Football singularity

Chapter 814: Chapter 814 Vs Portugal (2)

If you’re enjoying the story, consider voting to show your support. Feel free to join me on Discord to chat and share your thoughts: https://discord.gg/hTQJtj2K9U.

#More than 10 Chapters ahead on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/TrikoRex. If you have a moment, leaving a review would mean a lot to me and help me see who’s interested in the story’s future.

~~~

[19-06-2021 | Allianz Arena, Munich, Germany | 17:27 CEST]

[27’]

On the 27th of Portugal, which had been unilaterally pressed into possession and forced to absorb pressure, responded suddenly with surgical precision. Diogo Jota dropped deep to pick the ball up from William Carvalho, turning past Kimmich with a clever roll of the boot before sliding it to Bruno Fernandes. He held it for a beat, head up, waiting for the instant Kroos lunged to close him down, as he released a pass with the outside of his right foot that split Hummels and Ginter clean in two.

Ronaldo did not even need to break stride as he peeled off Rüdiger’s shoulder the moment he turned to look at the ball. Cutting diagonally toward the box, he let it bounce once as he sprinted beyond its landing point, utilising a clever heel flick to guide it over the incoming Hummels. The German defender tried to turn and jump at the same time and ended up losing his footing, but this was of little concern to the Portuguese talisman.

He brought it down just inside the box, with Neuer already off his line, the German captain spreading himself wide. No panicked Ronaldo didn’t bother adjusting and struck it with his weaker left foot, powerfully bending it around the lunging keeper to pierce the back of the net. The Portuguese contingent erupted in their corner as Ronaldo raced off to the side, fist pumped, before leaping into the air performing the iconic celebrations.

"SIIIIIUUUU!" the corner of the Allianz answered as one.

"CRISTIANO RONALDOOOO!" Matterface’s voice climbed and broke. "Of course it is! One hundred and seven international goals, and they keep coming!"

"Look at the timing of the run, Sam," Dixon almost laughed. "Rüdiger has him by half a yard, and Ronaldo just times it perfectly. Fernandes, with the vision to pick him out, but it’s the movement that wins it. Thirty-six years old and still with a killer instinct in front of the goal."

[Germany 1-1 Portugal — Ronaldo 28’]

[33’]

The goal jolted both sides into a frantic stretch of football, neither able to fully assert themselves. The Portuguese contingent pressed persistently, getting close and personal, not letting Germany think, as they smelled blood. Jota and Bernardo Silva swapped flanks twice in five minutes, dragging the German wing-backs out of shape. This created chances for the scarlet side, and Ronaldo nearly had a second when he latched onto a Fernandes flick.

This time, though, Hummels was there to block the shot at point-blank range, sending it squirming wide for a corner that Neuer claimed under pressure. The Germans kept their patience, doing their best to absorb pressure as Kroos and Gündoğan exchanged a dozen passes between the Portuguese lines, looking for the crack. Kimmich drove down the right, exchanging a couple of one-twos that ended with him winning a free kick on the edge of the box.

Kroos struck it low under the wall, sending Patrício diving hard to push it away with strong wrists. Müller and Gnabry ponced on the loose ball, but Pepe came sliding through to deflect it wide. The corner was worked short as Kimmich and Kroos exchanged a quick one-two before the Bayern man whipped in a low cross that skidded across the six-yard box. Hummels rose mightily at the back post, his neck snapping through the contact, but his header looped tamely into Patrício’s gloves.

"Patient build-up from the Germans," Matterface noted as Portugal cleared and reset. "They’re certainly asking the right questions."

"They are, Sam, but the moment they overcommit, Portugal can and will hurt them." Dixon Negan commented, but his voice quickly rose a couple of octaves. "Gündoğan with a hospital ball and Pereira pounces, can he find teammate, and he finds Silva up the right, and they’re off."

The crimson players switched into attack mode all at once, running into different channels and reacting to Silva’s movements. The City man drove at Gosens, faking inside with a shoulder drop mixed with a step-over, then sent his marker, flicking it out wide to Semedo on the overlap. Gosens, caught two-on-one, hesitated a fraction too long to recover.

Semedo took a big touch, setting himself up at the side of the box before whipping in an early cross before Ginter could close the angle. The ball curled viciously out toward the penalty spot. Jota, who had cut toward the back post, leapt into the air wth Rüdiger in toe, the Portuguese forward winning the duel by a fraction, glancing his header back across the goal.

Ronaldo shuffled ahead of Hummels and swung at the ball before Neuer could settle his feet, slicing it out of the keeper’s reach. The Allianz once again fell silent as the Portuguese corner went berserk, all eyes on their icon. "SUUUUUUUUUUIIIIIIIIII!" The roar resounded throughout the whole stadium as celebrations ensued.

"CRISTIANO RONALDO! AGAIN!" Matterface’s voice climbed into the rafters. "He’s done it again! Forty minutes, and Portugal has turned this around!"

"Sam, that is what makes him him. Ronaldo will score if you serve him up like that." Dixon added with excitement. "You can show him the highlight a thousand times, and you still cannot stop the run. Jota with a wonderful glancing header, but the finish, well, that is just inevitability in a Portugal shirt."

[Germany 1-2 Portugal — Ronaldo 39’]

On the touchline, Löw stood with his hands on his hips, eyes staring intently at the field silently as his assistant scribbled furiously on a tablet beside him. Nodding at whatever his assistant said, he stepped up to the byine and pulled Kimmich aside, giving new instructions.

[42’]

Germany restarted, knowing they needed something before the break, they picked up the tempo, appearing noticeably sharper. Playing one- or two-pass football, the ball began to whiz between their lines as they formed triangles and squares to break down the Portuguese side. Müller dropped into the middle third, dragging Pereira with him, and Kroos found him with a sharp diagonal pass that split the defenders.

The Bayern veteran turned, flicked it to Gnabry on the left, and made the run himself in one motion. Gnabry took on Semedo, dropped his shoulder twice, and curled in a low cross toward the spot. Müller arrived a step ahead of his marker, sliding in to meet it with his left foot, but the contact was thin, the ball skidding the wrong side of the post and out for a goal kick.

He lay on the turf for a moment, head bowed, before slapping the grass once and pushing himself up. "So close to an instant response," Matterface said. "Müller with that famous instinct, just couldn’t quite get over the ball."

"That’s what frustrates you as a defender," Dixon added. "You think you’ve dealt with the danger, and Müller is already two yards behind you in your blind spot."

The closing minutes of the half saw both sides probe without quite committing. Bernardo Silva had a curling effort from twenty-five yards that turned over the bar, Neuer’s palms flicking it over. At the other end, Havertz won a free kick on the edge of the box after a clumsy Pepe challenge, but Kroos’s delivery sailed straight into the wall and out for a throw.

In the second minute of added time, Portugal nearly killed the half off entirely when Fernandes turned with the ball at his feet. He split into the space between Gündoğan and Kroos, his eyes already on Ronaldo’s run. He threaded a pass that split the German line, but this time Rüdiger came sliding across his long leg, intercepting the ball.

"Rüdiger! with a crucial interception!" Matterface exclaimed. "He’s been burned once tonight; he was not going to be burned twice."

The corner was claimed comfortably by Neuer under the challenge of Pepe, and the German captain held onto it for what felt like an extra beat. He walked to the edge of his box before booting it far and long. Anthony Taylor glanced at his watch, lifted the whistle to his lips, and ended the half with three short blasts.

(FWEEET! FWEEET! FWEEET!)

[Germany 1-2 Portugal — HT]

.

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!