On the field, the game entered its final ten minutes, the Boxing Day Battle nearing its end.
The Hull City fans, whether from exhaustion or discouragement, gradually quieted down.
Their coach quickly made substitutions, using his last two slots to bring on two forwards to attack the Sheffield United defense.
"Bang! Bang!"
They repeatedly launched high balls from their own half into the Sheffield United penalty area, attempting to score in the simplest way possible.
There was no time for elaborate plays; they had to make the most of every minute.
"Everyone back! Back!"
Gareth Speed wasn't stubborn, urging the team to retreat and form a bus in front of the penalty area. "Leave Maël as a counter-attack point, Evans and Bologanovic alternate in defense!"
This wasn't a shameful tactic; even the most attacking teams would retreat in such situations.
"Watch the high balls!"
"Second balls!"
The Sheffield United players retreated deeply, forming two tight barriers in front of the penalty area, protecting their goal.
Their aerial ability was good; under intense pressure, ordinary high balls couldn't threaten them.
One high ball after another came, only to be cleared out of the penalty area time and again.
Gradually, after realizing they couldn't gain an advantage in the air, Hull City began to rely on individual skill.
Players good at dribbling frequently attacked the Sheffield United defense, and long shot specialists constantly bombarded the Sheffield United goal from outside the penalty area.
But... when the referee held up the board indicating one minute of added time in the second half, the score remained three to two!
"Bang!"
Jay Simpson, who had scored a brace in this match, made a final attempt for his team with a shot from outside the penalty area.
Unfortunately, the ball was high and wide, and Robert in goal didn't even have to jump.
This shot deflated the Hull City players, who all lowered their heads, trying to suppress the bitterness of lost hope.
"Bang!"
No one noticed that Robert quickly got the ball from a ball boy and launched a long pass towards the Hull City half.
It wasn't until they heard the pass and the shouts of the fans that they turned back in surprise.
Maël, the counter-attack point who had been harassing their defense, had overtaken their last defender and was chasing after the ball.
Their half was empty! "Yeah!" The Sheffield United fans began to celebrate early, as if seeing Maël with such a good opportunity meant the goal was inevitable.
The Hull City players were completely despondent; four or five players chased after Maël, but it was too late.
"Bang, bang... bang...!"
Maël's right foot kept pushing the ball forward; it was a very intense match, and by now he could barely feel his legs.
He only knew to move his legs faster, rush towards the opponent's goal, and end the game! "Hey!"
Mannone rushed out, roaring to embolden himself; it was a rematch.
As he approached Mannone, Maël used the last of his energy and wits, taking a step to the right with his right leg, followed by a larger step to the left with his left leg, making a feint.
Mannone shifted his weight to his right, making a last-ditch effort, only to fall awkwardly to the ground and realize he had been tricked.
Maël went to the right again, using a Step-Over Dribbling to get past Mannone at high speed!
An empty goal! "Bang." A simple push, and the ball rolled steadily into the net without any surprises.
Four to two! The victory was sealed!
Extreme excitement jolted Maël again, as if a new surge of Strength had suddenly appeared, supporting him as he ran to the sidelines to celebrate.
He put his hand to his ear and soon heard an even more intense, stadium-shaking shout, "Yeahhh!!"
He remembered Simpson, who had lost possession, and this time, he remembered the dart-throwing gesture Simpson had made at the beginning of the second half.
He first imitated the other player's action, returning a dashing dart-throwing motion.
Then, seemingly feeling it wasn't enough, he extended his forearm behind his head, adding a large throwing javelin motion! Jay Simpson's darts didn't kill them, but only caused them brief pain.
Now, he was going to nail Hull City with a javelin, and it would be a long-lasting pain!
Having just completed the shot, Jay Simpson, still in Sheffield United's half, rolled his eyes and sighed, feeling utterly desolate.
Following goalkeeper Mannone being painfully struck by the boomerang, this dart finally landed on his head.
"Maël! The best gift God has given to Sheffield United! At one moment, I saw a shadow of Ronaldo in him!"
The EFL Championship's main broadcaster, Sky Sports commentator, after glancing at the time, was basically saying goodbye to the match: "He used a pendulum dribbling-like move to break through the goalkeeper! We all know whose signature move that is."
"Perhaps his range of motion isn't as large as Ronaldo's, but ultimately, he achieved the same effect."
"After responding to Hull City's players, he blew a kiss to the stands. I think he must be saying, 'Happy Boxing Day!'"
"Beep! Beep! Beep—!"
The referee quickly blew the final whistle, and everything was settled. Sheffield United ultimately defeated Hull City at home with a score of four to two.
A new round of revelry and celebration began. In this snowy Boxing Day Battle, Sheffield United had the last laugh.
"Clap clap clap clap..."
Continuous applause resounded throughout the stadium. All Sheffield United fans stood up and applauded, offering all their enthusiasm for the players' brilliant performance.
As for the Hull City fans, they could only escape Bramall Lane with faces full of unwillingness.
They left quickly, not wanting to linger here for even a second longer.
"Goodbye!"
"Come again next time!"
"Played well."
Many Sheffield United fans, who had been angered during the match, raised their hands high as they applauded, a look of mockery on their faces. If you didn't know better, you would have thought the applause was a send-off for the Hull City fans.
Inside the stadium, Gareth Speed finally relaxed, breathing a long sigh of relief, full of joy.
He high-fived his assistant coaches, then high-fived the staff, and finally stayed on the sidelines to wait for the players to come off the field.
He gave everyone hugs and encouragement. When it was Maël's turn, another special emotion surged into his heart.
"Wonderful! Wonderful!"
