God Of football - Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Valencia’s Man Chapter 165: Valencia’s Man As the game intensified, Atlético’s defensive unit bent but didn’t break.

Blocks, clearances, and strategic fouls halted Valencia’s momentum, yet Izan kept probing.

His hunger to equalize was evident, rallying his team to push harder.

Even against Simeone’s fortress, the youngster’s brilliance provided a spark of hope, proving why the footballing world was beginning to see him as one of the best talents in the world.

It was the 87th minute at the Mestalla Stadium, and the tension in the air was palpable.

Atlético Madrid had thrown everything at Valencia, determined to snatch all three points and were nearly there.

The score remained at 2-1, but Valencia’s manager, in a gamble that would either immortalize or vilify him, signalled for Pietro to come on.

The fans erupted, confused yet intrigued.

Pietro, known for his clever movements and composure, had spent most of the match warming the bench.

His instructions were clear: exploit the spaces left behind by Atlético’s aggressive push as well as try to support Izan and pick up any loose balls from his shots.

As the clock ticked into the 89th minute, Atlético Madrid won a corner.

Their captain, Koke, stepped up to take it, his eyes scanning the crowded penalty box.

This was their chance to put the game to bed.

“Atlético piling bodies forward,” the commentator boomed.

“They’re desperate to find the goal that seals it but Valencia look ready to pounce on any mistake.” Izan and Pietro both stood on the edge of their box waiting to strike.

Seeing this, Koke decided to play it safe.

The corner was whipped in with venom, aimed toward Morata at the near post.

The Spanish striker rose high, but his header lacked direction.

The ball ricocheted off a Valencia defender and bounced out toward the edge of the box.

The players all looked at the loose ball seeing who would get there first.

Izan was the first to react.

His speed and agility allowed him to intercept the loose ball before an Atlético midfielder could close him down.

A collective roar from the home fans erupted as he turned sharply, breaking into a sprint down the left flank.

“Pace and precision from Izan!

Valencia are on the counter!” the commentator shouted, his voice rising with excitement.

Izan’s first touch sent the ball just ahead of him, perfectly timed to beat an onrushing Atlético defender.

Pietro, already scanning the field, bolted down the centre, positioning himself for the inevitable pass.

As Izan reached the halfway line, two Atlético defenders converged on him.

With a deft flick of his boot, he threaded a pass between them to Pietro, who had made a diagonal run into space.

“Pietro’s in acres of space!

This could be it!” The Spanish u23 International took one touch to control the ball and another to push it forward, his eyes darting between the goalkeeper and Izan, who had continued his run into the box and had already caught up.

The stadium was electric, a cacophony of cheers, gasps, and frantic clapping as the home fans wished their players on.

Pietro, reaching the edge of the penalty area, played an inch-perfect pass across the face of goal.

The ball seemed to roll in slow motion as it bypassed two sliding Atlético defenders.

Izan, timing his run to perfection, met it with a powerful side-footed strike.

Jan Oblak dived.

The net rippled.

The Mestalla exploded.

“Goooaaaalllllllllaaaaaaaassssssssssooooooooooooo ” “Izan scores!

Valencia have done it!

A devastating counterattack!” the commentator roared, barely audible over the deafening cheers.

“Sassy Izan.

He says to Griezmann, if you can do it, I zan do it too” …

[Get it, cause “I can” but then ” I zan” same as MC’s Nam- okay I’ll stop” ….

Izan sprinted to the corner flag, sliding on his knees as his teammates mobbed him.

Pietro arrived moments later, grinning as he patted Izan on the back.

In the stands, fans hugged one another, many jumping up and down in sheer euphoria.

A father lifted his son onto his shoulders, shouting, “This is Valencia!

Never give up!” Others waved their scarves, singing chants that echoed around the stadium.

On social media, the reactions were instantaneous.

Clips of the goal flooded timelines with captions like, “Counterattack Masterclass” and “Izan x Pietro: The Future of Valencia.” “Look at the composure from Pietro,” one commentator analyzed during the replay.

“He doesn’t panic; he waits for the perfect moment to release the ball.

