Chapter 57: The Unique Lehmann

Do you know Lehmann? What a character!

Kohler was practically seething with rage. In the preceding minutes of the match, he had executed his coach’s instructions to perfection. He had every reason to believe that under his relentless pressure, Mo Mo’s resolve would eventually crumble. Yet, reality seemed to deviate from his expectations. Mo Mo had actually managed to distract Kohler with a few words, successfully breaking free from his marking.

This was impossible! Kohler felt a surge of manic frustration; all the noise around him sounded like mockery.

"Mo Mo has great speed! He’s about to reach the ball! Oh? Kohler?" Chen Nu’s voice was filled with surprise as everyone watched Kohler stretch out his arm in desperation, grabbing hold of the hem of Mo Mo’s jersey.

Kohler was strong. Mo Mo stumbled, appearing as if he were about to fall, but he managed to steady himself. Fall here? Are you joking? This was an opportunity he had fought tooth and nail to create! Kohler felt the fabric slip from his grasp as Mo Mo tore away. He wasn't going down? A flash of disbelief crossed Kohler’s eyes, but Mo Mo had already burst into the penalty area with the ball.

Facing this, goalkeeper Lehmann cursed Kohler’s incompetence. "What? Kohler is the captain? I don’t care! I am Lehmann!"

Mo Mo’s expression was grim as Lehmann charged out to meet him. While that might be a sound tactical choice under normal circumstances, it made it difficult for Mo Mo to maintain perfect control of the ball. They collided; Lehmann’s hands were steady, but Mo Mo couldn't stop his momentum. Mo Mo’s knee struck Lehmann’s shoulder, though fortunately, the force was not severe.

"You damn bastard! Did you do that on purpose? Huh?"

Just as Mo Mo was lamenting his missed chance, Lehmann stood up with the ball in his hands, his eyes burning with rage. Mo Mo had no intention of arguing and turned to run back to his own half. Suddenly, Lehmann made an unexpected move: he hurled the football directly at Mo Mo’s head!

*Thump.* Mo Mo felt a heavy impact, and his head went momentarily numb. The surrounding gasps confirmed his suspicion: it really had been the ball.

Lehmann’s anger subsided after throwing the ball, but when it rebounded, Mo Mo reacted with lightning speed. Kohler stood by, clutching his own head in disbelief. Lehmann again! This guy was at it once more. He was currently winning the battle against Kahn for the national team’s number one spot, yet his temper remained as volatile as ever.

However, there was no time to dwell on that. Mo Mo’s explosiveness and reflexes far exceeded Lehmann’s expectations. As Lehmann reached out to claim the ball, Mo Mo launched a diving header. Their heads met the ball almost simultaneously, but Lehmann’s grip failed. The ball slipped between his head and shoulder, bouncing into the net. During the play, they collided and both fell to the ground.

A shrill whistle blew. "The referee signals that the goal stands! It was a fair challenge by Mo Mo. Inside the penalty area, the goalkeeper has the advantage of using his hands. It’s a fair call—wait, what?"

Mo Mo’s shoe had been stepped off by Lehmann, who then refused to return it. As a confrontation brewed, the referee intervened. Mo Mo said nothing, but when the referee ordered Lehmann to return the boot, Lehmann claimed Mo Mo had kneed him. Mo Mo admitted it was an impulsive reaction; the referee issued a verbal warning without booking him. Furious at what he perceived as unfair treatment, Lehmann threw Mo Mo’s boot onto the netting inside the goal. Mo Mo had to hop on one foot to retrieve it.

"Lehmann is clearly agitated, while Mo Mo remains calm. Regardless, the score is now 1-1. Mo Mo has equalized for 1860 Munich. Lehmann is certainly a character!" Chen Nu remarked with a touch of irony. The German keepers, Kahn and Lehmann, were like Zhuge Liang and Zhou Yu of the Three Kingdoms—rivals of equal brilliance, though Lehmann’s personality was far more eccentric.

The match resumed, and Kohler’s marking of Mo Mo became even tighter. "Yellow-skinned monkey! Don't dream of getting another chance like that!" As he spoke, Kohler kept up a series of annoying, petty physical maneuvers—a nudge here, a bump there. They weren't quite fouls, but they were infuriating, and Mo Mo felt his own temper beginning to boil.

"Forty-three minutes in, 1860 Munich earns a corner kick following a powerful strike from Shao Jiayi." The 1860 players scrambled for position, hoping to capitalize. Shao Jiayi took the kick, and the delivery was precise.

"Shao Jiayi curls it in—wait! The referee’s whistle! Mo Mo is on the ground in pain! The referee points to the penalty spot! He shows a yellow card to Lehmann! It’s a clear retaliatory kick!" Chen Nu’s voice was electrified. In a match of this magnitude, how could Lehmann be so reckless?

"Lehmann is protesting the decision and has thrown the ball at Mo Mo’s head again while he’s still on the ground!" Mo Mo’s right leg throbbed—it was likely swelling. The kick had been heavy. *How could he do that?* was the only thought in Mo Mo’s mind.

"Lehmann’s actions were completely irrational. His performance today will surely earn him a sanction from the Football Association after the game." Chen Nu sounded indignant. 1860 Munich’s players swarmed the referee, with the two-meter-tall Jan Koller looming menacingly. Shao Jiayi, undeterred by the height difference, seemed ready to throw down with him. The referee issued yellow cards to both Koller and Shao, but refrained from giving Lehmann a second yellow. The atmosphere was too volatile, and the home fans were deafening; the referee opted to appease both sides to maintain control.

"Dive! It was a dive!" Lehmann roared, pointing at Mo Mo. But the referee had seen it clearly.

"Let’s look at the replay. Mo Mo approached to challenge for the header, and Lehmann tried to push him away. Mo Mo was shoved but returned, and as Kohler latched onto him, Lehmann swung his leg." Chen Nu was speechless. Was he trying to swat a fly? It was a stone-cold penalty.

Mo Mo limped to the sideline as Laut took the spot-kick.