving it toward the defender facing him, Gabor. He knew this was a good chance.

A flare of competitiveness rose in his heart. After closing in on the opponent, his legs moved skillfully over the ball as it rolled forward, while he observed the shifts in the opponent's leg balance.

Once he found the chance, it was just as he had done countless times in training.

With a snap, he changed rhythm, touched the ball with the outside of his right foot, and knocked it toward the outside lane!

Gabor clearly had not expected that. His balance staggered, and he lost any chance of giving chase.

Bang!

After glancing briefly at the situation inside the penalty area, Maël wrapped his right foot around the middle of the ball and whipped in a fast inswinging cross.

The ball spun violently, its quality high, easily arcing over the head of Cardiff City's near-post defender! In the middle, Center Forward Evans burst out like a ghost, circling behind the opponent, then leaped with total focus and guided his right instep toward the ball.

The ball was not high, so shooting with the foot was the best choice.

Everything seemed to slow down at that moment. Glimmers of hope appeared in the eyes of the Sheffield players, while the Cardiff City players were full of terror.

"The young prospect Maël's cross... high quality! He has the elements to become an outstanding winger! Evans!! The ball is in!! Beautiful goal, a beautiful counterattacking goal!!

"From Maël's breakthrough and cross to Evans's goal, Sheffield United rallied and blasted the ball into Cardiff City's net with thunderous force!!"

The Sky Sports commentator's eyes suddenly widened. As a neutral commentator, he could raise his arms at this moment and celebrate for Sheffield.

This had to be a goal refined to the finest detail. Everything was just right.

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