And Izan-what can you say about this kid?

He’s got ice in his veins.

This is a goal that dreams are made of.” “Valencia would look back at this moment at the end of the season and be glad that they didn’t lose.” his co-commentator added.

“They’ve shown resilience, tactical brilliance, and an unrelenting desire.

What a moment for the club!” After celebrating for a while, the Valencia players returned to their half.

As the referee’s whistle signalled the restart, the intensity of the match immediately reignited.

Valencia, brimming with confidence from their recent goal, surged forward.

Izan, still the heartbeat of the attack, danced past Atlético’s midfield with his characteristic flair.

Spotting a gap in the defence, he threaded an inch-perfect through ball to his teammate on the wing.

Sprinting into the box to receive the return pass, Izan unleashed a curling shot toward the far corner.

The Mestalla crowd collectively held its breath as the ball seemed destined to nestle in the back of the net.

Both sets of fans watched on, some eager for the ball to nestle in the back of the net while others had their hands clasped as they prayed for a saviour.

Thankfully, Atlético’s goalkeeper, at full stretch, managed to graze the ball with his fingertips, deflecting it onto the post.

The rebound fell into a chaotic melee of players, with defenders scrambling and Valencia attackers desperately trying to capitalize.

After a frantic few seconds, Atlético managed to clear the ball, narrowly escaping what seemed a certain goal.

The near-miss sent shockwaves through both teams.

Izan, though momentarily disappointed, clenched his fists, urging his teammates to keep up the pressure.

The match was alive, pulsating with end-to-end action.

As the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 2-2 with both teams having to settle for a draw.

The Mestalla faithful remained in the stands, savouring the last-minute equalizer and chanting their players’ heroics.

The Mestalla was still vibrating with the energy of the night as players from both teams trudged back into the tunnel.

The final whistle had blown, and the scoreline read 2-2-a pulsating encounter that had lived up to its billing.

For Valencia, it was Izan who had once again stolen the spotlight, scoring both goals and almost single-handedly rescuing a point against Atlético Madrid.

After the match, a few reporters tried to approach Izan but when they looked around, the player was nowhere to be found.

Izan who had already entered the tunnel smiled, seeing the faces of those “vultures”.

Izan walked slowly into the tunnel, sweat dripping from his forehead, his Valencia shirt clinging to his back while Pietro walked beside him.

His legs ached from the relentless 90 minutes, but his head was held high.

The fans’ chants of his name still echoed faintly in his ears as he reached for a bottle of water handed to him by a team staff member.

Standing just a few meters ahead, Rodrigo De Paul leaned against the wall, his face a mask of exhaustion.

His kit was stained with dirt and grass from the numerous tackles and challenges he had thrown himself into, most of them directed at stopping the teenager.

De Paul looked up as Izan approached, and for a moment, there was silence between them, the din of post-match activity fading into the background.

“I’mma let you guys be,” Pietro said before walking off.

“You’ve got guts, kid,” De Paul said finally, his voice gruff but devoid of the earlier mockery.

“Two goals against us in a game like this…

Not bad.” Izan paused, wiping his face with a towel.

His eyes met De Paul’s, and a small smile played on his lips.

“Not bad for someone who was supposed to ‘learn what it’s like to play against real men,’ huh?

Be glad it was only two, last time it was three so I’d say you guys did well this time” De Paul chuckled, shaking his head.

“Touché.

I won’t lie, you made my job a nightmare tonight.

But don’t get too comfortable.

Next time, I’ll be ready for you.” Izan extended a hand, his smile turning into a grin.

“We’ll see about that.

Good game.” De Paul hesitated for a second before shaking the teenager’s hand firmly.

“Good game, kid.

Keep playing like this, and you’ll be a nightmare for everyone.” As De Paul walked off to join his teammates.

Looking at the latter’s back, Izan turned and headed toward the Valencia dressing room.

Tonight had been a battle, and though it wasn’t a victory, it was another step in the journey of a boy who was rapidly becoming a man on the football pitch.

A/n: Second of the day.

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