When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 178 The Genius's Fatal Solo Dance

June 25, 2004, Algarve Stadium.

The two teams stood facing each other in the humid summer night air.

The Spanish team wore bright red jerseys, while the French team wore their traditional dark blue.

Before the match, Spain's Puyol frowned as he looked at Roy on the other side.

The Barcelona defender had just learned that his club had been publicly rejected, and his expression was complicated.

Meanwhile, Real Madrid alumni Raul, Helguera, and Raul Bravo occasionally glanced at the French team, still processing Roy's words at the pre-match press conference: would this young man, who once belonged to Real Madrid's youth academy, return to the Bernabéu this summer?
A subtle atmosphere of probing and speculation hung in the air.

The French commentator said in a clear voice:
"Tonight at the Algarve Stadium, Les Bleus, with a perfect group stage record and 11 goals, will face Spain in a dominant performance! The French fans' celebration has already ignited the stadium, and the pre-match declaration from their star striker, Roy, is even more inspiring – he firmly rejected Barcelona's €900 million offer, stating bluntly, 'I will never wear the jersey of our arch-rivals!' This respect for Real Madrid's youth academy is a true reflection of the French national team's spirit. Tonight, we look forward to him continuing his legendary run!"

The Spanish commentator said:
"Despite the overwhelming pre-match praise for France, remember—the ball is round! Our matadors may have a weak defense and a lack of creativity in midfield, but their fighting spirit has never faded! This statement undoubtedly stung the Catalans, but it also exposed a weakness in the French team: when players are surrounded by transfer rumors, can they really focus 100% on the game? For Spain, this might be the psychological breakthrough to turn the tide! Let's hope that tonight's pitch can respond to all off-field disputes in the purest way—let the feet do the talking!"

Zidane stood in the center circle and gently rubbed the grass with the sole of his cleats.

The whistle blew, he made a short pass to Vieira, and immediately made a diagonal run into the left attacking third.

The French team pressed forward across all three lines like a rising tide.

Makelele dropped back to cover, Giuly and Henry started running along the sideline at the same time, while Roy ghosted across to the gap between the two Spanish center-backs.

The Spanish reacted quickly.

Albelda immediately marked Zidane, while Alonso dropped back to protect the defensive line.

Juanito, watching Roy's run, had to shift two steps to the right, which gave Henry space to receive the ball on the left.

Seeing this, Vieira immediately sent a low long pass, and Henry controlled the ball firmly with the instep of his foot before Bravo could arrive.

Puyol tucked in from right-back to cover, his blond hair flying as he ran.

Like a lion locking onto its prey, he closed in on Henry in three quick steps, and as Henry cut inside, he made a precise tackle, the ball hitting Henry's shin and bouncing out of bounds.

A wave of cheers and sighs erupted from the stands.

Puyol is known for his tenacious defense, precise positioning, and fighting spirit. He also possesses excellent heading ability and leadership skills, making him the core leader of Barcelona's defense.

Lizarazu threw the ball out of bounds with great force, Henry flicked it on with his back to goal, and Makelele then passed it diagonally to Roy.

Roy met the incoming ball with the outside of his right foot, sending it arcing over Albelda's head and flying straight into the open space on the right flank.

Just as Giuly arrived to receive the ball, a red figure suddenly appeared.

Helguera intercepted the ball first, controlled it with his thigh, and then passed it to Raul Bravo on the left wing.

Without pausing, Bravo delivered a low cross to Alonso, who had dropped back to receive the pass.

The young Alonso, with his back to the French defense, deftly turned and shielded the ball with his body the moment Makelele pressed forward.

He looked up and scanned the front field, directing Joaquin and Vicente's runs with his right hand, while steadily controlling the ball with the inside of his left foot, just as calmly as he did on the training ground.

The 22-year-old midfielder suddenly launched a low, long pass, and the ball, as if guided by eyes, found Vicente, who was sprinting down the left flank.

Alonso's pass had a noticeable "braking" spin, and the ball bounced twice on the grass before coming to a stop at Vicente's feet.

Before the gasps from the stands had even subsided, Spain's counter-attack had already pushed past the halfway line.

Vicente made a rapid advance down the left flank.

With a flick of his toe, the Valencia winger sent the ball past the chasing Gallas and precisely to the onrushing Raul.

Without making any adjustments, the Spanish captain launched a volley towards the center, where Torres pounced like a cheetah.

Torres suddenly accelerated like a cheetah, poking the ball before Thuram could block him.

