God Of football - Chapter 387

Chapter 387: Halfway There
Havertz was a runaway train, thundering toward goal. Each stride sent a tremor through the pitch, his eyes locked onto the approaching Alisson.

The Brazilian hesitated—halfway between rushing out and standing his ground.

That flicker of uncertainty was all Havertz needed.

A heavy touch sent the ball rolling past Alisson’s reach.

Then—contact.

Alisson’s outstretched arm clipped Havertz’s trailing leg.

The German stumbled, lost his footing, and crashed onto the turf. The stadium held its breath.

And then—

The whistle pierced the air.

Peter Drury: “Penalty! Alisson reaches—Alisson clips—and Arsenal have a lifeline!”

A storm of reactions exploded across the pitch. Havertz lay sprawled, hands outstretched as if to confirm the inevitable.

Alisson threw his arms up in protest, eyes wide with disbelief. Liverpool shirts swarmed the referee, demanding reconsideration.

But the decision had been made.

Lee Dixon: “Oh, this is massive! Havertz gets there first, and Alisson—well, it’s reckless. You can see the touch. VAR will check it, but this looks stonewall.”

Izan stood near the edge of the box, the corners of his lips curling into the faintest of smirks.

His eyes flickered toward the penalty spot, toward the moment Arsenal had been waiting for.

……..

Izan jogged toward the edge of the box, joining his teammates as Havertz picked himself up from the turf.

The German still had a slight wince in his step, but his mind was elsewhere. He reached down, picked up the ball, and turned to Izan with a knowing smirk.

“Take it,” Havertz said, pressing the ball into Izan’s chest. “You bag one more after this and it’s a hat-trick against Liverpool. The headlines would write themselves.”

Izan looked at him, then down at the ball. The thought flashed through his mind—a hat-trick against Liverpool in LA? The media would eat it up.

The fans would chant his name. It was his first big game in an Arsenal shirt, and he could already be immortalizing himself.

But then, just as quickly, he shook his head.

“That’s not my priority.” His voice was steady, unwavering. He pushed the ball back into Havertz’s hands. “You won it. You take it.”

Havertz hesitated, searching Izan’s expression for any sign of second thoughts.

But there were none. Izan’s focus wasn’t on personal glory—it was on the game, on the team.

From the touchline, Arteta clapped his hands. “Let’s go, Kai!”

Havertz exhaled, then nodded. He turned toward the penalty spot as the Liverpool players reluctantly cleared the area, their protests fading into the inevitable.

Havertz took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Alisson as he stepped back from the spot. The stadium held its breath.

Lee Dixon: “Kai Havertz steps up… Arsenal with a massive chance to retake the lead here in LA.”

Havertz began his run-up, smooth and calculated. Alisson twitched on his line, trying to read him.

At the last moment, Havertz hesitated—just a slight pause—before slotting the ball coolly into the bottom corner.

The net rippled. The Arsenal players erupted. The fans roared.

Peter Drury: “And he sends Alisson the wrong way! Havertz buries it! Arsenal lead again!”

But before the celebrations could fully take off, the shrill sound of the referee’s whistle cut through the noise.

Confused glances shot across the pitch. The referee was already pointing back to the spot.

Lee Dixon: “Oh, wait… what’s this?”

Havertz turned to the official, his arms outstretched in disbelief.

Alisson, who had just retrieved the ball from the back of the net, was suddenly back on his feet, pointing at Havertz and nodding.

The Liverpool players crowded the referee, their protests instantly flipping into approval.

Peter Drury: “Hold on a second—he’s calling it back! The referee is saying Havertz paused during the run-up! The penalty has to be retaken!”

The Arsenal players surrounded the official, frustration evident in their body language.

Havertz ran a hand through his hair, visibly irritated. Arteta threw his arms up on the touchline, demanding an explanation.

Lee Dixon: “Well, we’ve seen this before. The rules state that a player can stutter in their run-up, but they can’t completely stop their motion before striking the ball.

The referee’s judged that Havertz hesitated too much.”

Peter Drury: “And that means Arsenal will have to do it all over again! This is a dramatic twist in what has already been an intense match!”

Izan exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a wry smile. Another moment of chaos. Another test of composure.

Havertz placed the ball back on the spot, adjusting his stance.

The Liverpool players weren’t just trying to defend their goal now—they were trying to get into his head.

Izan stood back with the others, watching as Havertz placed the ball down. The tension in the stadium thickened. This was the moment.

Havertz rolled his shoulders, trying to block out the noise.

The referee’s call had rattled him, but he had no choice but to go again. He set the ball down, took a few steps back, and inhaled deeply.

Alisson, emboldened by his second chance, stood tall on the line, shifting side to side.

Peter Drury: “It’s a second bite of the cherry for Kai Havertz. But has the moment gotten to him?”

The whistle blew. Havertz stepped up—this time, with no hesitation—striking the ball low and hard to the left.

But Alisson was ready. He exploded off his line, stretching out, and with a firm right hand, he saved it!

