Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King-Chapter 303: Reds Draw Level

Time ticked on to the 53 minute.

Gerrard tried again from distance. Parried. Henderson followed up. Blocked. Suárez had another go.

[It’s chaos in the box!]

Bodies flying. Boots swinging. The ball ricocheted off legs and ankles like a pinball. For a split second, it sat up. Perfectly.

[Suárez again!]

He smashed it—low, through traffic. Alvarado saw it late.

[Deflection!]

The ball clipped the heel of Viergever. Changed direction. Wrong-footed the keeper.

[Oh, this could be it—]

But Alvarado twisted mid-dive. Reached back with one desperate hand and clawed it away from the bottom corner.

[NO WAY! No way he’s saved that!]

John was out of his seat, headset tilted slightly as he turned to Peter.

[Peter, that’s one of the best saves I’ve ever seen.]

[That’s not reflex. That’s witchcraft.]

The replay rolled. Slow motion. Suárez’s strike. The redirection. Alvarado twisting like a cat in a storm.

[Look at that angle. He’s already moving left. Somehow... somehow, he still gets a palm to it.]

[That’s instinct. That’s years of doing it in dark corners of the training ground when no one’s watching.]

The corner came quickly. Gerrard trotted over, arm raised.

[And they’re not letting up.]

He whipped it near-post. Skrtel rose above everyone.

[Header!]

But it glanced wide. Skimmed off his forehead.

[He’ll be furious. That was close.]

[It’s building though. Like pressure in a bottle.]

Alvarado jogged to the edge of his six-yard box, pumping his fists at his defenders. Time wasting? Maybe. But smart.

[He’s trying to cool things down. I would too.]

[You have to admire the kid’s nerves.]

Play restarted. AZ tried to slow it. Henriksen passed back. Maher dropped deep. But Liverpool pressed. High and hungry.

[This isn’t just football now, Peter. This is survival.]

The crowd roared again as Johnson intercepted a lazy pass. Fed Henderson, who turned sharply and pushed forward.

[Henderson again. He’s been everywhere.]

He found Suárez with a neat reverse pass. Suárez held it up. Waited. Then rolled it into space—

[Coutinho! He’s on!]

The Brazilian, just subbed in, darted through the gap. One touch to settle. One to shoot.

[This is the moment—!]

Saved.

[ALVARADO AGAIN!]

[You’ve got to be joking!]

This one was different. Not dramatic. Not flying. Just calm. Like he saw it all in slow motion. He dropped low and held it. No spill. No rebound.

[Peter, they’ve thrown everything at him.]

[They’ll have to start throwing kitchen sinks soon.]

Alvarado stood slowly. Took his time. Wasted another few seconds.

[Still under an hour gone, and this already feels like extra time.]

[It’s relentless. And he’s still holding firm.]

The ball went long. AZ Alkmaar tried to stretch the pitch. Benjamin chased it down, won a throw-in deep. Relief. For a moment.

[Good play from the youngster. Giving his defenders a breather.]

The camera found Suárez. Still breathing hard. Wiping his face with his sleeve.

[You wonder what’s going through his head now.]

[He’s been everywhere. Shots from every angle. Nothing to show.]

[And yet you feel he’s not going to stop.]

The throw was taken. Short to Martens. He tried to combine with Berghuis—didn’t work. Lucas read it. Picked it off. And just like that, Liverpool were away again.

[Here we go. Again.]

Ball to Sterling. Quick feet. One-two with Gerrard.

[Clever. Sharp. That’s what they’ve missed.]

Sterling clipped it forward. Downing nodded it down. Suárez—of course—was there.

[He’s behind the line!]

But the flag went up.

[Offside. Just.]

Replay showed Suárez half a boot ahead.

[Close one.]

[Too close for comfort if you’re AZ Alkmaar]

The game didn’t pause. It couldn’t. One team trying to hang on. The other possessed.

[John, this is one-way traffic.]

[It’s siege football now.]

Alvarado launched another goal kick. Again, the same story. Skrtel rose. Nodded it back. Johnson swept it forward. The ball never stayed out of AZ Alkmaar’s half for more than a few seconds.

[And Liverpool aren’t just pressing. They’re choking.]

[AZ Alkmaar can’t breathe.]

[Looks like Brendan Rodgers wants one more punch.]

[They’ve got AZ Alkmaar wobbling. Now they’re going for the knockout.]

Skrtel stayed high. Henderson drifted wide. Johnson looked like a winger now. Everything—everyone—pushed up.

[Look at the shape now, Peter. It’s not a back four. It’s a back nothing.]

[They’re gambling. But when you’re losing, it’s not a gamble. It’s the only play.]

And still it came. Gerrard collecting near halfway. Eyes scanning. He spotted Coutinho making a dart between Victor Elm and Henriksen.

[Threaded ball—]

Stewart Downing took it on the turn. Light touch. Feet like silk.

[He’s through!]

He could’ve shot. But he didn’t. He looked up. Saw Suárez, peeling off to the far post.

[Oh, he’s played it across—]

Square pass. Just weighty enough. Suárez, one-on-one.

[THIS HAS TO BE—]

Alvarado sprinted out. Spread himself. But Suárez, with ice in his veins, chipped it.

[OH YES!]

The ball floated—delicate, cruel—over the keeper’s outstretched hand, dropped just under the bar and into the net.

[FINALLY! 1-1! SUÁREZ!]

GOOAAAAALLLLLLL!!!~

The stadium exploded. Reds behind the goal roaring, limbs flying. Suárez ran straight to the corner flag, thumping the badge on his chest.

[You can’t keep him quiet forever.]

[He’s missed chances. He’s hit posts. But the moment you switch off—just for a second—he buries you.]

John leaned back, exhaling like he’d just been released from holding his breath.

[What a finish. That’s not power. That’s arrogance.]

[That’s Luis.]

The replay showed it again. Downing’s touch. The composure. The weight on the assist. Then Suárez, lifting it over the keeper like it was nothing.

[Look at Alvarado. He did everything right. Came out quick. Closed the angle.]

[But he got outfoxed.]

[By the best player on the pitch.]

The AZ Alkmaar defenders stood frozen. Martens had his hands on his hips. Viergever looked to the sky.

[They’ll be kicking themselves. They had him locked up for so long.]

[And now? Now the door’s open.]

Back on the pitch, Liverpool reset with renewed energy. Gerrard clapped both hands, calling them to stay sharp.