Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 529: Zidane Volley

"To be, or not to be fast," Mark declared. "That is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of slow defenders, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and run past them."

Alex sat in his seat, rubbing his temples.

"Mark," Alex said. "Please sit down. The bus is moving."

"I am practicing my oratory skills!" Mark shouted. "I am the Cicero of Speed! The Demosthenes of Dribbling!"

"You are the Mark of Madness," Rico laughed from the back. "Sit down before you fall."

Mark sat down. He peeled the banana.

"So," Mark said, chewing. "New format. Champions League. Swiss Model. What does that mean? Do we get chocolate?"

"No chocolate," Alex said. "It means one big league table. Eight games. Different opponents. No groups."

"Sounds complicated," Mark said. "I prefer groups. Groups are like little families. This sounds like a giant party where you don’t know anyone."

"It is designed to create more big games," Alex explained. "More unpredictability. More chaos."

"I like chaos," Rico piped up. "Chaos is where the samba lives."

"Chaos is where the math gets interesting," Alex muttered.

He looked at the fixture list on his phone.

Matchday 1. Arsenal vs AC Milan. The Emirates.

A classic. A rematch of the ’Surfing’ game.

"Leao is coming back," Alex said.

"The Surfer!" Mark cheered. "I hope he brings his board. I have been practicing my swimming celebration."

The Emirates Stadium. Tuesday Night.

The Champions League anthem played. It still sent shivers down Alex’s spine. It was the soundtrack of his dreams.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Rafael Leao stood next to him. The Milan star looked relaxed. He was smiling, as always.

"Professor," Leao nodded.

"Surfer," Alex replied.

"New format," Leao said. "Same game."

"The variables have changed," Alex said. "But the objective remains constant."

"Win," Leao grinned.

"Win," Alex agreed.

The whistle blew.

The game started.

Milan were different this year. They were more aggressive. They pressed high.

In the tenth minute, Pulisic (who had moved to Milan) got the ball. He ran at Zinchenko.

Pulisic was fast. Captain America.

He cut inside. He shot.

Raya saved.

"Wake up!" Raya screamed. "They are sharp!"

Arsenal settled into their rhythm. Frenkie de Jong controlled the tempo. He was like a conductor in the middle of a storm.

In the twentieth minute, Frenkie passed to Alex.

Alex turned.

He saw Gyokeres. The giant striker was holding off Tomori.

Alex hit a pass into Gyokeres’ feet.

Gyokeres laid it off to Saka.

Saka curled it.

Maignan saved.

It was a tactical battle. Two heavyweights trading punches.

Thirty fifth minute.

Leao got the ball on the wing.

He faced Ben White.

Leao smiled. He did a stepover. Then another. He looked like he was dancing to a beat only he could hear.

He pushed the ball past White.

He sprinted.

He cut back.

Giroud (yes, the old legend was still playing) was there.

Giroud flicked it with his heel.

Goal.

Zero one. Milan.

The away fans cheered.

"Beautiful goal," Alex admitted to himself. "Artistic."

Mark ran over. "That was a scorpion! He copied me!"

"He did it first, Mark," Alex said. "He is the original scorpion."

"I am the faster scorpion!" Mark argued.

Halftime. Zero one.

Steve was calm.

"They are playing well," Steve said. "But they are leaving gaps in the half-spaces. Leao does not track back. Pulisic does not track back."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Exploit the pockets. Find the space between the lines."

"I will find the void," Alex said.

Second half.

Arsenal came out with purpose.

Fifty fifth minute.

Alex got the ball in the "half-space" – the area between the wing and the center.

Leao was high up the pitch. The Milan midfield was stretched.

Alex had time.

He saw Martinelli making a run.

Alex hit a reverse pass.

It sliced through the defense.

Martinelli ran onto it. He shot.

Goal.

One one.

"Precision!" Alex shouted.

The game opened up. Both teams wanted the win in this new format. Every point mattered.

Seventy fifth minute.

Mark came on for Martinelli. The Emperor entered the arena.

The crowd roared. SUPER MARK! SUPER MARK!

Mark ran onto the pitch. He did a little jump.

"TURBO CHARGED!" Mark yelled.

Eighty fifth minute.

The game was tied.

Alex had the ball deep.

He saw Mark.

Mark was pointing to the corner flag.

"Why is he pointing there?" Alex thought.

Then he understood. Mark wasn’t pointing to the flag. He was pointing to the space behind the fullback, who had drifted inside.

Alex hit a long, diagonal ball.

It floated over Hernandez’s head.

Mark ran.

He didn’t trap the ball. He let it bounce.

He ran around Hernandez.

He collected the ball near the byline.

He looked up.

Gyokeres was in the box. But he was marked by two defenders.

Rico was on the edge of the box.

Mark passed to Rico.

Rico controlled it. He faked a shot. The defenders dived.

Rico chipped the ball to the back post.

Who was there?

Alex.

The Professor had made a late run. He had calculated the trajectory.

The ball dropped.

Alex jumped.

He didn’t head it.

He did a "Zidane Volley".

He swiveled his hips. He hit the ball with his left foot while it was still in the air.

It was perfect technique.

The ball flew into the top corner.

GOAL.

Two one. Arsenal.

The Emirates exploded.

Alex landed on his feet. He stood still. He adjusted his imaginary glasses.

"Class dismissed," he mouthed to the camera.

Mark jumped on his back. "THE VOLLEY! IT WAS BEAUTIFUL! IT WAS LIKE A PAINTING!"

"It was geometry," Alex laughed. "Angles and velocity."

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. AC Milan 1.

Three points in the new era.

Alex walked off the pitch.

Leao walked over. He swapped shirts.

"You are clever," Leao said. "You found the space."

"Space is always there," Alex said. "You just have to look for it."

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a Swiss Guard uniform (the colorful striped one).

"THE SWISS BANKER!" Milo screamed. "WE CASHED IN! ALEX! THE NEW FORMAT! I AM SELLING CALCULATORS! TO KEEP TRACK OF THE LEAGUE TABLE! ONLY TWENTY POUNDS!"

"Milo, that is a costume from the Vatican," Alex laughed.

"IT IS SWISS!" Milo insisted. "NEUTRAL AND RICH!"

They walked into the dressing room.

The team was happy.

Alex checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Swiss Model analysis: Optimal start. Your goal had an xG (Expected Goals) of 0.04. Highly improbable. But statistically significant. Also, I have a new theory about the coefficient of friction on wet grass. I need you to run some tests tomorrow."

Alex smiled.

More tests. More data.

He looked at Mark.

Mark was wearing the Milan shirt. He was trying to do a surfing pose on the bench.

"I am surfing to victory!" Mark yelled. "Cowabunga!"

Alex leaned back.

The season was long. The new format was tough.

But the Professor had his calculator.

And he had his friends.

"Mark," Alex said.

"Yeah?"

"Don’t fall off the bench."

"I have perfect balance!" Mark said, wobbling. "I am a ninja!"

Crash.

Mark fell off the bench.

"I meant to do that!" Mark shouted from the floor. "Tactical roll!"