"Still Spain's ball control! Iniesta passes to Fabregas! David Silva is making a run forward asking for the ball!
"Very dangerous! The French Team's midfield defense has been penetrated by continuous one-touch passes! The defensive line is completely exposed!
"A through ball! Ah, Clichy reacts quickly and intercepts the ball! Beautiful! A counter-attack opportunity for the French Team, but it's not easy for Clichy to pass the ball!
"."
In the French Team's backfield, Clichy turns and controls the ball, ending Spain's attacking rhythm.
"Thump, thump, thump!"
Xavi and Xiaofa quickly press towards him, while other Spanish players choose to quickly retreat and position themselves, anticipating the French Team's counter-attack.
"Bang!" But Clichy's choice is beyond their expectations. He uses the front of his foot to directly kick the ball towards the position of Maël and Arbeloa.
No dragging!
Not giving them time to chase back! Because they didn't expect Clichy to be so decisive, Arbeloa, who was marking Maël, didn't react at all at first, just watching Maël rush towards the ball's landing point, controlling the ball without interference.
"Pa!"
The football slams heavily into Maël's chest. He turns around as he controls the ball, directing it towards the attacking direction, then uses his right foot to cushion the ball on the ground, dribbling forward at high speed.
Looking up, there is only Arbeloa in front of him. Pique and Ramos in the distance are marking Giroud, not daring to rashly come to defend.
This kind of opportunity is what he wants! It seems that what he said to his teammates at halftime, all his teammates listened to, and are willing to believe in him.
Now, he is going to start a solo breakthrough, venturing into the enemy's territory alone! He has the ability to control a powerful pass, and also the ability to break through and create danger! "Bang, bang... bang!"
Facing Arbeloa's defense, Maël doesn't make any fancy moves. He takes two small steps towards the opponent and then suddenly changes speed, taking a big stride towards the center.
Just a hard push!
"Cha!" Arbeloa takes two steps and can't keep up anymore. His body loses control and falls forward. He can only desperately grab Maël's shorts, trying to make a tactical foul.
Maël's white underwear is exposed, amusing many fans, but he doesn't stop, forcibly throwing Arbeloa to the ground and continuing to dribble forward.
No free kick, just want to break into the opponent's most dangerous area! "Bang, bang, bang!"
As he approaches the center step by step, some French Team fans slowly stand up, while Spanish fans cover their faces, not daring to watch this defense.
"A good counter-attack opportunity! It's still too difficult for Arbeloa to defend Maël alone!
"Now all the pressure is on Pique. He must delay Maël's breakthrough and give his teammates time to return to defense!
"We see many substitute players have rushed out of the French Team's bench, watching Maël's back with Deschamps; Del Bosque is holding his head, unable to believe why the French Team suddenly got a good opportunity!
"Pique! Can he hold on?"
"."
Pique lowers his center of gravity, his eyes locked on Maël's knees, trying to judge Maël's next move from the change in his center of gravity.
He sees Maël starting to do a Bicycle Kick, and also sees that his last step clearly puts his weight on his right leg, he should be pushing off with his right foot to wipe towards the outer baseline.
"Bang!"
But when Maël actually dribbles towards the baseline, he only feels a gust of wind suddenly blowing past, and then sees that the opponent is already in the penalty area two or three meters away from him.
Predicted it, but still can't keep up! Too fast! Pique complains with a Spanish curse, wondering if this will become a headline later, named 'Pique Says Fast'.
"Oh!" Cheers rise from the stands, all French Team fans see the hope of scoring.
"Maël easily gets past Pique. This playing style must be his favorite and most comfortable!
"He's into the penalty area! Casillas is out quickly, and Ramos has to move over to defend!
"This is a great scoring opportunity! Is Maël about to make history?!"
...
Inside the penalty area, Maël glanced at the goal during his high-speed run. He felt incredibly excited, feeling like scoring in the final was right in front of him.
However, Casillas poured some cold water on him, almost blocking all angles. The only relatively good shooting angle left for him was the middle, under Casillas's legs.
He raised his left foot, about to thrust it towards the middle of the ball, but suddenly braked just before making contact.
"Pa!" Casillas quickly clamped his legs together. Clearly, this was a trap he had deliberately set.
In a flash, Maël didn't have time to rejoice that he hadn't acted impulsively and had tricked Casillas into revealing his trap, because he saw the opponent regrouping and lunging at the ball at his feet.
It's time to go all in!
"Boom, boom!"
Maël deftly flicked the ball to his left, dodging Casillas's first save, then flicked his wrist, pushing the ball towards the goal in the quickest and best connected way.
In less than a second, he and Casillas had gone through several gambits. Now, he felt it was time to deliver the final blow!
Maël's eyes followed the football as he watched it roll towards the near corner, watching Casillas, after a save, quickly lie on his side and bounce up, reaching out for a second save.
He also saw the horrified gazes of Ramos and Busquets, who had chased back, and the eager hands of Giroud and Nasri, as if they were about to raise them in celebration.
Everything seemed to slow down. He even had time to think about his celebration moves, to gather his emotions and wait for the final explosion.
"Pa!" Just then, Casillas's hand, stretched out after his core exploded with power, actually caught the ball in front of the near post, blocking it out of the baseline.
Saved it! "Oh!" Maël turned back in stunned regret, and together with all the French fans on the scene, let out a cry of disbelief.