The ball headed straight for the corner of the net, but Abidal blocked it with his foot in front of the goal line. The ball deflected and bounced back, grazing the post. Barthez quickly fell to the ground and caught the ball firmly in his arms.

The Spanish national team under Sebastián (2002-2004) continued the 4-2-3-1 system, focusing on attacking from the wings (Joaquín and Vicente) and short passing penetration, maintaining a balance between attack and defense under the leadership of veterans such as Raúl.

This phase retains the solid structure of two defensive midfielders, continuing the fast-attacking tradition of the Camacho era while attempting to avoid the conservative criticism of the Clement era, and appropriately making technical improvements.

During this period, Spain had not yet developed the possession-based system that would later become the "Golden Generation," and was still in a transitional phase towards a more technical style, with its overall style falling somewhere between traditional wing attacks and modern short passing.

Barthez quickly took the goal kick, sending a long ball to Makelele near the center circle.

Seeing this, Roy immediately dropped back to receive the pass. He first turned his back to Albelda, and the moment Makelele passed the ball to his feet, he suddenly flicked it with the outside of his right foot while quickly turning around, cleanly getting rid of the Spanish defensive midfielder's entanglement.

Roy didn't try to score; after looking up and observing the situation, he immediately passed the ball to Giuly, who was making a run down the right flank.

He then quickly moved forward into the penalty area, and just as Giuly was about to cross the ball, Roy deliberately feinted at the near post, pretending to try to get to the ball but cleverly letting it slip past him.

This clever run drew Juanito's attention, and Henry, unmarked at the far post, unleashed a powerful shot, which was brilliantly saved by Casillas.

Throughout the attack, Roy demonstrated the qualities of an all-around center forward: first, he dropped back to receive the ball and act as a pivot; then, he used his exquisite technique to get past his marker; and finally, he created opportunities for his teammates with his clever off-the-ball runs.

Although he didn't manage to create a direct threat with a shot, the threat of this attack came entirely from his link-up play and support.

"Good shot! That's how you should play!"

Real Madrid president Florentino Pérez on the sidelines was so excited that he stood up and applauded, his face turning red.

Yesterday, the news that Roy rejected Barcelona caused a sensation throughout Madrid.

Marca printed an extra edition overnight, with the declaration "Never wear a Barcelona jersey" prominently displayed on the front page.

The radio station repeatedly played the interview audio, and each replay elicited cheers.

For Real Madrid fans, this was even more exhilarating than a victory in El Clásico.

Outside the Bernabéu stadium, vendors began selling counterfeit scarves bearing Roy's name within just one day.

Although the transfer is still far from being finalized.

Whenever the radio rebroadcasts that declaration, the whole of Madrid seems to shout in unison: "Never-No!"

This resounding rejection gave the white camp the first advantage in the war of words in the transfer market.

Spain patiently organized their attack from the backfield, and after three consecutive short passes between Alonso and Albelda, they suddenly split the ball to the wing.

Joaquín received the ball on the right wing. Facing Lizarazu's defense, he first feigned cutting inside, then used the outside of his right foot to dribble the ball and forcefully overtake him with explosive power.

Thuram blocked the cross from the byline, and Vicente immediately passed the ball again after receiving it on the left wing, but Barthez came out and punched the ball out of the penalty area.

France controlled the ball in their own half, and Makelele passed it to Zidane.

When Zidane had the ball in the center circle, Alonso followed closely like a shadow.

The young Spanish defensive midfielder has made three consecutive attempts to intercept the ball. Although Zidane skillfully thwarted the first two attempts, he was more aggressive this time.

Alonso lowered his center of gravity and constantly used his body to disrupt Zidane's rhythm.

Just as Zidane was about to turn around, he suddenly lunged forward and almost intercepted the ball.

France's number 10 had to step back two steps and flick the ball to the other side with his heel to get rid of the entanglement.

But Alonso immediately adjusted his pace and closed in again. Zidane first feinted with his shoulder, then suddenly flicked the ball to the right rear with the heel of his left foot, while his strong back steadily blocked Alonso, forcing him to turn half a body length in the narrow space.

Albelda immediately covered the ball, but Zidane had anticipated it. He gently flicked the ball with his left foot while simultaneously using his right arm to shield the Spanish midfielder.

Just as the two men were closing in on him, he suddenly kicked out a diagonal pass.

The ball passed between Albelda's legs and found Roy making a forward run.

When Zidane's pass tore apart the Spanish defense, the whole game came alive instantly.

On the Spanish side, Juanito was desperately chasing back, but Henry's diagonal run swerved him off course.

Helguera hesitated for half a second, unsure whether to tackle Roy or block Henry.

Left-back Bravo was out of position and could only watch the ball roll toward the edge of the penalty area.

The French team, on the other hand, pushed forward with all their players.

Giuly cut inside from the right wing, drawing Puyol's attention.

Vieira made a long run forward to receive the second ball.

Henry made a sudden stop and change of direction, pinning Juanito to the edge of the six-yard box.

The moment Roy received the ball, the entire stadium seemed to accelerate.

This dark-haired striker with sculpted, angular features suddenly took off like a thoroughbred racehorse unleashed from its reins.

His explosive power is arguably the most terrifying existence of this era.

With his first step, turf flew up, and with his second, he had already left the chasing Albelda half a body length behind. As Roy faced Helguera's cover, the entire Algarve stadium held its breath.

Suddenly, he pulled the ball backward with the sole of his right foot, and the ball seemed to be stuck to his foot like it was being attracted by a magnet.

Just as Helguera's center of gravity was shifted, Roy had already gently pushed the ball with the inside of his left foot, sending a croquet-like ball whistling between the two center-backs.

The Spanish defense was completely thrown into disarray.

Roy's breakthrough was like a sharp knife tearing through the defense.

Juanito's flying tackle had barely arrived when he had already darted two meters away with the ball, and the Spanish center-back only managed to catch the flying grass clippings.

Raul Bravo gritted his teeth and chased back, but just as he closed the distance, Roy suddenly accelerated again and left him behind.

The French striker's thigh muscles bulged, and with three quick strides, he left his opponent far behind.

The moment Casillas charged toward Roy with outstretched arms, the entire Algarve stadium fell into an eerie silence.

A Spanish fan's beer mug hangs in mid-air.

In a bar on the streets of Madrid, everyone's eyes were glued to the television screen, and even the bartender's movements as he wiped the glasses seemed to freeze.

A young fan sitting in the front row instinctively covered his mouth, while his mother held his shoulder tightly.

Thousands of Spaniards remained in the same forward-leaning posture, like a videotape that had been paused.

Even the commentator held his breath.

At that moment, it seemed as if only two figures remained on the entire Iberian Peninsula: Casillas diving for the ball, and Roy dribbling it.

Just as the two were about to collide, Roy suddenly stopped.

His cleats left marks on the turf, his upper body leaned forward with inertia, but his right leg firmly planted the ball.

Before Casillas could react, Roy had already performed three consecutive stepovers. The moment the goalkeeper's center of gravity shifted, he suddenly flicked the ball to the right with the outside of his foot, sending it flying past Casillas who was diving to make a save like a gust of wind.

Facing an open goal, the striker did not hesitate, calmly pushing the ball into the net with the inside of his left foot.

"Roy! He stopped! Look at this feint—one! Two! Three! Casillas was stunned! A flick with the outside of his foot! BUUUUUT!!! Roy! Roy! He flashed past the goalkeeper like lightning! France leads 1-0! What a beautiful goal! This is a priceless superstar moment!"

The entire movement was fluid and seamless, from a powerful breakthrough to a skillful finish, a veritable textbook example of a striker's technique.

The moment the ball rolled into the net, the entire French fans' stand was like a powder keg that had been ignited.

Blue and white waves surged in the stands, and a forest of countless arms pointed straight to the sky.

Cheers poured down from the top tier of the stands like a tsunami, instantly engulfing the entire stadium.

"Allez les Bleus!!! (Go, Blues!!!)"

Roy leaped into the air and nimbly turned in mid-air.

As he landed, he opened his arms and was immediately overwhelmed by his teammates who swarmed around him.

Vieira was the first to rush forward, slamming his chest into him, their foreheads touching as they roared like wild beasts.

Lured by the European Championship, past conflicts were temporarily forgotten; all he wanted now was to tear his opponents apart with this goal-scoring machine.

Raul stood with his hands on his hips in the center circle, sweat dripping from his chin onto the grass.

He watched the French celebrate wildly, his lips twitching slightly.

These guys are celebrating like they've already won the championship.

Torres pulled the hem of his jersey out of his shorts and wiped his face hard, a gesture filled with undisguised frustration.

This Spanish team has already stumbled and struggled to reach the quarterfinals, but watching their opponents jump and celebrate wildly in front of their own penalty area is a thorn in anyone's side.

The youngest player, Torres, suddenly turned and walked towards the kickoff point, slamming the ball into the turf with the tip of his boot. This action startled his teammates.

