Chapter 229 Internal strife
Chapter 229 Internal strife
The noise at the Parc des Princes almost blew the roof off, and Mbappe's right leg muscles were as tight as a bowstring under his white socks.
He was like an enraged lion cub, and the head-on confrontation with Song Wen in the 27th minute was still burning his retina - that damn No. 17 actually used his heel to knock the ball through his crotch, and the ball brushed his hot ear tips and flew to the sideline.
"Kylian! Look here!" Neymar opened his arms to ask for the ball for the Nth time. The Brazilian's curly hair ends were soaked into dark brown by sweat.
But Mbappe could no longer hear any sound. All he could see was the Atletico Madrid core player who was 30 meters away with his back to the goal and slowly adjusting his shin guards.
When Alves threw the ball out of bounds, he suddenly started like a shark that smelled blood, and the grass debris he raised drew green meteors in the broadcast camera.
Zhan Jun's commentary suddenly became faster: "Mbappe eats Juanfran alive! This speed is like playing it at double speed!"
But the experienced Godin had already blocked the inside route, forcing the young French player to dribble the ball to the bottom line.
The cheers of Paris fans in the stands reached their peak when Mbappe forced a pass, and turned into a huge sigh when Oblak lifted the ball over the crossbar with one hand.
"The data don't lie," Fan Zhiyi shook his head as he flipped through the real-time statistics. "Mbappe averaged 4.2 dribbles per game in this Champions League, but only one of his six dribbles today resulted in a shot."
The broadcast camera just happened to sweep over Emery on the sidelines, and the Spanish coach was crunching the tactical board so hard that it made a creaking sound.
At this time, Song Wen gently stomped his left foot near the center circle, and Saul immediately understood and threw the ball out of bounds.
Atletico Madrid's No. 17's movement in unloading the ball was as graceful as a symphony conductor, but the rhythm suddenly changed the moment Verratti made a save.
He first used his heel to knock the ball between the legs of the Italian midfielder, and when he turned around, his right hand seemed to accidentally brush his earlobe - this was a secret signal to Griezmann.
"Another rainbow pass! Song Wen is playing with fire in his own half!" As Zhan Jun exclaimed, the ball drew an arc that defied gravity and passed over Rabiot who was chasing back.
By the time Mbappe realized that this was a trick to lure the enemy against him, Song Wen had already nailed him down with three Cruyff turns.
Amid the boos of Paris fans, the figure of the red and white No. 17 suddenly blurred into a double image - Song Wen made three consecutive quick changes of direction with his left and right feet, and Mbappe's knees finally trembled under the heavy burden, and the whole person fell to the ground like a puppet with his bones pulled out.
The broadcast camera cruelly captured the slow motion of Mbappe crawling up from the ground, while Song Wen had already passed the ball to Koke who was making a diagonal run.
When Griezmann extended the score to 3-0 with an artistic heel assist, the 35:00 on the electronic screen seemed like a ruthless mockery of Paris's money-driven football.
In the live broadcast room, Zhan Jun shouted excitedly.
"Three to zero! Atletico Madrid shattered Paris' dignity in the most cruel way at the Parc des Princes! Song Wen's goal was simply a dimensionality reduction attack on the modern football defense line - look at this slow-motion replay, does Mbappe look like iron filings sucked by a magnet when he sprints? Godin deliberately left the outside line to lure the enemy deeper, Savic retreated to the penalty area three seconds in advance, and Song Wen suddenly moved forward from the defensive midfielder position like a ghost. All four Paris defenders were staring at the ball and the man!"
Fan Zhiyi even smashed the table.
"I tell you, this is not a technical or tactical problem at all, it's a brain problem! Mbappe only has Song Wen in his eyes now, and he turns a deaf ear to Neymar's request for the ball. Statistics don't lie - in the first half, Paris' left-wing attack share plummeted from 43% to 12%, and 25 of the team's 17 pass errors were forced through passes by Mbappe! Look at this heat map, Mbappe's activity area looks like it has been scalded by an iron, and he is obsessed with this gap on the right!"
The barrage of comments also began to mock.
“4 million yuan to buy two wheelbarrows!”
"Master Song, stop embroidering! Leave a pair of underwear for the child!"
"Is Mr. Mu running an F1 race? The track is drawn straighter than Schumacher's!"
"Case solved! Song Wen's sports socks sensor shows that Mbappe's knee joint pressure exceeded the standard by 38% when he changed direction!"
"Neymar is dancing samba? This is the posture of a square dancer waiting for the ball!"
