Open Play: Ladies, Goals, The Everything System in-between

Chapter 77: [77] "One"

The second half kicked off under the full glare of the wanting fans.

The frost had come down harder since halftime. The pitch had a shine to it near the touchlines where the surface had been run ragged by full backs and wingers chasing wide balls. The center of the pitch was still firm but the goalmouths had begun to cut up.

AC Nord’s keeper jogged to his post and did what he had been doing all match. He pulled his gloves tight on each hand, one after the other. Two sharp tugs on each wrist strap. He had decided this was his night and was determined to keep at it.

Luc watched on.

The keeper was good tonight. No question. But he was also 38, his legs had covered half a pitch’s worth of ground in the first forty-five minutes, diving, scrambling, repositioning. The body didn’t lie about that kind of stuff.

"He’ll be slower getting down in the second half," Luc said to Idriss.

Idriss positioned himself, ready to chase the ball right from kickoff. "You’ve been analysing him all match."

"Since the first save."

---

Minute forty-nine.

Hugo dropped into the space between Nord’s midfield and their defensive line, the same pocket he had been exploiting all night. Their holding midfielder stepped out to close him down, the instinct-press he was known for, uncoordinated and too early.

Hugo played it back to Mateo.

Mateo drove it wide left immediately, exactly as Henri had diagrammed at halftime.

Bastien received on the run, the left channel opening because Nord’s right winger had drifted inside to help their defensive block and hadn’t recovered wide.

The keeper took two steps off his line before the ball had even reached Bastien’s feet. The habit. The unconscious read of a cross coming.

Bastien didn’t cross immediately. He took one touch inside, drawing the right-back tighter to him.

The keeper reset closer to his post.

Bastien whipped the ball in after finding space between him and the Nord player, a low driven delivery across the face of the six-yard box.

Idriss arrived at the near post, a step ahead of the right center-back.

He didn’t try to be precise. He stuck out his right foot and redirected the pace of the cross.

The ball hit the base of the far post.

And went in.

1-0.

Stade Valois detonated immediately the goal went in.

Thirty thousand people releasing the tension of forty-nine goalless minutes in a single eruption that shook the advertising boards and made the floodlights look slightly brighter.

It was cinematic.

Idriss ran toward the corner flag, his arms out, he had been waiting to finally convert this kind of chance all evening.

Luc was the first to reach him.

"One," Luc said, gripping the back of his shirt.

Idriss spun around. His chest was heaving. "Sorry man. Next one is yours."

"I don’t need your pity."

They both laughed.

[System Notification]

[Wager Tally updated: Still Beaumont 13 | Fontaine 16]

[Idriss scored. Not Luc. The requirement remains: three goals for Luc specifically.]

[Two goals needed from Luc. 41 minutes remaining.]

[The guaranteed goal is still in your pocket.]

"I know that."

---

AC Nord’s manager made a change at the fifty-seven minute mark. He pulled their holding midfielder, the instinct-presser, and sent on a deeper-sitting destroyer. A 29-year-old Guinean with a physical frame built for disruption rather than ball progressing football.

The message was clear. He was trying to rebuild the defensive block that Bastien’s delivery had broken.

He also put a second marker on Luc. Their left midfielder had been tracking him all match. Now their right midfielder dropped to double-track him in central positions.

Two men. Squeezing the width of the Nord formation.

"Smart," Luc said to Hugo as they jogged back to their positions from the restart. "He’s doubling up on me."

"That means Idriss is a man free," Hugo said.

"I need to occupy two men and find the space for someone else." Luc glanced across at Bastien on the left flank. "Tell Bastien to come narrow. I’ll take the two markers wide and pull the right center-back with me. Bastien should arrive late into the gap."

Hugo jogged toward Bastien without needing the instruction repeated.

---

Minute fifty-eight.

Luc made an aggressive run wide left, dragging both his markers and the Nord right center-back into the channel.

Three Nord players chasing one Valois player. The geometry of it had its own kind of beauty.

Hugo played it to Bastien who arrived into the exact pocket Luc had manufactured, eighteen yards from goal, the right center-back’s position vacated.

Bastien’s first touch was heavy. The ball ran slightly ahead of him.

He still managed to get a shot away, right-footed but off balance.

It swerved. The keeper, diving to his left, got a full hand to it.

The ball went over the bar.

Bastien pressed both palms flat against the back of his head.

The right center-back, who had chased Luc’s dummy run and returned, looked at Bastien. He must have said something that Bastien smiled about.

Luc released himself from his markers with a change of direction and jogged back to the center.

The execution of the chance had been slightly off.

But it would work again.

