God Of football

Chapter 918: Half Time Endeavours.

The lower bowl of the stadium still buzzed from the goal as pockets of fans leaned toward each other, half laughing, half stunned.

"I swear we were just telling him before kickoff," one man said, shaking his head while replaying the moment on his phone.

"We asked him to turn around, give us even a tiny bit of that Singapore magic. But this? This is ridiculous."

His friend let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh.

"This isn’t Singapore. This is something else, and to be completely honest, I do not even think that is his best yet."

"No, just think about it. He’s a bit more relaxed on this game. Think about if he were to go to the levels he went against Barcelona, against Yokohama. Our team would be cooked."

Right below them, a small group of teenagers stood pressed against the railing.

One of them cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled toward the pitch even though Izan was a good hundred meters away.

"Izan! We get it, alright? You’re insane!"

His friends nudged him and broke into laughter, but even they kept shaking their heads at the ridiculous show they were seeing.

On the pitch, the Arsenal players jogged back into shape for the restart.

Some wore the relaxed half-smiles of men trying not to get caught celebrating too openly during a preseason friendly.

Others were still looking around as if checking that the stadium lights hadn’t messed with their vision.

Izan, though, just jogged back, smiling a bit at the referee who asked him to tone down the celebrations because the crowd were getting rowdier and rowdier.

Izan nodded and walked past the line as the chants rolled in next.

First scattered, then fuller, then rising until the concrete under everyone’s feet vibrated.

"I-zan. I-zan. I-zan."

He glanced toward the stands before giving a small nod of acknowledgement.

Even that was enough to make a few fans around the stadium throw their arms up like they’d won something.

"Arsenal have blown this open. Three goals to the good at the Nissan Stadium. That Olimpico from Izan... I still can’t quite believe it. Yokohama need to settle quickly, or this could unravel entirely."

The referee waited for Kaina Tanimura to place the ball at the centre spot before signalling the restart while the scoreboard above the tunnel glowed a steady 3–0.

Marinos’ players didn’t look deflated, more so stunned by the sudden goal they weren’t really expecting.

Shoulders got tight, like they were trying to force composure back into their bodies.

The game resumed with them trying to calm possession, slow things down, and keep the ball away from Arsenal’s pressure.

But Arsenal didn’t ease up even after their third.

Declan pressed high.

Timber stepped into passing lines.

And Izan, as usual and in his free roam role, just kept pushing and getting into any sliver of space he could get in.

And it didn’t take long for it to pay off.

A loose touch in midfield let Martinelli jump on the ball.

He slid it inside toward Izan, who shaped his body in one smooth motion, took it on the turn, and unleashed a low strike from outside the box.

The ball moved sharply, clean, hard, and skipping toward the far corner.

The keeper reacted late but still managed to get down.

The ball hit his gloves, bounced out, spun toward the line, wobbling like it couldn’t decide which side to cross.

The entire stadium sucked in a breath, but then Quinones came flying in at the last second and hacked it clear, crashing into the netting after the clearance as the commentary broke in immediately.

"That nearly crossed. Izan again with the effort. Yokohama are hanging on here by inches."

The Marinos defenders shouted at each other as they reset, while the keeper stayed kneeling for a moment, breathing out hard, probably aware he’d been half a second from another embarrassing moment.

However, before Arsenal could take the corner, the whistle echoed across the stadium.

"First half over, and what a first half it’s been. Arsenal three up, and it honestly could have been four."

Applause erupted, swelling in waves, as fans clapped above their heads, with some also just standing there and admiring.

On the pitch, the players drifted together before heading for the tunnel.

Gabriel bumped Izan lightly on the shoulder and said something that made him smirk.

.....

From the VIP section of the stands, the replay looped across the Jumbotron, each goal drawing another swell of applause from the stands.

The lights from the giant screen washed over the spectators, casting short shadows with every cut of the highlight reel.

Aiko glanced sideways at her father, who sat with his arms crossed, watching Izan’s Olimpico replay with a slow shake of his head.

When he finally looked at her, it was with that familiar expression he used whenever he felt she was avoiding something.

"You should’ve been bold," he said quietly.

Aiko let out a tired breath.

"Dad, not this again."

He raised a brow as if waiting for her to keep going, so she did.

"How many times do I need to tell you? It was just an interest. Years ago. That’s it."

She pointed at the screen where Izan’s face briefly filled the frame during the celebrations.

"And come on, who wouldn’t like him? He’s talented, he’s handsome, he’s kind, he’s basically the type every girl pays attention to."

Her father didn’t interrupt.

He let her speak, then nodded slowly, softening.

"Alright. I won’t bring it up again," he said.

"I like baseball much better than this, actually."

Aiko eased back into her seat, finally thinking the topic was done.

She crossed her arms and focused on the pitch, trying to steady her mood as the fans behind them kept chanting Izan’s name.

A moment passed, and then her father leaned closer.

"So... have you ever tried meeting him? You know, Singapore of Japan?"

Aiko’s shoulders dropped immediately after the words came out of her father’s mouth.

She let out a long sigh, staring straight ahead as her head lowered.

...

[Japanese Locker Room]

The Yokohama dressing room felt tight and damp with the heat and sweat emanating from the players, but it was quickly dealt with as one of the assistants cranked the cooling system in the room lower.

Boots scraped lightly against the floor as the players settled onto the benches, some still catching their breath, others replaying the last few minutes in their minds.

Hideo Oshima stood in front of them with a tie around his neck.

He didn’t raise his voice, but the room quieted the moment he drew a long breath and looked around at his team.

"You’ve done well," he said.

"Honestly. This was never going to be an easy match. We’re playing the best team in the world right now. Five trophies already and a chance at the sextuple. It’s a monster of a challenge, and you’ve faced it head-on."

A few players exhaled, relieved he wasn’t about to tear into them.

Oshima pressed his lips together for a moment, then continued.

"But I don’t want us walking out there just accepting the score. At least try to get something for the fans. One goal, maybe two if the chance comes. They came here hoping to see us fight, so give them that."

He turned toward Shuu, who was sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, still buzzing from the half he’d played.

"And you," Oshima said.

"Keep doing what you’re doing. You’ve been giving Timber a real problem. Keep driving at him. Avoid the direct contests and wait for the moments where he overcommits. You’ll get space. Or you’ll draw the foul. Either way, you’ll get a chance to show what you can do."

Shuu gave a small nod, focused but not tense.

"I understand, coach."

Oshima clapped his hands once before addressing everyone again.

"Listen. The result isn’t the only thing that matters tonight. Show courage. Show personality. Make them work for everything. We go back out with the same energy, but cleaner. Tighter. And when the chance comes, take it."

The room stirred as the players straightened up, some giving small nods, others pulling their socks back up or fastening shin guards again.

The mood wasn’t light, but it wasn’t broken either.

"I hope what I’ve said has gotten through to you guys. Let’s try to get back into this game collectively."

Oshima stepped back afterwards, giving the players room to breathe and rest because his message had already been made clear.