Scored

In a rental living room in Columbia City, over a dozen middle-aged folks gathered around a coffee table littered with peanuts and beer.

A man, bearing a slight resemblance to Ethan, downed his beer in one go and slammed the table, venting, "What kind of playing is this? Not a single decent attack, and they've let in two goals. What on earth is the coach doing?"

Hearing this, someone grumbled discontentedly, "We haven't even complained yet, and you dragged us here in the middle of the night just to watch this?"

"And wasn't it supposed to be your son playing? Where is he?"

Ethan's father's face stiffened, and he managed an awkward smile, "He should be on soon. Valencia's behind, right? The coach will definitely make some adjustments in the second half."

"Adjustments usually mean putting on reliable attackers, and your son just joined the team, right?" the man paused before continuing, "We all hope Ethan makes it big in Europe, but it's been two years and it's the same old story. Maybe he'd be better off coming back home while he's still young, at least he'd get to play regularly and earn a decent salary."

He added silently to himself, "That way, he could also start paying us back sooner. Times are tough for everyone."

"Hmph."

Ethan's father felt a surge of anger as his son was criticized, but considering these were either close neighbors or lenders, he swallowed his frustration and muttered, "Just keep watching and you'll see."

Deep down, he wasn't sure himself.

But as a father, he naturally chose to believe in his son unconditionally.

...

Back at the stadium, the second half kicked off with the referee's whistle.

Surprisingly, Valencia made no personnel changes from the first half, instead pulling wingers Alcácer and Mina back to midfield, leaving Rodrigo alone up front.

This tactic baffled everyone.

Aren't the trailing team supposed to bolster their attack?

Why pull back their forwards?

It seemed almost comical!

Some fans even thought Valencia had given up on the game.

However, this notion was quickly dismissed as Alcácer and Mina, now playing from midfield, aggressively pushed forward with the help of their teammates, showing no signs of surrender.

They nearly breached the penalty area several times before being stopped.

Such a brute-force approach would have seen other players substituted off in different teams.

Yet, Nuno, seemingly unfazed, even clapped his hands in encouragement.

Thus, the second half nearly turned into a show exclusively starring Alcácer and Mina.

In the 60th minute, their relentless pressure earned the team a free kick near the left side of the penalty area.

Nuno immediately made a substitution, bringing Ethan on for the underperforming Parejo.

A substitution at this time?

Replacing the team's primary free-kick taker with a virtually unknown American player.

The coach must have lost his mind.

"Idiot, do you even know how to manage?"

Valencia fans expressed their dissatisfaction with a barrage of middle fingers.

Unperturbed by the fans' insults and doubts, Nuno looked earnestly at Ethan, "Can I trust you?"

"Leave it to me."

Ethan clenched his fists, his eyes burning with an unmistakable desire to win.

At that moment, a system notification echoed in his mind.

[Mission: Help your team win this match]

"Mission accepted."

Ethan briskly walked to the front, standing near the free-kick spot under the astonished gazes of the spectators.

Huh?

This American substitute is going to take the free kick?

A wave of boos filled the air.

Someone even yelled through a megaphone, "Is this no-name player, number 67, really going to take the free kick? Nuno, you're playing with fire."

"Ha, he should just go home."

"Get off the pitch, this isn't your place."

Despite the malicious jeers, Ethan acted as if he hadn't heard them at all.

On the field, he kept taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Honestly, it was his first Champions League game, and he was nervous.

As the Zenit players set up their wall, the referee blew the whistle.

Ethan took a couple of steps back, then sprinted forward to strike the ball.

The position for the free kick wasn't great.

Because the angle was so tight, most players would opt to cross it, letting their teammates head it in.

That was the safer play.

But Ethan didn't see it that way.

A tight angle didn't mean impossible.

There were goals scored directly from corners, after all.

This spot, any way you sliced it, was better than a corner.

"Boom."

With a dull thud, the ball sailed over the wall, past the outstretched fingertips of the leaping goalkeeper, and nestled into the top corner.

"Swish!"

The crisp sound of the ball hitting the net followed.

The referee's whistle blew, pointing to the center circle.

"Yes!!!"

Ethan pumped his fists as he ran towards the goal, picked up the ball, and then dashed back to the center circle.

The Valencia players wanted to celebrate, but considering they were still a goal behind, they had to put that thought on hold.

They settled for patting Ethan on the head to congratulate him.

...

"Ha, that was a beautiful goal, worthy of my son," Ethan's father said, downing half a beer in one go, his face flushed with excitement.

"I told you Ethan would get on the pitch, didn't I? See, now do you believe me? Not only did he play, but he scored too. Oh, I'm so proud of Ethan."

"Cough, cough."

The guy who had earlier suggested Ethan should play back home coughed awkwardly and mumbled, "He really is impressive, truly your son."

...

In the ESPN studio.

Adrian remarked, "That stunning free kick might just be the highlight of the 2015-16 Champions League season so far."

"Absolutely brilliant. Ethan's mastery of free kicks is world-class," said Taylor, who usually only had eyes for Messi but now couldn't help but admire Ethan's skill.

Pausing, he joked, "You said we'd see when the time comes, were you referring to Valencia being behind?"

"Heh, naturally."

Adrian grinned mischievously, "If Valencia were ahead, Nuno definitely wouldn't risk putting a newcomer on the field, despite his proven free kick skills."

"But being behind changes things. Since the attack was lackluster, why not give Ethan a shot at free kicks?"

Taylor nodded, suddenly understanding, "No wonder Alcácer and Mina were dropping back to get the ball and break through. They were trying to draw a free kick."

Compared to the detailed and professional commentary of the hosts,

The audience's reaction was more direct and emotional.

They didn't care much about the tactical details, just that Ethan from the USA had scored, and on the Champions League stage no less.

The comments section was filled with excited messages:

"Holy crap, Ethan is amazing!"

"Wow, Ethan just scored in the Champions League!"

"Unbelievable, Ethan from the USA scored!"

"Wow, Ethan rocks!"

"Hey, where's that guy who said he'd eat his socks if Ethan scored?"

...

The game continued.

Zenit restarted play at the center circle, then passed back to their midfielders, beginning to play keep-away in their own half.

Valencia, having just scored, was riding high.

So they were all over Zenit, pressing hard at every opportunity.

At first, they didn't understand why the coach had Alcácer and Mina drop back even when they were two goals down.

But the moment Ethan scored directly from the free kick, it clicked.

Now, the only thing on the Valencia players' minds was to draw fouls for free kicks at all costs and let Ethan take them.

However, as the team's coach, Boas wasn't foolish.

After seeing what Ethan could do, he strictly ordered his players.

Under no circumstances were they to give away free kicks near the box.

The Zenit players followed the coach's orders to the letter.

If they weren't sure they could win the ball, they wouldn't commit.

And so, Valencia was back to a stalemate.

Ethan glanced at his somewhat deflated teammates, ran over to Rodrigo, and said, "Keep an eye on your positioning next time, I'll pass to you."

"Okay."

Rodrigo gave Ethan a deep look, hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement.