The first tumor in football

Chapter 231: Cutting the Battle Lizard? Komodo Dragon!
Song Wen looked up at the score.

The glaring score of 4-0 made him feel much better.

In the away game, if we win four points against Paris Saint-Germain, the ticket to the semi-finals can be said to be in our pocket.

Unless there is a Wanda Metropolis miracle in the next round.

But this is obviously unlikely.

There is and will only be one miracle in Wanda Metropolis, and that is Song Wen.

He lowered his head to adjust his shin guards, then jumped twice easily.

He played more casually in the second half and did not consume any physical energy at all.

This is actually a little uncomfortable for a body that is always in all kinds of bursts.

It feels like I haven’t even warmed up yet.

For a long time, Song Wen has been burning himself in almost every game.

This time it didn't catch fire, but instead made him feel a little uncomfortable.

So he turned his eyes to Mbappe.

The silly child was staring at him, with grievance, anger, impatience and all kinds of emotions in his eyes.

Song Wen felt a little sorry for Mbappe.

The child is only eighteen years old. If it weren't for me, he would have a better future.

He should have shined brightly in the future World Cup and become a superstar known to everyone in the global football world.

If this match caused the opponent's mentality to change and changed the direction of his life, then it would really be...

interesting.

When the fourth official raised the electronic card for three minutes of extra time, the edges of Mbappe's socks were covered with grass and sweat stains.

That night he was like a cheetah trapped in a Möbius strip. No matter which direction he rushed, he would eventually run into the red and white ghost.

“Beep!”

The moment Alves threw the ball from the sideline, Mbappe suddenly started.

His spikes plowed five deep grooves in the grass, and the grass debris he kicked up formed a green comet tail in the broadcast camera.

Juanfran's right knee protector made a harsh friction sound. The 33-year-old veteran was using the last strength of his career to perform "The Old Man and the Sea".

"37 kilometers per hour!" Zhan Jun exclaimed as he stared at the instantaneous speedometer, "Mbappe's sprint this time is enough to go down in the history of the Champions League!"

But data engineers will not tell the audience that behind these numbers are the French teenager's torn Achilles tendon and burned meniscus.

When Mbappe dribbled the ball ten meters away with his toes, he seemed to see himself at the Clairefontaine youth training camp in 2014 - the skinny boy who practiced sprinting against the wall until he vomited.

"boom!"

The sound of the football hitting the billboard woke Mbappe from his dream.

He turned around in confusion and found that Song Wen, who was supposed to be thirty meters away, was crushing the ball with his shoe studs.

"Do you know how Komodo dragons hunt?" Song Wen suddenly asked, brushing his fingertips over No. 17, who was soaked in sweat. "They let their prey run meters first."

Mbappe's pupils suddenly contracted.

"You" the French prodigy's Adam's apple rolled with difficulty, and his saliva mixed with the taste of rust burned his esophagus.

Song Wen picked up the football with his toes. This samba-style action was more glaring than any humiliation at this moment: "You want to compete with me in speed, right? I'll satisfy you, but I have to remind you that if you run like this for three more times, the synovial fluid in your knee joints will completely evaporate."

After hearing Song Wen's words, Mbappe did not express any opinion.

At this moment, he felt a little confused.

He could feel that he had run fast enough just now, but why, how did this person catch up with him!

"My sudden appearance scared you, didn't it? Look at you, your legs were weak just now."

Mbappe was stunned by Song Wen's ridicule.

Then he reacted.

That's right!

It must be because I was frightened just now that I slowed down and gave that guy the opportunity!
As long as he performs steadily, he doesn't believe that the opponent can be faster than him! !
Looking at Mbappe who had rekindled his fighting spirit, Song Wen's smile became brighter.

Song Wen smiled, the sky darkened, and a drizzle began to fall.

The hem of Mbappe's jersey was soaked with sweat and stuck to his lower abdomen.

The moment the extra time card came on, he suddenly ripped open the corner of his clothes, revealing a three-centimeter scar on his ribs - that was the mark of falling into the barbed wire in Clairefontaine when he was sixteen years old.

Alves threw the ball from the sideline with a swirl, and when Mbappe kicked the ground, the grass exploded into mud.

Juanfran's knee guard groaned with metal fatigue. The moment the veteran reached out to grab the corner of his clothes, the tearing sound of the cloth thrown off by the French boy pierced the rain.

Song Wen bent down in the center circle and crushed the gravel under the grass with his studs.

He could clearly see Mbappe's trembling wrist when he swung his arm - the kid would unconsciously turn his wrist outward every time he sprinted to his limit.

Thirty meters.

Twenty meters.

ten meters.

The cheers at the Parc des Princes formed a sound wave, and Mbappe's eardrums swelled and hurt.

He stared at the rolling ball and suddenly remembered the bicycle that was stolen from him on the streets of Bondi when he was twelve years old.

That time he chased the gangster for six blocks and finally took back the car by biting his arm, his mouth was full of the taste of rust.

Song Wen's shadow suddenly appeared in the field of vision.

Mbappe instinctively lowered his shoulders, but hit a concrete wall.

