Jelen slipped on the turf after scoring the goal, slid into the goal, and hit the net with the ball.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!" Bart roared for a long time, venting his joy after scoring a goal!
"The ball went in! Jelen! Jelen equalized the score!" Liu Jianhong's voice exploded in the studio, "Zhang Kuang's assist! This is his first assist in the game - all three goals came from Zhang Kuang!"
Xu Yang added next to him, his voice carrying an almost pious solemnity. "Three goals, Zhang Kuang scored two by himself and assisted one.
All Auxerre's threatening attacks in the first half came from one person, Zhang Kuang. This information is terrible - when your team is in trouble, there is one person who can stand up and single-handedly pull the team back from the brink. This is the value of a world-class star."
Jelen climbed out of the net and rushed towards the corner flag like crazy. There was an almost ecstatic expression on his face - not because he scored a goal, but because he lived up to Zhang Kuang's trust at the most critical moment.
Halfway through, he stopped suddenly, turned around and ran towards Zhang Kuang.
The two met near the center circle. Jelen grabbed Zhang Kuang's shoulders with both hands, his eyes red. "Thank you."
Zhang Kuang patted his face. "Don't cry. The game is not over yet."
However, at this moment, Grenoble's head coach Mehmed slammed down a bottle of water, and before the game was over, he turned around and left the court and entered the locker room.
I guess he is exhausted now, right? He hates God for being extremely unfair, right? He is even beginning to doubt himself?
Anyone who encounters this situation will probably be disappointed, sink, blame others, and give up on themselves...
Two minutes of stoppage time in the first half ended, and the referee blew the halftime whistle.
3 to 3.
On the scoreboard of Stade des Alpes, that number made all neutral spectators feel incredible. Grenoble, which was at the bottom of the league, broke the goal of Ligue 1's best defensive team three times in the first half, and once led by two goals.
But what is even more incredible is that in the desperate situation of being behind 3-1, Auxerre used a crazy outburst to forcefully tie the score to 3-3.
When Zhang Kuang walked to the players' tunnel, all the Auxerre fans in the visiting team's stands stood up and shouted his name.
"Zhang! Zhang! Zhang!"
That voice was particularly clear in the night wind at Alps's feet.
Entering the locker room, it can be imagined that both teams were dissatisfied with the current score, very dissatisfied.
When the door of the visiting team's locker room was closed by Fernandez from inside, there was a dull loud noise.
That was not a normal door closing sound, it was a forceful, emotional closing that would shatter the door frame.
"Bang!"
Everyone in the locker room was quiet.
No one spoke, no one looked at each other. Some people lowered their heads to untie their shoelaces, some wiped their faces with towels, and some leaned back on their chairs and stared at the ceiling in a daze.
Grichting put the ice pack on his knees and looked at the ground.
Pedretti was sitting on a bench in the corner, with his hands folded on his knees and a dull expression.
Fernandez stood in the middle of the locker room, without sitting down, without taking the tactical board, or even taking off the work ID hanging around his neck. He just stood there, his eyes scanning the faces of every player.
The silence lasted for nearly ten seconds.
"What did you play in the first half?" Fernandez finally spoke, his voice was not loud, but every word penetrated everyone's ears like the Nail.
No one answered.
"I'm asking you. What was played in the first half?"
Still silent.
Grichting's lips moved, but in the end he said nothing.
"Three goals were lost." Fernandez raised three fingers, "The first one was that the defense in the midfield and backcourt was out of position, and Sorin made a mistake in the save.
In the second, the defense leaked again, and Sorin made the save. In the third, the midfield defense was distracted, allowing Daisuke Matsui to shoot in the penalty area.
What do you want to do? Collaborate with the enemy? Spend a lot of money on the outside to buy a big ball with high odds and lose? Is this still the Ligue 1 team with the best defense this season so far? What's the matter, don't you want the championship..."
Sorin lowered his head and covered his face with a towel. Fernandez scolded him in the locker room for ten minutes.
After finishing the scolding, he praised Zhang Kuang profusely, and at the same time made a new tactical arrangement in the last five minutes:
Zhang Kuang acts as a free man in the frontcourt. Jelen is in front of the opponent's defense line. He must always press at the end and be in a position that may be countered by offside at any time. Grenoble's formation cannot be pushed too far forward.
Others are trying their best to defend against Grenoble, the most active midfielder today Japan, as well as several forwards, and Hengbart must assist Sorin in guarding the goal. When the opponent is about to shoot, they must rush to the goal line to make up for the leak...
The atmosphere in the home team's locker room was completely different.
The score of three to three made the Grenoble players both excited and frustrated. What was exciting was that they scored three goals in the first half and faced the Ligue 1 team with the best defense.
Frustratingly, they were ahead by two goals but were equalized by one person.
Mehmed·Bazdarevic closed the door and looked at his players.
He had no anger or blame.
His tone was very calm, as calm as if he was chatting with a friend.
"You played very well in the first half." The first words he said made everyone raise their heads.
"Our tactics were executed perfectly. We locked down Pedretti, we controlled the midfield, and we broke Auxerre's goal three times.
If someone had told me before the game that the score was 3-3 at the end of the first half, I would have said it was impossible. But our performance deserved the score."
He paused.
"But."
Everyone knows the "but" is coming.
"The opponent has an ace, and this ace is Zhang Kuang. This is the configuration of a wealthy team. He scored two goals and assisted one.
His second goal - the one-stop from the midfield - was not a problem that could be solved by tactics. You defended it very well, with two people double-teaming and three people double-teaming, but he got through them all.
That kind of goal was not a tactical mistake, it was a crushing of personal ability. You don't need to be ashamed of that goal."
He walked to the tactical board, picked up the Mark pen, and drew a big red circle on the name Zhang Kuang.
"There is only one core issue in the second half: how to limit Zhang Kuang."
The players looked at each other.
They had used two or three people to restrict him, but that person's explosiveness, speed and dribbling skills when breaking through from the wing made all defenses futile.
"I know what you are thinking." Bazdarevic said, "You are thinking - we have used three people, why can't we guard against it?"
No one answered, but everyone's expression said "yes".
"Because our defense against him was not ruthless enough." Bazdarevic's voice cooled down, "In the second half, the scale of defense against him can be greater. The tackles can be more fierce, the physical confrontation can be more intense, and there can be more small moves - as long as no red cards are given, anything will do."
Daisuke Matsui sat in the corner and touched his chest, which was still aching from being hit.
It's not that he has never seen strong players, but Zhang Kuang's kind of strength is not strong in the muscle dimension, but in terms of bone density, muscle density, and body structure.
It feels like hitting a tank with a bicycle. You will always be injured.
"Matsui." Bazdarevic called his name.
Daisuke Matsui raised his head.
"In the second half, your position must be premised and don't participate in too much defense. We must use your offensive ability to find opportunities in the gaps in the Auxerre defense."
Daisuke Matsui nodded, but he knew in his heart that the focus of the second half was not on his offense, but on how to restrict that China man.