"Alright viewers! The heavyweight clash between the French Team and Italy has begun, with Italy taking the kickoff in the first half.
"Balotelli passes the ball from the center circle; he was instrumental in Italy's journey to the quarter-finals.
"Pirlo with a long pass directly to De Rossi! De Rossi heads it, but it goes out of bounds for a goal kick to the French Team!"
Inside the Gdańsk Stadium, Lloris took a football from the ball boy, placed it on the edge of the six-yard box, and prepared to make a short goal kick.
Just before kicking, he suddenly paused, a hint of hesitation appearing on his face, and his foot, ready to pass, returned to the ground.
He noticed that Italy's mid-to-front field defensive line hadn't retreated; instead, they were arrayed in a high-pressing formation, pushing into their half.
This was somewhat unexpected. Everyone knew that Italy's strength lay in their tight, chain-like defense and counter-attacking offense.
Why were they acting so unusually today, trying to play a pressing style of Football?
"Bang!"
Lloris thought for a moment, deciding it might be a smokescreen, and tentatively kicked the ball to Koscielny beside him.
"Press! Press! Press!"
"Go!"
As a result, the Italian players, who were just about to retreat, quickly charged forward led by Balotelli, with two of them even rushing into their penalty area.
It was indeed a high press!
"Bang!!" Koscielny didn't want to play with fire in the penalty area, and kicked a long ball to Giroud in the forward position.
Giroud failed to win the header, and the ball was flicked back to the goalkeeper by Bonucci, returning possession to Italy.
Koscielny turned to exchange a glance with Lloris, then shook his head slightly, signaling that they shouldn't try to play out from the back anymore; the opposition was completely different from what they had expected.
On the sidelines, Deschamps leaned back, raised his head, and placed his right hand on his chin, looking somewhat caught off guard.
He didn't give any new tactical instructions; it was only the beginning of the match, and he couldn't afford to panic.
Besides, he believed that the French Team players were top-notch and capable of adapting.
However, what exactly was Italy up to? Deschamps glanced at Prandelli in the distance. Could this mediocre coach be hiding something 'dirty'? "Clap clap clap!"
In the forward position, Maël, seeing Giroud's initial header fail and his subsequent dejection, waved his hand to attract his attention.
When he turned his head, Maël smiled and encouraged him, "Giroud, put some more intensity on them! We're counting on you today, so keep it up!"
Giroud smiled shyly, waved back at Maël, and then turned his head, saying, "I've been looking forward to my first European Cup goal for a long time; I hope I can get it today with your pass."
Maël shrugged, indicating it was no problem, and then strode towards his own half to prevent Italy from launching a long-ball attack directly.
"Bang!" As he expected, Buffon kicked a long pass directly from the goal line, aiming for Balotelli.
He quickly ran back to defend, colliding with Abate, who was marking him, in the process. The two exchanged a glance but said nothing.
Balotelli then overpowered Koscielny to win the header, directing the ball to Marchisio on the other side, who dribbled towards the touchline before Clichy could react.
"Bang!"
By the time he completed the Cross, four Italian players had already entered the penalty area to compete for the ball, with another player lurking outside, leaving the French Team's defense somewhat overwhelmed and the area in front of the goal in a state of chaos.
"Whack!" Fortunately, Lloris was focused and dove out at the near post, catching the ball in his arms.
"Italy is playing very proactively today. When I first saw their 4-1-3-2 formation, I thought it was a variation of the 4-3-1-2, with De Rossi and Marchisio dropping back a bit.
"But they haven't; they've been consistently positioned as left and right attacking midfielders, putting a lot of pressure on the French Team.
"I think we can see their intention through this opening period: they want to take advantage of the situation! Strike while the iron is hot! They're seizing on the French Team's period of turmoil, using unexpected tactics to pressure you! Make you uncomfortable, throw you into disarray, and ultimately achieve a surprise victory!
"Prandelli's tactical setup is successful; some positions in the French Team have already shown signs of chaos!"
"…"
In the stands, in the VIP area, Wenger and some French political dignitaries appeared. He was old friends with these people, and he would receive invitations to watch matches together with them during major tournaments.
In addition, some Arsenal players were also sitting in front of them, watching the European Cup journey of their three teammates.