Casillas, ah, Casillas, he is indeed one of the representatives of Spain's golden generation and the Galácticos. It is not easy to blast through his goal so easily.
"Yeah!" Ramos and Busquets breathed a sigh of relief, and then celebrated with the Spanish fans at the scene. They also quickly clapped and applauded for Casillas, "Pa pa pa!"
Many French players put their hands, which they had raised in advance, on their heads and turned to run back towards their own half, preparing for the next defense.
"Again, again!!"
Maël clapped his hands at them, telling them not to cry over spilled milk. In any case, it was a successful attempt, and he hoped it would give him and his teammates the determination to choose this offensive method.
Two or three more times, and he would definitely be able to break through Casillas's goal! Even a great goalkeeper like Buffon had fallen at his feet, and he didn't believe Casillas could be a wall of sighs in front of him for the whole game! As long as he scored another goal, he would have scored in six consecutive European Cup matches, which would be an unprecedented feat.
At the same time, he also discovered some of his shortcomings. In some small shooting scenarios, when the shooting skills he possessed were not applicable, his success rate of scoring was not so high.
He still lacked some shooting methods in small scenarios, such as chip shots in One-on-Ones, delicate Finesse Shots, toe pokes, heel shots, and so on.
But practicing this kind of skill alone would obviously be a bit too much of a waste of time, and there was no need for it.
I wonder if he could unlock additional skill techniques like Dribbling and fancy moves to make up for his shortcomings?
After the European Cup, he could study this aspect carefully. After slowly entering the lv5 era with some unmastered passing methods, he must also check for omissions and fill in all his weaknesses to truly become all-round!
Running towards the backcourt, Maël exchanged glances with Del Bosque and Deschamps, who were standing on the sidelines.
The former's eyes held apprehension and relief, while the latter quickly replaced the regret on his face with encouragement, clapping and cheering him on.
Noticing the expectant gazes of the French Team fans in the stands, Maël felt a heavy responsibility on his shoulders, knowing he had to do even better.
Come on, you have to come on, you can definitely do it. He cheered himself on in his heart, consciously adjusting his breathing, hoping to keep his mind clear.
"A very unfortunate attacking opportunity! The French Team almost changed the score in the 54th minute of the match! Their sudden change of pace caught the Spain team off guard!
"Maël easily completed a one-on-two breakthrough, his acceleration is unstoppable, but the final shot missed the target!
"Casillas made a miraculous save, a save no less valuable than a goal! We can feel the tension of the final slowly intensifying, both teams are eager for a goal, and also very afraid of conceding one first!
"The time to test their ability to withstand pressure and seize opportunities has come. Whoever does best in these aspects is likely to lift the Henri Delaunay Trophy!"
"..."
"We shout with our strongest voices, we will bravely seize victory!"
"Let your soul and dreams take flight, the field is filled with red!"
After 60 minutes of the match had passed, the Matador Legion's fans in the stands began to sing their team's anthem, knowing that the team needed their help at this moment.
The French Team's anthem also sounded immediately, but because the team couldn't maintain Ball Control for most of the time, and couldn't gain the upper hand, their singing was obviously lacking in confidence, unable to overwhelm the Spain team.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
The Spain team controlled the Football in the attacking third, with six midfielders and left-back Alba constantly interweaving and switching positions, forming a high-speed moving net, shrouding the French Team's defense.
As time continued to move forward, the French Team's midfielders and defenders gradually became unable to resist.
After their Stamina declined, it became difficult for them to keep up with the Spain team's passing rhythm in every movement, and once someone became disconnected from the overall formation, the gap there would be exposed.
"Boom, boom...!"
In the 68th minute of the match, Iniesta's forward run made Koscielny struggle to keep up, while David Silva quickly emerged from the diagonal side, occupying the gap he left behind.
"Boom!" Alonso's pass was fast and accurate, and the Football quickly rolled to the French Team's penalty area line, where D. Silva controlled it.
Another center-back, Rami, quickly moved out to defend him, and Koscielny also gave up on Iniesta behind him, prioritizing blocking the most threatening D. Silva at this time.
The defense gradually became chaotic, and many people were facing the dilemma of defending two opponents at once.
"Chacha!" D. Silva waited for the two to get close, then flicked the ball with the toe of his left foot, over Koscielny's head, finding Iniesta, who was running in a roundabout way and ready to start his forward run again.
This ball broke through the French Team's defense, allowing Iniesta to get the ball at the byline position in the ribs.
And because Rami had just helped his teammate to make up for the defense, he didn't have time to pay attention to Xiaofa and Alonso inserting behind him at this time.
"Boom!"
Iniesta made a low Cross, and the Football quickly passed Koscielny and Rami's control range, heading towards the gap at the back post.
"Chance!! Fabregas Side-Foot Shot! Clichy's sliding tackle to save!!"
"..."
In the penalty area, Xiaofa saw Clichy sliding over quickly, cleverly flicked the ball to the left, and then stood dead in place.
"Pa!" When Clichy's leg touched his calf, he fell to the ground with the force, wailing in pain, "Ah!"
Clichy got up and extended his index finger, shaking it left and right at the referee, then made a gesture of surrender, indicating that he had absolutely not fouled.
However, from his solemn expression, it was clear that he understood what he had just done, and that his subconscious plea for mercy was just a last-ditch attempt.
