"7 goals and 8 assists!"
Maël hadn't held his pose for long when he felt someone hug him tightly. It was Gilbert's excited voice: "God, are you a loanee or the best player in the EFL Championship!"
"He's the best player in the EFL Championship right now."
Evans, who had picked up an assist, was the second to arrive, opening his arms towards them. "I looked at Sean Long's stats yesterday. He's created 14 goals this season, but Maël now has 15!"
Sean Long is a Reading player and is currently recognized as the strongest player in the EFL Championship. He is only 23 years old and considered very talented.
In the past, when Sheffield United players thought of him, they would mostly admire his ability, praise his talent, and envy his future. He was an insurmountable gap in their minds.
But looking at Maël, their little brother in the team, he seems to be leading him in every way. For a time, these people were surging with emotions mixed with complexity. How should they face Maël? Should they be proud that they have the opportunity to be teammates with such a player, and shamelessly say that Sean Long is nothing more than that? Or should they honestly place Maël in a higher position, giving him even more respect than Sean Long?
It seems like neither is right?
"Turning the tide!"
Janu Hans came up and exclaimed, then smiled and reminded everyone, "Maël has already scored two goals to equalize the score. Let's not spend too much time celebrating. We need to hurry up and overtake the score, otherwise, wouldn't we be letting him down."
"That's right."
Gilbert gave him a thumbs up, then ran towards their own half with Maël.
Along the way, they passed countless Doncaster players with heavy faces and surprised looks. These people must be feeling terrible.
And what made the Doncaster players even more uncomfortable was that the player who knocked them off the leading position and made them so nervous at this moment was only 17 years old.
What a great age... His future must be in the top leagues.
"By the way."
Gilbert ran a few steps, then suddenly remembered something: "My contract has a clause that if I create 15 goals, my salary will increase to 20k. Doesn't yours have one too?"
Maël looked at him with a faint smile, and spread his hands helplessly: "Sorry, I'm going to enter the Weekly Salary 20k 'Club' ahead of time."
"You're so dead." Gilbert's excitement was mostly gone, and he was almost shedding tears of unwillingness.
"Bip!"
After the game restarted, Doncaster retreated across the board, showing a posture of holding on.
Sheffield United's morale had obviously reached its peak. No one was stupid enough to go head-to-head with them at this time.
Victory?
They didn't want it anymore. It would be good to keep 1 point rather than get nothing.
"Whistles" This obviously disappointed their fans very much. The joyful singing and cheering at the beginning of the game were replaced by boos, and some people even waved their hands and cursed as they left early.
The Doncaster coach didn't dare to look directly at the gazes from the fan area. He could only stand on the sidelines in a panic, directing the defense.
Trying to hold on to a draw was already like this.
If they were really allowed to come back from two goals down and lose three, how would he be scolded after the game?
"Defend! Come back!"
He walked back and forth, ignoring the obstruction of the fourth official, "Run two more steps, there are still more than ten minutes! Hold on, bite down!
"Seal the passing lane! How can you let him pick it out in that position? What are you thinking? Second point! Second point! If you can't grab the second point, you can only be forced to defend, which is even more tiring!"
Under his shouts, the Doncaster players gradually woke up and carried out their defense with one heart and one mind.
Especially after several successful defenses, they also high-fived and roared, bumping chests to encourage each other, regaining the momentum they had lost in the attack in the defense.
Such a team is not easy to lose the ball.
On the Sheffield United coaching bench, Gareth Speed stood in the coaching area with his hands in his pockets, not walking back and forth. His face was serious, and there was still a bit of expectation deep in his eyes, but it was slowly weakening.
He didn't celebrate the goal just now, because from the moment they equalized, he began to look forward to the goal that would overtake the score.
Every Sheffield person knows that that is the time to pour out all emotions! It's just that looking at the other side's posture, it seems that they are destined to defend to the end. Can they overtake the score?
"Huff." Gareth Speed exhaled, glanced at his watch. Every time the second hand ticked, he would become more anxious and nervous.
The feeling of hope being dashed is also not good, and in some ways, it is not weaker than failure.
People are like that, always unable to be satisfied. This has nothing to do with status or position, but is more likely a state of mind.
Gareth Speed, as a former player, fundamentally loved come-from-behind victories. He had experienced them many times. As for equalizing the score, although it was also good, he always felt like something was missing. Wouldn't it be a bit of a pity if he didn't go for it?
"Bang!"
Maël sent in a cross from the wing. Seeing the football cleared by the opponent's defender jumping up, he rested his hands on his knees for a moment, then turned and ran.
He could feel the tense atmosphere permeating the field, affecting both opponents and teammates.
The players on the field communicated less, everyone tightly wound, unable to relax.
Time slowly ticked past the 85th minute. The stamina of both sides had declined to varying degrees. Doncaster even seized two opportunities to launch quick counterattacks, completing one shot, but unfortunately, it didn't keep the height down.
"Bang!"
In the 88th minute, Sheffield United defender Steven launched a long pass, aiming for the head of the tall center forward Bologanovic.
Bologanovic was clearly having trouble jumping. His height advantage wasn't working, and the opponent's defender headed the ball back from behind, almost to midfield.
Gilbert, who had always fantasized about having aerial dominance, jumped up and headed the ball back into the penalty area, but was once again anticipated by the opponent's defender, who cleared it with the inside of his foot.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
An aerial tug-of-war unfolded. The ball rarely touched the ground. Both sides went back and forth, not wanting to let the other organize possession.
When Gilbert finally managed to hold his position and stop the ball, the fourth official had already raised the injury time board: 2 minutes of added time in the second half.
The last 2 minutes! Gilbert wanted to pass back, but his heart tightened and he suddenly chose to pull the ball back, launching an attack against Doncaster's defense.
In the Arsenal youth team, he was known for his attacking ability. After coming to the EFL Championship team, due to a lack of confidence, he rarely chose to dribble so decisively.
But this time, he wanted to try!
Gilbert pushed the ball forward, then changed direction, and suddenly accelerated, breaking past the defender marking him.
Observing the dense number of players in the center, he subconsciously moved towards the left wing, feinting left and right. Although he stumbled, he dazzled Doncaster's midfielders and defenders.
"Close in!"
Someone in Doncaster's defense commanded, and three or four people approached Gilbert.
He continued forward, and after attracting the defense of the opponent's right back, he saw Maël cutting in towards the center.
"Bang." Gilbert gently touched the ball with the outside of his foot. The football passed over the defender in front of him and slipped towards the center.
His mission was complete!
Maël quickly followed up, taking the ball towards the center of the arc of the penalty area. Looking at the goal, he had never felt his foot itch so much.
"Shoot it, damn it!" Gilbert urged. His leg muscles were tense, waiting to celebrate.
The other Sheffield United players felt much the same way. Some were urgently avoiding getting in the way of Maël's shot, some were shielding to prevent the opponent from interfering, and others were clenching their fists, eyes wide.
Gareth Speed on the sidelines finally made a move. He took his hands out of his pockets, clasped them to his chest, ready to take off at any moment.
Everything was pushing Maël to unleash his signature long shot. The momentum had arrived, and he did not disappoint.
"Bang!!"
After taking a deep breath, Maël gritted his teeth and opened his body, swinging his left arm back, straightening his right ankle, and kicking out hard, pressing his body forward at the moment of the shot.
Everyone was silent at this moment, which made his shot resound throughout the stadium, reaching everyone's ears. Countless expectant eyes followed the football.
ps: Use Zhang Liverpool Gerrard's long shot photo, this is a very standard and perfect shooting action.
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