The atmosphere here was a bit somber. They had clearly noticed that Italy's opening arrangements had made the French Team somewhat unadapted, putting them at a disadvantage.
Many people's palms were already sweating. It would be bad if Italy took advantage of the chaos to steal a goal or two.
The difficulty of scoring goals in the European Cup is inherently high, coupled with Italy's expertise in counter-attacking defense. If they score first, even if you adjust in the end, it may be futile and you'll be dragged to death helplessly.
"Wenger."
The current President Hollande, sitting in the center, sensed the unusual atmosphere. He smiled and pointed to a young man to change the subject, "This is my newly promoted Deputy Secretary-General, in charge of the economy, quite a talent, isn't he?"
Wenger looked in the direction he was pointing. There was a young man watching the game intently. He nodded and chuckled, "I know him, the person in charge of the Nestlé acquisition case, very talented and famous."
"Haha..." Hollande crossed his legs and called out, "Michel! Don't you like football very much? The expert is sitting right next to you, why not chat?"
Wenger quickly waved his hand and shook his head, smiling, "You rarely get to watch a game, just relax and enjoy the European Cup.
"You're usually so busy, I don't want to steal the show and disturb you at a time like this."
Michel turned his head and nodded to Wenger, seemingly agreeing with this statement, then turned back to the field, continuing to focus.
Hollande shook his head helplessly and had to pull in Prime Minister Ayrault to chat with Wenger. He mainly didn't want to be in such a silent atmosphere, which would make him feel like he was wasting his relaxation time.
Not far from these people, Löw and some officials and players from the German Team were sitting in a box, secretly observing the tactics of their potential top 4 opponents.
For fans, watching the game live and watching the broadcast are completely different experiences, and even more so for them.
If they had the opportunity, they would definitely choose to come to the venue directly in order to obtain information, styles, and tactics of their opponents more directly and closely.
Löw was constantly writing something in his notebook. This year was his sixth year coaching the German Team, but unfortunately, he had not achieved any good results, which led to him being quite controversial.
Naturally, this European Cup became his last lifeline in his mind.
If he couldn't achieve results that satisfied the fans, he felt he would leave the team.
Fortunately, the team had done well before this, making it all the way to the top 4, with only the final 2 games left to the championship.
"What are you writing?"
His diligent writing caught the attention of Matthäus, the former German superstar nicknamed "Perpetual Motion Machine," the head of the Three Musketeers, who enjoyed a high reputation in the world of football.
"Just writing some random things, I don't know." Löw shrugged, his eyes blurred, looking like he was suffering from the torment of pressure, "Write first, then go back and sort it out for summary."
Matthäus patted him on the shoulder, comforting him, "Write what you need to write, but don't put pressure on yourself, we don't even know who our final opponent is yet.
"And..." he lowered his voice, "your emotions will affect the team, this is not an exaggeration."
Löw glanced at the German Team players who were watching the game intently, straightened his back, and perked up a bit, "I'll pay attention, thanks for the reminder."
"Yeah." Matthäus turned his head to look at the field, and after a while, asked, "Who do you think our opponent will be?"
"Italy."
Löw didn't hesitate and said directly, "They have stronger overall strength and are more stable. Although they lack a superstar like Maël, everyone has proven themselves in major tournaments and can stand alone.
"You can see from the beginning of this game that the French Team, which is in a period of turmoil, cannot gain an advantage in front of them."
Matthäus nodded, turned to look at the serious-looking German Team players, and smiled to ease the tension, "Who do you think will advance? Klose? Schweinsteiger?"
"Italy."
"I think it's Italy."
Most of the German Team players sided with Italy, only Götze, the young man who once competed with Maël for the Golden Boy award, had a different opinion, "I think it's the French Team, Maël hasn't exerted his strength yet, he's probing.
"I've studied his playing and I know him well, I don't think he'll be silent for the whole game."
Matthäus nodded slightly, not feeling that this different opinion was a problem, and followed up, "Indeed, I can see that as soon as he gets the ball, the Italian defenders get very nervous.
"Chiellini and Bonucci are the same, they will be wary of this unpredictable young man."
Löw listened to their words and began to think, unconsciously picking his nose with one hand.
