When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 181 The Boy and the Abyss

The Portuguese commentator spoke rapidly and anxiously: "Danger! Roy has the ball on the right wing. Ronaldo's timely recovery is great! Good! A two-on-one situation... wait, Roy pulls the ball back... Oh my god, he's broken free! Costinha's cover is too slow! Watch out for long passes! Zidane is completely unmarked! This mistake is unacceptable. What's with Roy's smile? Does he think this is an exhibition match?! Cheer up, Cristiano! Next time, just take him down!"

The French commentator's voice trembled with excitement: "Did you see that smile? That's the mark of a king, my friends. He just gave the Portuguese star a lesson worth millions."

Roy's long pass found Zidane precisely, and the French team quickly launched an attack.

After receiving the ball, Zidane made a slight adjustment and, facing Costinha's pressure, used a clever feint to create space before passing it directly to the advancing Henry.

Portuguese fans were on tenterhooks.

When Henry dribbled into the penalty area, the stands fell silent instantly; everyone held their breath. Some unconsciously gripped the armrests of their seats, while others nervously bit their lips.

It wasn't until Carvalho made a diving tackle to clear the ball out of bounds that a sigh of relief erupted from the stands, followed by thunderous applause and cheers.

"It's so dangerous!"

A middle-aged fan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and said to his companion.

His fingers were still trembling slightly; it felt as if his heart had stopped beating just a moment ago.

Several young fans were so frightened that they covered their eyes, only daring to open them when they heard cheers.

On the other side of the stadium, flags were waved wildly in the Portuguese fans' section, and people applauded Carvalho in tribute.

But the tension had not completely dissipated; everyone knew that the French team's offensive was still ongoing.

French corner kick!

Zidane took the penalty, sending a curling shot into the box, where Vieira outjumped Maniche to head the ball into the net!

Ricardo makes a diving save, tipping the ball over the crossbar with one hand! France's second consecutive corner kick!
This time, Zidane opted for a tactical corner kick, making a short pass to Giuly, who then passed it back to Lizarazu, who delivered a low cross!

Roy feigned receiving the ball at the near post, then suddenly let it pass him.

Henry arrived at the far post and swung his left foot to shoot!

Andrade lunged to block him, and the two collided violently.

The ball was blocked out of the penalty area by Andrade's thigh, and Henry fell to the ground. The French fans immediately erupted in chants of "Penalty!"

But the referee crossed his arms and waved them, indicating no foul!

The ball landed outside the penalty area, and Maniche and Vieira immediately became entangled.

Vieira shielded the ball with his back to the goal, while Maniche repeatedly stretched out his leg from behind to interfere.

Just as Vieira was about to turn and pass the ball, Ronaldo suddenly rushed out from the side and made a reckless collision that brought Vieira to the ground.

Maniche seized the opportunity to grab Vieira's jersey, causing the French midfielder to lose his balance and fall heavily onto the grass.

The players from both sides immediately surrounded them, and the tension escalated as they shoved each other.

The referee blew his whistle sharply, parted the crowd, and pointed to the location of the foul.

France is awarded a free kick in the attacking third.

Vieira rubbed his back as he stood up, giving Ronaldo a warning look, while the young Portuguese player had already retreated to his defensive position in a huff.

Several key players of the French team gathered in front of the ball, discussing in hushed tones.

Zidane stood with his hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the goal and the wall of players.

Henry gestured, seemingly suggesting a particular angle.

Roy stood quietly to the side, his eyes focused.

The Portuguese players stared intently at them, Carvalho in the wall kept adjusting his position, and goalkeeper Ricardo loudly directed the defense.

Suddenly, Zidane leaned close to Roy's ear and whispered a few words.

Roy nodded slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

This subtle movement made the Portuguese players even more alert.

They knew the French were plotting something.

The referee blows the whistle, and France's free-kick tactics are about to be revealed.
Zidane began his run-up, and the Portuguese wall immediately tensed up and jumped up as a group.

The Portuguese commentator's voice suddenly rose: "Zidane's run-up—he's about to shoot! Watch out! The wall must block the angle!"

But just as he touched the ball, Zidane suddenly stopped and walked around it.

This is a carefully designed decoy!

"Wait—he didn't kick?! That was a feint! Roy's coming up! Roy's coming up! Danger—!!"

His voice was almost hoarse, filled with a desperate premonition: "The wall of men has jumped! Ricardo! Watch the near post! Watch the near post—"

Roy, who was lurking on the side, started his run almost simultaneously. In the instant when everyone's center of gravity shifted upward, he precisely flicked the ball with the inside of his right foot.

