Never-ending Bullets! The North London Derby Strikes Again! Easy Lead! King Descends from the Sky!
At the same time, at Stamford Bridge, the clash between Chelsea and Manchester United came to an end.
The score was 3-3, a draw after a hard-fought 90 minutes!
For Chelsea, who had already dropped out of the title race and were aiming for a top-four finish, this result was acceptable, as they snatched a point from the Red Devils, Manchester United.
But for Manchester United, playing away, it was somewhat unacceptable.
Arsenal's form had been red-hot since entering February, winning two 'Rangers' in a row, scoring a combined total of 10-0 in the two matches.
In this situation, if Manchester United failed to take 3 points in even one game, it would affect the final title race situation!
After the match, Ferguson refused to attend the post-match press conference, his face flushed as he quickly walked out of the stadium, wanting to leave by car as soon as possible.
But many reporters rushed out of the press conference room, chattering and asking questions behind him.
"Sir Ferguson, after 24 rounds of league matches, Manchester United only has 56 points, already 6 points behind the league leaders Arsenal. Does this mean the team has dropped out of the title race?"
"Sir, local rivals Manchester City are about to play Fulham tonight. If they win the match, their points will reach 58, surpassing Manchester United. What do you think about this?"
"Please slow down. Manchester United has 17 wins, 5 draws, and 2 losses in 24 rounds this season, while Arsenal has 19 wins and 5 draws. Is stability a major difference between your team and Wenger's team?"
"..."
Ferguson continued to walk forward with his head down, his mind buzzing, unable to hear a word.
A sudden dizziness struck, a sharp pain began behind his ears, and tinnitus followed, piercing his entire brain, forcing him to stop.
Looking at the reporters surrounding him, waiting to see him make a fool of himself.
He staggered back two steps to steady himself, enduring the discomfort and holding up a finger, he shouted, "We will not withdraw from the title race! We are still strong contenders for the championship! We are not weaker than Wenger's team, is it so hard to understand that there are wins and losses in football?
"In the match we lost to Arsenal, I have already said that we lost to Maël!
"The team did miss an opportunity! But it's not over yet!
"Why are you still haunting me? Do you think I'm old now?!"
He gritted his teeth, he was already in his early seventies this year, truly old and frail.
If he could be twenty years younger, he would definitely let these cynical English reporters taste a Scottish Flying Kick and feel what kind of person the most unyielding coach in English Football World was in the late last century.
Unfortunately, it was no longer possible. When people get old, they just can't hold on to some things. He only hoped that his beloved Manchester United would not wither away with his aging.
He still wanted to fight Wenger for a few more years, that 'miserable' coach who was 8 years younger than him and whose coaching career had been sweet at first but bitter later, seemed to be ushering in a second spring.
The other party could regain his former vigor, but how could he find it? At half-past nine that night, the Etihad Stadium was brightly lit.
"Beep! Beep! Beep—!"
Three long whistles sounded, symbolizing the end of the match.
"Oh!" Cheers erupted throughout the Etihad Stadium, as Manchester City players ran and celebrated excitedly.
Three to zero! They defeated Fulham, surpassing Manchester United to reach second place in the standings, only 4 points behind the undefeated Arsenal this season!
"Well done, lads!" Mancini clapped his hands, hugging each player on the field, then circled the field to thank the fans, before finally heading to the press conference room.
Looking back at the end of the season, these victories seemed to be data that could be explained by a simple score.
But only those who experienced this season understood how much they had paid for each victory, and how much achievement and joy they had gained after winning.
This was not something that could be explained by a column of data. Only they themselves understood the specific feelings! It was precisely because of this that when these victories accumulated and turned into championship trophies, all their climax emotions of this season would also be superimposed and released exponentially!
Inside the press conference room, Mancini sat elegantly in his seat, answering reporters' questions with ease.
"Yes, our win rate is slightly higher than Manchester United's, but I think it's too early to say that now. Arsenal has won 1 more game than us, and we have won 1 more game than Manchester United. The gap is very small.
"If we have to talk about the gap, I think both we and Manchester United have one obvious gap with Arsenal.
"That is that we have both lost 2 games, while Arsenal has not lost a game. This is the reason why they have been ranked first in the league this season when everyone is in such good form."
"..."
"Reason? Come on, haha... The reason why Arsenal doesn't lose is obvious.
"Their striker's gun always has never-ending bullets. Maël and Van Persie have created 72 goals, which seems to be second only to the front lines of Real Madrid and Barcelona.
"But let me say one thing, they actually should have lost two games, but ended up drawing both.
"Yes, it was against Swansea and Fulham, they weren't in good form then, but they still managed to hold on for a draw, that's why they're in the lead.
"Don't underestimate the mid-to-lower tier teams, both we and Manchester United have stumbled against them."
"..."
"That's right, comparatively we're more balanced, the next step is naturally to challenge for the top spot, I believe in our team.
"Alright, the press conference is over, any further discussion will just be about Arsenal."
Mancini got up to pack his clothes, and finally bowed to the reporters in a very gentlemanly manner, befitting his image as a modest gentleman.
Apart from being angered by Balotelli's mysterious antics, he rarely seemed to swear.
"Arsenal continues to lead the Premier League standings with an absolute advantage, Manchester City surpasses Manchester United, the Premier League title race this season is becoming increasingly anxious!" - Sky Sports
"Standings: 1st: Arsenal 19 wins, 5 draws, 62 points! 2nd: Manchester City 18 wins, 4 draws, 2 losses, 58 points! 3rd: Manchester United 17 wins, 5 draws, 2 losses, 56 points!" - Premier League standings on February 8th, 2 days away from the Derby against arch-rivals Tottenham Hotspur.
Inside the villa, Maël completed the signing with his private doctor, Lewis, ultimately signing the highly respected English Football World doctor for a Weekly Salary of £7,000.
He will conduct real-time check-ups for him before and after each game, and develop the most reasonable physiotherapy plan for him based on his body, to avoid the risk of injury.
This plan will also be distributed to Harry and Safina, so that they can make adjustments from daily rehabilitation massages and diet.
Almost complete!
He shouldn't need new helpers in terms of physical therapy and training, these five can basically help him solve everything, at most two more masseurs in the future to improve massage efficiency.
Seems like there's also a psychological consultant? Maël felt that he probably didn't need that, he was very mentally healthy, the joy he got on the football field was something he could savor for a lifetime.
"I'm very glad we've reached a cooperation."
Lewis was wearing a black suit and black pants, about 1.75 meters tall, his hair was already snow-white, but his body gave a tough feeling, the same type as Davis.
"Then let's go to my private hospital now for a full body check-up?"
He closed his pen and took out his car keys, "I can pick you up and take you there, and then take you back after it's done.
"This kind of full body check-up is good once a month, no need to be too troublesome, I can handle the usual check-ups myself, I can judge all your conditions by pinching with my hands and your body's various reactions."
"Okay." Maël didn't refuse, and followed him out together, also calculating the overall expenses of the team now.
£22,000 a week. That is to say, he must score a goal or an assist every week in order to pay their salaries without too much heartache.
His bonus for scoring a goal in the Premier League Champions League is £20,000, and for an assist it's £15,000, plus attendance bonuses, it's almost £30,000 and £25,000, enough to offset this expense.
Come to think of it, he really hasn't earned less of Arsenal's bonuses this season, for the top-tier Champions League and Premier League, he has already scored 31 goals and 19 assists.
That's £620,000 + £285,000, a total of £905,000.
Adding in attendance bonuses, 10+, 20+ and other miscellaneous stage bonuses, it's probably around £1.2 million.
This part of the income doesn't need to be taxed, doesn't need to be shared with Mendes, so calculated, it's close to 14 weeks of his after-tax salary, still very good.
Support! As long as he can still score goals, he can support this team responsible for taking care of his body without any burden!
If his income is higher and his attention is greater in the future.
He really needs to find a group of professional account operators and public relations to manage his social media accounts, increase influence and fan loyalty, and various types of income.
At that time, he can use his personal performance on the field to leverage a huge team working for him, these people only focus on improving his various values.
He only needs to focus on delivering consistent and efficient performance on the field, and then everything will come naturally!
"We're here."
Lewis drove the car and quickly drove to the outside of a commercial detached villa, "This is my private hospital, there are my two assistants inside, they will cooperate with the equipment to do the full body check-up for you today."
Maël nodded and got out of the car, and soon saw two middle-aged people around forty years old, one male and one female.
Under the guidance of these two, he completed some examinations on various high-tech instruments, and his first reaction after completion was that the top private doctors abroad really make money.
Such a room full of equipment must cost a lot of money. He waited outside for a while, and Lewis, still in black clothes and black pants, came out, holding a stack of data reports in his hand, "Many places are similar to what I imagined, but strangely, your body foundation is too good.
"And this is not some innate foundation, there are traces of acquired training."
Seeing Maël's expressionless face, he frowned, holding the data sheet and shaking his head, "Players start training when their bodies are not fully developed, which is a dangerous period.
"Because they couldn't identify their body's strengths and weaknesses at the time, and didn't understand the limits of their body's endurance, most players would mess up their bodies during this period, with wear and tear and underlying problems everywhere.
"This is irreversible. It's too late when they grow up and realize it. At this point, all their physiotherapy and rehabilitation methods can only be described as conservative treatment.
"Yes, their rehabilitation is euphemistically called physiotherapy, but in reality, it's already treatment."
"But you..."
He paused here for a long time, finally put down the data sheet, and confirmed, "It seems like there are no underlying problems or wear and tear. Everything about your body is close to perfect condition."
"In that case... as long as you protect yourself properly, your probability of injury can really be infinitely low."
The scene fell into a long silence. Maël didn't know what to say either, and just sat there smiling slightly.
He was definitely happy in his heart. It seemed that the proficiency panel really automatically repaired his body towards perfection, towards the limits of human beings, when helping him train his Strength, Coordination, and other abilities.
Infinitely low? Since Lewis said so, then he could confirm that as long as his Coordination, Strength, and Stamina reached LV5, his probability of non-external injury would be 0%.
The possibility of other players injuring him with tackles was also small, unless it was a malicious foul when he was completely unprepared, which might catch him off guard and injure him in a relaxed state.
But how could he be unprepared? His reaction was already close to instinct. He would automatically tense his body when he sensed danger on the field.
"Let me first talk about some possible... extremely small points where you might get injured."
Lewis came to Maël's side and squatted down, placing his hand on Maël's ankle. "This is one. Your ankles are a relatively worn area of your body.
"But compared to other players, this is considered light, plus you have a lot of Strength here, so the probability of injury is not high.
"But still do some protection. I will send the specific plan to Harry later. We exchanged contact information today.
"Also, the soleus muscle and thigh muscles. These are areas where fast players frequently get injuries, that's for sure."
He put his hand on Maël's calf and squeezed it, then pressed down on his thigh, and finally said helplessly, "But again, this is just in relation to your own body. Compared to others, yours is very healthy.
"I think I know why you called me. Do you really want to avoid injuries altogether?"
Maël nodded to Lewis, very pleased that he could guess his thoughts. "Yes, that's the purpose of me finding you."
"Then let's work hard together. I hope we can do it."
Lewis extended his hand towards Maël and smiled, "Maybe the focus of my work next will be to assess your physical condition, determine whether your muscles are fatigued, and how many minutes you can play in a game.
"As long as we don't increase the probability of injury due to excessive fatigue, you have a chance to achieve what you want."
"Okay." Maël got up and shook his hand, smiling very happily, or rather, with a sense of inner peace.
...
February 10th, the day of the Derby arrived, and Arsenal would face Tottenham for the second time this season.
"Splash!"
Unfortunately, the weather was not good. It started raining heavily from nine o'clock in the morning, and only turned into moderate rain at eleven o'clock.
The Emirates Stadium quickly started drainage work, but the game was about to start at 3:30 in the afternoon. Even if the drainage could be done by then, it was still a question of whether the rain would stop.
At 2:40 p.m., fans from both sides began to appear outside the stadium in large numbers.
Since the rain hadn't stopped, they were all holding umbrellas, which made the already dense crowd even more oppressive.
"Arsenal Arsenal!!"
Arsenal fans, as in the previous two games, strode into the Emirates Stadium with an arrogant attitude, without even thinking about clashing with Tottenham fans.
What kind of team were they now? How much higher was their ranking than Tottenham's?
What was there to argue about? They would see each other on the field! They had full confidence that the team, which had been in excellent form recently, would be able to defeat Tottenham at home and complete a double kill against Tottenham in the first and second halves of the season.
It was really boring to argue outside the stadium. After entering the stadium, they would just wait for the team to take the lead and then start the mocking war songs!
"Glory glory Tottenham! Fcu******Kyle Walker!"
Tottenham fans entered the stadium singing 'Glory glory Tottenham', but today's song was different from before, with Kyle Walker being added as an element.
Of course, Walker would definitely not get any glory-related evaluations from Tottenham fans now. The song only contained some 'trivial matters' about his family.
Inside the Emirates Stadium, Maël arrived early, but didn't change his clothes yet, waiting in the tunnel wearing a jacket.
After a while, David, Chloe, and the old man and little boy he had met at the disability event a long time ago arrived together.
This time, they were not alone, but with their relatives and friends.
Chloe and the little boy were both with their parents, while the old man and David were each with two of their friends.
"Hello there."
Maël greeted them with a smile. It was a rainy day, but he was in a good mood.
One reason was that his physical condition was excellent that day, without any fatigue or wear and tear.
During the recent check-up, Lewis determined that he could play the entire Derby match, and this news was also relayed to the Arsenal coaching staff.
This was something he had been looking forward to. No player doesn't want to play the entire Derby match.
In front of the home fans, help the team decisively defeat their Derby rivals and bring joy to the fans! And this seemingly icing on the cake, an insignificant check-up, actually gave Maël a strong sense of security, making him more confident to play.
Players need to understand their bodies. Only by fully understanding their bodies can they play at their highest level without any reservations! Another reason was that he finally had the opportunity to fulfill his promise to these four people.
During the heated Derby battle, he contacted a scalper for a box seat ticket, giving him the opportunity to invite these four people to experience a game in the luxurious box at the Emirates Stadium.
Moreover, they could bring their families and friends to share this unforgettable experience.
Maël knew that there were many fans who loved football but were deeply unfortunate, and he couldn't take care of everyone.
But what he could do was fulfill his promise to these four fans whom he had met by chance.
They had always remembered him, and he couldn't forget them after slowly becoming famous.
He still remembered that after the first half of the match against Tottenham, he gave everyone a precious 'gift' as he left the field, and they gave him tremendous encouragement.
It's hard to say whether this encouragement influenced him to get to where he is today. People are complex animals, and many small factors can affect a person's growth trajectory. He has had many experiences in the English Football World.
Perhaps, it certainly did. From the moment he obtained the proficiency panel, he actually knew roughly how steadily he would walk.
But he didn't expect to walk so fast at the time.
There must be many external factors influencing him, motivating him, and of course, his own increasing goals, increasing ambition and desire!
"Long time no see."
David came up first. He was in much better shape than the last time they met. As soon as he came up, he pulled his friend over and introduced him to Maël, "During the trip to Wales, I met a cycling buddy.
"He's my best friend now, and we always go on cycling trips to away games together.
"And I've been trying to travel by car."
Maël looked at him shyly saying the last sentence and couldn't help but nod, "That's great, you'll be fully recovered soon, right?"
"Maybe." David smiled and lowered his head, feeling a little embarrassed to receive Maël's praise.
As for his friend next to him, even his greeting was unnatural. He seemed to have never imagined that he could see Maël so closely inside the stadium one day.
Maël nodded to him and looked behind them, "Chloe, why aren't you coming over?"
Chloe seemed a little restrained, especially after feeling that her parents were very restrained, her emotions in this regard were even stronger.
Hearing Maël's words, she waved shyly, greeted Maël, and then looked at her father, as if waiting for him to do something.
"Hi."
Her father was very nervous and excited. He fidgeted as he walked up with a drawing board, first making the sign of the cross on his chest.
"Thank God."
After finishing his prayer, he became more confident, "I never thought that one day I could watch a game from the inside through my daughter and meet the hottest new star in today's Football World."
He opened the drawing board and handed it to Maël with a smile, "Chloe said she once gave you a painting, and you praised her for painting well at the time.
"Although you're usually very busy, you might not remember haha... But she's been painting at home and prepared another one for this meeting, wanting to ask me to give it to you."
Chloe smiled and secretly observed Maël's expression, anticipating his reaction.
Maël took the painting, glanced at it, and his heartstrings were touched again.
In the picture, he was in the very center of an awards ceremony, wearing a black and shiny suit, holding the Ballon d'Or trophy symbolizing the highest honor, and showing it to the world with a big smile.
Below were rows of clapping stars and coaches. He also saw Mr. Wenger, Henry, Gareth Speed, and others.
Even when he looked closely, he saw Chloe blushing in a corner, clapping wildly for him. She seemed to have been waiting all along.
"A very lovely painting."
He put the painting away, smiling amiably, "It's very creative and heartfelt, I'll treasure it.
"Just to add, of course I remember the last painting, it's always in the most prominent place in my house. I'll put these two paintings together."
Chloe was overjoyed to hear this, clutching the hem of her clothes with both hands.
"Chloe," Maël then looked at her, encouraging her earnestly, "You must keep painting, you have a lot of talent, and one day you will paint exceptionally well."
"Mmm." She nodded emphatically, finally letting go of her restraint, and looked up at her parents with a showy expression.
Her parents both smiled, and her mother took a deep breath for a long time before finally plucking up the courage to look up and say to Maël, "We don't know how to express our gratitude, Chloe has become much more cheerful.
"This is largely due to you, due to football."
She paused, admiringly, "We also admire you, to have become a source of strength for others at such a young age.
"Chloe told us that you want to win everything, and she is also waiting for that day, we are all waiting."
Maël listened to her carefully, then stepped forward to hug Chloe and the middle-aged couple.
Next, he picked up the little boy, played with him near the player tunnel for a while, and chatted with the old man for a few minutes.
"Take them up."
Seeing that it was getting late, he called over a stadium staff member to take everyone up to the box seats.
"Bye-bye."
He waved goodbye to everyone, and finally asked, "Do you have any celebration moves you want to see? If I score in this game, I'll help you fulfill that wish."
David and the old man became awkward, and the little boy also shook his head, not knowing. Everyone turned their attention to Chloe, as she seemed the most suitable to decide.
Feeling everyone's gaze, Chloe's body posture was a little eager to try, but she seemed embarrassed to do it.
"Come on, come on."
"This kind of opportunity is rare, you say one, and Maël will definitely score in this game."
"Haha, yes."
Everyone encouraged her together, and Chloe did a lot of mental preparation before putting one hand on her head and the other on her lower abdomen, jumping slightly to the left and right.
"Haha...!"
A burst of laughter erupted from the scene, everyone knew what it was.
Maël also smiled, nodded to Chloe, and then walked towards the locker room.
Chloe's face turned red instantly, she pursed her lips and followed the staff to the box seats with her family, to experience this hard-won opportunity.
First up was a catering area, and through the one-way glass, you could also see the two teams of fans entering the stadium.
The group leaned on the railing in front of the glass, looking at the heavy rain outside the window, feeling the heavy atmosphere of the upcoming battle.
They then took some free food and free beer on site, and then boarded the luxurious box, waiting for the start of the match.
"An unforgettable day."
"Wonderful."
Sitting in the VIP seats outside the sliding door, watching the pattering raindrops slide down from the canopy above, and looking at the panoramic view of the stadium, everyone had such a feeling.
This kind of viewing experience, this level of comfort, the feeling of the upper class, they had never experienced before.
More importantly, it was Maël who brought it to them.
Sitting here to enjoy the upcoming battle allowed them to feel closely connected to the dazzling Maël on the field.
Not only were they here watching Maël, but he would also be thinking of them off the field, and even promised to give them a celebration move, so that they could share the glory of the goal-scoring moment.
"Oh!" Soon, with a burst of cheers, the Arsenal players, wearing long-sleeved jackets, began their appearance ceremony.
At the front was captain Van Persie, followed by goalkeeper Szczęsny, and then second captain Maël.
He seemed to turn around to pay attention to the situation in the box, clapping his hands to signal to them.
"Here they come!"
"It's about to start! Crush Tottenham!"
A burst of excitement erupted here, and everyone quickly noticed that Chloe seemed to be writing something on a piece of paper.
They gathered around, watching the lovely girl write a line.
--"It's so good to know him."
Chloe smiled brightly after writing, holding the slip of paper with the line written on it above her head like a banner.
"Haha...!"
"Let's wait for the celebration he'll give to you, to us!"
"Dang dang dang dang! I have a friend...!"
A burst of excitement and singing rang out here, and the old man in the wheelchair cleared his throat, resuming his old job of commentating on the game for the little boy who couldn't see.
He held the little boy, watching the players from both sides, lowering his voice to imitate a commentator, "The heated Derby is about to begin, Arsenal will face Tottenham Hotspur at home! I'm honored to bring the commentary of this game to a 'young boy', let us look forward to Maël's goal together!"
Everyone looked at the two of them, revealing heartfelt smiles, these two were indeed a good combination.
Perhaps through these opportunities, these two mismatched friends, each with their own misfortunes, would complete their respective redemptions.
"Bip!"
On the field, with the referee's whistle, the game officially began.
Compared to the last Derby, this Derby that started at the Emirates Stadium, although it also had a fiery atmosphere, didn't have too many unexpected twists and turns.
Tottenham Hotspur's manager Redknapp honestly completed the press conference, and their players didn't spout nonsense to add new highlights to the game.
The reason was naturally simple, Arsenal's momentum had been too fierce recently after defeating Manchester United, scoring 10 goals in two games.
They actually didn't have much confidence in defeating this powerful team at the Emirates Stadium.
But this didn't mean they wouldn't fight for victory, all Tottenham Hotspur people were holding back a fire now, whether it was the origin of the Derby or Kyle Walker's betrayal, they couldn't calm down.
Kyle Walker was sitting on the bench today, if they could defeat Arsenal in front of him, their fans would be happy for a long time! They would also vent the breath that had been suppressed for a long time!
"Peng peng peng!"
Arsenal started to control the ball in the backcourt, and Tottenham Hotspur's players were fighting very fiercely, and their movements were also very fierce.
"Whirr!" Rain poured down on the grass, also falling on the heads of both players, wetting their hair.
This made the turf in the field more slippery, speeding up the ball's rolling speed on the grass, and also making the pace of both sides faster, and the fight more intense.
"Tear!"
In the 5th minute of the game, Modrić slid towards the passing line in order to intercept Koscielny's pass.
He didn't intercept the ball, but he couldn't stop, his slide carried water stains all the way for three or four meters, knocking Koscielny to the ground.
"Bip!" The referee stopped the game and ran towards the scene.
He didn't plan to give a yellow card, just to prevent conflicts from breaking out between the two sides in this position in advance.
"You better be careful!" Koscielny then got up, pointing at Modrić who hadn't gotten up yet, his face fierce.
"You too!"
Modrić glared at him fiercely after getting up, glaring and retreating, not giving in at all.
He walked out of the war and joined the fierce Tottenham Hotspur, and had already developed a strong will, with a fierceness different from his small body.
The players on both sides leaned towards here, as if they were looking forward to a conflict breaking out at this time, everyone making a fuss and releasing their emotions.
They retreated back to their positions after seeing that the two hadn't wrestled together.
"Peng!"
In the 9th minute of the game, Alexandre Song completed a diagonal long pass transfer, the ball fell on the left side of the frontcourt, just on Maël's running route.
Due to Kyle Walker's departure, Tottenham Hotspur sent Michael Dawson to defend Maël in this game.
This was a defender who mainly played as a center-back, he was quite calm, and his physical condition was also good.
In addition, Scott Parker and Ledley King had been standing near him to provide protection for him, this was a three-person defense team.
"Pa peng...!"
Maël used his right foot to control the ball, then, in less than 0.5 seconds, he flicked it forward, quickly accelerating to threaten Tottenham's defense.
Michael Dawson struggled to keep up with him, the distance between them widening.
Ledley King, in the center-back position, quickly came out to cover, executing a fierce sliding tackle towards Maël's path.
In rainy conditions, everyone couldn't resist the urge to slide tackle; it was inevitable.
"Fu!"
Michael Dawson, having barely started to complain about his teammate's sliding tackle, quickly jumped to avoid being swept down by the indiscriminate move.
After jumping over Ledley King, he didn't stop but ran behind him, anticipating Maël might evade the tackle and continue forward with the ball.
"Clang!"
He guessed correctly. While dribbling at high speed, Maël used amazing footwork and delicate technique to scoop the ball up, then gracefully leaped over Ledley King's sliding tackle.
Upon landing, he securely controlled the falling ball and continued forward.
Bravo! "Wow!" Emirates Stadium fans roared in amazement, igniting the atmosphere. Such a display deserved cheers.
A threatening attack was coming! Fans had recently noticed that Maël's footwork was becoming increasingly elaborate, his ball control improving, and his dribbling giving off a very freehand feeling.
After repeatedly using the flick-over technique, his probability of using this move to dodge tackles had greatly increased.
Another improvement!
They didn't know how to describe their feelings. Could it be that the current brilliance wasn't even Maël's limit?
"Shred!"
Near the baseline, Michael Dawson's tackle came again. He had just taken preventive measures, arriving early behind Ledley King to cover, preventing Maël from directly breaking into the penalty area.
However, he clearly lacked confidence in defending Maël one-on-one, and upon seeing Maël approach, he directly launched a flying tackle.
"Clang!" Maël wanted to repeat the trick, flicking the ball up to dodge his defense and charge into the penalty area.
But Michael Dawson was clearly prepared, his legs raised very high, showing a determination to stop the ball or the man.
After Maël jumped, he was still tripped by Dawson's right leg, extended half a meter high, and fell forward.
"Thump!"
After falling, he quickly got up from the ground with a forward roll, confronting Michael Dawson.
Playing football in the rain was already infuriating, let alone enduring such successive tackles.
"Pa!"
Before he could speak, he suddenly felt a huge force coming from his side, pushing him a few steps sideways. Turning his head, he saw that it was Scott Parker who had come over and shoved him hard.
"Eh?!"
"Are you crazy?"
"Get him!"
This instantly ignited the anger of the Arsenal players, who now regarded Maël as a treasure and couldn't stand him being pushed around like that.
In an instant, Arsenal players rushed towards the scene from all directions.
"Beep beep beep!" The referee's urgent whistle sounded, and he quickly called the assistant referee on the same side to help.
"Get lost!"
After steadying himself, Maël rushed towards Scott Parker, using even greater force to push him hard backwards.
He still wanted to continue the game; otherwise, he would have retaliated with even harsher measures.
"Stomp stomp stomp." Scott Parker almost fell over, scrambling backwards to cushion his body.
"Fuck you!" Unexpectedly, Arteta came over from the side, exploding with core strength to slam his chest into him.
"Thump!"
Scott Parker fell to the ground, instinctively protecting his face with his hands.
But this was definitely not the last century. Countless cameras were filming from all directions. The Arsenal players, after rushing over, were relatively restrained, merely surrounding him and spitting while cursing at him.
"Bang, bang!"
Van Persie pretended to accidentally kick him twice. The referee didn't see it, but Modrić did.
"Slap!" Modrić rushed in from the side again, pushing Van Persie, who staggered.
This quickly made him the target of a gang attack, knocking him to the ground, and he accidentally fell on Scott Parker.
The players from both sides wrestled together again, and the situation became increasingly tense. You couldn't be sure who would lose their mind and further escalate the conflict in the next moment.
"Beep, beep, beep!" The referee kept blowing his whistle, but it didn't seem to work. In the chaos, he couldn't see all the fouls being committed.
"The scene is chaotic! The players from both sides have broken out in a fierce conflict!"
Inside the luxury box, the old man explained to the little boy, and also to everyone else present, "But the substitute players are still relatively calm, rushing up to separate the players from the two teams. Hopefully, the rain can cool them down!"
Many people on the scene smiled after hearing his words, but Chloe and others with delicate minds were still worried, afraid that Maël would suffer in this conflict.
However, seeing Maël and Rosický standing together at the free-kick spot, their hearts were relieved.
In the end, both sides paid the price for this conflict with two yellow cards each. For Arsenal, it was Maël and Arteta, and for Tottenham, it was Scott Parker and Modrić.
Maël was very dissatisfied with this penalty, but the yellow card had already been shown, and he couldn't do anything but complain.
"How to play it?"
Before the free kick, Rosický stretched out his right hand towards the center, while asking for Maël's opinion.
When Ramsey wasn't around, he was the team's first free-kick taker.
However, before the game today, Mr. Wenger had specifically instructed that Tottenham's goalkeeper Friedel wasn't very good at catching balls in the air. If they could hit an out-swinging ball, they could kick it closer to the goalkeeper and catch him making a mistake.
And if they wanted to hit an out-swinging ball from the left, they had to use their left foot to take the kick.
Among the starting players in the midfield and frontcourt who met this condition, apart from Van Persie, whose preferred foot was his left, there was only Maël.
His left foot could produce a free-kick effect close to that of a preferred foot.
"I'll take it."
Maël stood at a right angle to the ball, glanced at the situation in the penalty area, and used the angle of his run-up to explain that he would use his left foot to hit an out-swinging ball.
Rosický nodded, he believed in Maël, "When you start your run-up, I'll start too. They'll never guess that you'll use your left foot to take the kick, they'll only think you're the one making a fake run."
Maël nodded, constantly observing the penalty area, thinking about where to kick the ball.
"Beep, beep!"
The referee's whistle sounded again at this time, seemingly because the pushing and pulling in the penalty area was too serious, and he wanted to go in and give a warning.
Inside the penalty area, Van Persie looked helpless, spreading his hands and complaining to him, "Scott Parker keeps pulling my clothes and stepping on my toes."
"If he steps on me again, I'm going to fall to the ground. Then the problem will be yours, and we'll see if you'll give him a yellow card and give us a penalty."
The referee sternly warned Scott Parker, who waved his hand innocently, and then grabbed Van Persie's clothes again after the referee turned around.
Van Persie spread his hands again, but this time, he inadvertently met Maël's eyes.
Looking at Maël's eyes, he seemed to know that Maël would be taking the free kick.
His expression changed, he glanced at the opposing goalkeeper, and probably had an idea of how to run.
"Beep!"
The referee's whistle sounded, he stared at the penalty area, and at the same time raised his hand to the sideline to signal that the free kick could be taken.
"Mark your men! Mark your men!"
"Watch Van Persie!"
"One more person to the far post to mark Mertesacker! Don't let him move!"
Tottenham's players shouted one after another, their expressions very serious.
"Tap, tap..."
On the sideline, Maël began his run-up. He rushed towards the ball, pretending to kick it with his left foot, and Rosický quickly ran from one direction, pretending to kick it with his right foot.
The Tottenham players in the penalty area were stunned for a moment. They noticed that Maël was running faster, and seemed to be getting to the ball first.
But who uses their non-dominant foot to take set pieces? He must be faking the run-up; Rosický is the one taking it.
Watching the Arsenal players start to move, about to break through their defense, and seeing them standing still, it was definitely a fake run-up to draw their defense backward.
The opposing players contesting for the header would definitely have a turn and then a start-up action; it's an old set-piece trick.
"Bang!!"
Just then, the football suddenly curved violently from the wing, whistling towards the edge of the penalty area, then arcing outwards.
Most of the Tottenham players were instantly awkward near the penalty spot; their defense was well-aligned, but they didn't move.
Only a few were quick-witted enough to anticipate Maël's free kick and followed the Arsenal players.
But this small group was far from being able to defend; at least three Arsenal players were completely unmarked! Tottenham could only place their hopes on goalkeeper Friedel, hoping he could come out and catch the ball.
"Mine!" Friedel shouted as he leaped out, wanting to snatch the ball first at the near post.
But then, realizing he couldn't reach the ball, he retracted his hands and changed his tone, looking behind him, "Back post!!"
Tottenham players at the back post: "..."
Should I shout 'mine' again and apologize to everyone?
"Bang!!"
At the back post, General Van Persie jumped up, a backward glance at the moon, smashing the whistling football into the net.
Goal! One-nil!
"Oh!!"
Van Persie landed and put his hands on his head, fanning them at Scott Parker and Modrić, his expression mocking.
Of course, he wasn't stupid; while fanning, he rushed towards Maël on the wing, like an airplane flapping its propellers to leave a dangerous area.
"Ah!"
Maël had been waiting for him; they leaped up excitedly, chest-bumping in mid-air to celebrate.
They then hugged each other, deliberately putting on an arrogant look, striding towards the Tottenham fan section with a 'don't mess with us' gait.
"Haha...!"
This quickly caused a burst of laughter from the other Arsenal players who came to celebrate; they didn't disturb the two, just followed behind them, clapping.
Looking at their backs, it really felt like 'we two are the best in the world'.
"Yeah!"
Inside the box, David hugged his friend tightly; they celebrated like this every time.
Chloe didn't suppress herself in front of familiar faces, her face flushed as she stammered, releasing her emotions.
"Goal!"
Although the old man was sitting in a wheelchair, he still tried to lift the little boy high, shouting excitedly, "Right after the conflict, Maël used a non-dominant foot curler to assist Van Persie in scoring!
"Scott Parker and Modrić wanted to chase Van Persie, but were held back by their teammates; they already had a yellow card! A wonderful header, Arsenal defeated Tottenham through aerial attack!"
The little boy clapped his hands excitedly, shouting with joy.
Nearby, people in other VIP seats cast puzzled glances, wondering why someone was shouting all the time.
This wasn't the commentary box; wasn't this awkward? They sent one or two representatives to negotiate, "Hello, your commentary is very interesting, but could you please be a little quieter?"
This was a subtle way of stopping him; shouting normally would be fine, but if someone kept shouting commentary next to you, it would be really strange.
People in the VIP area watched the game more restrained; they were all putting on airs, unlike the passionate fans in other sections.
This kind of game-watching was actually a bit boring; it might be okay as a novel experience occasionally, but it would be meaningless in the long run.
"Oh, oh, sorry." The old man immediately looked apologetic, nodding and smiling at the two, "I'll be quieter; the child can't see, so I just wanted him to feel more immersed; sorry to bother you."
"Ah?"
The two were stunned, glancing sideways at the little boy, realizing there was indeed something wrong with his eyes.
"Oh!"
They gaped, their faces pale, a clear story forming in their minds.
The grandson couldn't see, yet the grandfather brought him to the stadium every day, describing the game in his ear so he could experience Arsenal's matches.
The guilt on their faces deepened, morphing into self-reproach. They wanted to take back their words but didn't know how. Several times they raised their hands, but each time hesitated.
Finally, after a strange apology, they walked back to their area.
"I should be shot," one groaned, slapping himself, convinced he wouldn't sleep that night.
"Clang!"
"Thwack!"
On the pitch, the battle intensified. In the time since Arsenal's goal, Tottenham Hotspur desperately tried to counterattack, leading to a chaotic free-for-all.
Formations dissolved, tactics were forgotten, and all sense of reason and calm vanished.
Every fifty-fifty ball became a magnet for two or three players from each side.
This led to localized skirmishes, with rapid turnovers and neither team able to create meaningful chances.
This was typical of a Derby match. After the initial period of relatively calm attack and defense, it became a desperate fight for pride.
In the 16th minute, Tottenham Hotspur's full-back Michael Dawson again tackled Maël, sending him tumbling over the sideline.
"Whistle!"
This time, the referee reacted quickly, issuing Michael Dawson a yellow card and separating him from the Arsenal players to prevent a brawl.
Eleven minutes later, Koscielny slid into Modrić on the wing, also earning a yellow card.
"Bang!"
It didn't end there. In the 41st minute, after Maël sent in a Cross, Ledley King charged into him, sending Maël, who only had his supporting foot on the ground, sprawling.
"F*ck!!" With a roar from Van Persie, the Arsenal players swarmed in, engaging in a full-on melee with the Tottenham Hotspur players.
The players pushed and shoved, but also aimed kicks at feet and landed slaps and punches where the referee couldn't see.
Maël, as before, scrambled to his feet and charged at Ledley King, who was grappling with Van Persie.
"Bang!"
He lowered his center of gravity and rammed his right shoulder into Ledley King's waist, sending him crashing to the ground, clutching his waist and wailing, "Aah!"
Sensing the chaos around him, Maël realized he was losing control, which could earn him a second yellow card and an ejection.
But on the pitch, some things are impossible to control.
If he let such malicious fouls go unpunished, everyone would treat him like they later treated Neymar, and he'd have a hard time playing.
"Beep beep!"
The referee ran over, assisted by the linesman, and separated the players.
First, he gave Ledley King a yellow card for instigating the fight, then Van Persie for landing a few cheap shots on Modrić, and then Adebayor and Sagna for their emotional reactions.
Four cards in quick succession! Adding to the previous four, this game already had eight yellow cards! A card masterclass!
This showed the chaos on the field. Sometimes, a high card count doesn't mean a referee is strict.
Finally, he looked at Maël and walked towards the handsome 18-year-old.
"Roar roar roar!" A low growl rose from the Emirates Stadium as the 50,000+ Arsenal fans realized what was happening and issued a collective warning, putting pressure on the referee.
The referee felt like he was in hell, surrounded by countless lost souls. He hesitated, then approached Maël, ultimately deciding not to raise the yellow card.
"Final warning!"
"Aahh!" Cheers erupted, followed by applause. The fans knew when to provide emotional support to the referee.
Maël breathed a sigh of relief and ran back to his position.
The Tottenham Hotspur players protested, surrounding the referee. Finally, after the four minutes of added time were displayed, the players restarted the game.
"Thump!"
In the 48th minute, Rosický spotted an opening and sent a through ball to Van Persie, who was standing between the opponent's defense and midfield.
Van Persie smoothly controlled the ball and turned, noticing Tottenham's carelessness in this defensive play. He passed the ball diagonally to Walcott.
"Tap tap tap!"
Little Tiger ran up quickly, but still couldn't get the ball in the first instance to finish the shot. He had to settle for second best, placing the ball towards the outside line, waiting for a chance to cross.
Van Persie was slightly regretful seeing this scene, wondering why he had passed the ball too far.
Near the right side of the penalty area line, Walcott, under pressure from the opposing players, couldn't fully turn his body to deliver a curling cross.
"Bang!"
He could only twist his body in a moment of explosive power, using his toe to tap the lower part of the football, hitting a backspin ball, trying to gain some height without seeking speed.
The football flew straight up and down towards the center of the penalty area with a downward spin.
Van Persie, who had inserted into the penalty area again, couldn't reach the ball, and Alexandre Song, who rushed to the far post, couldn't keep up with the ball either.
The football fell in Ledley King's defensive zone, as if he was about to complete a header clearance.
"Tap tap tap!"
A burst of footsteps suddenly sounded. From outside the penalty area, Maël swept in with unstoppable momentum, striding towards the football's landing point.
He had been out of people's sight, and no one had noticed him just now.
But now, everyone saw him, and felt the pressure of his full-speed sprint!
"Ledley King..." Modrić was on the side, and he couldn't help but mourn as he watched Ledley King about to collide with Maël.
"Yaaa!"
About 2 meters away from the football's landing point, Maël jumped directly, using his forward momentum to smash towards Ledley King and the whistling football.
This was an extremely courageous flying charge. He threw himself completely, as if he had never thought that he would lose the confrontation, or even get injured! It was a King Descends from the Sky!
"Bang!!"
"Thump!!"
Two muffled sounds rang out here. People saw Maël heavily knock down Ledley King first, and saw the latter fall to the ground at a faster speed as soon as he took off, like a kite with a broken string.
Immediately afterwards, they also saw the football contact Maël's head, smashing into the net with the force of thunder.
The angle was not tricky, but the force was so great that people could only sigh at the ball! "Yeah!!!" The ground of the Emirates Stadium vibrated, and the entire stand seemed to be shaking from side to side. More than 50,000 Arsenal fans stared at the figure that landed, as if on a pilgrimage.
"King Descends from the Sky!" Someone shouted excitedly, which could represent the mood of Arsenal fans at this moment.
Maël didn't go anywhere after landing. He just stood there, clenched his fists and shouted, then beat his chest, "Vamos!!"
His whole body was tense, and even the veins on his neck were clearly visible. This was a header that released him extremely!
The most violent way to score a goal! Under his feet, Ledley King was lying on the ground, clutching his waist and pounding the floor in pain.
At this moment, he was undoubtedly the winner. He seemed to have turned into a flag, with Arsenal's classic red and white colors inserted in the center of Tottenham's penalty area, declaring whose territory this was.
Two to zero! Extend the advantage!
Although the Tottenham players were extremely disgusted, they couldn't find any reason or courage to pull out this flag.
This is the last longer game in February, the Derby still needs to be written a little bit.
I see someone asking me why I like bigger chapters. If there are more updates, I feel that it is more comfortable to write bigger chapters, and it is easier to write. Now, when I go back to write small chapters, thinking about the plot points of small chapters, the endings of each chapter, etc., I feel that it is very slow to write, and everyone does not read it smoothly.
Like now, being able to read several relatively complete plot points in one update is better, right? Of course, the number of words in a single chapter will not exceed this anymore, this is almost the limit.
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