He felt that what they said made sense, sometimes you have to believe that this kind of talented young superstar will bring some unexpected things to the game.
Now it depends on luck, whether the Italian Team, operating like a precision machine, will exert its strength through targeted arrangements first, or whether Maël, as sharp as a sword, will find a breakthrough through individual moments of brilliance.
"..."
"The Italian Team's attack is coming again! Relying on their strong midfield combination, they can often quickly form a counter-attack after losing the ball! De Rossi, Montolivo, Marchisio, Balotelli, etc., these are all very impactful and tough attackers!
"Stacking them all in the midfield, Prandelli's idea is very clear, I want to make the French Team feel that it is very difficult to pass the halfway line with ground attacks! And they are not just these, in the backcourt, they have four top defensive defenders, and a Pirlo who connects the entire team! Such a team! Is frightening! Let's take a look at this shot, Balotelli! Ah... he actually pushed the ball wide, this is undoubtedly a good opportunity to take the lead! After doubting his life in the first round of the group stage, it seems that he has not fully adjusted, and occasionally he will suddenly think about life!"
"..."
"Bang!"
On the field, Lloris kicked the goal kick, and the football flew to the frontcourt, where Giroud stopped it directly with his chest.
Under pressure, he could only flick the ball with one foot towards Abate's back to try his luck.
Maël started along the sideline, squeezing towards Abate's back, with a very strong desire to control the ball.
Abate used all his skills, even subtly tugging at Maël's jersey with his hand, but still couldn't stop him.
"Pa!"
Maël finally managed to stop the ball and shake off Abate.
Realizing that the opponent was quickly chasing back, and that his diagonal cut into the penalty area would definitely be slower than his straight run, he waited for a moment. When the opponent came up, he suddenly flicked the ball high with the outside of his foot.
"Whoosh!"
Abate felt a breeze on his face as he rushed over, but he didn't have time to enjoy the comfort of the moment, because the football had already flown from his shoulder to his back.
"Flick over the opponent! And the height is very high! Maël really dares to play when he's dribbling past people, and he really dares to go through!
"He's more Italian than the Italians, because he has the face of an angel and an elegant demeanor! But now, he's going to charge into the Italian team's penalty area like a devil!"
"."
"Ohhh!" The fans in the stadium shouted passionately, and many French people had already stood up, slamming their fists and palms heavily towards the Italian goal, hoping that Maël could severely damage the opponent.
After passing Abate again, Maël habitually looked back, but inadvertently added a bit of provocation, just like Vinicius did when he passed the Korean players.
It wasn't that he wanted to show off or provoke, it was just a habitual look back to observe.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
He quickly dribbled the ball into the penalty area, and then saw Chiellini and Bonucci come up together to block his shooting angle.
The combination of these two is a classic center-back pairing in football, and their combined strength is definitely in the top five in history! Facing them, Maël felt a burst of difficulty, and also a burst of excitement.
He was afraid that the opponent would directly tackle and intercept, so he slowed down and used all his body's feints and variations to sway left and right, sometimes making a bottom-line move and sometimes making a cut inside, as if he was about to shoot at any time.
Chiellini and Bonucci had become less nervous after the opening period, and plus the fact that both of them were standing in their positions, they were not afraid of Maël at all.
Except for occasionally almost losing their balance and being a little embarrassed, they still completed their work, constantly blocking Maël's various breakthroughs and shooting lines.
Maël wanted to burst into the penalty area to solve the problem, but he saw Buffon staring at him intently, ready to attack and support the defenders at any time, and confiscate the ball he had dribbled out.
"Bang." He didn't have a good solution, and he didn't want to shoot through the gap and try his luck, so he passed the ball to Giroud in the center.
Chiellini and Bonucci quickly turned around and fell into position, again blocking all of Giroud's ball-handling lines, forcing him to pass back.
Giroud didn't pass back, he struggled a step and managed to pass the ball to Maël on the side again.
"Bang!!"
Before Maël received the ball, he knew that stopping the ball would inevitably face great defensive pressure. He turned sideways in advance, and with his left foot facing the fairly stable incoming ball, he took a curved shot with the outside of his foot.
He had practiced so many shooting styles, so he just tried one at this time!
"Tear!" Unexpectedly, Chiellini, who was closer to him, still followed up and completed a sliding tackle at the moment he shot.
