Imminent Change VI
"Squared to Davidas. The attacking midfielder..."
Baca expertly nodded the ball to the feet of Dieuze, the holding midfielder received the ball as he controlled it with his chest. Spinning around, the deep-lying creative presence in the centre of the park passed the ball to the feet of Oliver Davidas. The Le Havre No.10, Davidas , was a dazzaling boy. And he was sent on a mission. With a commanding presence, he tried his best to hit the ball forward and break the deadlock.
"And HE TRIES HIS LUCK AND HITS IT INTO THE BOX!!!"
Davidas squared the ball to the centre of the box. The hapless left back for Lorient, Urena tried to sort his feet out and move back, but the Lorient defenders were quick to sense danger and stepped in front of the ball to prevent the strike from Alassane. A lovely footwork move but Le Havre still hadn't settled for their first-half struggles.
"OH, BUT ALASSANE WAS DENIED BY CIANI."
Marley could only shake his head in disappointment at their missed chances. He bit his fingertips as he heard the referee's whistle blow. Again. The young football coach could only feel his heart boiling and trembling by their rued opportunities. The three tacticians have each contributed their inputs in the match, the game has shifted his way.
He could feel the changing tides. He could hear it, he could smell it. The Le Havre fans sitting behind him were no longer conversing in a miserable dejected mood but carried a hint of optimism. Lorient is a top good, a team in the top division, no mistake. It is a top-flight side, but they have been unlucky thus far.
The Le Havre side is fighting. They are having a bite. They are running. They are a side currently fearless against the odds.
"UNBELIEVABLE LE HAVRE CAN'T BELIEVE HOW THEY HAVE YET TO SCORE!!!!"
Lanier eyed the pot-bellied manager. A snicker escaped his lips as he evaluated his senior. Don't judge his playful demeanour and bubbly appearance. Under that facade of a friendly coach was... a demon that possesses others, a monster that bends others into his will, and a commander that knows how to get what he wants. Marley is not an innocent football coach, but a brainwasher, a manipulator, a man who twists others' souls into his bidding. His words are hypnotic, a beguilement to cause blissful oblivion. His appearance is misleading, a ruse to disarm your mental fortitude. His actions are fatal, a curse to bind your service for eternity, for life.
Again Le Havre piled on the pressure. They were fighting, with rekindled spirits lightened up by the stimulating words from Marley. Le Havre was electric, piling on pressure wave after wave like never seen before. The once-inaudible stadium turned rowdy when the fans saw a glimmer of hope.
"What's going on here...? "
Dieuze has gotten the ball at his feet as he spun around to find the target of his next pass. The midfield is congested, and it always has been congested as midfield numerical advantage is a concept well-known throughout the footballing industry. His time on the ball was met with resistance. The Lorient midfielder Amalfitano offered him little to no time as he made his presence known.
But despite the pressure, Dieuze calmly laid the ball off to his teammate that has offered himself openly in space for an easy pass. The deep-lying midfielder squared the ball off as Kai Chiu, the inexperienced midfielder, made himself available for a simple exchange.
"Le Havre is possessing the ball. Their first half performance is nothing short of atrocious, but come the second half and they are flying."
Lanier looked like he can smell a goal. He slaps his hand over his mouth in frustration, the decibels in the Le Havre stands rise tenfold as they felt it collectively as an entity. For the first time, the Le Havre fans were united, singing the club anthem with pride against the elements of the chaotic weather.
Kai was one that fully took on board with the manager's comments. He looked at none other than further up the pitch when he received the ball, determined to make something happen with his own two feet. The midfielder felt it, the voices oohed and ahhed, a simple pass played quickly towards him, and he was in the box. He nudged the ball back for Dieuze to pick up, and as he was about to pull the trigger he spotted a dashing figure making a discrete run.
The Le Havre fans went wild. For some reason, it seemed like academy prospect was blessed by the heavens as he carved open the Lorient midfield on his own. The chants began once again, and the Lorient fans became subdued and looked at each other in disbelief.
"WHAT A PASS BY DEBUTANT!"
