Rabid Dogs

The stadium has fallen silent after that penalty goal. The home supporters were even more in shock.

Blaise spread his arms wide, and ran straight to the balding youth manager. They carried Ryan Cassidy, as if they've already won the game, and celebrated by even throwing him to the sky.

This fueled the stunned home supporters to resume their loud booing, with many of them spitting in disgust of their rivals.

"Thanks, manager! I really like playing defensive midfielder!"

"Stop it lads! Put me down! The game's not over yet, you should focus!" He was scared of the referee, which might throw some yellow cards their way for excessive celebrations.

They didn't know that their seemingly confident display not only infuriated the home fans, but also their opponents.

***

During the next five minutes of the game, Blaise felt like something's off. This Leeds team was playing too aggressively all of a sudden!

Blaise had just successfully dispossessed a Leeds midfielder with a sliding tackle, when another one tackled him back. It's not like he hit his opponent's foot after the tackle, but this guy still went straight for the dangerous tackle, and hit him in the right ankle area after dispossessing him, making him land awkwardly on the pitch.

Even if it's successful, there's ought to be a foul there somewhere, right? None was called, and play continued as Blaise gritted his teeth in apparent pain.

Entering first half stoppage time, a Leeds midfielder sent a speedy ball down the right hand side, slicing through the teeth of the backtracking Sheffield defense. A short yet muscular teenager raced to the end of it, while being hounded by a last line Sheffield defender.

Without much fuss, and with anger clear in his eyes, he smashed the shot into the top of the crossbar. The longshot held so much power in it that when the Sheffield goalkeeper took the goal kick, the goal frame was still ringing.

That was just a warning shot.

The goal kick was headed by a Leeds midfielder to one of his wingers, who broke through quickly with his fast pace in the left flank. The intensity of the Leeds game pushed the away side back four to adjust at an even quicker pace.

Even in the highest levels of football, the players would have trouble keeping up with such a sudden drastic change in offensive pace.

What more could a youth football team back line do?

The answer is… nothing.

The left winger cut inside near the penalty area, making the central defender stumble in his attempt to keep up while tracking back

The goalkeeper was then forced to cut the left winger off by scrambling to take the ball from him. But at the next moment, the left winger released the ball diagonally as if either passing it in space or shooting it to the other corner.

The ball looked like it was about to go out of bounds, when the right winger appeared close to the right goalposts, coming in from behind the Sheffield left back.

The right winger tapped the ball into the empty net and then slid out of bounds.

Meanwhile, several hands from Sheffield players came up, asking for the linesman to call for offside in a desperate attempt to disallow the goal, but the linesman held firm that the Leeds winger had been indeed, onside.

Leeds managed to steal the momentum of the game in the most breathless way possible. Less than a minute after the Blades doubled their lead, they have already trimmed it down to half.

They attacked like a dog backed against the wall, and breached the Sheffield goal in ruthless, and efficient fashion. This desperation was out of Blaise's expectations.

Now, the tables have turned.

Leeds continued their swift and effective offensive, once again finding the crossbar with another banger from range.

***

The first half is now about to reach stoppage time, with the game slowly stabilizing after the whirlwind last several minutes for Leeds. They still haven't found their equalizer, but they know it's only a matter of time before they do.

It was at that moment when Blaise was once again dispossessed by a crunching tackle, that once again hit his right ankle hard.

Blaise hit the ground awkwardly and with a low thud, drawing the attention of several Sheffield players in the vicinity, but he just shrugged it off with a wave of his hand and stood upright immediately after.

He stood up, only to look at his defense getting shredded by the Leeds goalscorer— the short yet muscular teenager. He weaved his way through the double coverage of the Sheffield left and center back with grace beyond his years.

Now that Blaise had a chance to look at his features, he seemed awfully familiar…

Blaise caught a glimpse of the name at the back of the person's jersey.

Robertson… Fuck! It's bloody Edward Robertson! That bastard! How could he be even smaller in his youth?

Blaise finally remembered one of Leeds' future pillars, and one of his fellow former English international players. With that short stature, wrecking ball like physique, and his deceptive speed? That unique combination of traits? How could Blaise have forgotten him!

'Now that I think about it… he's my age…" He laughed, then winced as he felt a sharp pain on his right ankle.

Robertson unleashed a strike worthy of his admiration. With his cannon of a left foot, he hit the ball with power, giving the goalkeeper no chance of ever palming it away.

Leeds have equalized!

Robertson held his hands up and blew a kiss to the home faithful in celebration. Now that they've equalized, this is anybody's ball game.

***

Blaise was drenched in cold sweat. Good thing he didn't look out of place in a room filled with sweaty teenagers, so his pale complexion and wrinkled eyebrows didn't raise any suspicion whatsoever.

But even if he's not been caught yet, he can't hide the discomfort he's feeling on his right ankle the entire halftime break.

"Why the fuck did they become like mad dogs all of a sudden?" The loud voice of Terry arrived beside the struggling Blaise. "You have any idea why was that, man?"

"It's because of your shocker of a celebration." Cam looked at Blaise suspiciously, whose arms were resting over his thighs while sitting with his head hung low. "That cheering riled the bastards up, and also made them wanna beat us up big time."

Terry nodded, realizing that what Cameron said might be true. "Hmmm… Why did we do that anyway?"

"We? Do not lump me in with the lot of you. I was not there." Cameron gave him the side-eye.

Blaise was sweating buckets now, he's feeling some swelling in his ankle area. Now, he's thinking that this might either be a strain or a sprain, since it has been hit multiple times late in the half.

He's currently in a conflict, not wanting to sit out the rest of the derby in this situation, while also not wanting to aggravate the injury if ever there was one.

'Fuck…' He grit his teeth in frustration.

Cameron and Terry finally caught on. They saw their friend with his head hung low and with beads of sweat rolling off him like a faucet. The duo remembered the hits he took later in the half, and looked carefully at both his feet…

It was not looking good.