Gareth Speed had to play the role of a broadcaster, saying three 'wonderfuls' in a broadcasting tone, the pitch rising and falling, "Wonderful!!"
He used this way to express his amazement and recognition of Maël's performance, and even a hint of gratitude.
Maël laughed twice and celebrated the victory with him by high-fiving.
He was just about to return to the locker room when he saw an old man in a suit and leather shoes leading his uncle and aunt's family out of the player tunnel.
"McCabe."
McCabe seemed to be drunk. He grabbed Maël's hand as soon as he came up, unwilling to let go: "We've met a few times, but never had a conversation. You played perfectly today. It's a real pleasure to watch a game like this."
"In fact, I've wanted to have an in-depth conversation with you for a long time, but I've been struggling with not having the time."
Speaking of this, he remembered the five people standing behind him, and quickly let go of Maël's hand and stepped aside, "To add one more thing, I really enjoy chatting with your family members. They are very nice people."
Before Maël could reply to him, he went to exchange greetings with Gareth Speed and others, so he had to walk to his family's side.
"You were amazing!"
Clermont held back for a long time and only managed to squeeze out this sentence. Looking at the star player in front of him who had just carried the whole team, he still found it difficult to completely believe from the bottom of his heart that this was his nephew.
Especially when he was wearing a jersey and covered in sweat, looking like a little star, he always felt a sense of distance from them.
Maël high-fived and hugged him, and after finishing, he came to his aunt and hugged her.
"You played very well."
Betty said with a gentle face, admiringly, "I watched a few games with my father when I was a child, but none of them were as shocking as this one. It's so nice to play in such a big team and have so many people like you."
He chuckled softly. After the season, he would go to a bigger team, a more magnificent stadium.
When Maël came to his eldest younger sister, Maqi, he clearly felt her restraint and a special emotion, likely due to their similar ages.
Not that Maël was narcissistic, but he had lived quite a few days in his previous life, and he hoped... this emotion was just admiration.
"Bro, you were awesome."
His second younger brother, Bruno, reacted much more normally. They had conflicts when they were younger, but at this moment, he was more likely convinced, calling him 'bro' for the first time, smiling sincerely for the first time.
"Brother!"
Little sister Ava was beside them, watching as it was finally her turn. She imitated the adults, reaching out to give Maël a high-five, then opened her arms, waiting for a hug.
Maël didn't hug her, but instead picked her up directly, holding her in his arms and running a few steps on the field, startling the little girl into screaming, but in the end, she looked like she wanted to do it again.
The joy of winning, coupled with the reunion with his family at this triumphant moment in his life, filled him with happiness.
"Maël."
A staff member called out to Maël at this moment, waving his hand and saying, "You need to come over here!"
Maël put Ava down, said goodbye to his aunt and uncle, and walked towards the person.
"Go on."
Clermont took one last look at him, then wandered around the field with his aunt. They had never been inside such a beautiful stadium before.
Standing here on their nephew's merit gave them a special sense of novelty.
What's more, there were still many Sheffield United fans lingering here, singing team songs and clapping their hands.
Stepping on the soft turf, they could close their eyes and dream of being a football star, couldn't they?
Maël followed the staff member through the player tunnel and into the media room inside the stadium.
Pushing the door open, he walked in. There were twenty or thirty cameras set up inside, and at least fifty or sixty people were waiting for him, including seven or eight mainstream media outlets.
He roughly knew what he was here for, took a deep breath, and smiled.
How should he express this feeling? Involuntarily, he remembered when he first came to the team.
At that time, he and Gilbert stood like lackeys. Besides Gareth Speed, there were only two club photographers at the signing ceremony.
But look at now, many people came for him, and everyone was looking forward to him walking in.
"Happy Boxing Day."
Maël took the initiative to greet everyone, stepping towards the center position. Reaching this step was not a major success.
But at least, he saw his progress and growth, moving forward quickly, reaping more and more weighty honors and achievements.
Flashes of light 'clicked' and 'clacked' as photographers frantically took pictures, and some people chose to set up cameras to record.
"First of all, congratulations on being named the best player in this game on such a day, it must be unforgettable."
A club staff member came over, holding the Man of the Match trophy and the game ball, explaining, "Originally, this ball was only for a hat-trick, but who would be stingy to give the best player an extra ball?
"Take it back and put it away, this is your first Boxing Day Battle in England, it's worth commemorating."
Maël gladly accepted it, without any hint of disgust, and joked, "I will put it together with the ball from the hat-trick game, and put this one in the first place."
The staff member pretended to be like, 'Of course, that's how it should be,' then put on a smile, took a photo with Maël, and walked off the stage.
Next, a few old men who had been standing in the corner came up with smiles, holding a cylinder engraved with the EFL Championship logo.
"Congratulations, young man."
One of the old men handed the cylinder to Maël, congratulating him, "Deservedly the best player of the first half of the season. We had already decided on you before this game.
"This is the FA's Boxing Day gift to you, of course, mainly because you earned it through your excellent performance."
Maël took the cylinder, unable to help but smile. Not that he was biased, but the design of this commemorative trophy could really be described as ugly. It looked a bit like a thermos, like a tube for holding badminton rackets.
Of course, the most important thing about this award was the value it represented.
In this first half of the season, in the EFL Championship with 24 teams and over 500 professional players, he had overshadowed them all! EFL Championship Best Player of the Half-Season.
This was the most valuable award he had received since the Player of the Month award! It contained a microcosm of his half-year of hard work, summarizing all his wonderful performances and achievements in this first half of the season.
ps: It's a bit stuck tonight, I won't sleep tonight to adjust my schedule, and I'll update it earlier.
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