Chapter Fifty-Nine: Beware of Losing Control of Your Emotions.

PS England, I suspected he was unreliable yesterday, and sure enough.
The second half of the match.
Both teams were filled with tension.
Kohler’s marking of Momo was downright ruthless.
But as always, some rejoiced while others fretted.
The happiest, naturally, was Lauter!
For this gave him the perfect opportunity to shine.
The one troubled was, of course, Packert.
The coach of Munich 1860, Packert, observed the game from the sidelines with a comprehensive view.
Compared to Momo, Lauter’s positioning was simply poor.
To be fair, Lauter’s movement was quite decent, but the problem lay in his opponent—Heinrich.
Heinrich, by experience and ability, was far superior to Lauter.
Under such circumstances, Lauter was consistently at a disadvantage against Heinrich.
Packert was fully aware of the dilemma facing his two key forwards, but with Dortmund’s individual and overall strength surpassing his team,
he had no better solution than to rely on the flashes of brilliance from individual players.
Perhaps if some players were just a bit younger, things might be better!
Lauter desperately wanted to prove himself.
But Heinrich was an insurmountable mountain; even if Lauter occasionally eluded him, he’d fall into Dortmund’s offside trap.
What to do? What to do?
Packert pondered continuously, but suddenly, the unfolding scenario made his eyes light up.
Indeed, most Munich 1860 players were aging.
But were all Dortmund players very young?
No! Kohler was already 37 and would retire at the end of this season.
Therefore, in terms of stamina, Kohler was no match for Momo.
In acceleration and speed, the gap with Momo was even greater.
Kohler relied solely on his positioning and anticipation to step in early and stifle Momo’s attacks.
Momo had once been dominated by Hao Haidong at the training ground but had eventually turned the tables due to superior stamina.
So why not now?
From the start of the second half, Momo endured the pain in his injured leg and increased his pace and frequency of movement, rarely staying in one spot.
This troubled Kohler greatly; his stamina was insufficient to sustain such high positional shifts for long.
Yet he had no choice but to follow because Momo’s movements were always threatening.
However, just as Kohler planned to rest and ease up a little,
Lauter raised his hand, signaling for the ball.
Thomas Häßler was dribbling and intended to pass to Lauter.
But he suddenly noticed Momo. Honestly, Lauter’s position was not ideal; Heinrich was lurking, ready to intercept any pass to Lauter.
This had happened several times before, so Häßler made a decisive move.
Feigning a pass to Lauter, he drew Dortmund players’ attention.
Then with the inside of his right foot, he chipped a half-height ball, tracing a perfect arc toward Momo’s position.
Yet Momo was not at ease either; his stamina was heavily taxed.
Kohler’s reaction speed was sharp, closing in quickly again.
Kohler roared in anger—being outplayed by Momo again tarnished his reputation. He had to show Momo who was boss.
Momo’s legs felt weak, but Kohler’s roar served as a cue.
As the ball approached, Momo stopped it with the inside of his right foot, then flicked it with the heel of the same foot and spun swiftly around.
The 37-year-old Kohler was furious, never expecting Momo to handle the ball so calmly,
especially with such a swift, flawless sequence of moves in such a short time.
Caught off guard, Kohler was nutmegged right there at Dortmund’s home ground, in full view of the crowd.
At that moment, Kohler’s mind held only one thought: he must not let Momo get past.
But as Kohler forced a turn, Momo used the tip of his left foot to flick the ball once more through the inside of Kohler’s right foot in reverse.
Kohler’s eyes fixed on the ball, he tried to react.
But clumsily, he fell to the ground. Although he quickly got up, he could only watch number 27, Momo’s back, steadily receding—no foul, no chance to pull him down!
The stadium filled with Dortmund’s jeers. From constant interceptions at the start to one or two breakthroughs now,
Momo seemed to have found the key to breaking through Dortmund’s defense!
It couldn’t be that simple!
Number 4 center-back Dedé had been warned by the coach before the match to watch out for Momo.
Because the veteran Kohler’s stamina was a glaring weakness.
Dedé kept this in mind; after all, Lauter was effectively contained by Kayl and Heinrich and couldn’t penetrate Dortmund’s penalty area.
Instead, this Chinese prodigy who kept creating miracles deserved all the attention.
“Tackle him! Tackle him! Damn it! Dedé, take him down!”
Leman shouted loudly.
Hearing Leman’s cries, Dedé checked his angle, lost his head, and slid in with a tackle just outside the box.
Momo’s expression was focused; at this critical moment, he flicked the ball up with his toe and vaulted over Dedé’s tackle as if hurdling.
It was a rough challenge!
Dedé could already foresee the coach, Leman, and media blasting him after the game.
At this moment, perhaps due to fatigue, Momo didn’t jump far.
Dedé, losing his head, raised his hand to grab Momo as he landed.
But he was a beat late and was kicked in the hand by Momo’s heel instead.
The Dortmund fans around erupted as if ready to riot. Kohler and Kayl shouted furiously at the referee.
The referee’s mind rang alarm bells—caution! Emotions are spiraling out of control!
But by the principle of attacking advantage, and since Dedé had reached out first,
and with Momo already breaking into the penalty area,
should it be a foul on Dedé to stop the game? A penalty?
Or just a free kick for Dortmund?
The first would inflame Dortmund’s emotions—penalty? They’d riot.
The second would bring big trouble to the referee after the match; such an obvious mistake would stain his career and violate fairness. Munich 1860 would never let it go.
Under these circumstances, the referee signaled advantage and let the game continue.
Of course, Momo never stopped moving anyway.
At this moment, Leman’s face twisted with rage; he was clearly dissatisfied with every decision.
The referee hadn’t stopped the game!
Leman’s fury flared at the sight of Momo’s face.
He lunged forward, and instantly, Momo and Leman clashed fiercely.
The referee’s eyes widened as he bent down, focused intently on the ball.
Did Leman touch the ball? No! Did he touch the man? Yes!
Leman struck Momo’s foot, but Momo didn’t fall.
As Leman lunged, Momo flicked the ball away with the tip of his left foot.
Though it may have grazed Leman’s body or somewhere else, the ball bounced slowly, barely moving, as if about to stop.
Just as the referee was about to signal a penalty, Momo stumbled, regained balance, and shot the ball into the net.
In an instant, the entire stadium seemed to explode; everyone rushed towards the goal.
What just happened?!