Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King-Chapter 308: Offense Is The Best Defense 2

[They’re still looking for a third.]

[That’s the best defense—keep them busy at the other end.]

Liverpool reset from the back.

Skrtel spread it wide to Johnson. A tap inside to Allen. Back to Skrtel. The press was heavy now. AZ Alkmaar pushed up just enough to make it uncomfortable.

[They’re not sitting back completely, are they?]

[Nope. That’s clever. If you drop too deep, Liverpool will pick you off.]

Allen finally found Gerrard in the middle. A little space. He turned—quickly—drove forward.

The crowd lifted.

Suárez peeled off, dragging a defender. Sturridge dropped into the pocket. Gerrard fed him, tight space, but enough.

Sturridge shifted it onto his left—snap shot!

Wide.

Not by much.

[That’s better.]

[They need more of that. They can’t keep knocking at the door. They’ve got to break it.]

Alvarado placed the ball. Took his time. Arms wide, motioning his teammates forward before lofting it upfield.

Skrtel rose. Won it. But only as far as Henriksen.

He brought it down with his chest and released Maher—quick turn, quick feet.

Maher burst down the flank, clipped it forward to Benjamin again.

And Benjamin?

He didn’t slow this time.

He went.

One touch past Johnson. The next touch past Allen.

[He’s off again!]

[Where does he get the legs from?!]

The crowd howled. Groans and panic. Some even rose to their feet, caught between awe and fear.

Gerrard darted across, trying to close the space—but Benjamin slipped it through him.

To Martens.

Back to Benjamin in the edge of the 18 yard box.

He hesitated. Looked up. Then—

—a curler. Right foot. Bending far post.

Reina stretched—but it kissed the bar and dropped behind.

[Oooh! So close!]

[That would’ve sealed it.]

He stood there a second longer, hands on hips. No frustration. Just breath.

Then he jogged back again. Slower now. The weight starting to show.

Liverpool kicked up the urgency.

[Do you change the shape now, or double down?]

[You have to double down. There’s not enough time to play cautious.]

Liverpool pressed again.

Johnson bombing down the right, linking with Henderson immediately. A one-two. Then another.

Henderson drove in a cross—high and dipping.

Alvarado misjudged it—palmed it weakly!

Suárez! In behind!

But offside.

[No! That looked close.]

[Very close. But the flag’s up.]

AZ Alkmaar reset. But now the passes slowed. Legs dragging.

Martens looked over. Benjamin doubled over, catching his breath.

[He’s done everything tonight.]

[He might not have much left.]

But there he was again. Trotting back into shape. Clapping. Talking. Organizing.

[It’s what leaders do. Even when they’re shattered.]

Minute seventy-two.

Liverpool built again.

Gerrard, everywhere now, tried to take it on himself. A surge through the middle—he shrugged off one, two tackles—laid it off to Sturridge.

He didn’t hit it first time. Took a touch.

The wrong choice.

Martens was back, toe in, ball gone.

[One too many.]

[You don’t get those chances often at this level.]

The ball spun back toward Altidore.

He held it. Rolled it to Henriksen. Out wide to Maher.

Slowed it.

Killed the clock.

The Kop roared again, urging every red shirt forward.

[They can feel it slipping.]

[And AZ Alkmaar are managing this so well.]

Minute eighty-one.

A long clearance.

Benjamin tracked it down, right in front of the AZ Alkmaar bench. Kept it in with a flick off his boot.

Applause from his manager.

[He’s done his job.]

[And then some.]

But he didn’t stop. Turned inside. Shielded it from Johnson. Waited for Martens again.

And again—they combined.

One-two. Then three.

Henriksen joined. Quick touches. Sharp triangles. Touchline dancing.

[They’re pulling Liverpool apart now.]

[Death by a thousand cuts.]

Eventually, Gerrard got a foot in. Knocked it away.

But the damage was done. The energy sapped. The clock still running.

Brendan Rodgers shouted and Liverpool surged again.

This time, more direct.

Suso to Gerrard. Gerrard to Sturridge. He held it, waited—cut inside and unleashed a shot.

The strike came off Sturridge’s boot with real venom, curling just past the outstretched leg of the defender. It tore through the air, low and driven toward the bottom corner.

Alvarado read it late.

He dropped fast with his arms stretched, but not fast enough.

CLANG!!!~

The ball clipped the outside of the post and skidded behind.

Groans echoed around Anfield.

[That’s inches, Peter. Inches!]

[That was the one, wasn’t it? It had Alvarado beaten.]

The camera caught Sturridge looking skyward with hands on hips while shaking his head. Gerrard jogged over to clap him on the back. No time for sulking. No time for regrets. The clock was ticking.

Minute seventy-five.

AZ Alkmaar delayed the restart again. Alvarado walked to the far side of the six-yard box to place the ball. The Kop responded with a wall of whistles and boos.

[They’re using every second they can now.]

[You’d expect nothing less. They’ve worked hard for this.]

The goal kick was floated toward the left flank. Altidore rose again, using his frame to hold off Skrtel.

He nodded it down for Martens, who cushioned it neatly with his chest before switching play to Adam Maher on the opposite wing.

Maher didn’t rush. He let it bounce once, took a touch, and then slowed it further. His body turned slightly toward the sideline, drawing in Johnson. The Liverpool full-back bit, stepping up to pressure.

But Maher slipped it through his legs.

[Oh, nutmeg! That’ll sting.]

[He’s just embarrassed him in front of the Kop.]

Maher moved into the space, but he didn’t push for goal. Instead, he curved back toward midfield, guiding the ball with his laces and pulling Liverpool’s midfield out of shape.

Benjamin stood just inside the technical area, hands on knees, gulping air. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. But when Maher turned and passed his way, Benjamin stood tall again.

He took one touch and then another. A quick look over his shoulder to spot markers, and then he ran.

Not full tilt this time. More measured and controlled.

He had just enough in the tank to get moving again.