He heard the crisp sound of his collarbone, just like the sound of the glass door of the youth training camp being shattered.

"breathe."

Song Wen's voice mixed with grass debris scraped into his ear canal.

Mbappe was horrified to find that the opponent was running side by side with him, and his red and white striped jersey was blindingly dry.

In the broadcast camera, the two afterimages looked like cheetahs fighting for food in slow motion.

Zhan Jun's commentary was stuck in his throat - the data panel showed that the speed of both of them reached 37.2km/h at the same time, but Song Wen's arm swing amplitude was a full fifteen degrees smaller.

When Mbappe's right toe touched the ball for the fifth time, Song Wen suddenly stretched out his left hand.

This was not a steal, but a precise shot on the protrusion of his radius.

The French boy's entire right arm was instantly paralyzed, and the trajectory of the football rolling towards the sideline seemed to have been measured by a ruler.

The water bottle kicked by Emery was still spinning in the air, and Song Wen had already knocked the ball towards the billboard with his heel. Mbappe's staggering save was very similar to himself when he was training hard in Clairefontaine until he had cramps.

There was a sound of a medical kit overturned on the Paris bench.

The team doctor stared at the real-time monitoring curve on the tablet - Mbappe's right knee temperature had reached 41.2℃, while Song Wen's muscle state showed a strange "standby mode".

When Mbappe climbed up, a grass stem pierced his palm.

Suddenly, sporadic applause broke out from the north stand - among the Atletico Madrid fans, a white-haired old man was imitating his signature celebration move with his hands crossed.

"Come again!" The French boy roared from his throat, blood oozing from between his nails.

When Alves threw the last throw-in, the referee was already looking at his watch.

Mbappe received the ball with a desperate momentum, but when he turned around he saw that Song Wen had blocked all the angles of change of direction in advance.

This time he didn't speed up.

Song Wen suddenly moved sideways to make room for half a meter, like a bullfighter spreading his scarlet cloak.

Mbappe's pupils suddenly shrank, but his body instinctively rushed into the trap - that was a fatal lesson he learned in a street football game when he was seven years old.

As the football rolled out of the baseline, the final whistle pierced the rain curtain.

Mbappe fell to his knees, a sour taste mixed with rust rising up in his throat.

He heard the dull thud of the ball hitting the billboard, which sounded very much like the day the youth training camp missed a penalty.

A wine bottle suddenly fell from the stands of Paris fans, and the glass shards splashed around Mbappe's hands.

The broadcast camera swept across the VIP box, and the Qatari tycoons were roaring on the phone: "Contact the Doha Sports Science Center! A comprehensive renovation will be carried out next week!"

The rain was getting heavier, washing away two parallel stud marks on the grass.

As Song Wen walked toward the player tunnel, a scout wrote in his notebook: "His ability to destroy superstars is more valuable than scoring goals."

In the Douyin live broadcast room, Zhan Jun seemed to be still unsatisfied.

Zhan Jun took off his headset, and the densely packed marks on the tactical board shone under the ceiling lights in the live broadcast room: "Old Fan, this score reminds me of the 08 Champions League semi-finals, when Barcelona also lost - in the first leg away from home, and in the end..."

"In the end, they were beaten 5-0!" Fan Zhiyi slapped the mineral water bottle away. "I think Paris should worry about how to retain the French Ligue 1 title now. Didn't you see Cavani throwing his jersey directly into the player tunnel after the game? It was like throwing a bomb!"

The live broadcast room's bullet screen was suddenly flooded with the wailing of Paris fans:
[Nasser ordered ten tons of quick-acting heart-saving pills overnight! ]

[Please spread the video of Emery dancing tango in the locker room! 】

[Neymar's hair spray is unsaleable, help us! ]

Zhan Jun held back his laughter and pulled up the data panel: "Let's be serious. Atletico's four away goals are equivalent to dancing on Paris' grave. If Simeone plays the 901 formation in the second leg, Paris Saint-Germain will have to hire ten Feng Shui masters to change the direction of the stadium."

Fan Zhiyi suddenly winked at the camera and said, "I just received news from the front that Mbappe hammered a hole in his locker after the game, and now the Paris staff are using his 'Future Ballon d'Or' poster to cover the wall!"

The broadcast screen cuts to the mixed interview area at the appropriate time.

Song Wenzhen leaned against a billboard to be interviewed by the French newspaper L'Equipe. His fluorescent green No. 17 jersey was so dry that it was eye-catching.

In the background, a Paris staff member was using a high-pressure water gun to clean the place where Mbappe was kneeling - the two deep marks on the grass looked like a plowed wheat field.

"Tell me about that rainbow dribble?" The French reporter's microphone almost poked into Song Wen's nostrils.

The boy brushed his sweaty temples with his fingertips. "I learned this from watching Captain Tsubasa when I was a kid. Ozora Tsubasa used this move in episode 47."

He suddenly turned to the camera and smiled evilly, "I suggest Neymar watch more anime and use less hairspray."

The director's room suddenly cut to other game scenes.

Zhan Jun adjusted his glasses and said: "Dear viewers, the results of the first round of the Champions League quarter-finals have all been released! In addition to Atletico Madrid, Bayern Munich tore Manchester City apart 3-1 at the Allianz Arena, and Lewandowski performed a hat trick."

