Chapter Thirty-Three: Torment

Mo Mo suddenly stood up, utterly bewildered. How could this be? This was nothing like what he remembered! Was the national football team really so fierce in the final match back then?

Regardless, the scene before him was undeniable: at this very moment, China’s team unleashed a blazing offensive. Though the reins remained in the hands of Bora Milutinovic, control had been lost entirely! The final sixteen—how could they not go mad, how could they not fight with all their might?

Yang Chen soared high into the air, his eyes locked solely on the goal. He slammed his head against the ball, sending it crashing downward!

“Yang Chen! The ball! Rustu Recber punches it away! There’s still a chance! Hao Haidong! Hao Haidong slides in for the shot!”

Chen Nu had thought the ball was sure to go in, but in the next instant, Rustu Recber made a brilliant save, swinging his fists to block the shot. Yet the ball landed not far from the penalty area, and Hao Haidong raced in from afar, throwing himself to the ground and sliding toward the ball!

At that moment, even Mo Mo wavered—would it go in? Could it?

“Hao Haidong! Damn! Number 3, Bulent Korkmaz, clears the ball ahead of time!”

Hao Haidong had launched himself with incredible speed, but number 3, Bulent Korkmaz, reached the ball first, sending it flying far away with a powerful kick.

Disappointed voices rang out all around, but only for a moment; soon they transformed into powerful shouts. China’s team—go for it!

“This is a corner kick opportunity, taken by number 18, Li Xiaopeng. Today, the national team seems full of fighting spirit!”

Chen Nu’s voice brimmed with passion. In the previous two matches, the team had fought hard, but never with such aggression—wave after wave of attacks, like the tide crashing against rocks. The chants of “Go China!” reached new heights with each onslaught.

Mo Mo’s eyes grew inexplicably moist; this—this situation was too astonishing, making him almost doubt whether this was truly China’s team.

“The match has reached the sixth minute! Li Xiaopeng! Again Li Xiaopeng! Li Xiaopeng passes to Yang Chen! Yang Chen sprints forward! Yang Chen charges into the penalty area!”

Chen Nu felt this was the most exhilarating match he had ever commentated on—attack! Attack! Relentless attack! As if mad, from the very start they pressed fiercely—stealing, passing, breaking through, shooting! It was as if the national team knew only four things.

“Yang Chen! Yang Chen! Ah! Number 2, Emre Asik commits a foul! He pulls Yang Chen down just outside the box—China has a free kick, and it’s quickly taken! Beautiful! Hao Haidong!”

As Yang Chen tried to break into the penalty area, number 2, Emre Asik, committed a tactical foul, tripping Yang Chen to the ground. The referee issued a verbal warning—a free kick for China!

Once again, number 18, Li Xiaopeng, took the kick. It traced a beautiful arc, landing about three meters from the goal within the box. Hao Haidong’s start was quick, but still just a fraction too slow.

So Hao Haidong launched himself, attempting to head the ball into the goal! Rustu Recber saw through his intent and caught the ball firmly in his arms. His hands were steady; the ball did not slip.

Just as everyone lamented the missed chance, goalkeeper Rustu Recber booted the ball far away!

“The match has reached the fifth minute. Turkey has not been able to mount an effective attack. Our team has made four threatening shots in just six minutes!”

Chen Nu’s commentary ignited a blazing fire in the hearts of Chinese fans watching live. They felt themselves as parched fish, desperate for water—and for them, water was a goal, two goals, three goals!

“China’s team is on the attack, Ma Mingyu carrying the ball. The Turkish side seems yet to recover from the fierce assault; their rhythm is completely disrupted! Beautiful! Ma Mingyu’s long pass!”

Ma Mingyu drove the ball quickly through midfield; Turkey tried desperately to slow the pace, but China left them no chance! Another threatening long pass—whether it was Hao Haidong or Yang Chen beneath the ball, both were strong attacking points. Just then, a white figure leapt high and headed the ball away.

The Turkish players at the landing spot didn’t linger on the ball either, kicking it hard toward China’s half.

“Danger! Turkey launches a quick counterattack! Number 22, Umit Davala, takes the ball in China’s half and breaks through! Number 17, Du Wei intercepts! A tactical foul!”

The ball’s landing wasn’t ideal, but number 22, Umit Davala, found it precisely. Number 17, Du Wei defended closely, but failed to stop Umit Davala. In his urgency, Du Wei pulled Umit Davala down.

“If anyone still feels uneasy about Roberto Carlos’s free kick in the last match against Brazil, let me say that from this spot just past midfield, even Carlos couldn’t score directly.”

Chinese fans watching the match couldn’t help but cover their foreheads and complain—really, must he be so smug?

Meanwhile, number 22, Umit Davala, took the free kick. At the edge of China’s penalty area, six Chinese defenders stood strong, while Turkey had only number 11, Hasan Sas.

“Turkey’s free kick! Hmm! At the landing is Li Weifeng—Li Weifeng! Li Weifeng fails to control the ball! The ball bounces off Du Wei! Number 11, Hasan Sas! Hasan Sas breaks into the box! Danger!”

What had just happened was something people around the world could hardly believe—what was going on? A high ball, Li Weifeng failed to control it, the ball bounced off Du Wei, and then number 11, Hasan Sas seized it!

Mo Mo stood up entirely, Bora Milutinovic was incredulous! Yet none of that mattered now—what mattered was number 11, Hasan Sas breaking into the penalty area!

“Goalkeeper Jiang Jin comes out! From this angle, Jiang Jin has a chance to reach the ball! Hasan Sas shoots!”

Chen Nu’s face flushed red, and all the Chinese fans lost their ability to speak in that instant.

In that moment, white and black shadows intersected.

“Jiang Jin! Jiang Jin!”

Well, you all know... I’m off to happily eat KFC. Whether it goes in or not, let me think about it. Ha ha.