FA Cup 2nd Round (2)

In the eyes of the Lincoln supporters, these last few minutes were a nightmare. This was supposed to be the time where their voices reached its fever pitch after their goal was scored…

But as they looked down on the pitch, their gazes led them to the man that ripped their souls away like a grim reaper. It was him that screwed it up for their beloved home team…

Goosebumps went up all over Blaise's body as he slid in for the tackle on a Lincoln midfielder. 'Seems like the cold is getting to me.'

He didn't even think about the thousands of glares he's getting from the stands at this exact moment.

After he sent the ball back to their defense, he gave the scoreboard a giddy glimpse.

32 minutes, Lincoln 1 - Sheffield 3.

***

A flurry of three unanswered goals from Sheffield extinguished any life from the home side. The first half is not done yet, but the Lincoln players and fans felt that they have already been to hell and back.

First, it took only three minutes for the Blades to wipe their hard earned lead off the map. They were in a still jubilant mood, when a well placed through ball off of a pass interception found George Williams on his way forward. Blaise Atkinson couldn't have put the ball any better for his lone striker, right between the space the two center backs had afforded Williams.

A bad first touch be damned, Williams still managed to launch the ball with enough power past the goalkeeper into the back of the net.

The Blades turned the game around with another stunning finish less than five minutes later. This time, it was the result of bad communication from the Lincoln City defense.

George Williams harassed the back as Blaise Atkinson swooped in to compound the pressure on the lower division back line, their harassment proving fatal for the defenders, folding finally after a wayward pass landed on the boots of Alain Prosser.

Prosser then played out a quick one-two with Atkinson, who managed to disengage wonderfully from his defender. Alain waited until the last possible moment to send the ball on its way, since the keeper didn't dare challenge him for the ball and instead waited in his net for a chance to save the shot.

He faked a shot to the left side of the net with his right foot, before taking a very subtle touch on it. Then his left foot hammered it to the right of the keeper who'd already dived the wrong way, for the lead of the cup match.

The third one piled on to the home team's misery even if the finish wasn't all that spectacular. Williams garnered a double save from two of his shots in quick succession, and with some luck, had the ball drop in front of his feet again. On his third attempt, he managed to send the ball barely over the line for his brace.

At this point in time, the barely ten thousand seater Lincoln City stadium had already fallen into the abyss. Sure, there are still voices of support for their home team, but the ear breaking sounds of intense fanaticism were almost all but gone.

Blair Atkinson came back from a fifteen minute trip to the food shops and the toilet with surprise written all over his face.

He saw his new friends, the Sheffield ultras, alive again. When he left, some of them were like deflated balloons, while some were like zombies from post-apocalyptic novels.

What happened here?

Now...

Sheffield's lightning quick turnaround reignited their passion and rowdy nature. Their anguish about falling behind earlier vanished and became mad support once more.

The singing of the outnumbered away fans had completely drowned out the voices of the majority home crowd afterward.

Blair looked at the reason for the game's dramatic turn through the scoreboard and on the pitch, and found himself beaming with pride at the sight of his son, whose abilities are in full display for every soul inside the stadium to see. The middle aged professor squinted, as his son received the ball from inside the Lincoln final third again.

The teenager with two assists pulled away from the Lincoln player with a quick turn of his body and feet. He sped up, while looking at both his options and the roadblocks ahead.

With a swing of his foot, he released a ball to the far right side near the corner flag for their winger to run into, but before it even landed, Atkinson was sent to the grass.

"That's a foul, referee, for fuck's sake!" He can't help but be animated seeing his son go down brutally, along with a lot of the people around him.

The referee had none of the offender's complaints, flashing him a yellow card for his transgressions at a dangerous area.

"Come on ref! That's clearly a red card right there! Have your eyes checked!" Blair continued rambling on for his son's welfare even if it will never reach the first official's ears, only stopping after seeing his son dust himself off and place the ball for the resulting free kick.

Blaise was given the green light today to take control of the set pieces like he usually did in the youth team.

He envisioned his first senior free kick attempt in this life at a game with high stakes, something like a promotion clinching match, or a crucial knockout stage cup tie. Not in a runaway match against a lower division team.

Though, Blaise will take it. This is his full senior debut after all.

Blaise didn't care about his teammates or opponents in the box. He only looked at the ball and at the back of the net. He took the liberty of taking as much time as he needed to craft a wonder goal from 35 yards out, before winding up to the anticipation of the crowd and his team.

His right foot released a swerving ball that cleared the five man wall, swerving until it dipped from a height just above the goal to almost touching the ground.

The goalkeeper was stupefied, and was caught flat footed and rooted on his spot.

There was not going to be any other result than a Sheffield Blades goal.

4-1!

Blaise Atkinson cartwheeled away in delight at the first free kick goal he scored for the senior team. It was a beautiful strike too, sending the away fans in euphoria.

It also caught the eye of someone wearing a brown trench coat and a black fedora in the crowd, who furiously tapped something on his phone keys with a barely perceptible smile on his aged face.

"Blaise Atkinson, huh. He seemed to have improved as much as they told me." The man touched his glasses as he murmured under his breath. "That dip on the ball was just stupid…"

Luckily for him, no one realized who he was.