The game has only been going on for twenty minutes; it's far from time to give up.

Roy's goal was like stirring up a hornet's nest.

After gaining the upper hand, the French team immediately tightened their formation, with Makelele and Vieira forming a double defensive partnership that effectively blocked Spain's attacking routes.

Zidane began to stroll around the ball in midfield.

Every time he received a pass back, he would pause for three seconds before the Spaniards rushed in and then easily pass the ball to the side, which made Raul so anxious that he committed two fouls and received cards.

The Spaniards are getting anxious.

Albelda began to make frequent forward runs, and in the 28th minute he managed to deliver a through ball over Vieira, but Thuram intercepted it with a quick tackle.

After intercepting the ball, the French center-back remained calm, first protecting the ball and turning around, then passing it to Gallas only when Alonso rushed up – a typical "dog-walking" pass.

Roy wandered through the Spanish defense like a ghost.

In the 36th minute, he had just dropped back to the center circle to receive Vieira when he suddenly broke the offside trap and surged into the penalty area. As Juanito desperately chased back, Roy had already chested down the long pass and was now performing some acrobatic maneuvers near the byline.

He braced his back against Helguera, lightly flicked the ball with his left foot as if to cut inside, and suddenly flicked it against his ribs with his right heel.

Henry's powerful shot forced Casillas to dive and tip it over the crossbar with one hand.

After the corner kick was taken, Puyol's header clearance went poorly, and Roy reappeared like a ghost at the edge of the penalty area.

He feinted a shot and then passed the ball to Lizarazu, who was overlapping on the wing. The veteran crossed from the byline to find Henry, who this time barely managed to head the ball out of bounds, risking an own goal.

Puyol was thoroughly tormented by these unpredictable runs.

Once, just as he was about to push forward to assist, he turned around and saw Roy already making a forward run, so he could only grumble and retreat back to the defensive line.

Puyol frequently tucked in to protect the defensive line.

Spain's right flank was thus wide open, and Lizarazu took the opportunity to make three overlapping runs and crosses, forcing Puyol into a flurry of activity.

The broadcast cameras captured Seth raging on the sidelines.

His defenses were torn apart by one person.

Spain's counter-attacks almost entirely depended on Torres's shoulders.

In the 40th minute, Golden Boy suddenly started moving, flashing past Thuram like a red lightning bolt.

The veteran couldn't even reach out to pull him back in time and could only watch helplessly as Torres unleashed a powerful shot from the edge of the penalty area.

The ball whistled across the crossbar, causing the net to tremble slightly.

Four minutes later, Joaquín made a strong breakthrough on the right wing and swept the ball towards the goal before Lizarazu could block it.

Torres burst out from behind Abidal, leaped high and overpowered the defender, and headed the ball into the far corner with a powerful header.

Barthez had already surrendered, but the goalpost thudded the ball back. As Gallas hurriedly cleared the ball, Torres was still kneeling on the grass, slamming his fist into the ground.

This could be Spain's best chance in the first half.

The broadcast cameras kept focusing on the sidelines.

French coach Santini chewed gum while directing tactical changes, while Spanish veteran coach Sebastian Sáez took off his suit jacket.

In the second minute of stoppage time, Roy suddenly switched positions with Henry and made a quick diagonal run into the space on the left flank.

Zidane's diagonal pass ripped through the defense like a scalpel, finding its way perfectly into Zidane's path.

Elgra hurriedly tried to cover, but Roy's sudden stop and change of direction made him stumble.

Roy flicked the ball towards the inside with his right foot, pretending to cut across the penalty area, but at the moment Helguera shifted his weight, he suddenly used the outside of his left foot to push the ball forward.

This sudden change of direction and acceleration caused the Spanish center-back to completely lose his balance, and he could only futilely reach out to try and pull Roy's jersey hem.

Henry had already quietly slipped into the six-yard box, but Roy chose to solve the problem himself.

Immediately afterwards, he flicked his right foot to create an opening and then immediately launched a curling shot.

The ball traced a tricky arc, bypassing Casillas's desperately outstretched fingertips, but ultimately grazed the top edge of the crossbar and flew out of bounds.

A gasp of surprise erupted from the entire Algarve stadium.

If that shot had been just two centimeters lower, it would have been an unstoppable world-class goal.

French coach Santini held his head in regret on the sidelines, while the Spanish players exchanged lingering glances.

This young assassin almost killed the suspense of the match with his solo performance.

(I was helping out as a groomsman at my brother's wedding these past few days, so updates have been a bit slow. Sorry.)
(End of this chapter)