Chapter 25: Facing the Gale

"Now it's the 70th minute of the match, and players on both sides are getting agitated. They've both missed scoring opportunities. Of course, São Paulo had the better chance. Burgess couldn't handle the pressure. Alvarez's use of young players has yielded some results but also came at a cost..." 

The average age of this São Paulo team is only 24, so it's normal for bizarre and strange situations to occur on the field. However, Burgess's mistake was of the "even my grandmother could have scored that" level. If São Paulo loses this match, he'll definitely be crucified.

After the regret, everyone refocused on the game.

Kaka quickly realized one fact. 

The Botafogo players were exhausted.

They had gone all-in, risking everything from the first minute, constantly pressing with a do-or-die attitude and physicality to secure an away goal. Whether it was worth it is another matter, but Kaka was glad they did it.

Fitness is a factor spectators often overlook when evaluating a player. They only care about a player's speed, dribbling ability, shooting power, jumping ability, flair, and looks. But whether they have the stamina... Unless they're vomiting or passing out, few people care, and if the commentator doesn't mention it once or twice, no one would even remember stamina is a thing.

It's not a video game with a stamina bar overhead. 

But for the players on the field, stamina is crucial.

Without stamina, your speed drops, your movements become sloppy, your touch gets heavy. The rookie defender you used to dribble past like a dog could now stop you with a simple stretch of the leg. The iron wall you couldn't get past for even half the game could be torn apart by an unintentional lob over the top.

Clearly, the stamina bars of the entire Botafogo team were turning red. Their coach noticed this too and started making substitutions.

He took off a winger and a striker, bringing on a midfielder and another striker.

With less than twenty minutes left, trailing by two goals, it was time to go all out. 

São Paulo also started making substitutions, with Burgess coming off and Lura coming on as a defensive midfielder.

Up front, only Fabiano, Kaka, and Franza remained, telling the world they wanted to play on the counter.

Welcome to attack, but don't let us catch you on the break.

"The formations of both teams have become quite strange. We won't evaluate their rationality for now, but it shows Botafogo's determination to attack... What a great save by Captain Cheni! He looks furious because the defenders didn't put enough pressure on Botafogo. Wait, Franza is also angry, it seems he thinks Cheni should have released the ball immediately after collecting it instead of lecturing his own defenders. It's not yet time-wasting, and there wasn't a single defensive player near Franza just now."

São Paulo indeed missed a decent counter-attacking opportunity. With only three players up front, they could only slowly build their attack from the back. 

Starting from the left, with the two defensive midfielders passing and controlling the tempo, before finding Franza.

Botafogo's two full-backs started tracking back, but at a sluggish pace as if they'd been driving for three days straight. If Franza could beat his man in the one-on-one, he'd have plenty of space to pass or dribble.

He did it beautifully, using a simple acceleration and feint to get past his opponent, carrying the ball a few steps towards the Botafogo goal before releasing a pass.

His target was Fabiano, not the closer Kaka.

Fabiano tried to break through the defenders for a one-on-one chance, but he was stopped. 

A failed attack.

The ball was cleared long from a Botafogo defender towards the midfield. 

Then everyone saw a gust of wind.

It whipped up from around the center circle, sweeping past the player about to receive the ball and snatching it away.

The receiving player was being cautious and had already noticed Kaka charging in from his left-rear, so he rushed towards where the ball was rolling. But he found his feet felt like they had lead weights attached, only able to watch helplessly as Kaka sprinted past him, the number 23 on the back of his jersey getting further and further away.

23.

A number being discussed more and more.

Most Botafogo players watched helplessly as Kaka stole the ball in their own half, with only the young substitute midfielder giving chase. 

The distance between the two gradually closed, but anyone with working eyes could see that Kaka would definitely enter the penalty area before being caught.

Not only was it within Kaka's shooting range, but the current top scorer in the state league was also there. In this situation, allowing these two players to dribble into the box was like burying two bombs in front of the goal.

Fabiano quickly dropped back to provide an option. Kaka didn't try to go it alone, playing a one-two wall pass with him to beat the last defender and go clean through on goal.

The chasing midfielder finally caught up to Kaka but could only brush the sweat-soaked "23" on the back of Kaka's jersey as he went past.

The goalkeeper didn't hesitate, coming out to smother the chance.

Countless eyes on and off the field fixated on the two rapidly approaching figures. 

Kaka made a very subtle shooting motion with his right foot, as if preparing to guide the ball past the goalkeeper's left hand with the inside of his foot.

The keeper's eyes were sharp, diving cleanly to smother... nothing.

Kaka's right foot flicked up and over the ball before delicately chipping it up and over.

The ball floated gently up and down, so slowly that even the clumsiest goalkeeper could have headed it away with the back of their head. 

But Botafogo's current custodian was sprawled helplessly on the ground, looking as innocent as a child who had just had their New Year's money stolen.

I knew playing street football would be useful.

The little trick had fooled who it needed to fool, much to Kaka's satisfaction. 

The young substitute midfielder didn't give up, sprinting past Kaka to chase down the ball that was about to cross the line.

"Get it, get it, get it..."

"Can't get it, can't get it..."

Fans from both sides fervently prayed.

It seemed the Botafogo prayers reached the heavens more favourably, as their substitute player caught up to the ball – only for the devil to play a cruel trick, sending the young midfielder following the ball straight into the back of the net.

1-1, 5-2, no way back. 

Crushed by the leg hair of a giant.

(end of chapter)