The rain beat down heavily, turning the pitch into a slippery battlefield. Ajax had come out for the second half with renewed energy, desperate to break PSV's stubborn defense. But PSV had dug in, sitting deep in their half, a stark contrast to their usual aggressive, direct style. It was like a wall of bodies blocking Ajax's every move, making it nearly impossible for them to break through.
Femi was becoming frustrated. His touches were heavy as he tried to find space in the midfield, but PSV seemed to have covered every inch. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. One mistake. That's all it took.
Then it happened. In the 56th minute, Femi was racing forward, trying to latch onto a pass. The rain had made the surface slick, and as he pushed the ball ahead of him, his foot slid unexpectedly, sending him crashing to the ground. The ball, now unprotected, was pounced on by a PSV midfielder who played a quick, decisive pass into the path of their striker. With one quick strike, PSV had taken the lead.
Femi lay on the ground, his hands gripping the sodden turf, the sting of his error eating away at him. His heart raced. "Damn it. I should've been more careful," he thought. "Why did I slip now, of all times?"
But there was no time for regret. The match wasn't over. Ajax had to push forward, and so did he.
Coach Bakker stood on the touchline, a deep frown etched across his face. His team had been stifled, unable to break down PSV's defensive wall. The strategy of possession and patience wasn't working against this kind of resistance. It was time for a change.
He looked to the bench, his eyes landing on Josip Van der Berg. With Femi struggling, and Ajax's attack lacking creativity, Bakker knew he had to take a gamble. His mind raced as he made the decision. "We need unpredictability. Josip's fresh legs, his experience, his fearlessness—he can offer something different," Bakker thought.
He called Josip over, and the defender jogged onto the field. There was tension between the two left-backs; a silent challenge hung in the air. Femi's eyes flickered towards Josip, but there was no time for words. He nodded, acknowledging the decision, even as he silently promised to prove himself again.
With Josip on the pitch, Femi moved inside, dropping into a more central role to help with build-up play. His exhaustion from the first 70 minutes was catching up with him, but he pushed it aside. The team needed him, even if he didn't have the energy to keep running down the left. "This is it. Focus. You can't let them down," he thought to himself.
In a moment of clarity, Femi spotted Liam, who was unmarked on the right. With a burst of energy he didn't know he had left, he picked out the pass, threading it through PSV's defense.
Liam controlled the ball well and, without hesitation, swung a dangerous cross into the box. And there, at the far post, was Josip, timing his jump perfectly.
Josip rose above the defenders, meeting the ball with a powerful header that sent it crashing past the PSV goalkeeper. The equalizer was here. Ajax was back in it.
The stadium erupted in cheers as Ajax's players gathered around Josip, lifting him into the air. The weight of the moment was heavy, but for a fleeting second, Femi allowed himself a small smile. "We're still in this," he thought. But as the celebrations died down, he couldn't help but feel something else—tension. Josip had made his mark, and Femi was left wondering just how much longer his place in the starting XI would last.
Ajax had equalized, but Femi's body was done. The mental strain of the match, combined with his slip that led to PSV's goal, had left him physically drained. His legs felt like concrete, and every step was a struggle.
"I can't do this," Femi thought as he limped back into position after the celebrations. But he had no choice. He couldn't let down his team now.
Coach Bakker saw it, though. He knew Femi's body was giving out, even if his mind was still sharp.
"Femi," Bakker called, signaling for him to come off. "You've given everything. Rest now."
Femi nodded, his chest heavy with exhaustion and a touch of disappointment. As he jogged off, his eyes met Josip's again. A fleeting glance, but it spoke volumes. Josip had taken his place, and the pressure was on.
As extra time began, the tactical shape of Ajax shifted. Bakker reverted to a 3-4-3, bringing on a defensive player to shore up the backline and to avoid being caught on the counterattack. Josip slotted into the left wing-back role, a position he had made his own in the past.
"I have to make this count," Josip thought. He had been out for weeks, sidelined by injury, but now it was his chance to show why he belonged on the field.
PSV was still playing deep, their defensive strategy unchanged. Ajax struggled to break them down, but the shift in formation gave them an extra boost. Josip's overlapping runs began to stretch the PSV defense, creating the space that had been lacking earlier.
Then, in the dying moments of extra time, something remarkable happened. Liam, now operating on the right wing, sent in a cross—lofted perfectly for Josip, who was lurking outside the box. Without hesitation, Josip launched a powerful strike with his left foot. The ball flew through the wet air, dipping sharply toward the top corner. The PSV goalkeeper couldn't even react in time.
"That's it," Josip thought as he watched the ball sail past the keeper. "Game over."
As the ball hit the back of the net, Josip turned, his arms outstretched, a grin spreading across his face. His teammates rushed to him, lifting him in celebration. But it was the subtle look he cast towards Femi, still on the sideline, that spoke volumes.
He had made his mark. He was back. And he was hungry for more.
The final whistle blew, and Ajax had won 2-1. They were headed to the final, but there was no celebration from Josip as exuberant as his teammates. He stood a little apart, watching Femi, who had made his way to the bench, exhaustion still written on his face.
As the players congratulated each other, Josip caught Femi's eye. Femi gave him a tired nod, a faint acknowledgment. Josip approached him, a quiet confidence in his steps.
"Well, looks like it was my time today," Josip said, his tone light but tinged with something deeper.
Femi, still catching his breath, managed a half-smile. "Yeah. You were the one who made the difference," he said. There was something more in his eyes, but he kept it to himself.
Josip grinned, the playful arrogance never far from the surface. "Next time," he said with a wink, "you'll get your chance. But I think we both know it's getting harder to ignore me now."
Femi didn't answer right away, but the flicker of challenge in his eyes was undeniable.