The ball first floated high into the air, then suddenly plummeted after clearing the wall of people, tracing a strange arc like a maple leaf swept away by the autumn wind.

Cristiano Ronaldo kept his eyes glued to Roy, even as Zidane had already started his run-up.

He tensed his muscles, preparing to jump, but his peripheral vision remained fixed on the young Frenchman.

As the human wall leaped into the air, he saw Roy suddenly start moving—half a beat slower than everyone else.

The ball whistled over Ronaldo's head while he was still falling.

He twisted his body desperately, but all he saw was that strange arc.

Ricardo did dive in the right direction, but the ball was too fast.

The dull thud of the ball grazing the underside of the crossbar and slamming into the net erupted simultaneously with the cheers of the French fans.

The French commentator's voice cracked instantly:

"Roy takes a run-up—shot!!! Knuckleball! Knuckleball! Goal—!!! Art! This is art!!!"

"1-0! The Demon King has descended upon the Stadium of Light!!!"

Cristiano Ronaldo's feet finally landed back on the grass.

He didn't need to turn around to know that the scoreboard had already changed to 1-0, because the entire Stadium of Light was shaking violently.

Roy was running wildly in celebration, creating a gust of wind as he passed by.

His short black hair flew in the lights, and as he approached the stands, he suddenly leaped into the air, his legs naturally bending in mid-air, and he landed with a gesture of listening attentively.

"Le Démon! Le Démon! (The Devil)"

The cheers from the French fans' section reached their peak instantly.

The fans in blue shirts in the front row were banging on the advertising boards, and a little boy wearing a national flag even cried.

Cristiano Ronaldo stood near the penalty area, hands on his hips, watching this scene unfold.

The image of Roy, worshipped by countless fans, was reflected in his deep brown eyes, and the shout of "Demon King" echoed for a long time under the stadium dome.

His Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily, and a burning sensation surged in his chest.

It wasn't jealousy, but a more primal fighting spirit.

"A true man should be like this." This thought struck him like lightning.

Figo watched the French players celebrating on the field, feeling a tightness in his chest.

He glanced instinctively toward the bench, where Rui Costa was rubbing his knee.

The old comrades of the 'Portuguese Golden Generation' who fought alongside them for many years all had weariness hidden in the wrinkles around their eyes.

His gaze eventually settled on Cristiano Ronaldo.

The 19-year-old boy was stomping hard on the grass, his eyes burning with an indomitable spirit.

Although they were young, they possessed a sharpness that their generation had never seen before.

Figo suddenly remembered how confident and spirited he was during the European Championship four years ago.

He tightened his captain's armband and nodded slightly in Ronaldo's direction.

Perhaps it's time to let this arrogant young man lead Portugal forward.

Portugal kicked off from the center circle. Figo dropped back to receive the ball, turned and got past Makelele, then passed it to Deco.

Deco observed the situation and delivered a long diagonal pass to the open area on the left flank.

Cristiano Ronaldo quickly starts to receive the ball, and Gallas immediately closes in, maintaining an arm's length distance to block the inside line.

Roy quickly moved across from the right to help defend.

Cristiano Ronaldo changed direction with a right-footed twist, accelerating down the flank.

Gallas turned to chase, while Roy blocked his inside cut.

Cristiano Ronaldo dribbled the ball to the byline and then crossed it in.

Pauleta surged forward from the penalty spot to try and get a touch on the ball, but Thuram got to his position first and leaped high to head the ball out of bounds.

Pauleta's momentum caused him to collide with Thuram, and the two fell to the ground simultaneously.

The referee signaled for play to continue, and Portugal was awarded a throw-in in the attacking third.

Cristiano Ronaldo stood on the sideline, taking a breath, while Roy had already returned to his defensive position.

The scoreboard still showed 0-1, and Portugal reorganized their attack.

Portugal threw in the ball, and Ronaldo caught it and was about to turn around when Roy closed in.

"Don't rush to pass it on, little genius."

Roy lowered his voice, a smile playing on his lips, while simultaneously squeezing Ronaldo's space with his body, "Let me see what you've got."

Cristiano Ronaldo frowned, trying to shield the ball with his body, but Roy's entanglement made it difficult for him to turn around.

Makelele seized the opportunity and suddenly lunged forward, intercepting the ball with his leg.

The French defensive midfielder immediately passed the ball to Roy, who received it and started running instantly, as if the provocation had never happened.

He dribbled inside, faced Nuno Valente's defense, cut to a stop with his right foot, and suddenly changed direction to pass across the middle.

Vieira received the ball in the middle and dribbled forward.

