Arsenal Two Little Blessings' Happy Time!

Arsenal Two Little Blessings' Happy Time! At Cardiff City Stadium, Sheffield United Team's fans all stood up, raised their hands high, and sang the team anthem.

"In this only one city I love, Back in 1889!!"

It was a rather deep, solemn team song, rare among English clubs, yet it held their profound love for the team.

"Beep! Beeeep—!" When the referee blew one short and one long whistle to signal halftime, their singing still did not stop, even drowning out the Cardiff City home fans' noise and boos.

Sheffield United Team's fan atmosphere was definitely stronger than that of most Championship teams.

They had not shown it in the previous two matches only because the whole team had been too dispirited, leaving them unable to see any hope either.

In this first half, they had finally seen it! In the away dressing room, Sheffield United Team's players returned to drink water and rest, waiting for Kevin's next arrangements.

Since they wanted to play well, being of one heart and one mind was a must. Quite a few people decided to temporarily put aside their personal grudges with Kevin and focus on playing this match first.

"Not bad."

"Pretty good, lad. I thought you had it in you during training."

Maël sat in his own seat, and people passing by kept congratulating him. He smiled and replied to them one by one.

A wave of fatigue rose in his heart. The intensity of the Championship was still rather frightening; players often had to make anaerobic runs and fight with everything they had.

His body had not fully developed yet, so after forty-five straight minutes of that, he really was finding it a little hard to bear.

But it was fine. Grit his teeth and hang on; getting through sixty-five minutes should not be a problem.

Kevin soon walked in through the door. Without much communication with the players, he went straight to the tactics board. "Before the end of the first half, Maël and Ward's crosses into the box all created quite a bit of danger.

"Their overall weakness in aerial defense is obvious, so in the second half, we need to be more decisive and put the ball in more frequently.

"The players in midfield, if there's a chance, must break into the box without hesitation to attack the point and increase our numbers in the attack."

He moved several tactical magnets on the tactics board and began giving other instructions. "Before the match, the team analyst already said that when they counterattack, they easily commit too many men forward, which leads to the back line—"

Having already reached the professional team level, the players all had basic tactical and technical understanding.

What a professional team's coach needed to tell the players was mostly the opponent's strengths and weaknesses for this round, how to target them, advance precautions against certain risks, set-piece attacking and defensive routines, tactical changes, and so on.

They also had another important task, and that was managing the team's dressing room well.

Judging from Kevin as a negative example, this second task was much harder than the first.

"All right. Lotton rests in the second half."

After arranging everything, Kevin swept the corner of his eye over Gareth Speed standing beside him. "Gilbert comes on. Go warm up now. We'll make the change before kickoff."

Sitting beside Maël, Gilbert's eyes flashed with joy. Then he forced himself not to show an excited, smug expression, lowered his head, and ran out of the dressing room.

Maël watched his back and silently cheered him on. They were finally going to fight side by side.

"Beep, beep!"

When the players from both sides had taken their positions on the pitch, the referee blew the substitution whistle and pointed toward the end of the halfway-line extension.

The fourth official raised the substitution board. Number 17, Gilbert, came on, replacing starting midfielder Lotton.

Gilbert took a deep breath, stepped onto the pitch with his left foot first, touched the ground with his right hand, then traced a cross in front of his chest and charged onto the field.

He saw Maël send him an encouraging smile, and excitement surged in his heart, the muscles in his legs trembling.

"Beep!"

The referee blew the whistle to start the second half. This time, it was Sheffield United Team's kickoff.

Bang! Center Forward Evans sent a short pass to the newly arrived Gilbert, hoping he could get more touches and warm up his feel for the ball.

Gilbert took the ball and dribbled a few steps. Only when the opposing forward rushed over did he turn and pass the ball to the wide center back.

The players on both sides moved quickly, either closing their shape to press or constantly running into open spaces to receive the ball, the situation changing rapidly.

After most of Sheffield United Team's players got serious, their overall fighting power gradually showed, and they were no longer being suppressed by Cardiff City.

In the fifty-fourth minute, Gilbert got a chance for a long shot at the edge of the penalty area.

Bang!