He was shocked. The top Italian defenders were indeed different. It seemed that it was not easy to simply defeat them.
However, Chiellini didn't tackle the ball, and the football still rotated towards the far corner of the goal, bypassing Bonucci and flying towards the post in the far corner of the goal, seemingly about to graze the post and bounce into the net.
The Italian players were immediately frozen in place, looking back with nervous expressions.
"Bang!"
Just as expectation rose in Maël's eyes, Buffon made a move. His body stretched to the extreme, and his hands steadily caught the shot, which was not very fast.
He got it! Maël watched Buffon confidently get up and quickly throw the ball to launch a quick attack, and he was also a little shocked.
He quickly turned around and chased back, and at the same time understood why Buffon was the Wall of Sighs, and a strong contender for the title of the first goalkeeper in football history.
Such a goalkeeper will give the defense a stronger defensive confidence and a more determined defensive strategy. The defense they form will make ordinary attacking players shudder.
But he certainly wouldn't shudder, he would only raise a higher desire to score, and wait more excitedly for the next shooting opportunity.
"Italy's counter-attack opportunity! Montolivo gets the ball! Passes to the wing and crosses! Central position! Koscielny clears the ball out of the penalty area!
"But De Rossi is catching up, 30 meters out, is he going to blast a shot directly? Nasri is chasing back, but it seems he can't outrun De Rossi, here it comes!!"
"."
"*BOOM!!*"
De Rossi charged to the edge of the penalty area, his right foot striking the football with the outside of his boot, imparting a shot speed of 150km/h and an extremely strong curve.
At first, the football seemed to be heading towards the center, but as it approached the goal, it suddenly swerved, heading towards the upper right corner of the goal, smashing towards the far corner.
Lloris was full of confidence at first, but when he saw the ball change direction, he froze on the spot.
Maël also raised his hands, covering his head.
There's definitely an element of luck in this ball, but it's obviously useless to say that now. Every ball has an element of luck, it's just a matter of degree. If someone pulls it off, then they really pulled it off.
"Clang!" The sound of metal echoed throughout the stadium, as the violently spinning ball slammed into the crossbar, flying back out of the penalty area.
The crossbar saved them!
"Ah!" It was the Italy fans' turn to cover their heads, countless people showing regret. If they fail to advance in the end, this ball may become their eternal regret.
De Rossi was also helpless when he saw the football hit the metal, but as a defensive midfielder, he didn't forget his duty, and quickly stepped forward to counter-press.
In the Italian backfield, Maël breathed a long sigh of relief. It seems that luck won't always be on one side, and they are often favored by the goddess of fortune as well.
"Thump, thump, thump!"
He turned around and sprinted towards the opponent's backfield, waiting for a possible opportunity to appear.
The continuous back-and-forth exchanges left most people a little breathless, but it obviously couldn't have any impact on him.
He was hoping for a few more rounds of such transitions, to make everyone run out of breath, and then he could easily rush over and score.
"Boom!"
Inside the French Team's penalty area, Rami, who started the game, kicked the ball towards the front field. Giroud was once again battling with Bonucci, preparing to compete for the header. This would be a crucial battle to determine whether the two teams could achieve their tactical goals.
"Bonucci! Foul!!"
Chiellini was older and more mature, he advised his partner to just pull Giroud down, "Foul him!! Don't take the risk, we have very few people!"
Bonucci obviously heard his words, but looking at Giroud's young face, and remembering that he didn't seem to recognize this person, he still chose to believe that he could win back the ball for the team.
And so, near the center circle, the two jumped up at the same time, heading towards the spinning football.
"Scrape!" A faint sound rang out, replacing the dull thud of a solid touch.
The football did not fly back to the French Team's half as Bonucci had hoped, but was instead grazed towards the right side of the Italy Team's backfield.
Giroud won!
Perfect header!
In the blink of an eye, Maël didn't have time to praise his teammate's performance. He flicked the ball forward with his right foot and quickly rushed towards the edge of the opponent's penalty area.
Chiellini bitterly followed him, with Nasri and Mene also surging forward behind him, but the only remaining defender was Barzagli, who was also coming over.
Two against three! A disadvantageous defense!