"That Pole looked like he was on drugs!" Fan Zhiyi interrupted, "The video of Guardiola arguing with the fourth official after the game was on TikTok's hot list, with more views than Neymar's diving highlights!"

On the other side, Liverpool, Klopp's heavy metal football set off a bloody storm, and Salah nailed Sevilla to the pillar of shame with two reverse world waves.

There was no upset in the last game either, as Barcelona defeated Roma ruthlessly.

Zhan Jun suddenly lowered his voice: "According to gossip, Florentino held an emergency meeting overnight, and the cover of the PPT read 'Feasibility Report on the Introduction of Song Wen'."

Fan Zhiyi gestured with a money hand to the camera: "If Real Madrid can recruit Song Wen, I will do a live broadcast of eating pickled cabbage noodles while standing upside down! Those 'gangsters' at Atletico can tear down the Bernabeu and sell it for scrap metal!"

At this time, the scene cuts back to the Parc des Princes.

The Paris player tunnel in the heavy rain was like a scene from a Hollywood disaster movie - Neymar wrapped in a Burberry blanket got into the nanny car, Mbappe's bodyguards were confronting extreme fans who threw eggs, and Cavani squatted under a street lamp and sent a voice message to Suarez: "Brother, can I get a discount on the diamond in my front teeth?"

A golden barrage suddenly floated across the Douyin live broadcast room: [Real Madrid official account enters the live broadcast room].

Zhan Jun's marker on the tactical board fell into his coffee cup in shock: "What did you just say, Lao Fan?"

Fan Zhiyi grabbed a tissue and wiped his cold sweat: "Well, let's watch the highlights! Song Wen's fourth goal was a shot with the outside of his foot, and the arc was rounder than the pie he drew for Neymar!"

The director cuts into slow motion at the right time. When Song Wen is in the air at the penalty spot, a young Parisian fan in the background is crying and tearing down Mbappe's poster. Raindrops hover around the boy's stretched body, as if a god has pressed the pause button on time and space.

The moment the ball hit the net, the east stand was suddenly lit up with tiny cell phone lights - those were the 3000 Atletico Madrid fans who had traveled with the team. Their Spanish chorus of "Song of the Bullfighter" pierced through the rain and engraved the name "Song Wen" into the spring night on the Seine River.

Zhan Jun quietly wiped his eyes and said, "I also saw this kind of overwhelming momentum when I explained the Istanbul Miracle 17 years ago."

A week later.

The overhead lights of Wanda Metropolitano turned the grass into a pale operating table. Simeone's three-piece suit was unusually neat - the Argentine even replaced his cufflinks with titanium bulletproof ones.

Song Wen sat on the bench with his legs crossed, his fluorescent green sportswear glowing coldly in the shadows, making him look like a Komodo dragon at the top of the food chain.

Mbappe's studs created sparks in the tunnel.

The French teenager peeked at the Atletico Madrid bench for the Nth time and found that Song Wenzhen was playing the "FIFA" mobile game on his mobile phone. The virtual self he controlled had just been prompted by the system to "lack physical strength".

“Beep!”

The moment the kick-off whistle sounded, the Paris trident was like three bullets. Neymar's rainbow pass on the left side just shook off Koke and ran head-on into the wall of sighs built by Godin and Savic. As the Brazilian stumbled to the ground, the stands sounded a uniform countdown: "10, 9, 8"

"Atletico's bus is more solid than the Berlin Wall!" Fan Zhiyi laughed while patting the tactical board. "Godin's eyes looking at Mbappe now are like my dog ​​looking at a feeding machine - he knows there is meat, but he just can't reach it!"

Zhan Jun pulled up the heat map: In the 65 minutes of the game, Atletico Madrid ran 23 kilometers less than Paris, but the interception success rate was as high as 91%. The data engineer will not tell the audience that 14 of the interceptions occurred at the moment when Mbappe was about to start.

When the referee rejected Paris' penalty appeal for the Nth time, Neymar suddenly pulled off his headband and threw it at the billboard.

The splashing beads of sweat turned into a crystal ball in slow motion - reflecting the midsummer of Camp Nou in 2017, the self who could still tear apart the defense with dance.

In the third minute of stoppage time, Mbappe dribbled the ball towards the baseline for the last time.

His studs plowed deep grooves in the grass, but he saw five human walls standing in front of Atletico's goal - even goalkeeper Oblak stood on the penalty spot with his hands on his hips watching the show.

When the final whistle sounded, the sound of Song Wen standing up and applauding startled the white doves on the ceiling of the bench.

A pigeon with a Barcelona-themed ribbon wrapped around its claws drew a mocking arc in the night sky as a rainstorm was approaching.

A ten-meter-high giant TIFO suddenly dropped from the north stand: the background was Chinese characters handwritten by Song Wen - "Welcome to the Iron Age".

In the live broadcast room, Fan Zhiyi stretched out his voice and shouted excitedly:
"Let us congratulate Atletico Madrid for successfully reaching the semi-finals of this Champions League!!"

(End of this chapter)