Chapter 110: Chapter 110: That’s the Kind of Man He Is
"Look at that!" The stadium erupted in cheers as Ronaldinho, weaving his way into the heart of the opposition's defense, burst forward down the middle. With calm composure and extraordinary vision, he dribbled past two defenders before slicing a pass to Luke on the left. The ball sailed in a perfect, diagonal arc from about 30 yards out, landing exactly at the feet of Eto'o at the edge of the box.
The commentators were ecstatic. "Ronaldinho has done it again!" they bellowed, their voices echoing around the packed Son Moix Stadium. "What a sublime pass—so precise that even the most minute details matter. That pass could easily be found in the pages of a football tactics manual!"
For those watching live, the beauty of the play was undeniable. From every angle, it was a masterclass in passing and spatial awareness. Ronaldinho's ability to lift his head, read the game, and then deliver such a delicate yet powerful diagonal pass was reminiscent of the best moments in football history. Even more impressive was the fact that Barcelona's defenders had been so thoroughly deceived by his movement. They had been drawn in by his trademark feints, leaving Eto'o virtually unmarked for that crucial moment.
As the ball landed, Luke sprinted forward, his pace and timing impeccable. In an instant, he controlled the pass and looked up to find Eto'o already preparing for action. "Luke's pass was exquisite," the play-by-play analyst remarked. "That delivery was crafted with precision and poise—exactly what you'd expect from a player who's been nurtured in a club with a storied attacking tradition."
But the brilliance didn't stop there. With the defense disoriented by Ronaldinho's trickery, the spotlight shifted to Eto'o, who had earned himself the role of the team's "cannon." His earlier runs had been so effective that they had drawn the attention of two central defenders and even the goalkeeper. With all eyes on him, Eto'o, the ever-reliable striker, took his moment. Instead of immediately firing a shot, he hesitated, feinted a touch, and then cleverly returned the ball to the onrushing Novo—a young talent who had been quietly making his mark.
The crowd held its breath as Novo, with a calm yet confident composure, swung his right foot in one fluid motion. The shot was pure, powerful, and perfectly placed—a strike that defied gravity as it soared into the net with a resounding thud. "GOOOOOAAALL!" the stadium exploded in celebration. "Novo has just scored his first La Liga goal, and what a strike it was! That ball flew right past Herrera—he didn't even have time to react!"
The commentators continued, "Eto'o played the perfect part as our cannon, drawing defenders away so that Novo had the space to unleash that magnificent shot. Look at how the opposition's defence was completely caught napping—they were so busy trying to track Eto'o that when Novo fired, they were still scrambling to get into position!"
For a moment, the entire stadium stood still in awe. Novo threw his arms wide in celebration and then embraced Eto'o tightly—a touching scene that underscored the camaraderie on display. In that instant, the narrative of Mallorca's youth academy shone brightly: from Beleron to Tristan, then to Luke, and now Novo was heralded as the latest prodigy. "Every club will have to take notice of this team," one commentator declared. "Their self-sustaining talent pipeline is second to none!"
In the dugout, Coach José Alemani allowed himself a rare, proud smile. He had always believed that the true strength of a team lay not only in the quality of its foreign stars but also in the robust development of its homegrown talent. "We've invested in our youth," he thought, "and now the results are starting to show." He mused that if more clubs prioritized nurturing local talent—especially in a league like La Liga, where non-EU player restrictions force teams to rely on domestic players—the competitive balance would shift dramatically. "Why chase expensive imports when you have quality homegrown players?" he said to himself, recalling how local players often see their market values surge simply by being eligible and well-integrated.
Yet, the beauty of the moment wasn't confined to the attacking play alone. As the rapturous celebrations from the stands reached a fever pitch, the atmosphere in the stadium began to shift. The thunderous chants of "José! José! José!" filled the air—not for any of the star players on the pitch, but for the man who had masterminded this renaissance. For many Mallorca fans, Coach José Alemani wasn't just a tactician; he was the architect of their club's revival. His vision had transformed a struggling side into a team capable of challenging the very best.
In that instant, José felt an emotional swell as he watched his players celebrate the goal. "I never expected to be so adored," he murmured quietly to himself. But then he quickly regained his composure and turned his focus back to the tactical board in the locker room. With his characteristic decisiveness, he began outlining adjustments for the second half.