When playing casual football, this gap may not be obvious, but in the European Cup arena, where all the players are top-notch, this gap is fatal.
Chiellini painfully tried to cover both Maël and the people behind him, defending with great difficulty.
"Boom, boom...!"
Soon, Maël took two steps and reached the edge of the penalty area, looking like he was going to create an angle to shoot.
Chiellini had no choice but to abandon all thoughts of blocking the line and rushed towards him desperately, betting that Maël would go solo this time.
But Maël was certainly not stupid. Since there was a better option, he would naturally not give Chiellini a chance to risk his life.
This was the European Cup, no one would be a lone wolf here. Everyone's primary goal was victory, with the ultimate goal being the championship, except for Benzema.
You should know that Kane is willing to trade all the goals in his career for a championship.
"Boom!"
Maël passed the ball back to the inverted triangle position with one foot, turning his head to look there, and saw Nasri following up.
Chiellini tried his best to stretch his foot out midway to block, but by the time his foot went out, the football had already rolled behind him. He could only pray to God to open his eyes and let the French Team hit the crossbar once as well.
"Bang!!"
Nasri spread his body near the edge of the penalty area and pushed the incoming ball towards the far corner of the goal with one foot.
His eyes were filled with a strong desire to score, and he very much hoped to score a goal for the team in the knockout stage.
"Swish!" Such a close-range tap-in, and an unobstructed shot at that, was obviously the kind of ball that even Buffon couldn't do anything about. The football grazed the post and slammed hard into the dead corner.
Goal! One to zero!
"The French Team is in the lead!! Beautiful transition attack! Perfect header, perfect advance, perfect shot!! They played a textbook counterattack, which should be what Deschamps wanted! Who would have thought that Giroud, who was not favored, stood up and played his role as a center forward, Maël was as lethal as ever, and Nasri's push shot remained stable!!"
"Yeahhhh!" Inside the Gdańsk Stadium, the French Team fans set off a storm of cheers. Their enthusiasm swept through the entire stadium like a raging wave, with great momentum.
Nasri kissed his fingers and ran towards the corner flag to celebrate, not forgetting to quickly turn around and pull Giroud to run towards Maël together.
The three goalscoring heroes then joined together and slid out on the grass of the field together.
In the face of adversity during a period of turmoil, under the pressure of public opinion, they still relied on their sharp offense to take the lead!
Maël somehow slid to the very center. Giroud and Nasri next to him smiled and turned to look at him, and then, as if to give him a surprise, they opened their mouths in unison, "Vamos!"
"Haha...!"
He laughed loudly, pulled up the two of them, and came to the fan area together, raising his arms and shouting again to the French Team players, venting all the pressure and emotions of this period, "Vamos!!!"
Turning back, they hugged the French players who rushed up to celebrate tightly, and many people's bodies trembled a little.
"We are still us!"
"Yes! Keep going!"
"We will advance!"
"Maël, will you let us hear 'Vamos' again?"
Looking at Cabaye's question, Maël smiled and nodded, then raised his head and took a deep breath of fresh air. Being in the lead, naturally everything felt good, and naturally he dared to boast.
"Fola!"
Deschamps on the sidelines raised his right arm high, shouted, and turned back to hug the assistant coaches.
"A somewhat sudden goal! In an instant, it sent the French Team to heaven, but silenced the Italy Team. They had played almost half a good game, but lost to the French Team in seizing opportunities! Prandelli calmly drank water on the sidelines, with a kind of calm attitude, as if he was used to falling behind first.
"I believe this will give the Italy players a shot in the arm, let them raise their heads and continue to fight.
"But it must be admitted that they still have a lot of work to do during the half-time break!"
"."
A little more than a minute after this goal, the referee blew the whistle to end the first half of the match.
After 15 minutes, the players from both sides returned to the field, standing in their positions and taking deep breaths to adjust their state.
Their images were different, some with their hands on their hips and heads down, some looking at the sky with firm eyes, and some constantly making the sign of the cross on their chests to pray.
In short, this may be the last 45 minutes. Whether they can enter the top 4 depends on the next half!
"Beep!"
The referee blew the whistle to start the second half, and Giroud kicked off the ball from the center circle, starting the second half of the match.
