Chapter 89 Hat-trick! Graham's Mentality Explodes! End of Round 30! [15]
In the North Stand, inside a private box.
McCabe and his family sat, watching the game while eating their dinner, as usual, with red wine.
"This guy."
McCabe wiped his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head and grimacing, "He's snatched another £300,000 bonus, making money way too easily."
"Haha..." His wife and children laughed. No one thought McCabe really meant it; seeing Maël's form getting better and better, he was probably secretly pleased.
"What to do then?"
His youngest daughter, Isabella, picked up a glass of red wine and took a sip, mischievously saying, "Why don't you start special training now and experience the life of a player?"
Another burst of laughter rang out until the team launched a threatening attack below, drawing their attention back to the field.
"Mark Yates!"
Isabella saw the ball carrier enter the penalty area, create a shooting angle, and stood up, spreading her arms, ready to celebrate.
As Mark Yates swept a shot that hit the far corner of the net, cheers erupted from the crowd: "Oh!"
"Beautiful!"
"Got it, 64 points!"
The family clinked glasses, excited. Three-nil, the game was basically decided.
"He's not bad, after all."
Isabella seemed a little drunk, her expression extremely animated as she toasted everyone and exclaimed, "Who would have thought that if Bologanovic hadn't had muscle discomfort, he'd almost have spent the whole season on the bench?"
She was a die-hard fan of the club, her love for the team far exceeding that of her brothers, and she knew everything about the team inside and out.
"Competing with Maël for a position, you can only say he's unlucky." McCabe sighed, watching his daughter's micro-expressions as he drank, and gradually relaxed after seeing nothing amiss.
"I want to meet him."
Isabella tilted her head, possessing the passion and openness of European and American girls, without any coyness, "McCabe, I need you to help me."
McCabe's relaxed heart tensed up again, but facing his beloved daughter, he still said gently, "Players are very busy during the season, let's forget about it, my dear. You're three years older than him."
"Then I'll find a way myself."
Isabella still tilted her head, like a proud peacock, with an inherited old-money aristocratic air, a hint of willingness to pay any price, by any means.
"Alright, Isabella."
Her mother glanced at McCabe, then turned to advise, "Watch less Hollywood movies, those plots don't exist in reality."
Isabella rolled her eyes slightly, waving her hand, "You underestimate your daughter too much, and besides, we're not talking about the same thing. I don't know why you'd think that way."
McCabe sat on the sofa, thought for a moment, and said, "I'll help you find a way, but it might not be successful."
Isabella smiled, raised an eyebrow at him, and nodded in satisfaction, but in reality, she didn't believe McCabe would really help her ask.
Millwall then scored a goal from a corner kick, pulling one back, but the cheers from the fans weren't very loud, seemingly not hopeful for a victory.
There were only seven or eight minutes left, and a goal at this point was unlikely to make much of a difference.
"Evans!"
In the 89th minute of the game, the whole family stood up again. Evans broke through the opponent's defender and entered the penalty area, creating a One-on-One.
"Pass!"
Isabella opened her mouth slightly, calling out expectantly. She saw Maël actively running into the penalty area from the other side.
If he passed it over, it would not only be an open goal opportunity but also likely help Maël score his third goal, completing a Hat-trick for the second time.
Evans indeed chose to make a selfless cross. The Millwall goalkeeper lunged out the moment he passed the ball, trying to make a last-ditch attempt, but unfortunately, he didn't reach it.
An open goal! "Ah!" Isabella jumped up, raising her hands, clearly extremely excited.
Maël didn't mess up, steadily pushing the ball into the center of the net with the inside of his foot, scoring his third goal of the game.
Four to one!
"42 goals!"
Isabella shook her head and body, opened the phone camera and came to McCabe's side, "50 is also close, let's interview our old McCabe, how are you feeling now?"
McCabe shrank back and reached out to block her camera, but missed several times.
"Yeah!!" Inside the stadium, more than 20,000 Sheffield United fans raised their hands, celebrating together.
No one would dislike the team scoring more goals, and no one would not be excited about their star player achieving something. The fans were still looking forward to this moment.
"Haha!"
"Maël!"
"Evans is too generous, when will 1 give me a ball like that!"
The Sheffield United players ran towards Maël, and some went up to put their arms around Evans' shoulders, celebrating with them both.
"Oh!"
Maël clenched his fists and shouted, rushing to the camera, counting out his thumb, index finger, and middle finger with his right hand, and his thumb and index finger with his left hand.
His hands were facing away from the camera, like two pistols with different caliber barrels, but they were actually alluding to something.
Hat-trick, the 2nd time! This is a single-game achievement that every shooter dreams of, and he completed it twice in his first season! Looking back, he found Evans' figure, rushed over and hugged him tightly, "How can I thank you?"
He originally thought he had no chance, but Evans' selfless feeding allowed him to usher in an easy goal before the game.
"Pass me the ball more."
Evans was also happy for his teammate's achievement, patting Maël on the shoulder and saying, "Don't just stare at Bologanovic, if a cross comes in, I can also score.
"Of course, I don't mean to complain that he's stealing my chances, we still have to pray for our injured teammates."
"Okay." Maël high-fived him, and happily waved his hand towards Gareth Speed's position on the sidelines, holding up five fingers.
Gareth Speed understood, pretended to take out his wallet and flip through it a few times, shook his head and made a regretful look.
The two then looked at each other from a distance, leaned back and smiled, quite tacitly.
Walking back, Maël glanced at the football that had been placed in the center circle arc. If there were no more throw-ins or corners, this should be his.
Including this one, he will have 3 monthly bests, 3 commemorative balls, and 9 single-game bests!
Not bad achievements.
Before returning to London, if he can't take away the championship medal, he will take all these things away as the first batch of souvenirs for the Hall of Fame.
