CHAPTER 641: CHAPTER 641 IT’S NOT ENOUGH

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[27/10/2020 | Champions Lg Match Week 2 | Leverkusen 1 Vs 2 Real Madrid]

[77]

Rakim picked himself up, testing his shoulder where Ramos had caught him. The physio came on briefly, but the seventeen-year-old waved him away after a bit of testing. The free kick was in a dangerous position, twenty-three yards out and slightly right of centre.

"Perfect territory for Rakim Rex and Bellarabi," McManaman noted. "We’ve seen what he can do from these positions—remember that free-kick against Wolfsburg?"

Shortly, Rakim stood over the ball, his eyes scanning the Madrid wall. Courtois was frantically organising his defence, positioning the wall to cover the near post while he guarded the far side. Five white shirts lined up—Ramos, Casemiro, Kroos, Benzema, and Vázquez, arms locked, faces grimaced.

Bellarabi came over to discuss options, and after a bit of discussion, they came to a conclusion. He took four steps back, eyes never leaving the target, visualising the trajectory he wanted. The referee’s whistle blew moments later, giving the go-ahead.

Rakim’s run-up was slow and measured, his approach calm before his right foot violently connected with savage precision. The ball rose over the wall with vicious dip and curl, heading toward the top right corner. Courtois was already moving, reading the flight perfectly, launching himself to his left.

The Belgian’s gloved hand stretched to the absolute limit, and he managed to palm the ball away. It was enough to alter its trajectory, and instead of nestling into the top corner, it struck the crossbar with a resounding clang. The rebound fell into the six-yard box, where Schick and Ramos were both lunging desperately.

"OFF THE BAR!" Tyldesley screamed. "Courtois gets a touch, and the woodwork saves Madrid again!"

Schick reached it first, stabbing at it with his right foot, but Ramos threw a leg in the way, the ball cannoning away. The ball bounced off Diaby’s shin, flying out for a goal kick. "Chaos in the Madrid box!" McManaman roared. "Leverkusen are throwing everything at them!"

[80’]

From the restart, Madrid remained composed, moving the ball around among their own ranks in an orderly fashion. Levekusen continued to chase in full force, but if a team like Real Madrid wanted to keep the ball away, they did. For a full five minutes, the Germans barely got a few touches of the ball before either losing it or being forced to play it long.

In the 84th minute, Vinícius drove into Leverkusen’s half at speed, his pace increasing as he snaked by Amiri and Belarabi. Playing a one-two, he skipped by Lars, forcing the veteran defender to give chase. He latched onto the ball before it could go out for a throw-in, but he couldn’t get far as he was swept off his feet a second later.

Lars came sweeping in, cleanly connecting with the ball at his feet, sending him crashing to the ground. "Brilliant recovery tackle from Lars Bender!" Tyldesley exclaimed.

Vinícius rolled on the wet turf, looking up at the referee with open palms, but Orsato shook his head and waved play on. The veteran German immediately popped back to his feet, pointing and barking at his teammates to push forward. Madrid tried to take the throw-in, but it ended up being picked off by Tapsoba, who headed it forward into the chest of Amiri.

The German footballer nearly had the wind knocked out of him, but managed to react in time to bring the ball under control. He spun past his marker and immediately sent the ball up the left, lifting it over everyone’s head as he initiated the counter. The seventeen-year-old brought the ball down with his chest a couple of yards past the halfway line, spinning away from Casemiro, who had tracked the ball.

"Here he goes again," McManaman said, his tone half-anxious, half-thrilled. "When Rakim starts running like that, something usually happens."

He surged inwards through the centre, skipping past the retreating Modric with a sharp shoulder feint. The Croatian tried to pull him back, but Rakim powered through, his balance barely faltering as he slapped his hand away. Varane stepped forward to close the gap, but Rakim slid the ball through his legs in one swift motion, slipping the ball into the box.

The pass was weighted perfectly, threading through Varane’s legs and rolling into the path of Schick, who had timed his run to perfection. The Czech striker was through on goal, just him and Courtois, with Ramos scrambling to recover. He took one touch to steady himself, opening up his body to place it far post.