---

Minute sixty-three.

Luc received the ball on the edge of the center circle, both markers converging on him almost immediately.

He held it under the press for three seconds, the Pressing Resistance stretching the window before he would normally release the ball just long enough.

Mateo’s run had started on the opposite side of the pitch. What would be his last proper burst of genuine forward momentum in a Valois shirt and his run was not slowing down. He was refusing to slow down on purpose.

Luc played it wide to Mateo.

Mateo drove forward at pace, the Nord right winger arriving to press but already half a stride late.

He cut the ball back into the box before the right winger could force him too wide.

The cutback was driven low, arriving between two Nord defenders, through the gap.

Luc had already started his run the moment Mateo had received the ball.

The Blind Side Run Timing fired, allowing him to free himself for a little bit from his markers. The Nord left center-back had been tracking the second marker’s run to the near post and committed his weight to closing that space.

The gap behind him opened for exactly two seconds.

Luc arrived into it at full stride.

The ball hit his left foot as he entered the area. One touch to take the pace off it. No second touch available. The keeper was coming off his line again, the habit, those two automatic steps.

Luc placed the shot instead of driving it. A low, precise pass to the bottom right corner.

The keeper went left.

The ball went right.

GOAL!!!

14-16 in the wager. 2-0 in the match.

The sound at Stade Valois changed texture again.

Not just any kind of noise. One goal to reduce the gap in the wager. Two to go.

Luc walked. He didn’t sprint to the corner flag. He walked back toward the center circle with both his arms at his sides, his head tilted back, his chest rising and falling.

He only took a deep breath.

Mateo arrived beside him and said nothing. He just pulled his captain’s armband up his bicep one time.

Hugo jogged past with his head already down, already thinking about the next phase of play.

[System Notification]

[Wager Tally updated: Open Play Goals — Beaumont 14 | Fontaine 16]

[Two goals required. 27 minutes remaining. The guaranteed goal is still available.]

[Mateo’s assists are becoming as important as your goals. Something to acknowledge when this is over.]

Luc acknowledged nothing. He took his position in the center circle.

Twenty-seven minutes to go.

Two goals to score.

Nord’s keeper was on his feet by the post, breathing hard through his mouth, the first visible sign of fatigue coming in the second half.

The miracles were getting more expensive to reproduce.

---

Minute sixty-eight. Nord had already kost the ball from kickoff.

Nord’s destroyer midfielder, the Guinean, arrived into a challenge on Hugo with studs that the referee called a yellow card for. Hugo rolled his ankle slightly on the follow-through of the contact.

He got up.

Juliette was on her feet on the touchline. Her medical bag was clutched in both hands. She was watching Hugo’s first two strides after the challenge the way a mother watches her newborn.

Hugo walked normally. Then jogged normally. Then ran normally.

Juliette sat back down.

The free kick was twenty-three yards out, slightly left of center.

Luc stood over it.

[System Notification]

[100% Guaranteed Goal — available for activation.]

[This is a free kick, not a run at goal. TES will honor the activation regardless of the method.]

[Your call.]

Luc looked at the defensive wall. Five men. The keeper slightly left of center, compensating for the angle.

He looked at the gap at the right end of the wall. A small gap. Maybe a few inches wide.

"Not yet," he said quietly.

He passed the free kick short to Hugo.

Hugo was surprised. He played it quickly to Mateo, who drove into the half space.

The opportunity evaporated.

Henri on the touchline pressed both hands against his temples.

"Not yet," Luc said again.

The guaranteed goal deserved better than a speculative free kick with twenty-five minutes left. He would know when to deploy it.

Whether he was deluding himself or not.

---

Minute seventy-two.

AC Nord’s striker, who had barely touched the ball all night, received a rare long pass from their goalkeeper and held it up on the edge of the Valois penalty area.

Hadj was on him immediately. The duel was physical. The striker won a foul.

Free kick, twenty yards from the Valois goal.

Their left midfielder stepped over it and struck it hard.

Blažek punched it clear with both fists, the ball landing at the feet of their right midfielder on the edge of the area.

He hit it first time.

It swerved, hit the post, came back into the box.

The entire Valois defensive line scrambled.

It broke to Luc, fifty yards from his own goal, and he played it long immediately, instinctively, driving it to the space behind Nord’s right back who had pushed up for the free kick.

The ball bounced once. Idriss chased it to the byline.

He tried crossing it to whoever was on the counter attack with him, but his cross was blocked.

But the counter had cleared the danger and restored the shape.

Thirty thousand people let the air out all at once.

Eighteen minutes left.

Two goals needed.

The keeper had survived another minute.