"Aiy!" The Spain fans instantly shot to their feet, tens of thousands of people standing up at the same time, spreading their hands in protest.
Before their players could besiege the referee, the referee pointed to the spot in front of the 12-yard mark and blew his whistle: "BEEP—!!"
"Penalty! In the 69th minute of the match, Spain has won a crucial penalty opportunity!! This could be a game-changing decision! The decline in Stamina has brought some hidden dangers to the French Team's defense. The Spain team is very good at seizing small loopholes and gradually tearing them open, turning them into big loopholes! Clichy can't be blamed for this ball. If he hadn't slid, Fabregas's Side-Foot Shot would have likely gone into the goal anyway. That would have been an easy goal, even easier than a Penalty Kick!"
"."
The referee ran towards Clichy and showed the Manchester City full-back, who had his hands on his hips and looked like he was about to cry, a yellow card.
"Yeahh!" All the Spanish people were in a frenzy of celebration. Xiaofa, D. Silva, Iniesta, and others embraced each other with laughter, as if they had already taken the lead.
"That's not right!"
"He touched the ball!"
The French Team's players quickly argued with the referee, but this was of course not enough to make the referee change his decision.
Maël slowly walked back from the frontcourt to the edge of the penalty area, staring blankly at the nervous goalkeeper Lloris and the self-blaming Clichy, knowing that the score was likely to be changed.
Conceding a goal in the 70th minute is definitely a very bad thing, but that's Football. Your opponents are always putting in everything they have, able to create goals through effort and individual creativity.
He came to Clichy's side, put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it hard, indicating that he didn't blame him for the ball.
On the sidelines, Deschamps's face darkened. He turned around and went back to the bench to drink water.
In the box directly above him, French President Hollande, along with the Prime Minister, Deputy Secretary-General Michel, Wenger, Mendes, and some Polish dignitaries, sat here, all with silent faces.
The team's defensive players had done well for the most part, but unfortunately, they collapsed at the last moment, sending them to the edge of a cliff.
"I thought we were about to gain momentum. I think Maël has been very threatening the last few times he got the ball."
Hollande was clearly different this time than last time. His anxiety was palpable. Obviously, he also understood what this game meant to their country when the Henri Delaunay Trophy was right in front of them.
"Not an unexpected ball." Wenger gave an explanation from a professional point of view, but he couldn't avoid disappointment. "It's already very good that we've held on until now. This group of Spain players is indeed terrifyingly strong."
"Is there no chance?" Michel turned to look at Wenger, his face full of tension, his face, which didn't have many wrinkles, squeezed into a ball.
Wenger shook his head, denying, "You can't say that. Football has all possibilities... but it's difficult. The leading Spain team will definitely use midfield and backcourt Ball Control to delay time.
"It's difficult to steal the ball from them, and it's also difficult to break through their dense defense."
Michel turned his head to look at the field again, he lamented, "Maël gets too little support. It would be great if we had a first-class passer."
"Nasri is actually one, but with a low Ball Control rate, they don't have many opportunities to connect. Maël mostly has to fight alone."
Mendes then took over the conversation. He definitely has a deep understanding of Football, "However, I still believe in my player... He has never lost such an important game."
The Polish dignitaries listened to their chat, wanting to offer a few words of comfort, but they didn't know where to start.
"Beep!"
On the field, the referee blew the whistle to signal that the Penalty Kick could be taken, and the hearts of all the French people jumped to their throats.
Xabi Alonso stood on the Penalty Kick spot. He is a master of Penalty Kicks and has rarely missed a Penalty Kick in his career.
After hearing the whistle, he glanced at goalkeeper Hugo Lloris and began his run-up.
In the final step, he chose to vary his rhythm with a small hop, while looking up to observe the goalkeeper's chosen diving position.
"Bang!"
Noticing Lloris's intention to dive to the right, he deftly Side-Foot Shot to the left, even confidently aiming for a spot somewhat close to the center, choosing stability over aiming for the far corner.
Lloris knew his intention at this point, but was powerless to change his diving direction, and simply sat on the ground in despair.
"Swish!" The French Team's net trembled a few times, symbolizing the goal being breached.
"Aaaahhhh!!" The shouts of the Spaniards shook the entire National Stadium in Warsaw. At this moment, outside the stadium, in Madrid, in Barcelona, there must be many people throwing beer into the sky to celebrate their team.
They saw the hope of the defending champion, the hope of winning three consecutive major tournaments!
"Vamos!!" Xabi Alonso spread his arms and shook them continuously, sprinting towards the sidelines with Xiaofa, Iniesta and others, celebrating wildly.
This was their era of talent explosion, their golden generation! They were always confident, even proud, because they believed they would be the winners! "Goal! Spain leads the French Team one to zero in the final!! This is a very crucial goal!
"Their performance today deserves this goal. It's also an epitome of their team's performance throughout the European Cup. They can always suppress their opponents, suppress them until they can't stand it anymore, and then seize the opportunity! "It's a pity for the French Team! In the first 5 games, they took the lead in scoring with sharp counterattacks in 4 of them! In the most important game, they didn't continue their previous hot form! "It can only be said that they encountered a more powerful team. Now, someone needs to stand up for this team!"
"."
