Disgraceful

It's in the back of the net! Sheffield United draws level!

James Patton was satisfied with his contributions tonight. He had an unexpected banger of a goal that would probably be the talk of the fans for a while, he had helped the team recover from their deficit, and gave them a morale boost.

His character had really mellowed down from the intense, aggressive, and temperamental youth he once was.

During his free fall through the divisions, the ego, and the walls he built around himself have thoroughly collapsed. Here in Sheffield, he could be considered as one of the exemplary role models, something in which he never even cared about becoming when he was younger.

As far as role models go, ever since he came to Sheffield, the one he always looked up to was the man in the middle. The rock, the one club hero, and the legend of the team, Damian Potts. His commanding presence, and charismatic personality added a further dimension to his leadership style.

Of course, there are still some facets in which Patton wasn't a fan of Potts.

One of those was…

His god awful crossing.

So when he saw Damian beating his man and trying to orchestrate a cross, he didn't hesitate at all. As a defender, he knew how attackers would react to a variety of situations involving a cross to the box.

He used his defender's instinct to find the creases to attack. He slipped past behind his man to arrive in the dead center of the penalty area, as he looked on with anticipation for the ball…

Wait a second… what the fuck is with this cross?

Am I really seeing a cross as disgraceful as this from an ex-Premier League captain, no less?

There's just no way… right?

You've gotta be kidding me with this shit, cap…

Patton saw mid stride, that the delivery was as wonky as they come. His defender instincts honed in his youth atop the world told him that this ball will never get to his position right now, and probably will go out of the box. He abruptly changed the direction of his body and rushed to get to the unmarked far post.

My nan can cross better than this for fuck's sake!

Without much resistance, he jumped to meet the wonky ball.

"Oh, shit." He managed to utter a sigh of resignation, as the wonky ball landed in a way he should've expected but still overlooked. It didn't land at the sweet spot of his forehead.

It's either he mistimed his jump, misread the direction of the ball, or the ball is just spinning madly that it landed at the top of his forehead.

He had no time to think about it.

The header was terrible. Since it hit the top of his forehead, it flew over the bar with a lot to spare.

A golden chance is moot, just like that.

The Shrewsbury keeper sent away the goal kick with a purpose. Seeing that his team had been rooted to their own half for a while, he wanted to start the counterattack. Besides, this was how they always played.

As their coach always said, just lump the ball forward, and anything can happen.

Somehow unexpectedly, the high defensive line of Sheffield was caught out by the long kick.

Atkinson himself was caught flat footed by the quick transition, bundle that with his tiring legs, and you got a recipe for disaster.

Shrewsbury's target man was quick on the outset, releasing himself into the acres of space forward. He timed his run superbly, catching the base of the Sheffield defense napping.

The ball forward was as superb as it could be, taking advantage of Sheffield United's empty half. It became a match of who gets there first, a foot race.

"Fuck!" Blaise wanted to hit himself for forgetting one of the biggest staples of English lower league football. He forgot how lumping the ball forward to create a quick, and decisive counter can turn the tides of any match. Even if you're down big, even if there is a massive disparity in skill, even if there's little time remaining, it can work.

Physical freaks are gods here.

He overlooked the fact that many lower league teams can just lump it forward…

What a shame.

It already happened to us earlier! How could I forget!

The two against one foot race with the Shrewsbury target man was a losing battle. The last time this scenario happened, they almost scored!

Blaise put his thrusters on, not caring much about how much his stamina will drain after. If he can't stop him with everything he's got, what else could he do anyway?

Blaise started gaining ground on the Shrewsbury number 9, but it wasn't enough. The number 9 had already stuck his foot out in front of him to receive the ball, stopping the ball's momentum beautifully and teeing himself up for a shot.

He tried to strike the ball first time!

The ball was released low, basically a grounder, but with this much pace it could sting the palms of a keeper or rattle the net. However, it needed to get there for it to happen.

The Shrewsbury striker saw a figure ghost beside him and slid in to stop the ball from getting there.

Atkinson!

He immediately regretted the fact that he made the mistake of sending it low instead of high.

The last ditch block sent the ball tumbling to George Williams on the far right. His control was superb, and after a quick look forward, he also lumped it as far as he could like a hail mary.

Lucky for him, on the far left, was again Damian Potts, who received the ball with a magnificent first touch, before quickly changing directions by cutting inside.

The lane was wide open for him, as he quickly lost his man behind him. He was now faced with a dilemma, should he pass now or surge closer and shoot?

"Hmph." The captain's vision was superb. He noticed that both the striker Trent Hastings, and the center attacking mid James Patton were making their runs forward.

He delivered the ball into the middle for his good friend Trent to run into. Damian believed that Trent could dispatch the chance better than him anyway.

Trent's marker stuck to him like glue, and upon seeing the ball readied himself to dispossess him. The keeper too, was ready in front of goal in the event the defender screwed up.

Once the football was almost at Trent's feet, his defender slid in, to the surprise of the keeper. However, instead of getting dispossessed, the ball went through the two of them as if it phased.

"Shit! It's a decoy!"

Patton, running through on the overlap, grinned like a madman.