He swung his leg fully and blasted a shot, but the ball flew straight into their own fans' section in the South Stand.

"Hiss..." Gilbert sucked in a breath of cold air and waved apologetically to his teammates with a guilty look. In the end, he still did not have Maël's long-shot ability.

When Maël saw his long shot, his feet immediately itched a little; he wanted to blast another one himself.

In the first half, he had once had a chance for a long shot, but unfortunately, his mentality had not been very steady then, and with the opponent's sliding-tackle interference, it had not turned into a chance in the end.

If he got another one, maybe he could test the goalkeeper.

But on a high-level stage like this, it was not as if you could get whatever you wanted. The arrival of every chance was tied to the performance of everyone else on the pitch.

If he wanted an easy shooting chance, he needed someone to make runs and pull open space for him, and he needed someone to lay the ball off to him.

But... that was just as unrealistic. The score was tied one-one, and the pressure was always there.

No one could place all their hopes on him at a time like this, unless he could first make a name for himself on this stage.

He could only wait slowly and first do what a winger should do.

Bang!

In the fifty-ninth minute, Gilbert sent a Long Pass out toward the flank where Maël was.

Maël was under heavy pressure as he brought the ball down, and that caused a slight problem with his Ball Control. He almost knocked it out of play.

Bang! In the battle for the loose ball that followed, his shoulder slammed violently into the shoulder of the opposing fullback, Gabor, jolting his insides so hard they seemed to tremble. It felt awful.

Luckily, he won by a hair!

While Gabor still had not regained his balance, he brought the ball under control, held Gabor off, and knocked it toward the byline, while also running into Gabor's recovery path.

That way, even though he was not fast, he could use the advantage of a straight line being shorter than a diagonal one to shake off Gabor.

Bang!!

After reaching the byline, he did not wait for Gabor and the opposing recovering midfielder, Drinkwater, to get back. He simply adjusted the ball onto his right foot and sent in a Cross.

This was an aimed delivery. Because he was under no pressure, its quality was higher than any Cross he had sent in before. The ball's path swerved unpredictably as it raced toward the far post! Hope rose in Maël's eyes. This ball had a chance to create danger.

"Oh..." He immediately heard a faint sound of anticipation burst from the fans in the South Stand in front of him. Quite a few people rose from their seats and looked toward the far post in the penalty area.

Bang!

There, a figure charging in from outside the box carried an unstoppable momentum, leaping high and smashing out a header! "Gilbert!"

Maël noticed that figure, and excitement burst across his face.

Swish!! Almost no one could see how the ball had gone in. They only saw it smash into the net, making it bulge outward by several feet.

Another goal!

Two-one. Sheffield United had turned the score around!

"Yeah!!" The cheers from the South Stand rang out again, this time right beside the ears of Sheffield United's attacking players. Every one of them heard it clearly, and it set their blood boiling.

Maël roared from where he stood, lowering his head and waving both arms in celebration. He had not expected that he would seize his second assist just like that.

An assist Brace!

That was also a pretty good achievement!

Even more rarely, the person he had assisted was none other than the good friend who had come to Sheffield with him!

"Maël!"

Gilbert ran passionately toward the touchline near him, one hand pointing at him and the other at the sky. "I scored it, bro, I scored it!"

It was as if they had returned to that training ground filled with monotony and sweat, where he had met Maël's Crosses again and again, completing countless brilliant headed goals.

Only this time, it had moved onto the pitch! "Haha!"

Maël ran over with him and laughed. "Doesn't this mean you owe me a meal?"

"Of course!"

At this moment, Gilbert could not care about anything else. Even if Maël asked him to take out all his savings, he might have agreed. He had already lost his mind. "The best meal!"

Arsenal Two Little Blessings ran and laughed, then, with perfect tacit understanding, threw their bodies out and combined to complete a four-stripe knee slide.

"Click, click!" A photographer at the side of the pitch hurriedly captured this rare scene.

In the shot, the Two Little Blessings faced each other and laughed wildly, spreading their arms with flair as they slid on their knees. Behind them were countless fans leaning forward and pumping their fists toward them, and behind them were their excited teammates sprinting over.