The broadcast camera focused on the French Team captain, Maël, who clapped his hands to encourage the defenders to continue fighting, signaling Lloris to quickly pick up the ball.
From the corners of his eyes and mouth, one could see his disappointment, but a firm look slowly emerged in his eyes, as if he was very clear that they must try to equalize the score and not give up on the Championship Trophy so close at hand.
As he turned and walked towards the center circle, people could feel his Strength from his back and gait.
It was as if, even if he wouldn't always easily win the game as he wished, he would never give up. It was difficult to completely defeat him. You had to pay a great price and do it exceptionally perfectly.
The camera then focused on Deschamps, who got up from the bench again and walked to the sidelines, watching everything happening on the field with disappointment and calmness.
Beside him, Del Bosque and the players on the bench embraced and celebrated passionately, which made Deschamps look even more melancholy.
Meanwhile, defensive back Juanfran and all-around midfielder Javi Martínez rushed out of the substitute bench and began to warm up. Obviously, Spain wanted to strengthen the hardness of their midfield and backfield.
"Bip!!"
Giroud kicked off from the center circle for the French Team in the 72nd minute of the game. Five or six French Team players quickly pressed past the halfway line, seizing the time to launch a strong attack.
Spain didn't press, all 10 players returned to their own penalty area to form a dense defense.
Although their 6 midfielders didn't seem to be doing dirty work, when they were determined to devote themselves to defense, the intensity was still not low, and they would never be easily broken through.
Their agility and Speed would make them very difficult to break through, and they could often use unexpected tackles to poke the Football away.
"Bang!"
The French Team didn't organize for long before Nasri transferred the ball towards Maël with a flat, fast, half-high ball. They often used this method in the second half and achieved some success, but they just didn't score.
After Maël got the ball, he took it towards Arbeloa again. He had never taken this attacking full-back seriously. As long as he broke through strongly, the probability of the opponent keeping up with him was only 35%, and the probability of a steal was less than 10%.
"Bang pa... bang!"
He gritted his teeth and made a few feinting movements, then accelerated at the fastest Speed, dribbling the ball to the baseline and seeking an angle to cut towards the center.
There was not much time left in this game. The powerful Spain had controlled them almost the entire game through overall Ball Control and had not given him too many opportunities.
How he wished he could perfectly use all the means at his disposal to help the team take the lead, even if it meant being a lone hero, tearing through the opponent's defense single-handedly!
But this was the highest level of competition, and the opponents were a golden generation of historical caliber. Trying to score a goal under the special care and marking of these 11 players was undoubtedly as difficult as ascending to heaven.
Many times, he could feel a sense of powerlessness, even causing him to uncontrollably have the thought of 'maybe I should give up.'
Actually, there was nothing wrong with losing. No one would criticize him for not scoring in a single game. Even if he lost the championship, his 5 goals in 9 games would still make him the most dazzling star of this tournament, and people would call the Euro 2012 his competition.
But no!
He can't give up!
He could accept losing, he could accept not scoring, but that was after the game was over. As long as he was on the field, he had to grit his teeth and fight.
In the past two years, he had achieved many victories that he shouldn't have been able to achieve, relying on persisting and working a little harder countless times, allowing him to reap better results than originally planned.
He had made it through so many times, he couldn't give up this time just because the opponent was too strong. He wanted to overcome this crushing high pressure and let this top-tier group of players feel his unique ability!
"Bang!"
Maël dribbled the ball forcefully towards the inside, pouring all his Strength into running and into the confrontation, his face squeezed together.
After easily getting past Arbeloa, Pique appeared before him again. Only this time, Busquets and Xabi Alonso rushed back, blocking all his offensive routes.
In the distance, Fabregas and Xavi were also constantly paying attention to his movements, ready to clear the ball at any time.
He swung his left arm, making a gesture as if he was going to Cross with his left foot, tricking the three people into shifting their center of gravity. Then, he quickly touched the ball with both feet, Dribbling, trying to break out of their encirclement.
"Pa pa pa!"
He bumped into Pique, dodged the foot Alonso kicked over, and gradually made Busquets feel embarrassed.
"Shua!" But his breakthrough still failed. Ramos, taking advantage of his big touch when he wanted to get rid of the three, cleverly came to cover and slid to tackle the ball out of the baseline.
Corner kick!
There was no expression on Maël's face. Sweat rolled down his eye sockets, dangling on the tip of his nose and chin, swaying back and forth. He didn't say a word and walked into the penalty area to prepare to fight for a Header.
"Bang!"
The corner kick taken by Nasri afterwards was clearly intended to smash onto his head.
He and Pique jumped up together, and after jumping up, he realized that the ball was a bit too high for both of them, and they might not be able to hit it with the front of their foreheads.
"Bang!" He stretched his neck and smashed the ball with the top of his head. When he landed, he turned to look and found that the Football was higher than the crossbar.
Still nothing!
"Again!!" Maël roared, clapping his hands to encourage his teammates and himself. Under his encouragement, the French Team players gradually knew what they should do.
In the next 4-5 minutes, they formed a siege against the Spain Team, and the continuous bombardment forced Saint Casillas to become the busiest person on the field.
"The French Team is on the rise! It's been difficult for the Spain Team to push their defense out during this period, and it's also difficult to get the ball and keep it at their feet.
