Wimbledon Versus Sheffield (1)

As a result of their ball dominance, even Wimbledon's defensive line was pushed up into almost the midfield. They passed the ball around in Sheffield's half with reckless abandon.

With Sheffield pressed deep into their own territory trying desperately to stop the control of possession their opponents had, the breakthrough was only a matter of time.

A missed diving tackle from young loanee Alain Prosser allowed the opposing central midfielder to get even deeper into the final third. One of the two central defenders had to leave his man to meet the advancing midfielder, and as a consequence left a hole that was very hard to fill.

The lone central defender was left marking two speedy forwards, giving the Wimbledon midfielder options on where this attack should go. The left forward sped up first, forcing the defender into following him, and leaving the other forward unmarked until the Blades left back covered him.

The cover never came, as another option was made by the Dons right winger forcing the left back to also abandon his cover attempt. Prosser tried his hardest to recover the ground he lost from the missed tackle, but the ball was already threaded through the center.

The man wearing Wimbledon's number 9 shirt took a touch with his right, and rifled a curling ball goalwards with his left foot from just outside the box.

Goal!

The ball stung the outstretched fingers of the away goalie, but was not enough to stop it from going into the top left corner. The stands went wild, as the shouts erupted from the home support after the wonder goal. Wimbledon's number 9 ran in front of the home stand and took a bow as a thank you for their support as a goal celebration, while the other members of the squad hugged him, shook his hands, and jumped on him.

"Fuck! The left back's response was so slow!" Blaise had already raised the chicken leg bone in his hand in frustration. "Alain… that bastard had a howler of a tackle!"

"Come on, son. Go easy on your teammates. You said that Alain guy was a loanee right?" His dad was just munching on chips as the number of empty cans of beer started to accumulate below him. "Plus, that guy's just 18 too right? It's a debut, those things happen."

Blaise only sighed. He knew his father's right. Sure, Alain missed a tackle, but there is a lot that needs to be done before a goal can be scored. The tackle was naught but a first step. The goal came about because the crucial steps that followed were done well.

The game continued on the same slow and methodical pace Wimbledon had set. The back and forth passing, with not much forward momentum ate away at the first 45 minutes.

The home fans are jumping, cheering their voices off, as their beloved team is in complete control. It reminded them of last year's playoff semifinals, where they strangled Sheffield the same way they're doing it now.

The entire Sheffield offense was reduced to rare and ineffective counter attacks, usually fizzling out after just a few passes.

It's a good thing they haven't conceded a second goal yet, with their goalkeeper and their penalty area defense managing to keep up with the onslaught.

Off of a blocked shot, a corner was about to be taken from the right corner.

"Let's see if the Blades can stop this corner again."

"They need to stop this if they don't want to go 2-0 down before the break."

Several bodies hugged the goal line for Sheffield, as the keeper angled himself closer to the near post as the inswinging corner was taken.

The glancing header by the towering Wimbledon center back missed its mark and clanged the posts, before the ball bounced to the middle of the box.

It was cleared out of the Sheffield box with a long kick, finding its way to Sheffield's lone striker near the middle of the pitch.

He wasted no time to start off the break. A poor first touch almost allowed the ball to be stolen from him by the right back that was left there for situations like these.

But afterwards, he executed a fine pirouette, faking out and leaving the last defender in the dust behind him.

"What a move! The counterattack is on for Sheffield!"

The cheering has stopped, as the home faithful know that this is a dangerous attack.

The Blades striker's pace with the ball was blistering. In the open field, none of the two defenders behind him managed to close the gap to him.

In just a few seconds, the man had crossed the wide stretch of grass in front of him, and was a few yards away from the keeper that was going to his direction.

Blaise smiled, as he watched in bated breath.

"What will he do now, Roy Baines?" One of the commentators asked.

As if answering his question, striker Baines lobbed the ball to the net. The keeper scrambled to snatch the slow moving ball out of the air, but can't seem to reach it even after jumping.

As he fell back first into the ground, he saw the ball bounce a couple of times before rolling slowly into the bottom of the net he defended.

"Sheffield got their equalizer!"

"That's just sublime! A pirouette to floor the defenders, and a filthy chip to finish it off in style!"

"What a wonderful, wonderful goal by Roy Baines! They're level now!"

A goal like that against the run of play was sure to swing the game at its head! The dominance of Wimbledon was shattered like glass in less than a minute.

"Yes! Get in there!" The father and son watching the game did a fist bump in celebration. If you asked any of them if they expected anything of the sort a minute ago, the two would most likely laugh at you and eat either chicken or chips.

But Blaise knew that this was the beauty of football. The unpredictability and the spontaneity of the sport never fails to amaze the audiences all over the globe.

A minute ago, Wimbledon had a chance to double up their lead from a corner kick. Now, they have conceded a goal after failing to stop a single man!

Sheffield rode the wave created by the equalizer and threatened to steal the game back from Wimbledon before the first half ended.

Now that the tables have turned, the football gods might have taken pity on Wimbledon's sudden reversal of fortunes and gave them a kind of reprieve they didn't realize they would even need a few minutes ago: the half time whistle.