Everyone's hearts were tense, and even when breathing, they felt that there was an extra layer of barrier in the air. Even if they tried hard, they could only inhale a little air. Maybe it was an illusion.
"The French Team's large-scale pressing attack, they still handed the ball over to Maël's side.
"There's no way, when you have such a good player by your side, handing the ball to him is the easiest way to handle the ball. Let's take a look at this breakthrough.
"Abate is very aggressive, he seems to understand that he can't defend like he did in the first half.
"This is indeed effective. When you can't keep up with the rhythm of the attacking player, then break his rhythm. Maël is past! Ouch! A beautiful nutmeg!
"Abate didn't disrupt his rhythm, but instead trapped himself!"
"."
At the Gdańsk Stadium, Maël resolutely and quickly cut inside this time. After shaking off a little shooting angle, he quickly raised his foot to prepare for a curved shot, trying to arc the ball in with this angle.
The Strength of a Curved Shot is greater than that of the outside of the foot. As long as it's executed with good quality, even Buffon might not be able to do much.
"Bang!"
"Thump!"
The two sounds rang out almost simultaneously. As he shot, he felt Chiellini apply a strong physical challenge, causing him to lose his balance at that instant.
The Football, which should have had a dramatic curve and Speed, flew weakly towards the center, as if he had miskicked it.
Physical challenge? After completing the shot, Maël turned to look at the referee, spreading his hands to indicate a foul.
But the referee ignored him, only retreating, still focused on his positioning.
Maël could only swallow this loss. Since the referee didn't react, it could only mean that Chiellini's movement was concealed enough, his control of the boundaries good enough, ambiguously bumping him.
Six minutes later, it was Italy's turn for a major offensive. They seemed relatively calm at the start of the second half, not appearing to be thrown off balance by being behind.
But as they gradually felt the passage of time, they clearly couldn't hold back any longer and chose a more aggressive approach.
"Bang, bang!"
Montolivo, with some of Maël's handsomeness, executed a wall pass with Pirlo in midfield. After advancing a few steps and feeling the opportunity wasn't good, he passed the ball back to Pirlo.
Pirlo observed for a few moments, and seeing De Rossi cutting into the far post of the penalty area, he lowered his head and sent a graceful long pass.
"Bang!"
Also a historical-level midfielder, his footwork was undoubtedly top-notch. The ball perfectly bypassed the French Team's defense and began to descend slowly in front of De Rossi.
The tough player De Rossi didn't choose to shoot immediately. His shooting angle was small, and shooting rashly would only waste the opportunity.
"Bang!" He headed the ball back into the six-yard box, looking for teammates who were cutting in to challenge for the ball.
The ball really found someone. Cassano cut in from the near post, diving next to Sagna to head the Football. This was definitely a chance for a sure goal! "Ugh!"
Sagna shouted to encourage himself, pressing his entire body backward, interfering with the opponent while completing a turn, reaching for the Football with his foot, and even using his leg to squeeze the shooting player during the process.
He used all his tricks, just to interfere with the opponent's player! "Bang!" Cassano's header went out, but under Sagna's interference, he headed the ball towards the end line.
Not in!
"Ugh!" The Italian Team's players quickly ran towards the referee, seeking an explanation. Although the fans didn't see it clearly, they still stood up and joined in the commotion.
The referee still retreated. He didn't call the previous one on Maël, so it was even less likely he would call this one in the penalty area.
The Italian players looked helpless. This was almost a sure goal opportunity. After adjusting their state, their expressions changed, as if they were competing with the referee and the French Team's players.
Now that they knew the referee's standards and how the French Team was playing, they might as well play that way too, making it uncomfortable for the opponent in attack.
They naturally wouldn't think that this move was first used by them, or that under the circumstances of large penalty standards, this was reasonable confrontation.
Interfered with a sure goal, a penalty not called... All they had was resentment.
This resentment might not be directed at the French Team, nor at the referee in this match, but only at this incident.
But in any case, the seeds of retaliation took root in their hearts and grew at an extremely fast Speed.
In the 69th minute of the match, Maël continued his role as a winger explosive point, forcibly breaking through Abate, and then sending in a Cross like a crescent moon scimitar.
"Bang!!"
Giroud in the central position grabbed this extremely comfortable point, but at the moment before the header, he was pushed upwards by Chiellini's body.