"We noticed that Xavi and Iniesta often clear the ball with big kicks. They understand that they can't play with fire in the backcourt at this time. If they want to control, they must first push out.
"Juanfran should be preparing to come on. He is a signal from Del Bosque to strengthen the defense!"
".
"Beep beep!"
In the 78th minute of the match, Juanfran and David Silva clapped hands on the sidelines, stepped onto the field, and stood in the right-back position, with Arbeloa tucking in a bit.
Spain began to play a 5-5 formation without a striker, truly focusing on defense.
Whether it was the brief interruption that disrupted the rhythm of the French Team, causing their momentum to wane, or the gradual exhaustion of many players, the Spanish Team found their rhythm after the substitution and regained possession.
"Boom boom boom!"
They comfortably controlled the ball near the midfield, teasing the already stamina-depleted French Team players like monkeys, occasionally speeding up the pace to launch an attack, seeking an opportunity to kill the game.
Under the dual torment of physical and psychological pressure, many French Team players soon couldn't hold on.
"Ah!" In the 83rd minute of the match, Malouda suffered a cramp. He lay on the ground in discomfort, eager to get up and rejoin the game quickly, but he was powerless.
After Koscielny helped him stretch, he cramped again just one minute later. This time, he endured the pain and hopped a few steps on one foot, jumping off the field to prevent the referee from stopping the game because of him.
Deschamps quickly chose to make a substitution. He had very few cards left to play, so he could only send in M'Vila.
"Hiss!" To make matters worse, in the 86th minute of the match, Matuidi fell to the ground clutching his thigh without any contact. After the team doctor's examination, it was found that he could no longer continue the game.
Deschamps' face became even more gloomy. He replaced Mene and changed the formation to 4-2-4, allowing Nasri to move closer to the center to play in the false 9 position, providing support.
Two consecutive forced substitutions undoubtedly cast another shadow over the entire team, causing the players' mentality to change.
"Thump!"
In the 88th minute of the match, Maël slipped while dribbling the ball in the penalty area. This time, he didn't get up immediately.
Looking at the vast sky, looking at the crowded but silent French Team stands, he smiled wryly, feeling a strong premonition that his first major tournament was about to end like this.
"Slap!"
He pushed off the ground with both hands and bounced up, lifting his arms and running back again. Since there wasn't much time left, he would seize this last bit of time and try a few more shots, so at least he wouldn't have too many regrets.
The Spanish Team used a dense defensive group to avoid him entering the penalty area to shoot as much as possible, and used seamless marking and pressing to avoid him shooting within 30 meters as much as possible.
Then he would shoot from 40 meters, try from 45 meters!
Facing Saint Casillas, who was in excellent condition, this was definitely not a good tactical choice and would definitely be regarded as a lunatic.
But in the final moments, besides believing in himself, he had no other way!
"Boom!!"
In the 89th minute of the match, Maël, who received a pass from his teammate in the 40-meter area, unhesitatingly drew his bow and set his arrow, firing a super Heavy Cannon towards the near corner of the goal.
Like a thunderclap from a clear sky, this shot, which Casillas and all the Spanish people didn't take too seriously, quickly approached the goal and suddenly gave people an extremely dangerous feeling.
Casillas quickly moved towards the direction of the Football. He didn't dare to carelessly reach out to hug the Football, only daring to use his hand to push, trying to push the ball out of the crossbar.
"Slap!" He successfully saved the Football, but he still broke out in a cold sweat. Maël's Long Shot Strength and angle were even stronger than those of his club superstar teammate Ronaldo.
Ronaldo's shots in that position would mostly miss or go over the goal because he wanted to exert too much Strength, and even if they hit the target, the threat to the goalkeeper would be limited.
The only time he hit the target should have been during his time at Manchester United. That ball seemed to have won the Puskas Award that year.
But Maël was different. Casillas had seen the opponent score such goals in this tournament, as well as some unsuccessful attempts.
All of these shots could threaten the goalkeeper without exception, meaning he truly has the ability to score from the 40-meter zone!
It's not luck, nor a low-probability wild shot, he genuinely has that ability!
Terrifying! "Focus! Don't let him shoot!!"
Saint Casillas shouted to his teammates. He originally didn't care about the opponent shooting from that position, but now he had to be wary.
"Bang!" The corner kick was then taken amidst the worried gazes of the Spanish fans, and cleared out of the penalty area amidst the desperate gazes of the French fans, landing at the feet of defender Rami.
"Thump, thump, thump!"
Maël rushed out of the penalty area at high speed, arriving next to Rami before anyone else, and reached out to ask for the ball.
Rami originally wanted to lob the ball into the penalty area for a direct attempt, but after seeing Maël ask for the ball, he passed it over.
However, to prevent Maël from taking another wild shot, he couldn't help but remind him, "Captain! Dribble forward and cross! There are plenty of players in the box!"
They knew that Maël's Long Shot was strong, but at this point, placing all their hopes on a shot from far away from the goal was definitely not a good choice.
"Bang, bang!!"
Maël pretended not to hear the reminder, pushed the ball towards his front side, glanced at the far corner of the goal, and once again unleashed an ultra-long-range shot.
They hadn't scored after a whole game of conventional attacks, and he didn't think that another strong attack would be as effective as his own attempt.
If that could break through the Spanish Team's defense, the score wouldn't still be 0-1.
Going for another strong breakthrough and Cross, the probability of breaking out of the dense defensive encirclement was 65%, the probability of his teammates being able to head the Football in the center might be 50%, and the goal rate after that might be even lower.
So, he still believed in himself! Believed in Muscle Maniac lv5!
"Swish!!" The ball, traveling at a speed of 220+ km/h, cut through the heads of the players in the penalty area and howled towards the far corner of the goal.
However, this time Ramos anticipated it, ran back to the far corner of the goal, jumped up for a Header, cleared the ball away from the goal, and headed it towards the edge of the penalty area.
Critical save +1!
"Yeahh!" The cheers of the Spanish Team fans were very intense. In the final moments, any successful defense could be counted as a goal, an important step in securing the victory.
"Good job, Ramos!"
Saint Casillas also gave Ramos a thumbs up, and the latter stood up and roared with a clenched fist, "Vamos!!"
Their left-back Alba then controlled the landing point, dribbling the ball towards the French Team's backfield to waste time.
"Additional time in the second half: 3 minutes!"
The on-site broadcast sounded, with only 3 minutes of added time in the second half. It could be said that the French Team was stepping towards failure, towards death.
Anxiety permeated the French Team. While many people chased back, they helplessly spread their hands, seemingly feeling that Maël shouldn't have placed all his hopes on his own shot, that it was too selfish. They still had 7-8 people on the attack.
Of course, they wouldn't have major opinions or strong dissatisfaction with their captain. Everyone understood that without Maël, they wouldn't be able to stand on the final stage.
Maël felt even more pressure from his teammates. He didn't speak, running and charging towards the opponent's ball carrier.
Hold on, withstand it, and continue to complete this game according to my own ideas!
He kept chanting these words silently, slowly entering a wonderful state. His visible range narrowed a lot, and the other noises in the field seemed to be filtered when they entered his ears, becoming blurred.
That's an even more focused expression, all his attention is on the ball and the opponent's goal! "Alba advances! Without the support of the Spanish players, Rami intercepts it."
"There are less than 3 minutes left, the Spanish team doesn't want to attack anymore, they want to defend near the penalty area and steadily win the Henri Delaunay Trophy!" "We see Javi Martínez and Torres standing on the sidelines, ready to come on as substitutes. At this time, substitutions are mostly to delay time, and have no practical significance."
"Torres has been called back, Del Bosque should be preparing to substitute Martínez first and then him, so that two back-and-forth substitutions can consume at least 1 minute of time."
"Just waiting for a dead ball!"
"."
Inside the stadium, many Spanish fans put their hands together near their mouths, praying to God that no other incidents would happen, and that the team could finish the remaining game time like this.
Undoubtedly, these last 2 minutes are one of the longest 2 minutes of their lives.
And the French Team fans, sat anxiously and disappointedly in their seats, staring blankly at the field. In their feelings, the passage of time was much faster.
"Bang!"
On the field, Rami passed the ball to Maël again. This time he shouted anxiously: "Go break through! Go for the last breakthrough, try the last Cross, there's no time!!"
Maël turned a deaf ear. He glanced at the direction of the goal, roughly estimating that he was about 45 meters away from the goal.
Unlike before, the Spanish players were already wary of his shot from this position. He saw Fabregas and Iniesta accelerating towards him.
It was impossible to dribble forward any further. Even if he adjusted the ball on the left side of his body to his right foot, it was unlikely.
Then he would have to go for it directly! "Bang"
His left foot pushed the ball out to the left. Maël took one last look at the goal and found that Casillas and Ramos hadn't prepared immediately, as if they didn't think he could shoot from so far away.
They seemed to think that he would try to break through Xiaofa and Iniesta, and shoot in the 40-meter or 35-meter area... It was unlikely to go any further, the dense two lines of defense would not give him a chance to kick.
"No!" An anxious voice sounded, it was center Giroud, who was shaking his head with a bitter face, "Don't shoot there! Please, Maël! Break through and Cross!"
"Don't shoot!" Nasri was also jumping anxiously in place, scratching his ears and cheeks, "Captain! Don't shoot!!"
"Pass the ball!!" Mene, who had just come on the field, ran back and stretched out his hand to him, while turning his head to observe the goal.
"Maël! Maël!" Deschamps' voice also sounded behind him, probably also wanting to persuade him.
"Huff" Maël took a deep breath, bearing all the pressure and resistance, and strode to run up to the Football.
The Henri Delaunay Trophy was not far behind his ass, he could even sense its existence.
Since it was right there, then let him use his own way to make a last-ditch effort!
This may be the last shot, or it may be the second-to-last, the third-to-last... In short, he had to shoot!! "Bang!!"
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, under the frowning and closing eyes of countless people, Maël's left foot swept with violent force and struck the bottom of the Football, and followed the Football all the way to the sky, until his waist began to fall back.
The arrow-like ball instantly left his foot, shooting straight, like a bullet, towards the far corner of the goal.
At this moment, everyone's hearts stopped abruptly, their eyes followed the Football, turning their necks with different expectations.
"Whoosh!"
The Football quickly approached the goal, with almost no deceleration in the middle. Because the ball speed was too fast, it only had a very slow spin, which gave people the feeling that it was not that fast.
But when people watched it spin less than once, they suddenly noticed that the Football was about to approach the goal! And Saint Casillas had not moved from beginning to end, he didn't seem to think that the Football would approach the goal at such a fast speed, nor did he think that the Football could really hit the dead corner.
