Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King-Chapter 278: Matchday Eleven

The days after the match against VVV settled into a routine for Benjamin. His life revolved around recovery, training, and quiet moments in between.

Each morning, he made his way to the AZ Alkmaar medical room for checkups. The medics examined his knee carefully, testing flexibility, strength, and any signs of discomfort.

Some days, the progress was encouraging. Other days, it felt slow, frustrating. But that was part of the process, and he knew better than to rush it.

After the medical assessments, he moved to the training ground—away from the main team.

While his teammates worked on tactics and drills together, he followed a different schedule at the AFAS Training Complex.

The sessions were controlled, focusing on rebuilding strength and movement. Jogging laps, controlled ball work, light resistance training—nothing too intense, but just enough to keep him engaged.

The isolation wasn’t easy. He could hear the sounds of the team on the other side of the facility—laughter, shouts, the rhythm of full-speed training. He missed it. But for now, this was his reality.

In the afternoons, he watched training clips and reviewed footage with the coaching staff. He analyzed plays, discussed movement patterns, and stayed involved in tactical meetings. Even though he couldn’t play, he kept his mind sharp.

By the time he returned home, his body felt exhausted despite the reduced workload. Recovery was a different kind of tired—less about physical exertion, more about patience.

Some nights, he scrolled through old highlights, watching himself at full speed, reminding himself of what was waiting for him at the end of this process.

The days blurred together, each one a small step forward. He wasn’t back yet, but he was getting there.

As the days passed, AZ Alkmaar’s next fixture loomed—Sunday, November 4, 1:30 PM, an Eredivisie clash against ADO Den Haag.

The team was preparing as usual, fine-tuning tactics and working on set pieces, but for Benjamin, the match wasn’t a priority. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

He already knew he wouldn’t be involved. The coaching staff had made their decision early—rest him for one more game.

The plan was clear: manage his workload carefully so he’d be fully ready for the Europa League second-leg showdown against Liverpool at home.

It made sense. The medical team was happy with his progress, but there was no need to rush. Missing the ADO Den Haag match gave him a few extra days to build sharpness before returning to the squad for a bigger challenge.

Still, watching from the TV never felt right. On matchday, while his teammates traveled for the game, Benjamin followed his usual rehab schedule at the training complex. The facility was quieter than usual, the absence of the main squad noticeable.

When the game kicked off, he kept an eye on the result from home, following updates by watching from the TV. It wasn’t the same as being on the pitch, but he knew his time would come soon. Liverpool was the real target.

***

Benjamin sat on the couch, his leg stretched out on the coffee table, eyes fixed on the screen.

The ADO Den Haag vs. AZ Alkmaar match had just kicked off, and even though he wasn’t in the squad, he couldn’t ignore the familiar rush that came with watching his team play.

The camera panned across the pitch as AZ Alkmaar settled into possession. The commentators’ voices filled the room, layering the game with excitement and analysis.

Chris: [And we’re underway here at the Cars Jeans Stadion! AZ Alkmaar, sitting comfortably in the top four, looking to pick up another crucial three points. But ADO Den Haag will be no pushover at home]

Rob: [Exactly, Chris. They might not be having the best season, but they’re a tough team to break down, especially in front of their own fans. AZ Alkmaar will need to be patient and find their rhythm]

Benjamin leaned forward slightly as AZ Alkmaar started moving the ball around confidently. Midfielder Markus Henriksen picked up possession near the halfway line, scanning his options.

Chris: [You can already see AZ Alkmaar trying to dictate the tempo. A lot of their play flows through Henriksen—such an intelligent player in that deep-lying role]

Rob: [Yeah, he just keeps things ticking, doesn’t he? And with the movement up front, they’ll always be looking to exploit spaces]

Benjamin smirked to himself. He could picture where he would be in that system—drifting into gaps, waiting for the perfect pass. But today, all he could do was watch.

Ten minutes in, AZ Alkmaar started to push forward with more intent. Marcellis, their right-back, made an overlapping run and received the ball in stride. He drove towards the 18 yard box before cutting it back sharply.

Chris: [Marcellis—great movement! Cross comes in—dangerous!]

The ball whipped across the goalmouth, just inches away from being tapped in.

Rob: [Ohhh, so close! That was begging for a touch at the back post!]

Benjamin exhaled, shaking his head. That should’ve been a goal.

The game continued at a high pace, with AZ Alkmaar dominating possession but struggling to find the first breakthrough. The commentators kept the energy high, dissecting every moment.

AZ Alkmaar kept the pressure on, their passing crisp, their movement sharp. In the midfield, Viktor Elm orchestrated play, spreading the ball wide to Beerens on the right wing.

Chris: [Elm switches it—Beerens in space now. He’s got Marcellis overlapping again!]

Beerens took a touch forward, then feinted inside before darting towards the byline. His marker hesitated for a split second, just enough time for him to whip in a cross.

Rob: [Another good delivery—Altidore’s there!]

The big American man powered forward, outmuscling his defender as he launched himself at the ball.

Thud.

A firm header connected, directed downwards—textbook technique.

But the keeper reacted instantly, diving low to his right.

Chris: [Altidore! Oh, what a save from Coutinho!]

Benjamin exhaled sharply. That was the chance. A perfect cross, a strong header—but somehow, Den Haag’s goalkeeper had gotten a hand to it.

On screen, Altidore shook his head, already jogging back into position.