Chapter Sixteen: A Single Ball

Bayern Munich grew complacent; their defensive line was pressed too far forward, and Lizarazu made a mistake. If only Lizarazu, now thirty-three, were a few years younger—Momo would never have gotten the ball from that last play, and with a swift turn, Lizarazu might have disrupted the attack. Alas, age had caught up with him!

But now was not the time to dwell on regrets. Let us return to Momo's shot: as the Lion King Kahn abandoned his post to charge forward, Momo, standing sideways to the ball, chose an incisive right-footed curving shot from the edge of the penalty area.

Ordinarily, with the keeper so far off his line, such a strike would be a sure goal. But this was Kahn—the Lion King! Kahn had guessed the wrong direction, yet at the last moment, he thrust his foot out and managed to tip Momo's shot with his toes!

“This! This! Kahn has made a spectacular save! As he went to ground, he used the momentum of his left leg and managed to touch the ball with his toes! The ball flies over the crossbar! It's a corner for 1860 Munich!”

Chen Nu’s expression was caught between disbelief and admiration; Kahn had misjudged Momo’s intent, diving for the far post, but as his leg rose off the ground, he managed to deflect the shot.

Inside the Allianz Arena, 1860 Munich supporters sighed in disappointment, some even cried out “No!” with anguish.

Bayern Munich fans, meanwhile, shouted Kahn’s name in triumph, and Kahn raised his arms to salute the crowd, looking every bit the commanding presence, making everyone forget his age.

“Now Thomas Hassler steps up to take the corner. Though he’s already thirty-six, he remains the absolute attacking core for 1860 Munich.”

Bayern Munich prepared their defense meticulously, with Lizarazu and Link marking Momo closely on either side, both seemingly still bitter over being bested by such a young upstart.

“The corner is about to be taken.”

Chen Nu suddenly let out a roar, startling countless fans watching at home—what just happened?

Just then, Thomas Hassler delivered the corner to Markus Schroth, whose height gave him an advantage. Schroth powered a header straight at Bayern’s goal.

Kahn unleashed a roar, his golden hair flying like a fierce lion. He lunged forward, punching the ball away with both fists. At that moment, Shao Jiayi surged in for a powerful shot, hammering the ball.

Link, seeing danger, rushed forward and managed to get a heel to the ball. Though he didn’t fully block it, he altered its trajectory and it looked like the ball would skim past the post and out of play, resulting in another corner at most.

But then, Momo, dressed in the blue and white stripes of 1860 Munich, stepped forward, with Lizarazu hot on his heels.

The next second, the Allianz Arena erupted in a deafening roar, the 1860 Munich fans rising and falling like waves, cheering ecstatically!

Markus Schroth, Thomas Hassler, Shao Jiayi, and others crowded around Momo, who shook his head, slowly rising from the turf.

“Goal! Goal!!”

“We’re ahead! We’re ahead!”

Momo shook his head, still dazed. He’d thrown himself forward, booted the ball into the net, and crashed to the ground, landing heavily. He was momentarily confused.

“A goal? Who scored???”

Seeing Momo’s bewildered face, his teammates laughed and told him,

“It was you! It was you!”

1860 Munich’s coach, Pacult, flushed with excitement. He saw something different in Momo—most notably his dribbling, sudden stops and changes of direction, and nutmegs when facing Lizarazu!

Pacult had studied Momo extensively; the current Momo had made huge strides compared to before. All his worries about Momo’s form after injury had proved unfounded.

“What a surprise! 1860 Munich takes the lead! Momo opens the scoring!”

Chen Nu’s commentary had grown more composed, no longer as emotional as before.

The match continued. It was clear Bayern Munich’s attacking intensity had increased. Their coach, Hitzfeld, shouted from the sidelines, urging his veterans on and hoping to ignite their fighting spirit.

“Bayern Munich has possession. We’re at the twenty-first minute, and they’ve already had eleven attempts at goal. 1860 Munich’s defense is looking shaky.”

As Chen Nu watched the unfolding situation, suddenly Ballack took possession near the penalty area!

“1860 Munich makes a mistake! Ballack has the ball! My goodness!”