"Swish!!" The football stuck to the side netting at the far corner, no longer spinning on its own, but rotating against the net towards the center.
Goal!
One to one!
A super world-class goal ties the game!!
"WowAaahhhhh!!"
At the National Stadium in Warsaw, tens of thousands of French fans quickly stood up, the anxiety and disappointment on their faces completely dissipated, replaced only by an unusually unified ecstasy.
"OhYeahhhhh!!"
Their cheers were earth-shattering, as if to lift the roof of the stadium and shatter the spleens and lungs of their opponents, the Spaniards.
"Hope is preserved! We can still fight for the Championship Trophy!!"
"Maël! Saint Maël!!"
"You are an unparalleled genius!!"
"I love you!!"
Some people's bodies trembled rapidly, and they sobbed with red faces, tears of joy.
"Yeah!"
On the sidelines, Deschamps, wearing a work badge, quickly jumped up from the spot, then closed his eyes tightly and opened his mouth wide, spreading his arms while running to celebrate.
He looked very thin, but at this moment, he also gave people a feeling of great Strength!
"Goal! World Wave!! An earth-shattering super long-range shot!! From the Sword of France, Maël!!"
In the commentary box, except for the commentators from Spain and a few other countries, everyone stood up and celebrated with the French Team, raising their hands. Seeing such a goal at this point in time made it difficult to control emotions.
He Wei was the same, a rare look of emotion appeared on his face, "One to one! Maël pulled the French Team back from the brink! A great goal!! "From a position over 45 meters away, facing one of the best goalkeepers in the world, how did he kick the ball in?! "This is his 10th European Cup goal! He also broke Platini's record, becoming the player with the most goals in European Cup history and the most goals in a single tournament!
"Such a goal appearing at such a juncture, I believe, is enough for anyone to remember for a lifetime! "At the same time, he also became the first player to score in all 6 games of a single tournament! And it's almost a World Wave per game!!"
He Wei is an extremely professional commentator, but at this moment, he couldn't help but be a little out of breath, "Having been a commentator for so many years, I have seen many Game-winning goals and equalizers, but none of them made me, made... sorry.
"I want to say that it allows me to remember it in my brain forever, and it will definitely leave a very deep impression!
"Maybe the French Team still won't necessarily lift the Henri Delaunay Trophy, but I think people have seen Maël's attempt, Maël's fight! And they have also seen some special things that only he can do!!"
"..."
"OhFuck!"
On the field, Giroud and Nasri, who had just been advising Maël not to shoot, both hugged their heads in shock. After reacting, they rushed towards Maël in ecstasy, their bodies also trembling.
"Yeah!" Mene and Cabaye and others jumped up on the spot, then widened their eyes, spread their hands, and ran towards Maël with laughter. This was definitely their happiest moment of the year.
Several substitute players and assistant coaches also sprinted along the sidelines. The places they passed were filled with the sweet fragrance of happiness in the air.
Maël still gritted his teeth, he rushed towards the corner flag area quickly, the skin on his face, which didn't have much flesh, trembled with the rhythm of his running, and even his vision became blurred.
He originally thought that it was the surge of blood that caused his brain to be congested, so he couldn't see the people and things in front of him clearly, and could only see a rough outline.
"Come on!!" It wasn't until he spread his arms and slid out along the turf, flinging a hot tear that streaked from his eye socket, that he realized it was because his eyes were filled with excited tears.
He saw the densely packed stands, countless arms waving back and forth, and the spotlights at the top of the stands emitting an exceptionally dazzling light in the midst of the teary haze, so much so that he couldn't open his eyes.
"Maël!!"
"Ah!!"
"You're amazing!"
"My God!!"
He then felt someone put their arm around his neck, and someone else slid past him, bumping into his leg in the process.
He did it!! His choice was right, and his persistence was right. He had kept hope alive for the team!
His 10th goal in the European Cup! The Long Shot lv5, which had been upgraded before the tournament, made a stunning debut in the first European Cup match, and in the final European Cup match, it miraculously helped him tie the game against Spain!
If a Header couldn't break Saint Casillas's goal, and a close-range shot couldn't pierce his ten fingers, then he would use the ability he was best at from the beginning of his career, the way he was most familiar with, to defeat Saint Casillas! The suppression of the entire game was finally released at this moment, and he had an unprecedented feeling of exhilaration. All of this was so wonderful.
Since people were saying that this was his tournament, he hoped that he could take away the final Championship Trophy from this place where his first lv5 skill had shone so brightly!
"Folala!" In the VIP box, a burst of wailing erupted, as a group of socialites and national dignitaries celebrated without regard for their image.
Michel's knees buckled, and he almost knelt on the ground. He leaned back, raised his hands high, and exclaimed enthusiastically: "Ciel! Ciel! Hero! Lone hero!!"
"Sword of France!!"
Hollande and the Prime Minister also hugged each other tightly at this moment, supporting each other as they jumped up and down.
"Our pride!!"
Wenger stood up and felt his arms tremble. He turned his gaze to Mendes, a person he didn't particularly like, but the latter happened to be looking over as well. The two smiled tacitly and embraced.
