Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King-Chapter 336: Wasted Efforts

If audio player doesn't work, press Reset or reload the page.

Chapter 336: Wasted Efforts

The match at De Grolsch Veste was a pulsating affair, the score tied at 1-1 as FC Twente and AZ Alkmaar battled for supremacy in the Eredivisie.

The crowd at the stadium remained on edge, Twente’s red-clad fans roaring for a lead, while AZ Alkmaar’s traveling supporters in red and white kept their chants steady, their scarves a blur in the chilly December air.

The floodlights cast long shadows across the pitch, the tension thick as both teams hunted for an edge.

#20th minute.

FC Twente pushed forward, looking to capitalize on their equalizer. Fer scooped a pass to Tadić, who darted down the right flank, chopping past Gorter with a quick step-over. His cross was low and sharp, aimed for Bulykin at the near post.

But Viergever read the danger, sliding in with a perfectly timed tackle, the ball rolling harmlessly to Esteban Alvarado, who scooped it up. The away fans clapped, their relief audible, while Twente’s supporters groaned, their hands on their heads.

[That’s brilliant defending from Viergever!] the lead commentator exclaimed, his voice cutting through the noise. [Tadić thought he had Bulykin in, but Viergever’s timing is spot on!]

[He’s been a rock back there,] the co-commentator added. [Twente are throwing everything at AZ Alkmaar, but that backline is holding firm—for now.]

Esteban Alvarado rolled the ball out quickly, his eyes scanning the field. He spotted Reijnen, who took a touch, glancing up to find space. The keeper’s quick thinking sparked a counter, AZ Alkmaar shifting gears in an instant.

Reijnen fired a long pass to Martens in midfield, who controlled it with a soft touch, his head up, searching for options. Twente’s midfield pressed, Fer and Brama closing in, but Martens sidestepped Brama with a quick turn, keeping possession.

[Here comes AZ Alkmaar on the break!] the lead commentator shouted, the crowd’s energy surging. [Martens keeps it alive—he’s got Fer chasing him!]

[Good composure from Martens,] the co-commentator noted. [Twente are caught high up the pitch—AZ Alkmaar can exploit this if they move quick!]

Martens looked up, spotting Benjamin making a run down the left flank. He lofted a pass over Fer, the ball sailing through the air, perfectly weighted. Benjamin latched onto it, his first touch crisp, pushing the ball forward as Rosales sprinted to close him down.

The young winger chopped past Rosales with a lightning-fast step-over, his speed leaving the defender trailing, the away fans roaring as Benjamin charged into Twente’s half.

[Benjamin’s off and running!] the lead commentator gasped. [Rosales can’t get near him—he’s got the beating of him every time!]

[Look at that pace!] the co-commentator exclaimed. [Twente’s defense is stretched—Benjamin’s got space to work with!]

Benjamin kept his head down, the ball glued to his foot as he crossed the halfway line, Twente’s defense scrambling to regroup. Douglas dropped back, shouting to Wisgerhof to cover the center, while Schilder sprinted across from the left to close the angle.

But Benjamin wasn’t slowing down. He feinted left, then chopped right with a La Croqueta, wrong-footing Schilder, who stumbled, giving Benjamin a clear path toward the edge of the 18 yard box. The away fans were on their feet, scarves waving, their chants a wall of sound.

[He’s through Schilder!] the lead commentator shouted. [Benjamin’s tearing Twente apart—this is dangerous!]

[What a move!] the co-commentator added, his voice rising. [He’s got Twente’s defense on skates—where’s the support for AZ Alkmaar?]

On the right flank, Berghuis sensed the opportunity, sprinting forward to join the counter, his arms pumping as he raced to get into position. Henriksen, too, pushed up from midfield, his lungs burning as he made a lung-busting run to support the attack.

Benjamin glanced up, spotting his teammates, but Twente’s midfield was backtracking fast. Chadli sprinted to cover Berghuis, while Brama tracked Henriksen, trying to cut off the passing lanes.

[Berghuis and Henriksen are making the runs!] the lead commentator said, the excitement building. [Benjamin’s got options—he needs to pick the right one!]

[Twente are scrambling,] the co-commentator noted. [But Chadli’s closing down Berghuis—Benjamin might have to go it alone here!]

Benjamin kept driving forward, now just outside the penalty area, Twente’s defense in disarray. Douglas stepped up, his arms wide, trying to block the angle, while Wisgerhof shifted to cover Altidore, who was lurking near the penalty spot.

Benjamin feinted a shot, forcing Douglas to lunge, but he pulled the ball back with a quick drag, creating a yard of space. The crowd held its breath, the noise peaking as Benjamin looked for his next move.

[He’s got Douglas on the back foot!] the lead commentator roared. [Benjamin’s got a chance to shoot—he’s got to take it!]

[No, he’s looking for the pass!] the co-commentator countered. [Altidore’s making the run—smart play from Benjamin!]

Altidore peeled off Wisgerhof, making a diagonal run toward the far post, his eyes locked on Benjamin. The winger spotted him, rolling the ball across the edge of the 18 yard box with a precise pass, the ball skimming the grass.

Altidore latched onto it, his first touch heavy but enough to set himself, the goal gaping as Mihaylov rushed off his line, arms spread to narrow the angle. The away fans leapt, sensing a goal, their scarves a red-and-white blur in the stands.

[Altidore’s in!] the lead commentator shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. [He’s got the goal at his mercy—Mihaylov’s rushing out!]

[This is it!] the co-commentator exclaimed. [Altidore’s got to finish—Twente are caught cold!]

Altidore took a touch, steadying himself, the ball sitting perfectly for a shot. He swung his right foot, striking the ball cleanly, the shot low and hard, aimed for the bottom corner.

Mihaylov dove, his fingers stretching, but the ball was past him, arrowing toward the net. The away fans erupted, their cheers echoing, but the ball clipped the outside of the post, flying wide, rolling harmlessly out for a goal kick.

The stadium groaned, AZ Alkmaar’s fans sinking back into their seats, hands on heads, while Twente’s supporters exhaled in relief, their cheers a mix of nerves and gratitude.