God Of football - Chapter 193

Chapter 193: Etching Greatness Chapter 193: Etching Greatness As the changes took place, the tempo of the game shifted slightly.

The fresh legs injected new energy into both sides, and the match became even more frantic, with each team battling for control of the middle of the park.

But there was a sense that the next goal would be decisive-whoever could seize the moment first would likely walk away with the three points.

The fans, on edge, began to chant louder, urging their teams forward.

Each touch, each pass, seemed to carry the weight of the game, and the atmosphere at Mestalla was electric.

The match had reached the 82nd minute, and the atmosphere in the Mestalla was electric.

Real Madrid, possessing more of the ball at this point tried to score but Valencia were saved by the defensive antics of Mark and Marmadashvili.

After a goal kick was issued, the ball was played out wide to Izan, who controlled it with a silky first touch.

“And here comes Izan again,” the commentator’s voice rose as the teenager received the ball on the left flank.

“This boy has been electric tonight, giving the Real Madrid defense nightmares.” Izan, after controlling the ball, turned sharply to face Dani Carvajal.

The experienced full-back wasted no time, closing down the space with determination.

Izan hesitated, feinted left, then exploded to the right, leaving Carvajal wrong-footed.

“Oh, that’s brilliant from Izan!

He’s left Carvajal for dead!” The veteran defender, caught out, grabbed a handful of Izan’s jersey, yanking him back.

The referee’s whistle pierced through the noise of the crowd, and Carvajal received a stern warning.

“You can see the frustration there from Carvajal,” the co-commentator added.

“He just can’t handle Izan’s pace and trickery.” Minutes later, Izan was at it again, this time cutting inside with the ball glued to his feet.

Antonio Rüdiger stepped up, his towering figure casting a shadow over the young forward.

Izan attempted a clever nutmeg, but Rüdiger anticipated it, lunging forward with a crunching tackle.

The ball was won, but the force of the challenge sent Izan sprawling to the turf.

The referee waved play on, much to the dismay of Izan’s teammates and the jeers of the home fans.

The pressure mounted as Izan grew threatening by the passing second, dancing past defenders with breathtaking skill.

Frustration seeped into Madrid’s backline.

Rüdiger resorted to sly nudges and subtle elbows in aerial duels, while Carvajal blocked Izan’s path with deliberate body checks.

But Izan, undeterred, picked himself up each time, his determination to leave his mark on the game unwavering.

“It’s getting a bit rough here.

The referee should be giving a few cards out ” the commentator said after Jose Gaya shoved Rüdiger after the latter fouled Izan again.

The final minutes of the match unfolded like a symphony of chaos, each note struck with desperation and raw emotion.

The tension in the Mestalla was unbearable, the kind that had fans biting their nails, clutching scarves, and screaming themselves hoarse.

Both teams refused to back down, knowing that a single moment of brilliance-or a single mistake-would decide the outcome.

Valencia, spurred on by the deafening chants of their home crowd, surged forward with a determination that bordered on recklessness.

Pietro, newly introduced but already fully involved, was everywhere in midfield.

His sharp movements and precise passing carved out openings that hadn’t existed moments before.

One such pass threaded the ball perfectly to Hugo Duro at the edge of the box.

Duro, with defenders closing in, turned sharply and unleashed a low drive that skimmed the grass like a bullet.

Courtois, Madrid’s giant between the posts, dived low to his left, his outstretched fingertips just enough to push the ball wide of the post.

“What a save by Courtois!

Hugo Duro so close to putting Valencia ahead!” the commentator bellowed, his voice trembling with excitement.

But Madrid wasn’t sitting back.

They countered with terrifying speed, Rodrygo and Vinícius Jr.

combining down the left flank in a dazzling display of quick feet and silky dribbling.

Vinícius broke free and sent in a cross that seemed destined for Brahim Díaz at the far post.

The Madrid attacker leaped, meeting the ball with a powerful header, but Mamardashvili was a wall once again.

The Georgian goalkeeper flew to his left, stretching every inch of his towering frame to palm the ball away.

The crowd erupted in relief and admiration, chanting his name as he quickly scrambled to his feet to organize the defense.

“Mamardashvili with another stunning save!

He’s keeping Valencia in this game!

This is football at its best.

A save at the other end and just a few seconds later, another save has been pulled at the other end.” The clock ticked mercilessly toward full time, the seconds feeling like hours.

Every pass, every tackle, every clearance carried the weight of the match.

The players, visibly exhausted, pushed themselves beyond their limits, driven by sheer willpower and the deafening energy of the crowd.

As the game approached the 90th minute, it seemed destined for a draw.

But then, in a moment that would be replayed for months if not years to come, the game shifted.

Pietro, on the pitch with the sharpest mind, intercepted a loose ball in midfield.

His first touch was immaculate, and he immediately drove forward, his head up, scanning for options.