No matter what, they were the two people closest to Maël here, and only they could understand each other's feelings! "The French Team is back from the dead! Now, they should be going into extra time with the Spanish Team!
"Maël! He deserves all the praise, he really deserves it all! Without him, the fans supporting the French Team could have turned off the TV early and used the time to dilute their disappointment in the game.
"His presence has given the French Team 30 more minutes to save themselves! "10 goals in 6 games, what a miraculous performance! He is completely a magician, constantly conjuring up tricks on the field that people have never seen before!!"
The French commentator on television praised Maël endlessly, and his words resonated in everyone's hearts.
Many people were covered in sweat after celebrating, and they kept telling themselves to calm down, returning to their seats after a long time.
On the sidelines, Del Bosque lowered his head in distress, never imagining that the French Team could score such a goal near the end of the game.
His silence led to the silence of all Spaniards. Some fans angrily tore their clothes, turned around, and slammed their jerseys against the seats in anger. Some substitute players were stunned in place, involuntarily panicking.
"Mr. Del Bosque."
An assistant coach who was still relatively calm ran over and asked, "Are we still making substitutions? Should we make substitutions now?"
Del Bosque didn't turn his head, watching his players' frustrated expressions, and nodded, "Let's substitute, just consider them fresh troops for extra time. Tell Pedro to warm up as well."
The assistant coach turned and ran off, and the substitution board was raised soon after. Martínez and Torres entered the field together.
In front of the goal, Saint Casillas dejectedly took off his gloves and slammed them on the ground with a look of frustration.
Even though he was the team captain and should be setting an example at this moment, he still couldn't calm the self-blame and regret in his heart.
Ramos and Pique came over to comfort him one after another, but he waved them away.
He couldn't believe that in his legendary career, he would one day concede such a goal.
Maël... Casillas looked towards the sideline at Maël, who was still hugging and high-fiving his teammates. This opponent, whom he had only faced once so far, already gave him the feeling of being a nemesis.
"Beep! Beep! Beep—!"
Not long after the restart, the referee quickly blew the whistle to end the match.
The score was one to one, and they would enter a brutal extra time of 15 minutes in each half, fighting for the final victory from there!
The Spanish players lowered their heads, clearly very dissatisfied. They originally had the opportunity to celebrate wildly now, but Maël's goal forced them onto a path full of unknowns.
Although the French Team's players were laughing and talking, there was worry in the depths of everyone's eyes.
Even entering extra time, their situation was still not good. Their stamina consumption was obviously more serious, and they would face even greater tests.
Many people couldn't even imagine what kind of willpower they would need to hold on and prevent the opponent from scoring, let alone score themselves and win directly.
Before it even started, they were inclined to defend and maintain a draw to enter a Penalty Kick shootout. Frankly speaking, this was not a good sign.
The players from both teams did not return to the locker room, but instead formed a circle next to the coaching bench, listening to the instructions and arrangements of the coaches.
"Stick to your ideas, believe in yourselves, and complete the game in the way you are best at."
Deschamps stood in the center of the players and said in a tone, "I can't teach you how to play Football at this time, nor can I make each of you run two more steps. It all depends on yourselves! "Only 30 minutes, all you can do is grit your teeth and persevere, value every defense, every counterattack, and take responsibility for what you should be responsible for! "I'll discuss the final substitutions and possible Penalty Kick order with the assistant coach. I'll leave this to the captain."
He turned and walked away. Maël put his arms around his two teammates on the left and right, and bowed to everyone, saying: "It's been too difficult to get to this point. We've experienced too many difficulties.
"Don't suffer all these hardships in vain without any gain. That would be a pity and very sad.
"The Championship Trophy is right there. I hope we can hold it and get on the parade bus for the last 30 minutes. Let's go!!"
"Let's go!!" The French Team's players clenched their fists, feeling a force slowly emerging from their bodies, giving them the confidence to fight again.
"Beep!"
A few minutes later, the players from both sides returned to the field, and the first half of extra time began.
This time, the French Team's fans and the Spain's fans were both crossing their hands in front of their mouths, constantly praying for their teams. They had both expectation and tension, their nerves were tense all the time.
The high pressure and excitement at this moment, as well as the ecstasy and sadness that may come later, will not easily disappear from their minds. It will accompany them throughout their lives and often appear in their dreams.
Because this is the European Cup final, they are the luckiest tens of thousands of people in the world who can personally experience such a game! Deschamps quickly squatted down on one knee, as if crushed by the pressure, and Del Bosque on the other side imitated his movements. The two coaches watched the confrontation between the players.
"Boom boom boom!"
The Spanish Team's players controlled the Football, consuming the French Team's Stamina while trying to lead the French Team's players into a fixed rhythm, and then suddenly change the rhythm to make the opponent uncomfortable.
Maël followed the team's formation and moved constantly. He was also very tired, but he felt that his Stamina was still superior to most people, and others should be more tired than him.
This can also be said to be an opportunity for him. More sustained combat capability gives him more possibilities.
ps: Yesterday or the day before yesterday, it should have been the night before, I caught the flu and felt particularly uncomfortable. I was still uncomfortable until yesterday, and I didn't have time to write a single word.
Is there another virus? I didn't start writing until 4 a.m. today. I haven't closed my eyes and have been writing until now. I finally finished writing. I'm sorry to everyone. My body is too weak. I'm sorry. I will slowly improve my energy.
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