"Look, our opponents are no pushovers," he addressed the team, his voice firm and resolute. "Alavés have a reputation for high-octane attacking play—they've netted more goals than we have this season. But their defence is just as leaky; they've conceded too many goals, ranking among the worst in the league. That's exactly why we're going all out in attack today. We're not afraid of conceding a few; we're here to score more than they do. Our attack is just as potent, if not more so. I believe that if we keep pressing, we can overwhelm them before they even have a chance to settle. Let's show them that we're not just a team that defends and counterattacks—we're a team that dominates from the front!"
The players roared their agreement, their eyes shining with renewed determination. "We'll get that first goal and then outscore them every time they hit the back of the net!" they shouted in unison, fists pumping in the air.
As the whistle blew to signal the restart, the players took to the pitch with a heightened intensity. The fluid passing and quick interchanges continued as Mallorca's side pressed forward relentlessly. Ronaldinho, ever the catalyst, orchestrated the play with effortless grace. Luke's precise movements and Eto'o's clinical runs kept the opposition's defence on the back foot, while Novo, with his intelligent positioning, ensured that every chance was capitalized upon.
It wasn't long before the dynamic interplay among the attackers set off another sequence of attacking brilliance. Ronaldinho, showing his trademark flair, drove into space down the centre, attracting multiple defenders with his dribbles. With a swift look up, he released a perfectly weighted pass to Luke, who combined with Eto'o in a rapid one-two exchange. Then, in a moment of pure genius, Luke turned and delivered a crisp pass to Novo, who had timed his run impeccably to arrive at the right moment.
Novo controlled the ball effortlessly and, without hesitation, struck a powerful shot with his right foot. The ball flew in a clean arc into the net—another moment of magic that left the Alavés goalkeeper, Herrera, with nothing to offer. The crowd erupted, and once again, Mallorca's style of play—characterized by swift, incisive passing and a fearless attacking spirit—had caught their opponents napping.
After the goal, Novo threw his arms open and embraced Eto'o tightly—a spontaneous celebration that resonated with the fans. "That's the kind of connection that wins matches," one of the commentators noted, "a synergy that shows Mallorca's new generation is ready to challenge the old guard."
Coach José, watching from the touchline, couldn't hide his pride. "Novo has done it again," he said, his voice brimming with satisfaction. "His movement off the ball and his ability to exploit spaces in the opposition's defence are exceptional. In the top half of the table, this is the standard we must maintain. I'm also reminded that if we continue to nurture our local talent, we won't have to rely solely on big-money signings. There's a golden era of Spanish talent ahead of us, and clubs that ignore their homegrown prospects do so at their own peril."
As the match wore on, the ebb and flow of the game began to tilt in Mallorca's favor. The opposing team, Alavés, known for their collective attacking prowess, started to feel the pressure as Mallorca's persistent offensive play began to dictate the tempo. Every time Alavés attempted a counterattack, Mallorca's players responded with an even more incisive passing move. The midfield battle was fierce—Mota and Ngonga controlled the game with precision, their well-drilled coordination leaving little room for error.
Then, in the 32nd minute, after a series of rapid exchanges, Alavés managed to create a moment of danger. A swift sequence of crisp passes led to a situation where a young forward—Kluivert, fresh and daring—took possession near the edge of the box. With Mota pressed hard to defend him, Kluivert split the defence with a clever feint, drawing in Moreno's attention. Seizing the opening, the midfielder Tochi surged forward and fired a powerful shot. The ball soared past the stunned Franco, and in a flash, it nestled into the net, leveling the score.
A collective sigh of disbelief echoed around the stadium. "What a chance wasted by Mallorca earlier," the commentators lamented. "They had plenty of opportunities in the first half that didn't materialize, and now Alavés have equalized." Yet, even as disappointment rippled through the fans, the resolute spirit of the Mallorca players was evident—they refused to be rattled.
Moments later, Mallorca responded emphatically. Ronaldinho, orchestrating from midfield, passed the ball to Karaze on the left, who then switched it to Capdevila making an overlapping run. Instead of simply crossing, Capdevila cleverly cut the ball back inside, recycling it to Karaze. Sensing the opportunity, Karaze, with impeccable timing, unleashed a powerful long-range shot from the edge of the penalty area. The strike was of such quality that even though Herrera managed to get a hand to it, he could only deflect the ball back into the box.
Almost immediately, Eto'o appeared like a phantom at the right spot, meeting the deflection with a clinical poke of a shot. The ball flew into the net for the second time, restoring Mallorca's lead.