Courtois stood tall, making himself big, but the striker’s finish was ice-cold. He side-footed it with precision, the ball speeding toward the bottom right corner. The keeper threw himself across, fully extended, his fingertips brushing the ball, and it was just enough.

The ball deflected slightly, striking the inside of the post before spinning away from the goal line. Ramos was there first, hacking it clear with a desperate clearance that sent the ball flying toward the halfway line.

"NOOOOO!" Tyldesley screamed. "How is that not in?! Schick’s done everything right! Courtois gets a touch, and the post denies them!"

"That is unbelievable," McManaman said, his voice thick with disbelief. "From Rakim’s run through the heart of Madrid’s midfield to Schick’s finish—everything was perfect except the final outcome. Lady luck just isn’t smiling on Leverkusen tonight."

[88’]

Madrid tried to see out the match, keeping possession deep in their own half. Kroos and Modrić dictated the tempo, playing simple passes to kill time. Every time Leverkusen pressed, Madrid found a way out, their experience showing in every touch.

In the eighty-eighth minute, Leverkusen won a throw-in deep in Madrid’s half. Wendell quickly handed it to Rakim, who was immediately swarmed by three white shirts. He managed to wriggle free with a quick turn, laying it off to Bellarabi.

The German drove forward, cutting inside onto his left foot. From twenty yards out, he struck it with venom, aiming for the top corner. Courtois was positioned perfectly, catching it cleanly despite the power.

"Bellarabi from range!" Tyldesley exclaimed. "But Courtois is equal to it. He’s had the match of his life tonight."

[90’]

The fourth official’s board went up: five minutes of added time. Leverkusen had five minutes to find an equaliser, or their Champions League hopes would take a massive hit. Bosz was on the sideline, screaming instructions, his voice hoarse from ninety minutes of constant coaching.

Every Leverkusen player pushed forward, even Tapsoba and Tah abandoning their defensive positions for set pieces. In the ninety-first minute, they won a corner. Rakim stood over it, as his entire team, except Hrádecký, was in Madrid’s box. Even Baumgartlinger had pushed up.

"This could be the final chance," McManaman said. "Everyone’s up for Leverkusen. It’s now or never."

He raised his hand, signalling to his teammates, then began his run-up. The delivery was whipped in with pace and curl, heading toward the penalty spot where bodies converged. Tah rose highest, getting above Ramos despite the Spanish captain’s desperate jump. The German’s header was powerful and well-directed, arrowing toward the bottom right corner.

The ball deflected off Mendy’s leg, who was guarding the post, but only as far as Schick at the edge of the six-yard box. The Czech striker struck it first-time on the volley, but Casemiro threw himself across, the ball cannoning off his chest and spinning away. "COURTOIS AGAIN!" Tyldesley roared. "And Casemiro blocks the follow-up! Madrid is defending like their lives depend on it!"

The ball pinballed around the box until finally Varane managed to hack it clear, the ball sailing all the way to the halfway line, where Vinícius was waiting.

[90+3’]

Madrid had a chance to seal it on the counter. Vinícius collected the ball with acres of space ahead of him. He drove forward at pace as a wave of red chased after him, and by the time he reached the box, Wendell was just a metre behind him. The Brazilian entered the box, shaped to shoot, but instead tried to round the goalkeeper.

Hrádecký read it perfectly, stretching out a leg, accurately trapping the ball, stopping Vinícius’s in his tracks. Before he could try to recover, the keeper’s gloves enveloped the ball, killing the attack dead. "Hrádecký!" McManaman exclaimed. "He’s kept Leverkusen alive until the very end!"

[90+4’]

Hrádecký immediately launched it long, looking for one final attack. The ball ended up with Amiri, and after a sequence of passes that had the Madrid side scrambling, the ball rolled toward Rakim at the edge of the box. He had the option to pass it to Schick, who was making a run to his right.

But he quickly scratched that thought out of his mind as his right foot whipped across the ball, sending it booming toward the far top corner with vicious pace and dip.

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To Be Continued...