He spotted Izan, who had drifted into space between Madrid’s midfield and defense.

“Pietro finds Izan…

and here we go!” The pass was perfectly weighted, splitting the Madrid defense.

Izan took off, his first touch silken as he brought the ball under control.

The crowd roared as he charged forward, his pace leaving Camavinga and Militão scrambling to catch him.

Approaching the edge of the box, Izan feinted left, then shifted right, creating just enough room to take his shot.

Militão lunged desperately, but Izan was already a step ahead, his weaker left foot striking the ball cleanly.

[Curler LV 2 activated] “Yes!” Izan thought aloud after the ball left his leg.

The Mestalla fell silent for a heartbeat as the ball soared through the air, curling beautifully toward the far post.

Courtois leaped, his massive frame stretching as far as it could go.

His fingertips brushed the ball, but the shot was too perfect, too powerful.

It struck the top corner of the net with a sound like a gunshot.

The silence shattered as the Mestalla erupted.

Fans screamed, hugged, and jumped in unison, the stadium shaking from the sheer force of their joy.

The commentator’s voice cracked with emotion as he shouted: “IZAN!

HE’S DONE IT!

THE TEENAGE PHENOM HAS WON IT FOR VALENCIA IN THE DYING SECONDS!” Izan sprinted toward the corner flag, his arms wide, his face lit with an expression of pure ecstasy.

He slid to his knees, the Valencia crest on his chest glinting under the floodlights.

His teammates piled on top of him, their cheers lost in the cacophony of the crowd chanting his name: “IZAN!

IZAN!

IZAN!” In the stands, Komi stood frozen, a smile etched on her face as she watched her son bask in the glory of the moment.

Beside her, Hori was screaming at the top of her lungs, waving her scarf wildly and shouting, “That’s my brother!

That’s my brother!” “Is this Valencia?

I’d say it is but this isn’t Valencia.

This is a single boy from Alboraya.

This is what Izan can do.

Keep watching this young man because he can do things.

A lot of things” The Real Madrid players, both on the bench and on the field seemed to fall onto the ground.

Their fans heartbroken by the goal but didn’t show.

They tried to revamp the support they were giving their players but it wasn’t easy.

“Come on guys.

We are Real Madrid.

We’ve done it before, and we can do it again ” an older fan in the stands near the pitch said, rekindling the fighting spirit in the away fans.

As the Real Madrid players stood on the pitch, their fans began their chants.

Fueled by the unbroken spirit of the Real Madrid fans, the players stood up.

The referee allowed Madrid to kick off once more.

The players tried to launch one last attack, but there was not enough time after the final whistle blew seconds later, and the Mestalla exploded again.

Fans flooded the aisles, the chants and cheers echoing into the Valencian night.

“Valencia have done it!

A 3-2 victory over Real Madrid!

And it’s the 16-year-old wonderkid Izan who seals it with a moment of pure magic!

This is a night no one here will ever forget!” The commentator’s voice trembled with the weight of the moment, rising above the deafening roars of the Mestalla.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the kind of match that stays with you, the kind of moment that defines careers, lives, and legacies.

Valencia and Real Madrid, two teams locked in an epic battle, refusing to yield.

But out of all the stars on this pitch-Bellingham, Vinícius, Modrić-it’s the 16-year-old boy who has stolen the show once more.” He paused, his voice heavy with emotion, as the replay of Izan’s goal played on the screen.

The ball curved magnificently into the top corner, a piece of artistry destined to be replayed for generations.

“Izan.

Remember that name.

That goal wasn’t just a strike; it was poetry in motion, a moment of pure brilliance.

The camera panned to Izan, standing by the flag, surrounded by his teammates, hands clasped together as he applauded the fans.

“And look at him now.

This is what football is about-raw talent, passion, and the power to inspire.

A boy who, just a year ago, was playing in youth tournaments, is now lighting up the Mestalla under the brightest lights against one of the greatest teams in football history.

Izan has given us a moment we’ll be telling our children and grandchildren about.” The crowd’s chants of “IZAN!

IZAN!

IZAN!” filled the air, drowning out even the most fervent Madrid protests.

“This stadium, this city-they’ll remember this night forever.

The night when a teenager, barely old enough to drive, stood toe-to-toe with giants and emerged victorious.

And it wasn’t just the goal; it was the poise, the vision, the relentless determination to leave everything on the pitch.” As the referee blew the final whistle, the commentator’s voice dropped to a reverent tone, carrying the weight of the night.

“Valencia have done it.

A 3-2 victory over Real Madrid.

And it’s Izan-yes, Izan-who sealed it with a goal that will be talked about for decades.

Football isn’t just a game.

It’s moments like this that remind us why we love it, why we live for it.

Tonight, the world has a new star, and his name is Izan.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Art233 Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!