CHAPTER 111: A BICYCLE KICK

The two goals in two minutes had completely shattered Maya’s perfect tactical blueprint.

In the Apex dressing room, the atmosphere was electric.

"That solo goal, Emre," Jonathan Rowe said, shaking his head in a state of reverent disbelief. "That wasn’t just a goal. That was disrespectful. I loved every second of it."

"He beat their S-Rank Maestro like he was a training cone!" David Kerrigan added, laughing. "I think I saw the poor kid’s soul leave his body."

Ethan let them enjoy the moment before stepping into the middle of the room.

"That was a brilliant response," he said, his voice ringing with pride.

"But don’t you dare get complacent. I know their manager. She is smart, she is a winner, and she is in that dressing room right now, dissecting every single thing we just did. She will have a new plan for the second half. Be ready for it."

Across the corridor, the Nova Athletic dressing room was a picture of quiet, focused intensity.

Maya was not shouting.

She was standing in front of her tactical display, her expression a mask of cold, hard calculation.

"Okay," she said, her voice calm and clear.

"Plan A has failed. Their number ten is even better than the data suggested. He is their heart. So, in the second half, we are going to perform open-heart surgery."

She looked at her S-Rank star, Gavi. "Gavi. You’re no longer the deep-lying pivot. You’re a man-marker. I want you to follow Emre Demir everywhere he goes. If he goes to the toilet, you wait outside the door. You are his shadow. Understood?"

Gavi just gave a single, determined nod.

"The rest of you," she continued, her eyes sweeping across the room.

"We are going to be more aggressive. We are going to press higher. We are going to force them into mistakes. The tactical chess match is over. Now, it’s a fight."

The second half began, and the change in Nova’s approach was immediate.

They were a different team, a snarling, aggressive unit, pressing with a ferocious energy.

And at the heart of it all was Gavi, who was now stuck to Emre Demir like glue.

"And we’re back underway, with a clear tactical shift from the visitors!" the commentator announced.

"Gavi, the S-Rank Maestro, is playing in a much more advanced, almost man-marking role on Emre Demir! It’s a clash of the wonderkids! A tactical masterstroke from the brilliant young manager, Maya!"

The move worked. Emre was being completely suffocated, unable to get on the ball.

And without their creative heart, Apex looked disjointed.

In the 50th minute, Gavi, having won the ball back from Emre for the third time, decided to put on a show of his own.

He received the ball, did a perfect ’Cruyff turn’ to send Kenny McLean the wrong way, and then glided forward. He drifted past two more Apex players, his feet a blur, the ball seemingly tied to his boots with an invisible string.

It was a dribble of sublime, effortless grace. He was finally brought down, winning a dangerous free-kick.

Then, in the 52nd minute, the inevitable happened.

Nova won the ball back in the midfield. It was fed to their number eight, who looked up from forty yards out and, with a brazen, almost arrogant confidence, he unleashed a blistering, swerving long shot. It was a thunderbolt, a rocket that flew through the air and smashed into the top corner of the net. Angus Gunn didn’t even have time to move.

2-2.

"A ROCKET! AN ABSOLUTE ROCKET!" the commentator screamed. "Out of absolutely nowhere, Nova Athletic are level! A goal of breathtaking power and technique! The tactical shift has paid off, and the Cheese Aisle Derby has another incredible twist! This game is an absolute delight!"

Ethan watched, a familiar, sick feeling in his stomach.

The momentum had shifted completely. His team was on the ropes.

And just three minutes later, the game was turned on its head.

A hopeful cross was swung into the Apex box. It should have been a simple clearance for Grant Hanley. But the ball, skidding off the wet turf, seemed to hurry on to him.

He was off-balance, and his attempted clearance was a clumsy, awkward slice.

The ball flew off his shin, looped over his own horrified, backpedaling goalkeeper, and nestled into the back of his own net.

Own goal. 3-2 to Nova Athletic.

The home crowd was stunned into a horrified silence.

Maya, on the sideline, just pumped a single, clinical fist. Her team was back in front.

The Apex players looked at each other, their faces a mask of pure, tragic disbelief.

The game was slipping away from them.

But then, in the 58th minute, a moment of pure, unadulterated, beautiful chaos.

A hopeful, looping cross was sent into the Nova box. It was a poor cross, too high for anyone.

But Viktor Kristensen, the 16-year-old Danish striker, had other ideas.

With his back to goal, he watched the ball drop from the sky, took two quick steps, and with a breathtaking, instinctive leap of pure athletic genius, he launched himself into the air and connected with a perfect bicycle kick.

The ball flew, a blur of white against the green, and smashed into the top corner of the net.

3-3.

"I DON’T BELIEVE IT! I HAVE RUN OUT OF WORDS!" the commentator shrieked, his voice now just a series of happy, incomprehensible noises. "A BICYCLE KICK! A GOAL FROM THE HEAVENS! VIKTOR KRISTENSEN HAS JUST SCORED THE GOAL OF THE SEASON, THE GOAL OF THE CENTURY! This isn’t a football match! It’s a work of art! It’s a fever dream! It is 3-3, and I think I need a lie-down!"

Ethan was on his knees in his technical area, his head in his hands, laughing a laugh of pure, joyous disbelief.

His team was a walking, talking heart attack.

And just two minutes later, as the game hit the 60-minute mark and the stadium was still buzzing from the impossible goal, Apex won a corner.

The ball was swung in, headed clear, but only to the edge of the box. Kenny McLean hit a blistering volley. It was blocked.

The ball pinballed around the box.

Finally, it broke to Jonathan Rowe, who smashed the ball into the back of the net from close range.

4-3 to Apex United.

The stadium exploded. The players were in a pile, a chaotic, joyous heap of blue shirts.

The game had been turned on its head, then on its head again, and then, just for fun, on its head one more time.

Ethan just stood there, a wide, exhausted, and utterly happy grin on his face.