Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King-Chapter 305: Substitution

Alkmaar tried to gather themselves. The restart was hesitant—short to Martens, who tried to turn but was immediately smothered by Henderson.

[They look rattled now, Peter.]

[That goal’s done more than level the score. It’s shaken the whole structure.]

Ball won back. Liverpool again. Downing skipped past Henriksen like he wasn’t there. He squared up Viergever. Little feint left, touch right.

[Too easy.]

Viergever stuck out a leg. Foul.

[That’s cynical.]

Free kick, twenty-five yards out, slightly left of centre. Gerrard was already placing the ball.

[You know what he’s thinking.]

[He’s done this before.]

Alvarado crouched low, lining his wall, shouting. One hand up. Eyes never left Gerrard.

[Here comes the captain.]

The whistle blew.

Gerrard whipped it, right-footed, curling over the wall—and thudding off the crossbar.

[OH!]

Alvarado had dived full stretch but wouldn’t have got there.

[That’s rattled the frame!]

[It’s raining fire now.]

AZ Alkmaar scrambled the rebound clear. Barely. Martens punted it long, anywhere. Benjamin chased, but Agger had the legs.

[That tells the story, doesn’t it?] freewёbnoνel.com

[No control. Just survival instinct.]

John adjusted his mic as the noise around them swelled again. Liverpool had smelled blood, and now they wanted the whole thing.

[You have to feel for AZ Alkmaar. They’ve defended like lions.]

[But now they look... tired.]

[And Liverpool? Like sharks in water.]

The Reds came again. Downing through the centre this time. He slid it right to Johnson, overlapping, surging.

[Johnson’s been flying down that side.]

He squared it low. Skrtel was still up—yes, Skrtel, the centre-back turned striker—backheeled it toward goal.

[Audacious!]

Blocked. Martens slid in, took the hit, stayed down.

[He’s taken one for the team.]

The referee blew for a stoppage. Trainers ran on.

[That might help AZ Alkmaar, though. Just a moment to breathe.]

Peter nodded, leaning closer to his monitor.

[Even that won’t be enough if they don’t get their shape back.]

Martens was up again, wincing but waving the bench off. The ball was returned. Liverpool didn’t argue. They restarted with Gerrard, straight back to work.

[No charity tonight.]

Ball zipped into Henderson, who laid it off first-time to Downing.

[Look how tight they are now. One-touch, two-touch, gone.]

Downing shaped to shoot but faked. Elm bit. Downing slipped it through to Suárez again—

[He’s on the turn!]

Not this time. Alvarado was off his line like a sprinter, smothering at his feet.

[Brave goalkeeping. Again.]

The ball bounced loose. Benjamin was there first, cleared it. Long.

[He’s done his job today. Not many teenagers can say they held off Skrtel and Agger for an hour.]

But it came straight back. Gerrard to Sterling. Sterling to Johnson. Another cross—low, dangerous.

[They’re knocking. And knocking. And knocking.]

John rubbed his hands together.

[You feel like the door’s going to come off its hinges.]

The crowd knew it. You could hear the intake of breath every time Liverpool entered the final third.

Then—finally—a break.

A wayward pass from Henderson. Too much on it. Out for a throw-in near AZ Alkmaar’s dugout.

[That’s rare. But maybe... just maybe that’s a crack.]

Berghuis jogged over to take it. No rush, but not stalling. AZ Alkmaar needed something. Anything.

He threw it to Martens, who laid it back. Henriksen shifted it wide to Berghuis, who hadn’t been seen in an attacking position in twenty minutes.

[They need to show some ambition. This can’t be one-way forever.]

Berghuis floated one up the line. Benjamin made a run. Just beat Johnson to it. Cut inside.

[Go on, lad.]

Flicked it to Martens, who danced away from Lucas and played a reverse ball—

[Berghuis! In behind!]

Touch, shoot—

[OH!]

Side netting.

The away fans had started to rise. They sat back down.

[You’d think that went in.]

[Me too. My heart skipped.]

Peter smiled. "It’s something, though. Signs of life."

Back came Liverpool.

[Relentless, this.]

Gerrard again, threading passes. Sterling drifting central now. The patterns were hypnotic. AZ Alkmaar chasing shadows.

[They’re so fluid, John. Gerrard’s playing quarterback out there.]

Ball switched left to Downing. He waited for the overlap. Suárez didn’t make one—he wanted it to feet.

Downing obliged.

Back to goal, Suárez took it, turned—

[Oh, he’s rolled him!]

He’d left Elm behind. One step into the 18 yard box. Then another.

[Not again...]

He shot. Hard. Near post.

Alvarado didn’t move.

[HIT THE POST!]

It clanged, flew across goal and out the other side.

[It’s still 1-1, somehow.]

[But for how long?]

Time ticked to the 65th minute.