"When money football meets the God Killer, capital kneels down and sings "Conquer" in front of pure competition"
Zhan Jun looked at the live broadcast and continued:
"The broadcaster provided a wonderful angle - pay attention to Song Wen's counter-attack route this time. He bypassed six camera positions from the start to the interception, and walked out of the Big Dipper formation on the green field! Zhang Zhi, do you think this is a new tactic developed by Simeone?"
Fan Zhiyi suppressed his laughter and said:
"I now suspect that the Atletico Madrid coaching staff secretly installed a crystal ball for predictions! Look at the replay of the third goal. When Costa shot, the entire Paris defense line was looking back, fearing that Song Wen would pop up from somewhere to make the final move. This psychological deterrent is more terrifying than having two more people on the field!"
And on the court.
Looking at Song Wen running to the sidelines to celebrate wildly, Mbappe suddenly felt furious.
speed.
That is the label on Song Wen.
This is also what Mbappe is best at.
He wanted to defeat this rising star in this field.
But it turned out that this guy didn't use that trick today, but instead started to show off his skills like Neymar.
However, those artistic and flirtatious moves are not what Mbappe is good at!
“Is this all you know how to juggle?!”
When Song Wen walked back, Mbappe finally couldn't hold back anymore and swear words mixed with French and Corsican dialect burst out.
On the other side, Neymar's face instantly turned gloomy when he heard Mbappe's words.
When the Atletico Madrid core player turned around, Mbappe saw that the look in his eyes was the same look he had seen in front of the mirror in the Monaco locker room two years ago - the kind of almost paranoid light that was eager to tear apart all doubts.
Song Wen gently tapped the Frenchman's violently heaving chest with his index finger: "Do you know why your charge is like a guillotine?"
His Spanish has a wonderful rhythm, and every syllable steps on Mbappe's intense heartbeat, "Because before the guillotine falls, the executioner will always let people see the reflection of the steel blade."
At this moment, the referee's whistle pierced through the boiling noise, and Neymar was smashing the mineral water bottle, splashing water everywhere.
The broadcast camera suddenly cut to the VIP box. Chairman Nasser's suit and tie were askew, and in the shadows behind him, a member of the Middle Eastern royal family was whispering something into his cell phone.
Amid the frantically scrolling comments in the Douyin live broadcast room, no one noticed the gesture Song Wen made to Simeone on the sidelines - that was the trap code designed by the Atletico Madrid coaching staff after specifically studying Mbappe's running hot spots.
Mbappe wiped the grass off his face fiercely, and he vowed to use his speed to burn a scorch mark on the green field.
Looking at Mbappe with fierce eyes, Neymar walked over.
"Calm down, you're a little out of your mind now. Do you remember what we said about cooperation?"
"What kind of cooperation?"
Mbappe looked at Neymar with dissatisfaction.
“Who did he learn those Brazilian techniques from?”
Neymar was stunned.
He didn't quite understand what the boy meant by asking him this question in front of him at this time.
"Do you think I taught him?"
"I didn't mean that," Mbappe said as he walked away with his head down, mumbling, "but it's a Brazilian anyway."
Neymar looked at Mbappe's back as he left and sighed helplessly. He looked up at the scoreboard, which showed 3-0, and listened to the curses from the Parc des Princes, and suddenly he felt relieved.
Why are you so entangled?
Even his big brother Messi was defeated by that No. 17.
Even if I lose, isn't that human nature?
After realizing this, Neymar's face brightened up a lot.
Football games are like this, there are always winners and losers, and no one can remain undefeated forever.
Until the No. 17 player from Atletico Madrid appeared.
His appearance has kidnapped all the players in the football world.
Even for most players, defeating Song Wen has become their goal and dream.
Because of the appearance of No. 17, these football players look like waste.
But the fact is, is it really because they are trash?
No, it’s because No. 17 is not a human being at all!
As long as he is not swayed by public opinion, he can immediately transcend it.
After realizing this, Neymar felt his heavy feet become light.
47th minute, last second of injury time
Neymar stood at the top of the center circle, gently fiddling with the scattered ribbon fragments on the grass with his left toe.
The boos at the Parc des Princes suddenly seemed far away, and he seemed to be back on the beach in Rio de Janeiro, chasing the deflated ball barefoot on the hot sand.
When Verratti's pass fell towards him like a rain curtain, the Brazilian used the instep to relieve the force of the ball as gently as catching a feather.
"Neymar is in action!" Zhan Jun's voice suddenly became sharp. "A deft pass! He danced tango in the Atletico Madrid double team!"
Song Wen's pupils contracted slightly.
The Brazilian who he had once teased with his "samba dancer" abilities, now combined Cruyff's turn with Ronaldinho's signature oxtail perfectly.
Savic's center of gravity was shaken, and Godin's studs were only half an inch away from Neymar's ankle - but he was knocked through the defense by an antelope's heel.
Neymar's jersey hem fluttered in the air like a butterfly, and he suddenly stopped in front of the penalty area. Oblak had already blocked the near corner, and Griezmann and Koke were flying in from both sides.
At this moment, time was stretched into sticky sugar threads. The Brazilian used the outside of his left foot to lift the ball three meters high, but his body tilted strangely in the opposite direction.
"Overhead kick?!" Fan Zhiyi's teacup slammed on the table. "This angle is impossible. Wait! It's a no-look pass!"
When everyone's attention was drawn to Neymar who was flying in the air, the ball snaked along the grass and rushed to the far end.
Mbappe flashed across the night sky like a bolt of lightning, and the airflow caused by his sprint even overturned the corner flag on the sidelines.
Then a volley from a small angle!!
"boom!"
"Song Wen clears the ball at the goal line!!"
In the live broadcast room, Zhan Jun, who was so frightened that he broke out in a cold sweat, shouted loudly.
"Mbappe's shot was too straightforward. It was directly kicked out by Song Wen who played the replay!!"
Fan Zhiyi also said with regret:
"Mbappe! He is still young! Neymar handled the ball very well! But the finishing touch was so substandard!! This goal could have made Neymar one of the top ten assists of the month! What a pity."
The sound waves at the Parc des Princes turned into boiling magma.
When Song Wen's toe hooked Mbappe's shot out of the baseline, a cloud of white confetti rose from the north stand's die-hard fans' area - it was the torn genuine jersey tags. Security personnel wearing riot helmets quickly built a human wall, because angry French swear words were thrown into the field along with a rain of plastic bottles.
Simeone's tactical board fell to the ground with a clang.
The Argentine coach touched the back of his neck belatedly and discovered that the collar of his custom-made suit was already soaked with cold sweat.
The broadcast camera captured his movement of bending down to pick up the tactical board clearly, and his wet temples gleamed coldly in the 4K image quality - he was completely different from the way he looked three minutes ago when he was sitting on the bench with his legs crossed and chewing gum.
Emery slumped directly in the coaching booth.
The Spaniard mechanically turned his wedding ring, the blood-red 0-3 on the electronic screen reflected in his pupils.
When the fourth official signaled the end of extra time, he suddenly loosened his tie and yelled at the air, but was drowned out by the Paris fans' calls for "give me back my money".
The photographer on the sidelines keenly captured that the tip of Emery's leather shoe was repeatedly grinding a grain of popcorn - it was accidentally spilled by a young ball boy who was celebrating his start in the first half.
Neymar finally couldn't stand it anymore.
In front of fans all over the world, he grabbed Mbappe's collar, and three beads of sweat appeared on the Brazilian's curly hair.
“Do you think this is a 100-meter race?” He cursed in slang, and every word was reeking of Rio’s favelas. “You can’t even make a cross pass to an empty goal? Do you think the whole world should just be there for you?”
Mbappe slapped the back of the hand with the Poker Queen tattoo on it and said, "It's better than being used as a stake by Song Wen!"
A shrill whistle suddenly sounded from the south stand.
Twenty Paris extreme fans unfurled a ten-meter-long banner with a photo of Mbappe signing the contract when he transferred to Paris, but it was splashed with scarlet paint.
In the Douyin live broadcast room, Fan Zhiyi had a gloating expression on his face.
"Ouch! What are they doing? Neymar and Mbappe, why are they arguing right on the court?"
Cavani rushed over and stood between the two of them. The Uruguayan had always been the boss of the team before Neymar came to Paris Saint-Germain.
After Neymar transferred to Paris Saint-Germain, Cavani had a public dispute with Neymar over the team's penalty kick rights.
So there has always been a grudge in his heart.
In today's match, the two young players seemed to have reached a tacit understanding with each other before the game, making him, the center, become invisible and touching the ball no more than three times in the entire half.
So even though he rushed forward seemingly to persuade, he was actually just showing off.
"Calm down everyone!"
Cavani stood between the two men, shouted anxiously, and then turned his face to the nearest camera.
(End of this chapter)