"A spectacular Ground Shot World Wave! Maël, back from injury, has shown Doncaster the power of his signature move the moment he stepped onto the pitch! Even though Sheffield's Evans is a famously efficient striker in the Championship, I have to say now that Maël has already replaced him as the sharpest sword in Gareth Speed's hands!
"He can always drive straight into the heart! He can always leave your goal exposed to the threat of a High-Caliber Sniper Rifle!"
Along with the commentator's stirring English accent, the broadcast camera captured the sight of Maël's elegant knee slide, and also cut to the sideline, where Gareth Speed was celebrating passionately.
He looked like a medieval swordsman with a blade in hand, repeatedly thrusting at the air opposite him.
Joelson came up behind him then and joked after giving him a high five, "If we'd known he was in this kind of form, we should've sent him on earlier."
"Too bad we didn't know."
Gareth Speed turned around, raised his brows, and shook his head. "But knowing now isn't too late."
The two of them turned their heads and looked at Maël celebrating excitedly with his teammates by the touchline, feeling both delighted and conflicted.
With efficiency and contribution this high, they really were close to being unable to keep him, weren't they?
"If Wenger is anxious enough to recall a seventeen-year-old youngster halfway through the season, that means his level was never supposed to be here in the first place."
Joelson probably knew what Gareth Speed was thinking too, and comforted him, "For a talent like that, there's no need to insist on keeping him. Being lucky enough to work with him for a while is something worth remembering too."
"You're right."
Gareth Speed smiled in relief and slowly walked