Whistles, shouts, jeers.
All this flowed into the stadium like a tide, gathering towards Kanoute. Unfazed, as the team's primary penalty taker, he confidently stood in front of the ball.
Casillas stood at the goal, attempting to distract the opponent with minor gestures, but Kanoute didn't even look his way, just standing there, taking deep breaths to adjust his state, unaffected.
This rendered Casillas's psychological tactics useless, though his mere presence was a form of intimidation. It's important to note that Casillas, who saved three penalty kicks in the 2002 World Cup, is regarded as a master at saving penalties.
Kanoute is not to be underestimated either. Many believe he is likely to surpass Drogba and Essien this year to win the African Mr. Football award and has a good chance of being selected for the UEFA Best XI.
Players from both sides stood outside the penalty area, ready to enter at any moment, as Kanoute started to move, then raised his leg.
Casillas guessed the direction correctly, but Kanoute's penalty was like a cannonball, darting into the lower left corner of the goal. He raised his arms high and ran towards the corner flag, while the Sevilla fans on the stands roared in celebration for Kanoute's goal.
Juan de Ramos visibly became excited upon seeing Kanoute score, even clenching his right fist, cautiously shaking it up and down three times beside him.
After scoring this goal, Sevilla began playing a defense and counterattack strategy, gambling on their defense.
Schuster was on the sideline directing passionately, sometimes shouting, sometimes waving his arms, sometimes loudly calling a player's name.
Van Nistelrooy, Raul, Sneijder, and even Drenthe all had shooting opportunities, but Sevilla's players seemed to have welded the goal shut, continuously rebuffing Real Madrid's attacks.
"Sevilla's defense is very solid."
"Ramos takes the ball on the flank, directly tries to dribble past someone."
"The whistle blows."
"Sevilla's foul."
"A chance for a free kick in the front court."
"In this match, Ramos has passed many threatening balls. Likewise, Sevilla has also created many threats on his side."
"Sneijder from the right is taking this free kick."
The first half is nearing its end, and many Merengue are waving their white handkerchiefs again. But they aren't the only ones dissatisfied with the current situation; Schuster is also unhappy.
At this moment, the "Madman" Schuster has realized Sevilla's strengths: their players have great synergy, high tactical compatibility, and more frighteningly, Juan de Ramos has a knack for boosting his players' morale.
I really don't know how that dull guy does it.
"Push up!" Schuster shouted loudly. This free kick position isn't good for a direct shot, but a set play is possible. He signaled for Pepe and Chen Zhong to push up.
Sneijder stood over the ball, while Sevilla's players had mostly retreated to their half, with only one Navas roaming near the center circle.
The penalty area was crowded, bustling with Van Nistelrooy, Raul, and Pepe inside.
"Aren't you going in?" Kanoute stood outside the penalty area with Chen Zhong, teasing, "If I were you, I'd definitely try my luck in there."
Kanoute stood there to anticipate the ball's second drop point.
Chen Zhong ignored Kanoute and turned to look at Sneijder, who would soon make a gesture indicating where he would pass the ball.
"Are you really only 16?" Kanoute kept babbling, "Aren't you lying about your age?"
"Where I'm from, there are plenty who lie about their age. Speaking of which, do you know Pavin?"
Chen Zhong slowly moved towards the penalty area, and seeing him leave, Kanoute didn't care. He thought Chen Zhong was walking away because he couldn't handle the questioning.
Moreover, the penalty area was already crowded enough, and entering wouldn't have any effect.
Sweat trailed down his cheeks along his temples, and at this moment, his gaunt face was full of seriousness. Wesley Sneijder exhaled a turbid breath and inhaled a large amount of fresh air.
This allowed his mind to remain clear.
In Sevilla's penalty area, there were shadows everywhere he looked.
Van Nistelrooy?
Raul?
Or Pepe?
Sneijder's body leaned slightly forward, and the moment his foot touched the ball, everything was answered.
"Boom!"
A dull sound, and the players in the penalty area moved with it.
Van Nistelrooy tilted his head up, confirming that this ball wasn't for him. Raul stopped, thinking the ball was perhaps a mishit, and Pepe's eyes were red, wishing the wings on his jersey could lift him off the ground.
The ball flew towards the far post of the goal, and goalkeeper Palop stopped, convinced it was a ball that would slide out of bounds.
But...
Why was the shouting from the fans on the field becoming more urgent and high-pitched?
The world is colorful, and I'm holding pure white.
A white figure ran forward before Sneijder even took the shot, and now, his run had reached its moment of harvest.
Various voices rang out in the penalty area, as people on the field noticed that speeding white blur, and fans in front of the TVs also saw the sudden appearance of that streak of white outside the frame.
Jumping, off the ground, header.
"Beep~"
The referee's whistle blew, pointing to the center circle to indicate the goal was valid.
"It's in!!!"
"A reckless diving header."
"He charged into the frame from outside, leaping high without fear."
"This may not be a beautiful goal, but it's surely a soul-stirring one."
"Chen Zhong, this 16-year-old, scores on his first-team debut."
"I'm too excited to know what to say right now."
"But just listen to the cheers from the fans on the field."
"It all seems to answer everything."
At this moment, the whole Bernabeu fell into a brief silence before cheers surged like a tide, with excited Merengues waving their arms in the stands, all visibly flushed with excitement.
They waited too long for this goal.
After a round of cheers, someone finally remembered that boy who "collided with the post." The screen showed no whining on the ground, no running to the corner flag to celebrate, but instead, a boy gritting his teeth, showing white teeth, drenched in sweat, and rushing into the goal, embracing the ball, then running towards the center circle!
Not enough, not enough, still not enough!
They're still trailing, they haven't won yet, they need more goals.
"This kid!" Schuster stood on the sidelines, watching Chen Zhong rush towards the center circle, followed by other players, feeling an odd churn of emotions within.
"That wasn't light," Francisco murmured to the side. "Should we get him down for the medical team to check? The first half is about to end."
"Dammit..." Schuster cursed, yes! The team seemed to have finally shaken off its slow start, their spirits ignited, but now the first half was about to end: "If we had ten more minutes, no, five minutes more, we'd level the score before the halftime, would you bet on it?"
"In the second half, get Guti on for me."
"We need to strengthen the attack."