A ball delivered with the perfect power, striking a fine balance between unpredictability and execution. It was placed right between the gap between Le Lan and Ciani, causing momentary confusion as they each thought the other would intercept the pass. But the two defenders didn't move an inch, both eyeing the other as they could see what was about to happen. And in a split second, the ball found Jean-Michel Lesage lurking in the blind side of the unsuspecting Lorient defender Ciani.
Lesage's instinct went into overdrive as his heart overpowered his reasoning. His legs moved on their own as he found himself running down an unforeseen path. His movement turned deadly, there was a viper's sting to his run, unpredictable, unforeseen, unnoticed. The Lorient back four were stunned as Lesage burned them right through their weaknesses.
No one made an attempt to track Lesage as he barreled into the box, directing his momentum into the path of the Lorient Goalkeeper. The Le Havre forward launched himself at the ball as he pulled the trigger of his shot.
"LESAGEEEEEEEE! —— "
Their reaction was one that could only be described as pure shock. For a fleeting second there, there was no one quite sure of what had happened. The second-choice Audard did what the audience thought was impossible. Lesage's shot was placed right into the edge of the box, yet the Lorient keeper had the agility to pounce at the shot.
For the third time in the second half, Le Havre had been denied by what they would think as opportunistic moments that should have been a goal. But again and again, were they denied as the Lorient defence stubbornly held on and resisted with all their might. Le Havre was stunned, they had created bountiful chances, but it seemed that everything was against them at this moment in time.
Has fate decided to erase any chance of an equaliser?
Fabien Audard was shaking his head in denial For any goalkeeper, the correct method of saving that goal is to cover up with your hands or try to make a decisive save with your body. But Audard's desire for action led him to do one thing that he hadn't done before, and that was to kick the ball away with his foot.
The Lorient supporters sang with glee, and their voices bounced off the stands, creating an echo that could be heard beyond the stadium. The French giants had found a way to evade the upset that their fellow countrymen had so desperately wanted to see.
"AND CLEARED AWAY BY FABIEN AUDARD... WAIT IS THAT?!—"
A ball delivered with sheer strength as it ruptured through the air before gravity took its due course, sending the ball back to earth. The ball caught them by surprise, and the sudden clearance up the field left the Le Havre team scrambling back into position as all the midfielders and forwards were left too high up the pitch as they dedicated all their efforts to creating an equaliser.
Gamerio had quite the night. Scoring the first goal of the game but then maliciously targeted as the game went on. The bruise still ached as he found himself clutching his stomach occasionally. His socks are drenched, long turned soggy as the home fans didn't hesitate to bombard him with alcohol and booze. The instep of his foot burned at every step he took, he didn't dare check the conditions of his right foot, as he feared the worse.
But this only sharpened his instinct, his pent-up emotion built up like a wave inside the animal of his mind. He couldn't leave anything to chance. The ball was coming approaching his way, he know too well how these venomous bastards would do everything in their stead to stop him. Gamerio gritted his teeth, the ball wasn't even in his control when he felt his inner thigh clash against the ankle of another player.
His whole body was sore, but that was the least of his worries as he headed the ball to release a flick on that would allow his teammates to scramble and chase.
"A QUICK INTERCHANGING PLAY BETWEEN GAMERIO AND FABIEN ROBERTS. IT'S A COUNTER!!!"
The teenage striker rushed after the ball, and even though he was only just 19 years of age, he was a very agile runner. His lungs screamed in pain, as he hyperventilated at every step, waiting for the ball to arrive at his feet.
"INCISIVE BREAK BY LORIENT. ROBERTS!—"
Lo Sambou was a large man, his way of tackling was risky, he knew. He waited for his opportunity and just when the youthful Roberts took a large stride forward, the ball was struck away as Lo Sambou scooped the ball away with his outreaching leg.
But the agile Roberts were all too caught up in his race for the ball as his running leg was the unfortunate victim of Lo Sambou's tackle. His balance was all gone as his right foot was caught by Lo Sambou, tumbling on the floor as he used his hands to soften the impact.
"PENALTY!" Gourcuff yelled at the assistant referee.