This caused him to lose his balance, and the ball headed out at an outrageous height towards the stands.
Giroud was also a little depressed after landing. This was definitely not his true level, but he knew that protesting at this time was useless.
Four minutes later, Maël realized what kind of strategy the Italian defenders wanted to use to defend them, and chose to shoot directly from a distance of 35 meters from the goal.
He thought that the opponent might be careless at this distance and wouldn't use tricks to defend him.
"Bang!!"
As a result, when he kicked, he felt a huge force coming from his side, knocking him down hard, his body only able to maintain balance on one leg.
After falling to the ground, he didn't even bother to look at the ball he had kicked. After getting up, he looked for Marchisio, who had just bumped him.
Continuing like this was a bit too much... He certainly wouldn't think about whether his team had used similar methods. As a victim, he only wanted to vent his resentment.
He looked to butt heads with Marchisio, but the latter chickened out slightly, turned around, and slipped away early.
"Bip!" The referee blew his whistle this time, seemingly to control the situation on the field.
The French Team's players quickly gathered around, anxiously negotiating with the referee. After the fruitless negotiation, they looked thoughtfully at Italy's attacking players.
The game seemed to turn sour from this moment on, with everyone's movements becoming more and more exaggerated, as if they had nothing to lose.
Deschamps stood on the sidelines with his arms folded, watching this scene. Although he felt a little uncomfortable, he didn't say anything for the time being.
The team was still in the lead, so they weren't the ones in a hurry.
On the other side, Prandelli didn't stop his players either, but kept waving his hands to signal them to press forward and seize the time to counterattack.
Time passed like this, exceeding 80 minutes. The tense situation and the smell of gunpowder on the field became heavier and heavier. Everyone seemed to be like a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment.
"Bang!"
In the 85th minute, Nasri curled a delicate over-the-top pass into the penalty area before he ran out of steam.
Maël suddenly cut in diagonally, appearing behind the defense like a ghost.
"A straight pass and a diagonal run! A classic connection between the midfielder and the winger. The French Team's chance to kill the game has arrived! Buffon's attack is very decisive. Maël can't stop this ball, and a volley is unlikely. He can only complete the shot with a high-difficulty move!"
"..."
Inside the penalty area, after Maël arrived near the ball, he felt as if his world had become quiet. Everything that had been noisy just now disappeared, and everyone disappeared.
Only the Football overhead and the opponent's goal still existed in his heart.
He lost all ability to think and only instinctively threw his body out, kicking the ball like Roberto's game-winning goal against Paris.
"Pa!"
"Oh!" It wasn't until the moment he shot that he regained all hearing and sight. All the emotions rushed back to his head, making him stare unblinkingly at the trajectory of the Football.
He knew that this was very likely the key goal to help the French Team enter the top 4!
"Pa!" But a pair of hands with five fingers spread open blocked his dream of killing the game. Buffon, again Buffon, jumped up with all his might in a loss of balance, dragging the ball towards the back of the net.
It's gone!
Just a little bit!
"Bang!"
As Maël landed downwards in the air, regret appeared in his eyes. He then felt as if his left calf bone had hit Buffon's knee after he jumped up, making a crisp sound.
After landing, a sharp pain came, causing him to roll around in place, clutching his calf.
"Bip bip!"
Under the worried gazes of Deschamps of the French Team and the French Team's fans, and in the midst of the chaos, the team doctor quickly came on the field. After checking, he found that fortunately, there was no major problem, just another hard injury like last time.
"Phew!" At this moment, many people breathed a long sigh of relief.
After spraying painkiller, Maël was helped off the field by the team doctor. After taking a few steps, he shook off the team doctor and tried to walk on his own.
He knew that the team still needed him, and he had to adjust quickly on the sidelines and strive to return to the field as soon as possible.
The knockout stage is different from the group stage. The team needs more goals to kill the game, and that's the case until the moment before the game whistle blows! "Bip!" The referee blew his whistle at this time, signaling that the French Team could take a corner kick.
Nasri stood in front of the ball, raising his hand to signal to the French players in the penalty area. While observing his teammates' runs, he also saw the Italian players' eager expressions. They seemed ready to counterattack and win.