He lowered his head, his shoulders slumped, and pressed forward like a charging bull.

Portuguese midfielder Costinha stepped forward to intercept, but was easily overpowered by Vieira with a change of direction.

Advancing to the edge of the penalty area, Vieira suddenly unleashed a powerful shot.

The ball whistled towards the top left corner of the goal, and Ricardo leaped with all his might but failed to touch it.

The ball slammed heavily against the top of the crossbar and bounced out of bounds.

A sigh of regret erupted from the French fans in the stands.

Vieira stood there, holding his head in his hands, clearly frustrated by the narrow miss.

Roy glanced back at Ronaldo, shrugged, and laughed, "Remember to pass the ball faster next time."

Ricardo tossed the ball into the air with both hands and launched it long into the attacking third.

Pauleta challenged Makelele for the header near the center circle, outjumping his opponent to head the ball into the open space on the right wing.

Figo quickly moved forward to receive the ball, and Lizarazu immediately stepped up to block him.

Figo dribbled the ball along the sideline for three steps before suddenly stopping and cutting the ball back inside with his right foot.

Lizarazu's center of gravity was shaken, and he was a beat too slow to turn around.

Figo seized the opportunity and passed the ball across the middle, where Deco met it at the edge of the penalty area.

Deco controlled the ball with his left foot, adjusted his position, and immediately fired a shot with his right foot.

Barthez dove to the side and punched the ball away with both fists.

Abidal rushed to the landing point first, and without hesitation swung his left foot to clear the ball out of bounds. The ball flew high out of the penalty area and landed in the open space on the right side of midfield.

Makelele quickly moved forward to receive the ball, controlled it with his chest, and then turned to observe.

Roy has started moving and is speeding forward along the right flank.

Makelele immediately delivered a long diagonal pass, precisely finding Roy's running path. Portugal's defense was still retreating, and Roy dribbled straight into the penalty area.

Roy burst into action the moment he received the ball, the ball seemingly glued to his foot as he strode forward.

His sprint strides were extremely long, but each touch of the ball was precisely controlled within half a step. Nuno Valente tried his best to chase back, but was left further and further behind.

After penetrating the penalty area, Carvalho and Costa immediately formed a double-team.

Roy flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot to change direction, and just as the two defenders were closing in, he suddenly pulled the ball back with the sole of his foot. This sudden stop against the rhythm caused both center-backs to lose their balance at the same time.

Just as they stumbled, Roy slammed his left foot off the turf to start a second burst of speed, forcing Carvalho to slide his tackle.

"boom!"

Roy was shoved so hard he rolled twice before stopping.

The Portuguese fans in the stands were pale-faced, and some had already covered their eyes.

Roy had just scored a free kick to break through their defense; if they were awarded another penalty, the game would likely be over.

He pushed himself up and spread his hands toward the approaching referee.

The referee shook his head repeatedly, indicating that there was no foul, and then turned and ran away.

"Referee! That's definitely a penalty!"

Makelele was the first to rush up to the referee, pointing at the penalty area and shouting.

"He didn't even touch the ball! He tackled the player directly!"

Vieira followed closely behind, his voice low but imposing.

"Look at the position of his shoe spikes!"

Henry pointed at Roy's leg, "That move was too dangerous!"

"At least give them a card!"

Thuram also joined in, his tall figure almost blocking the referee's view.

"We demand a fair judgment!"

As captain, Zidane spoke with restraint but his attitude was resolute.

The referee waved his hand repeatedly, indicating that there was no foul.

The French players persisted, continuing to argue with him.

Boos and shouts erupted from the stands, and the scene became chaotic at one point.

Ultimately, the referee forcefully waved to disperse the crowd and upheld the original verdict.

He believed that Carvalho touched the ball first, and that his tackle was within the bounds of a reasonable defensive action and did not constitute a foul.

Although Roy fell to the ground due to incidental contact, according to the rules, no penalty is awarded as long as he touched the ball first and the action was not excessive.

Secondly, as the host country, if Portugal falls behind 0-2 after the first half hour, the outcome may be decided too early, affecting the commercial value of the match and the home atmosphere.

Referees subconsciously avoid making calls that "kill the game."

The cheers of tens of thousands of Portuguese fans and UEFA's implicit expectation that the host country will advance could subtly influence the referee's judgment on actions that are "optional."

After the match restarted, the camera panned to the VIP box. Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich was speaking quietly with manager Jose Mourinho.

Abramovich pointed at Roy on the field and asked, "José, if we bring him to Stamford Bridge, how should we use him?"