"Beep! Beep! Beep—!"
Before long, the referee blew the whistle to end the game, and the fans burst into cheers again.
64 points! Not to mention whether they can enter the promotion zone, the play-off spot should be relatively secure. Usually, the points for this position are around 80.
There are still 16 games left, and it is almost impossible for Sheffield United to only get less than 16 points!
"Lads."
In the post-match locker room, Gareth Speed told everyone his thoughts on the final sprint, "We have walked such a long way together, we don't need to worry about anything anymore, let's play the remaining games with a normal heart.
"Everything must be done step by step. Currently, let's strive to get 80 points as soon as possible and stabilize the play-off zone!"
He chose to be steady. With Kevin's example in front of him, he didn't dare to take the old path again at this point.
Break down the goals and complete them one by one, without putting too much pressure on the players.
"Come on!!" He clenched his fist and shouted loudly.
"Come on! Come on!!"
"Sheffield! Sheffield!"
The players had just won a big victory and were in high spirits at the moment, clenching their fists and waving them, dancing in a circle.
When all this was over, Maël returned home with the football and the Man of the Match commemorative trophy, placed the football on his small display cabinet, and stood aside to admire it.
It already had a preliminary feeling of being dazzling.
Unlike when it was first bought, it was so awkward, with only a few items on the huge display cabinet.
"Norwich 66 points, Queens Park Rangers 72 points."
Gilbert, holding his phone, sat beside him, reading out the results of other teams: "Reading 64 points, with a worse goal difference than us. Swansea and Cardiff City aren't too far behind either.
"Maël, do you think we still have a chance for automatic promotion?"
"Automatic promotion?" Maël turned to look at him, puzzled, making Gilbert feel a little apprehensive. He was about to speak when he was interrupted again: "Isn't that a certainty? You should be asking me if we'll be champions."
Gilbert: "..."
He frowned and said, "Maël, I've told you, your jokes aren't funny."
"I know."
Maël took a few steps back, focusing his gaze back on his trophy display, a look of satisfaction on his face. "But I'm serious this time."
"Arsenal beat Wolves two-nil! Van Persie with a brace!" – The Guardian
"Sheffield United beat Millwall four-one, closing the gap with Norwich!" Sky Sports EFL Championship column
"Top of both lists! Breaking records! 17-year-old shines in the EFL Championship, putting up monstrous stats! Rumor has it that Barcelona and Real Madrid are also paying attention to the player and will contact the team in the summer transfer window." – Spanish AS
"If he can maintain the top spot on both lists until the end of the season, Maël will be the first player in the English professional football system to achieve this feat!" – 442 Prodigy Column
"Two-one! Manchester United beat Manchester City! Winning the Manchester Derby! After the match, clashes broke out between fans of both sides, resulting in 4 injuries!" – The Sun
After this round of league matches, news about Maël completely exploded.
Being top of both lists is indeed a rare achievement.
Just imagine, a player fulfilling the role of a frontline killer, with extremely high efficiency, who can also frequently assist teammates with passes, surpassing all the other top players! What kind of monster is that?
"I'm usually cautious when evaluating people, but I really have to use 'the new Ronaldo' to describe him. He's so similar. Ronaldo debuted at Cruzeiro, joined the first team at 17, and played in the Brazilian Serie B, making 44 appearances and scoring 44 goals in his first season! See? Second-tier league, 17 years old, high efficiency, isn't this the same person?"
"Well, Maël is a bit better looking than Ronaldo, there are still differences."
"Ronaldo had no assists. In his first season, he appeared on the field purely as a scorer, 44 goals and 0 assists! Maël, on the other hand, has 17 assists while also having 25 goals!"
"Scoring goals is more impressive, Maël's goal-scoring efficiency can't compare to Ronaldo's."
"What nonsense are you talking about? Let's not even talk about the difference in football tactics and techniques between the 90s and now, first tell me how big is the gap between the Brazilian Serie B and the EFL Championship? As for goals and assists, it's definitely better to be comprehensive."
"Forget everything else, Maël's creation of 42 goals was much faster than Ronaldo's, he only used 30 games, averaging nearly 1.5 per game."
"..."
Fans commented on these posts one after another. This time, not everyone supported Maël.
Because he was being compared to the legendary Brazilian star Ronaldo. As a player who was missed even before retiring, Ronaldo's ability during his peak left a deep impression on European football.
Most of those who watched his games at that time were attracted to become his die-hard fans, and these people still often reminisce.
His peak was too high, and his peak period was too short due to injuries, which gave fans a lot of room for imagination.
Discussions about how high he could have reached if he hadn't been injured have never stopped.
When someone comes out now and suddenly says that there is a player who is more fierce than him... those fans who firmly support Ronaldo are naturally not very happy.
They will defend their love, even at the cost of giving up some rationality.
In fact, they are also unwilling to accept that the player who represents their youth has become a thing of the past, unwilling to accept that their youth has passed away.
But, no matter how the outside world argues.
At this moment, at Watford's home stadium, Vicarage Road, Graham, sitting in the locker room, had only one thought... the sky is falling.
He maintained the top scorer position for almost a season, but at this final stage of the league, it was snatched away! The most crucial thing is that the reason he was substituted at halftime today was also because of leg cramps, his body was too tired.
He can confirm that the first 30 games were definitely the peak of his form this season.
After that, he will no longer have any ability or confidence to compete with Maël.
"Ugh!"
He was so depressed again that he stood up to vent, kicking over the trash can with a heavy foot and throwing his phone against the wall.
The teammate who had been beaten by his 'neurotic behavior' some time ago happened to walk in at this time and met his furious gaze.
"Haha..." This time, the person laughed dryly, the laughter was very awkward, he was really afraid of being hit again for no reason.
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