Just moments ago, number fourteen, Pizarro, had possession—a striker recruited from Bremen. He’d tried to break through 1860 Munich’s defense, but Shao Jiayi intercepted the ball, poking it away. Boriminoff got a touch but failed to control it, giving Ballack his chance.

“Ballack with a through ball! When did Pizarro get there?”

Shao Jiayi turned to challenge Ballack, which was exactly what Ballack wanted. He spotted the gap left by Shao Jiayi and sent a precise through pass into the box, where Pizarro seized the opportunity and broke into the penalty area!

“Pizarro breaks into the box!!! Simon Jentsch’s face is grim; he opts to leave his line and charge out!”

Bayern Munich fans, faces flushed with excitement, shouted at the top of their lungs! How could they lose? How could they accept defeat? In East Germany, their Lion King reigned supreme! They had been oppressed by 1860 Munich for an era! Now? Now Bayern could not lose!

Pizarro was calm. The ball was slightly unsettled, perhaps because Shao Jiayi’s toe had grazed it during the pass. No matter—Pizarro was confident he could handle it!

He gently touched the underside of the ball with his toe, displaying perfect control!

“A chip! Pizarro chips the ball!”

Simon Jentsch’s gaze was icy. His performance in the first match had made Premier League giants hesitate about signing him, and now he was determined not to concede another goal—he didn’t want to linger any longer at this fading 1860 Munich side.

Simon Jentsch couldn’t reach the ball; Pizarro was confident. Yet, Pizarro’s shot wasn’t destined to go directly in; it needed to bounce outside the goal before crossing the line.

To guard against mistakes, Pizarro even circled Jentsch to attempt a follow-up shot.

But it wasn’t needed. Simon Jentsch looked as if he’d been struck hard, his whole body thrown backward, arms outstretched, as the ball, like a mischievous child, dropped safely into his hands.

Simon Jentsch’s hands were steady; he held the ball securely, and the next moment, he pulled it into his chest with a firm embrace.

Pizarro held his head in frustration, unable to believe he’d missed such a golden chance!

Bayern Munich’s coach, Hitzfeld, didn’t look pleased either. In the three rounds since the season’s start, the team’s performance had been inconsistent, but he still believed in his old comrades. They just needed time, as before.

It was a superb opportunity, but no goal resulted.

Bayern Munich fans were disappointed, but the match was only at twenty-two minutes; anything was still possible.

They didn’t have to wait long. Against the fully mobilized Bayern Munich, 1860 Munich’s players struggled to cope. Look! Here’s another chance!

“Pizarro! Pizarro again!”

Chen Nu’s voice paused in surprise, then quickly turned excited! He loved these rapid shifts in attack and defense—so thrilling!

1860 Munich was now completely on the back foot, overwhelmed by the enraged Bayern Munich. Keeper Simon Jentsch could only look helpless! Ballack’s passing again! Pizarro again!

After the recent goal kick, Bayern Munich quickly regained possession, demonstrating their formidable individual skills. 1860 Munich rapidly contracted their defense, and as the two sides battled for control—

Ballack dribbled forward, facing Shao Jiayi’s defense. With a simple stepover, he left Shao Jiayi behind! Drawing enough defenders’ attention, Ballack reached the byline and crossed from near the edge.

Elber leapt high and headed the ball into space.

Thus, Pizarro found himself with a golden opportunity, breaking into the box to face the keeper one-on-one.

All the Bayern Munich fans could no longer remain seated. They stood, shouting, as if their voices could empower their players or increase the odds of scoring!

1860 Munich players responded with loud whistles, hoping to disrupt Pizarro. Simon Jentsch crouched, focused, ready to spring at any moment.

Pizarro moved swiftly, passing the penalty spot, yet still didn’t shoot.

Sweat began to bead on Simon Jentsch’s forehead; suddenly, he saw Pizarro swing his leg! Shot—did it go in? Jentsch wondered.

But in the next instant, Jentsch realized in horror—no! It was a feint!

All would be revealed in the next second.

Everyone waited for this goal. In this duel, would it be the keeper or the striker who prevailed?