The match continued, and the camera cut to the VIP box. Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich turned to Mourinho beside him and asked, "José, if we buy Roy, how should we use him?"

Mourinho crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the pitch: "He can play on the left, but his best position is as a second striker. Let him operate behind Crespo; he can both dribble and shoot, but we'd better sign a new center forward."

Abu frowned: "Isn't Crespo enough?"

Mourinho shook his head: "We need a more consistent center forward. Crespo's form is too inconsistent."

"Do you have a suitable candidate?" Abu pressed.

“Drogba,” Mourinho said without hesitation, “is physically strong and can hold off defenders, which will create space for Roy.”

Abramovich raised an eyebrow: "Drogba? Who is he? Which team does he play for?"

Mourinho waved his hand gently, his gaze still fixed on the field: "Don't ask, sir. Just get your checkbook ready. Even if we don't end up signing Roy, this Ivorian will still make a difference for your team."

He paused, then repeated firmly, "Pay." (His exact words)

Abu smiled thoughtfully and nodded: "Okay, let's do it that way."

Roy received the ball near the center circle, and facing Costinha's challenge, he deftly flicked it with his right foot, turning and dribbling past him.

Maniche immediately covered, but Roy suddenly stopped and changed direction, cutting the ball with his left foot, causing Maniche to miss and stumble.

Seeing this, Costinha rushed over, but Roy pulled the ball back with the sole of his foot, then poked it between Costinha's legs with his toe!
A gasp erupted from the stands, and Abu couldn't help but applaud.

However, when Maniche chased back, he grabbed Roy's shirt, and Andrade took the opportunity to slide tackle and clear the ball.

Roy fell to the ground, and the referee rushed over, signaling for the match to continue, but then turned to Andrade and gave him a warning finger: "Watch your moves!"

Andrade spread his hands and stepped back with an innocent look on his face.

Roy quickly got up, brushed the grass off his shorts, a hint of dissatisfaction flashing in his eyes, but he quickly returned to the game.

Abu frowned in the VIP box: "Was the referee's leniency too much?"

Mourinho snorted: "In these kinds of matches, the referee doesn't give cards easily. However..."

He stared at Roy's retreating figure. "The more this kid is targeted, the stronger his fighting spirit becomes."

On the field, Roy had dropped back to receive the ball, and the French team launched another attack.

Abramovich said with concern, "Real Madrid is probably also eyeing such a talent, and Manchester United has never given up on signing him."

He paused, then added, "Moreover, Roy recently publicly rejected Barcelona, ​​and even emphasized his Real Madrid youth academy background."

Mourinho frowned slightly, his gaze following the dark-haired figure on the field who was directing his teammates' movements.

He vaguely felt that Roy and he were the same kind of people, both carrying that stubbornness of wanting to prove themselves after being looked down upon by the wealthy.

"If it were me."

Mourinho suddenly spoke, his voice very soft, "I will choose to prove myself first."

But after saying that, he shook his head.

Roy is different from him. This young man has already proven everything with his performance in the Champions League. Now he doesn't need to prove himself, but to conquer.

“However,” Mourinho turned to Abramovich, his eyes sharp, “if we can give him something Real Madrid can’t.”

"for example?"

"For example, a team-building plan that truly centers around him. And a coach who knows how to bring out his full potential."

“I know better than Capello how to get the ball to him at top speed. Maybe you should consider signing Deco. He can link up the midfield and attack, and his precise through balls and long passes are exactly what Roy needs. Moreover…”

He glanced at Deco, who was battling Roy on the field, and said, "His performance at Porto proves that he can adapt to my tactics."

Abramovich shook his head: "We have Lampard and Duff, that's enough for the midfield. We should use that money to strengthen the defense—Monaco's Maicon would be a good option."

"If we're going to buy Maicon, then we shouldn't buy Evra. Both of them are too young, strong in attack but weak in defense, and not solid enough defensively."

Mourinho pointed to Abidal, who was defending Figo on the field: "But Abidal is different. He played as a left center-back for Monaco last season. He is solid defensively and can also play as a left-back. He is more experienced and more tactically adaptable."

Mourinho wanted to continue promoting Ferreira, but he swallowed his words.

At this moment, Portugal's starting right-back is Benfica's Miguel, while Ferreira can only sit on the bench.

Suddenly, a tidal wave of cheers swept through the Estádio da Luz: "Cristiano! Figo!!!"

Portugal launched an attack down the left flank. After receiving a pass from Deco, Ronaldo faced Gallas and suddenly changed direction, accelerating down the wing!
The French defense was forced to retreat, and Ronaldo feinted a shot and then passed the ball to Figo, who curled a shot with the outside of his right foot and found Figo lurking at the far post!