The goal was a testament to Mallorca's attacking philosophy—a relentless, high-tempo style that tore open even a mid-table team's defence. Whereas last season, Mallorca's goals mostly came on the break, this season saw them build their moves methodically from sustained pressure. Coach José's belief in an attacking game had finally borne fruit. "When you commit to attacking, you must be qualified to do so," José remarked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
With a one-goal lead, the teams retreated for halftime. In the locker room, José paced, shaking his head. "It's not enough. Our attacking play must be even more incisive. Don't get complacent—just because their defence is porous doesn't mean it's an open goal. Remember, we're up against top-flight teams. In our next spell, we need to hit them before they get a chance to equalize." His words were firm, laced with the intensity of a coach who demanded nothing less than full commitment.
The atmosphere in the stadium had been electric—fans and viewers alike were treated to a match where both sides played with fearless abandon. In the first half, three goals had come from sheer offensive brilliance, not from defensive mistakes. This was genuine attacking football—a thrilling contest where the pace was relentless and every two minutes saw a shot on goal. Had Mallorca played like this in previous seasons, they might have been overwhelmed. Yet, despite the pressure, the experienced veterans—like central defender Nadal, who anchored the backline—remained unruffled.
Alavés, however, were more accustomed to such intense, free-flowing play. As the match progressed into a relentless tug-of-war, they eventually carved out an opportunity. In the 71st minute, following a series of slick passing moves, Moreno received a pass from a surging Kluivert, expertly dodged through the defence with a deft touch, and curled a shot into the net to equalize. Moreno's goal, his fourteenth of the season, was a moment of pure brilliance. Overwhelmed by emotion, he stormed towards the Alavés supporters' stand, fists pumping wildly in celebration.
That jubilant celebration, however, ignited a fire under the Mallorca players. "Come on, lads—let's attack and regain the lead!" Ronaldinho roared, rallying his teammates. Luke and Eto'o nodded in unison; when you're an attacking player, pride demands that you never let your opponents run free on your home turf.
Restarting the match with renewed vigor, the Mallorca side pressed forward with a barrage of intricate passing. After a series of swift exchanges, Ronaldinho picked the ball up in midfield and delivered a sharp pass to Karaze. Karaze feinted a long-range shot, only to swing the ball back to Ronaldinho. With flawless timing, Ronaldinho controlled the pass near the edge of the box, then turned on his heel and sprinted toward goal. Luke, anticipating the move, slid a perfectly weighted pass to him. Without hesitation, Ronaldinho curled an unstoppable shot into the net, restoring the lead to two goals.
The stadium roared its approval. "Three to two! Mallorca extend their lead!" The commentators' excitement was palpable as they marveled at the attacking display. Every player was involved—from Ronaldinho's creative genius to Eto'o's piercing runs, to the youthful exuberance of Novo, who had shown promise throughout his time at the club.
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The synergy on display was the embodiment of Coach José's long-held vision. "Mallorca aren't short on finishers—we have Eto'o and Luke, but what we needed was a catalyst to drive our entire attack," José later explained in the post-match interview. "And that catalyst is Ronaldinho—a player who can both score and orchestrate. He's not just a finisher; he's the engine that makes everything work."
As the final whistle blew, sealing a 3–2 victory, the emotions in the dressing room were electric. The young players celebrated with unbridled joy, while the veterans shared knowing smiles of satisfaction. In that moment, Coach José Alemani's gamble on an attacking, free-flowing style had paid off. His meticulous planning, his relentless pursuit of local talent, and his belief in an offensive philosophy had transformed Mallorca into a side that could challenge the giants of La Liga.
After the match, as players filed out of the tunnel to the sound of adoring fans chanting "José! José! José!" in unison, Coach José took a quiet moment to reflect. He knew that while victories like this were thrilling, maintaining consistency would be the true test. Yet, as he looked into the eyes of his players—seeing the determination of Ronaldinho, the emerging promise in Novo, and the tireless work of veterans like Ngonga—he was confident that Mallorca was on the cusp of something extraordinary.
In the corridors of Son Moix Stadium that night, amidst the lingering chants and celebratory cheers, one thing was crystal clear: Mallorca's resurgence was not a fleeting moment, but the beginning of a new era. And at the heart of it all was a man who had the courage, the vision, and the relentless drive to challenge convention. As José Alemani often said, "I am who I am because I refuse to accept mediocrity." And that, in the world of football, is what makes a true legend.