He couldn't help but feel a little nervous. This kind of chaotic moment is the most prone to goals.
"Bang!" He then kicked a Cross, aiming for the area a little further back, hoping his teammates could get to that spot.
The referee waved to the sidelines at this time, signaling that the player could enter the field if he was okay.
Maël quickly touched the grass he loved and ran towards the edge of the penalty area, his eyes locked on the opponent's goal.
"Bang!"
The ball was cleared out of the penalty area by Bonucci of the Italian Team. The Football flew to Nasri's control area again. He took the ball down, preparing for another Cross.
"Pull back! Pull back! Pull back!!"
Bonucci originally wanted to lead the players to press out together, but seeing Nasri's appearance at this moment, he quickly signaled everyone to pull back.
Maël's eyes flickered, and as he sprinted towards the penalty area, he subtly waved his hand towards Nasri.
He seemed to notice Nasri glance up, but he wasn't entirely sure, so he continued running according to the original plan.
"Boom!!"
Near the corner flag, Nasri delivered another cross, almost like taking a second corner kick.
But this time, whether it was the ball's speed, trajectory, or height, it was far from the penalty area, and it even seemed questionable whether it could even enter the area.
Many people looked puzzled, feeling that this shouldn't be Nasri's level.
It wasn't until they saw the direction Nasri's eyes were looking that they suddenly realized there was a receiving point outside the penalty area! The Italy team's players were immediately startled and turned their heads to look. Maël was rushing towards the ball's landing point, and he began adjusting his shooting angle and posture while running.
Danger!
Maël took three steps in two, arriving in front of the ball. He raised his right leg to meet the incoming ball, diagonally striking it with a comfortable volley.
He didn't know why he was getting so many volley opportunities in this European Cup.
But he was grateful that he had developed this skill last season, allowing him to guarantee a very high shooting success rate when he was unmarked!
In the instant before contacting the ball, he couldn't help but smile, just like the sunny boy Léo. This was definitely an inappropriate emotion at such a serious moment.
"Boom!!"
He didn't have time to think about why; all his attention was focused on the football, fiercely striking the ball towards the lower right corner of the goal.
At the moment of kicking, a feeling of extreme openness emerged throughout his body. He seemed to understand why he was smiling and knew what the quality of this shot would be.
"Thud!" The football quickly flew into the penalty area, bounced once, and then sped towards the lower right corner of the goal.
Buffon still reacted quickly, but this time, he couldn't stop the football from entering the net first, "Swish!"
The football made crisp sound as it hit the lower right corner of the net, also driving the crazy of all the French fans, "Aaaahhhh!! Ahhhhh!!"
Goal! Two to zero! "Beautiful! Beautiful!! Maël's volley blast pierced Buffon's fingers! A two-goal lead! He helped the French Team kill the game!! "Before this, his many shots failed to create a threat to Buffon, but this time, he did it!! "The French Team is going to enter the top 4! Maël and Nasri's goal and assist have brought this team, which was not favored, to the same position as a group of title contenders!"
...
Maël knew this ball would go in when he completed the shot; the comfort of the shot couldn't deceive him.
Seeing the football enter the net, goosebumps quickly rose all over his body, but he wore a bright smile on his face, stuck out his tongue, and rushed to the side of the field, "Yeah!! Yeah!!"
Once, twice, but not a third time!
Buffon could save him once, twice, three times, but there would always be a time when he couldn't save him! The 6th goal of the European Cup, lifting the French Team to break through the wall of sighs and enter the top 4!!
After arriving at the side of the field, he didn't forget the joke he made with Cabaye in the first half.
He threw a rising dragon punch into the sky, and after landing, he used his signature verbal celebration, but this time, he shouted more enthusiastically and heartily than ever before, "Vamos!"
All the storms dissipated like passing clouds. He played a good game, and the French Team without Benzema also played a good game. They clenched their fists and continued to advance towards the European Cup championship!
Nothing would stop them anymore. From now on, whether others admitted it or not, they were title contenders! Completing all of this, Maël turned around and opened his arms towards the Gdańsk Stadium. He also saw that Nasri and Cabaye were the first to arrive, jumping and pouncing on him.
"Thump!" He fell to the ground, but the joy on his face was still captured by countless cameras on the sidelines.
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