Figo dove down and headed the ball before Lizarazu could!
Barthez couldn't make the save, and the ball went straight into the net!

1-1! Portugal's hopes are rekindled!

Figo sprinted in celebration, and Ronaldo excitedly jumped onto his back! The Portuguese fans in the stands instantly erupted in cheers!

The camera instantly cuts to the VIP seats.

Portuguese President Sampaio suddenly stood up from his seat, clenching his fists!

A roar erupted from the Portuguese commentary booth:
"CRISTIANO RONALDO! Magical footwork! Precision! Luis Figo at the far post!!! Header! GOOOOOOOOOOOL!!! Portugal pulls one back! 1-1! The Estádio da Luz is on fire! This is a perfect connection between the golden generation and the new crown prince!!"

VIP box.

Florentino swirled his wine glass, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Cristiano Ronaldo celebrating on the field: "That Madeira kid is interesting. But..."

His smile deepened as he turned to Mendes. "Roy is the true white soul. How beautifully he rejected Barça—'My football genes come from Castilla.'"

Mendes then handed over a document: "Actually, Roy has another request. His 11-year-old brother, Rowan, played basketball for a year at St. Charles High School in Monaco, although only on the school team. But Roy poached a former shooting coach from Duke University in the NCAA from the United States, and the kid can now shoot three-pointers from NBA range. The kid has amazing talent, and Roy hopes... Of course, the choice is yours."

"Castia Basketball Youth Training Camp?"

"Jorge, this is a match made in heaven!"

He lowered his voice but couldn't hide his excitement, "We'll arrange a trial right away. We'll develop him into a superstar in European basketball, just like his brother conquered the football field. Laso (Real Madrid's general manager of basketball) will personally take care of him."

France restarted play in the center circle, and the ball was passed back to Vieira.

Instead of rushing forward, he calmly observed the situation on the field.

At this moment, Makelele made a forward run from the defensive midfield position to receive the ball, and Vieira passed it to him across the field.

Makelele looked up and saw Zidane dropping back to receive the ball, so he immediately delivered a precise ground pass.

Zidane, with his back to Costinha, deftly pulled the ball back with his right foot.

Costinha immediately closed in to press, but Zidane cleverly turned and shielded the ball with his left foot.

The Portuguese defensive midfielder refused to back down and pounced on the ball again to press.

Zidane suddenly tapped the ball twice with his left and right feet, his body swaying from side to side, instantly creating half a body length of space.

Just as Costinha lost his balance, Zidane flicked his right foot forward and then launched a low through ball with the instep of his foot.

The moment Zidane passed the ball, the Portuguese defense was collectively pressing forward to create an offside trap.

Right center-back Andrade raised his arm in a gesture of support, but left center-back Kava was a fraction of a second too slow.

French left center forward Henry made a lateral run, drawing away right-back Miguel and tearing a gap behind the defense.

As if by magic, the ball passed precisely through the narrow gap between the two Portuguese defenders and rolled straight towards the open space at the edge of the penalty area.

The entire movement was fluid and seamless. From protecting the ball with his back to goal to getting rid of the defender, and finally delivering the decisive pass, Zidane completed this series of exquisite plays in the blink of an eye, showcasing the vision and technique of a midfield maestro to the fullest.

Roy seized the opportunity and suddenly accelerated diagonally into the penalty area.

His explosive power was extremely strong. In just a few sprints, he shook off defender Carvalho's interception and got to the ball first.

At this moment, Portuguese goalkeeper Ricardo had already abandoned his goal and rushed over with open arms.

Roy remained calm, quickly adjusting his pace while running at high speed. With a gentle flick of his right foot, the ball soared into the air, tracing a precise arc.

Ricardo leaped up with all his might, his fingertips almost touching the ball, but the ball still grazed his glove, then dipped along the inside of the far post and landed steadily in the net!
1-2! France takes the lead again!

Roy's attack, from his lightning-fast start to his calm chip shot, was executed flawlessly, leaving the entire audience in awe.

The stands erupted instantly, with cheers from French fans sweeping across the stadium like a tidal wave.

Meanwhile, Ronaldo's smile froze on his face.

He stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on Roy.

Roy did not celebrate immediately, but slowly turned around and looked towards the Portuguese half of the field.

A faint smile played on his lips, his eyes calm and deep, as if he had foreseen all of this.

Cristiano Ronaldo clenched his fist.

In that instant, he felt as if he were standing on the edge of an abyss, and the abyss was staring back at him.

(End of this chapter)