Chapter 236: Air Battle Part 2
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Just as Drogba got the ball, he found himself faced with a pincer attack from two burly men. The one pressing in on his back was the Spanish lad, while the person taking wide strides towards him with the intention of stealing the ball was the mixed-blood man.
Tang En knew that when Drogba had first entered the Premier League, his footwork was as rough as it could get. So long as he had two defenders working a pincer on him, he had a high likelihood of losing the ball. That's what Wood and Piqué were doing to Drogba. Currently, Chelsea only had two routes of offense: one route depended on Lampard cutting forward and shooting, and the other relied on Drogba. Lampard was guarded by Matthew Upson and Albertini, whereas Drogba needed to face two physically strong opponents who did not have much match experience.
As Wood took a sweep at the ball, Drogba hurriedly pulled back. However, behind him, Piqué had stretched out his foot at the best possible moment.
It got stolen!
It was so easy to take Drogba's ball!
Drogba, the beast, would not easily give up possession of the ball, and spared no effort to chase it. But just as he shifted his center of gravity to surge forward, a red back with a huge number 13 on it appeared in front of him. It was George Wood, who previously lost out to him while competing for the header, which had resulted in Chelsea equalizing the score.
Drogba felt as if he had crashed into a rock. He had never thought that his body could be inferior to anyone's; this was the first time he had ever received no reaction from his opponent after running into them. In fact, he got bounced back!
With his experience, he took the opportunity to fall to the ground. George Wood did not continue moving after he got into his path but paused momentarily. Surely this was considered an obstruction?
The player fell to the ground, but a whistle did not come. Forest had gained a great opportunity to counterattack.
"What an amazing physique! We have mentioned this several times now, but I want to say it again; George Wood has defeated Didier Drogba! It's unbelievable that such a player has been playing soccer for less than two years! His sturdy build is God's gift to Nottingham Forest!"
While the commentator was singing praise for Wood, Forest was amid a crucial transition from defense to offense. Chelsea had just pressed forward to attack and had not expected Drogba's ball to be intercepted so quickly. Their players had no time to return to defense and form a complete defensive line; there were large swathes of open field ahead of them. As long as Forest seized the opportunity with the timing and positioning of their pass, this counterattack could be a huge threat.
But Wood was clearly not cut out for this.
Out of habit, he wanted to pass the ball to Albertini. But as he raised his head, he saw that Lampard had not retreated to defend, but stepped forward to box out Albertini instead.
It was an intelligent move from Lampard. He knew that the attacks from Forest had to be launched by the Italian man; so if he guarded Albertini, he would have contained the launching grounds of Forest's attack. Additionally, he could buy some time for his teammates, who were rushing back to defend.
In Wood's mind, a voice suddenly told him that he couldn't do that; that he could not pass it to the captain. Otherwise, not only would they be unable to launch their attack, the ball may even be intercepted by the opponents. They would then immediately go on the offensive!
So he took a look at Albertini and turned back. Ribéry was running forward now; Scarface was incredibly fast… Why not him? I'll kick it hard forward, to somewhere empty, and then… just let Scarface run!
Wood executed his idea as soon as it formed in his mind, giving the ball a good kick forward that sent it flying high. He could only do his best to ensure the ball stayed its intended direction. As to exactly where it would land, he really had no inkling at all.
"This is Forest team's counterattack!!" The commentator called out excitedly but soon regretted it. "Oh… the pass seems to have gone wide. It can't possibly be received!"
Ribéry, who was dashing forward, heard the cheers from the stands intensify and looked back, realizing that the ball was suddenly above him in the skies and was falling just ahead of him. He increased his speed, but a blue figure abruptly appeared.
"William Gallas. He appeared at the right place just in time! The ball is coming, and he jumps! He heads the ball away to safety… But he misses!"
The ball sped towards the ground and rebounded up high in front of Gallas, bounding right over his bald head… It was incredibly improbable.
"Go!" Tang En rushed to the sidelines and hollered. It was such a ridiculous scene, but he had no time to stop and laugh.
Franck Ribéry had originally intended to slam on his brakes and wait for Gallas to stop the ball before going up to press on him. On the other hand, he thought that he might as well run back for defense. But his strong inertia stopped him from slowing down in such a short time; unexpectedly, it aided his breakthrough. He sped past Gallas and even remembered to use French to tell his comrade from France, "Merci!"
No one had thought that Gallas would miss the header. In an instant, Chelsea's defensive line had collapsed. Terry and Carvalho both dropped their marked targets and dashed towards Ribéry; the new pairing of midfielders for the season was still not synced up enough.
When Terry saw Carvalho, he waved to signal him to return and defend the middle path, leaving Ribéry to him. Obediently, Carvalho retreated. But Ribéry was not a fool. He was not going to give Chelsea's defenders an opportunity to rebuild their defensive line! He made a swift decision to give up on breaking through to the end line and immediately lifted his foot to pass to the front of the goal!
The football flew over Terry's head, entering the airspace of Chelsea's defense. As Carvalho turned and jumped to head the ball, he saw a figure hurtling towards him from the air.
"Nicklas Bendtner!"
The golden hair of the Denmarkian boy swished an arc in the rain. Carvalho even felt the water droplets from it whipping onto his face, into his eyes. And then… then there was a solid impact between bodies. Following it was the sound of ear-splitting cheers.
"What a GOOOOOAL!!! What a powerful clash! Nottingham Forest takes the lead again!"
As Carvalho fell backward into the mud, he watched the red figure, with wide open arms, run somewhere beyond his vision.