Lee Dixon: “Alisson denies him! A huge save for Liverpool!”

The Sofi Stadium erupted in a mix of cheers and groans. The ball rebounded into a storm of bodies. Van Dijk reacted first, smashing it clear.

But only as far as Izan.

Peter Drury: “And now… it falls to Izan! What’s he thinking here?”

Izan barely had a moment to control the ball before Liverpool’s defenders rushed toward him.

Instead of panicking, he zipped a pinpoint pass straight back into the chaos—a pass that cut through the defenders like a scalpel.

Lee Dixon: “Look at that! Izan doesn’t hesitate—he finds the angle instantly!”

For a split second, everyone seemed frozen. Players, fans, even Alisson—watching the ball swerve, threading through the packed penalty area like it had eyes. And waiting at the end of it?

Kai Havertz.

The German didn’t need to think twice. He looked at the trajectory of the ball and met it with an outstretched leg once it descended sending the ball past Allison.

Peter Drury: “Havertz again! And this time, it counts!”

Arsenal players erupted as Havertz threw his arms into the air, sprinting towards Izan, who only smirked before being mobbed by his teammates.

Liverpool’s defense stood stunned, and Alisson, kneeling, could only slam the ground in frustration.

Lee Dixon: “What composure from Izan! He doesn’t lash at it, he doesn’t panic—he just delivers it right back into the danger zone. That’s pure intelligence!”

Arteta clenched his fists from the touchline. Even though it was just pre-season, a goal was the goal.

Havertz pounded his chest, pointing at Izan, who simply gave him a knowing nod.

Peter Drury: “That is what Izan brings to this Arsenal side! Vision, patience, and a killer instinct under pressure! Arsenal lead once again!”

The Sofi Stadium buzzed with energy as Arsenal’s second goal settled into the net.

The roar from the traveling Gunners faithful echoed through the arena, while the Liverpool fans stood still, waiting for a reaction from their team.

On the pitch, the intensity didn’t waver—if anything, it heightened.

As the match restarted, Arsenal looked to maintain control, but Liverpool had other plans.

From kickoff, the Reds launched forward, playing the ball swiftly through the middle.

Szoboszlai switched the play to Alexander-Arnold, who immediately looked to ping a cross-field pass to Robertson, hoping to catch Arsenal out of shape.

Peter Drury: “Liverpool waste no time in pressing forward—this game has no breathing room, no pause for reflection.”

Robertson chested the ball down and surged ahead, whipping a cross toward Luis Diaz.

The Colombian leaped high between Saliba and Gabriel, meeting the ball with his forehead.

Gasps filled the air as it flew toward goal—only for Raya to react, his fingertips grazing the ball just enough to divert it over the bar.

Lee Dixon: “A crucial touch from Raya! He had to get something on that!”

The resulting corner saw Van Dijk rise above everyone, but his header glanced wide.

Arsenal regained possession and slowed things down, allowing Rice and Izan to dictate play.

Izan positioned deeper now, rotated passes with Rice, drawing in Szoboszlai and Gravenberch before shifting the ball out wide.

Zinchenko advanced but was dispossessed by Salah, igniting another dangerous transition.

Peter Drury: “Liverpool look sharp in these moments—Arsenal cannot afford to relax.”

Salah dashed down the wing, Arnold overlapping beside him.

The Egyptian cut inside and fired a low-driven shot toward the near post, but Raya was equal to it, palming it away before White cleared the danger.

Liverpool weren’t backing down. They pressed relentlessly, forcing a turnover in midfield.

Gravenberch found Gakpo, who rolled it toward Salah at the edge of the box.

The Egyptian forward feinted one way before drilling a left-footed strike, only for Gabriel to throw himself into the block, the ball ricocheting out for another corner.

The pressure was mounting, but Arsenal, anchored by Izan’s composure, didn’t crack.

In the 41st minute, Izan received a sharp pass from Zinchenko, turned swiftly away from Gravenberch, and darted forward.

With one feint, he evaded Szoboszlai before threading a perfect pass to Martinelli on the left flank.

Martinelli, in space, bore down on goal as Arnold’s lackluster defensive capabilities shone.

The Brazilian took a touch to set himself before unleashing a curling effort but Alisson stretched, fingertips grazing the ball to send it spinning just past the post.

Lee Dixon: “That was nearly three! Alisson with an important save!”

The final moments of the half were breathless. Liverpool launched one final attack, Robertson whipping another ball into the box.

Gakpo and Gravenberch both flung themselves toward it, but Gabriel once again made a heroic intervention, heading it away as the whistle blew for halftime.

Peter Drury: “A relentless, pulsating half of football here in Los Angeles. Arsenal lead, but only just.

Liverpool have knocked on the door time and time again, yet it is the brilliance of one player—sixteen-year-old Izan—that separates the two sides at the break.”

The camera panned to Izan, wiping sweat from his brow as he walked off, exchanging words with Odegaard.

Arsenal had the advantage, but with another 45 minutes to go, the battle was far from over.