The fourth official raised the board. Numbers glowing.

AZ Alkmaar substitutions: Berghuis out, Beerens in. Altidore off, Gudmundsson on. Viktor Elm replaced by Adam Maher.

Liverpool matched it. Sterling off for Daniel Sturridge. Lucas off for Jonjo Shelvey. Henderson off, Suso on.

[Changes across the board. Fresh legs for both sides.]

[And different styles, too. Adam Maher brings guile. Gudmundsson brings energy.]

[And for Liverpool—more pace, more movement. They’re not settling. They’re going for this.]

The ball rolled, new feet on the pitch, same pressure in the air.

[Here we go again, Peter. All those substitutions, but the rhythm hasn’t slowed a beat.]

[Nope. If anything, it might’ve picked up. These fresh legs look hungry.]

Jonjo Shelvey was first to stamp his presence. He clattered into Adam Maher near the halfway line—clean, hard.

[That’s a statement.]

[He wants AZ Alkmaar to feel him. Shelvey doesn’t ease in.]

AZ Alkmaar didn’t shy away. Maher bounced back up, shook his head, and called for the ball again. And he got it—short from Gudmundsson. He turned and found Beerens with a switch.

[Let’s see what the sub can do. Beerens—fresh legs, tricky feet.]

He took on José Enrique straight away. Stepovers, inside cut, quick low cross.

[That’s not bad!]

But Skrtel cleared. Sturridge was already peeling off to counter. Suso found him with a quick ball over the top.

[Here come Liverpool again. Sturridge on the burst!]

He broke into the final third, cutting in from the left. Maher tracked him, but not quick enough. Sturridge slowed, dropped a shoulder, then fired.

[Low shot!]

Alvarado got down. Not cleanly—but enough. He palmed it away and Gudmundsson booted the loose ball clear.

[He’s still alert. Even after all that.]

[That’s what separates a good keeper from a great one—consistency under fire.]

Back came AZ Alkmaar. Maher and Martens now working tighter, exchanging quick one-twos to beat the Liverpool press. They reached the edge of the 18 yard box. Maher spotted Gudmundsson wide and slid it across.

[He’s got space!]

Gudmundsson didn’t take a touch. He whipped it low into the six-yard box.

[Teasing cross—]

Beerens lunged. Reina dove. Neither got it.

[That needed just a touch. Just the slightest touch.]

It fizzed past the far post and out. Groans from the crowd. Reina tapped his chest and thanked his defenders.

The momentum kept tilting back and forth. Suso found joy drifting centrally. He linked up with Shelvey, who had started barking orders like a general. They carved a small pocket.

[Gerrard. Suso. Back to Gerrard.]

He looked up. One look. Then unleashed.

[From distance!]

It dipped. Swerved. Alvarado stepped left, then leapt right.

[Fingertip save!]

Over the bar. The crowd roared again. Another save for the highlight reel.

[That one was traveling. He saw it late.]

[Crowd’s loving this. They know they’re watching something special.]

Gerrard took the corner. Deep ball. Skrtel again.

[He’s climbing everything.]

This time, a glancing header. Wide.

[Not far off. And Liverpool aren’t far off from a second.]

AZ Alkmaar responded again. Beerens broke down the right. Gudmundsson gave him an option. Adam Maher arriving late.

[Overlap!]

Beerens squared it. Gudmundsson cut inside. Shot blocked. Rebound—Martens!

He struck it—clean, hard. Reina saw it late.

[THAT’S ON TARGET!]

Reina parried with both hands, spilled it—but collected on the second grab before Maher could follow.

[What a response from AZ Alkmaar.]

[They’re not folding.]

Sturridge was next to threaten. Ball slid through by Shelvey—Sturridge on the shoulder of the last man. He was onside.

[This is danger!]

He tried to chip Alvarado. The keeper read it. Stayed tall. Swatted it out of the air.

[That’s a massive save. He held his ground.]

John chuckled. "This game has everything, Peter."

"Except a winner."

Yet.

The game tilted again. Momentum teasing both sides like it couldn’t pick a winner.

And then—out of nowhere—Benjamin exploded.

The ball dropped near AZ Alkmaar’s own box. Maher tried to trap it but was bundled over. The ball spilled free.

Benjamin scooped it up just outside his own 18-yard box.

[Here he goes...]

He turned, body leaning forward, and sprinted.

[Oh, he’s going alone!]

Peter leaned closer.

[From his own half, John. This is brave.]

Benjamin skipped past Shelvey first—light on his feet, gliding.

Then Suso tried to step in. A quick stepover—Benjamin chopped right.

[Suso beaten. That’s two!]

The crowd’s roar began to swell. It traveled like a ripple across the stadium.

He hit the halfway line and didn’t slow. Gerrard moved in. Benjamin dipped his shoulder, cut inside.

[Gerrard can’t stop him!]