Chapter 263: The Lead of the Theatre of Dreams Part 2

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

The match was at a stalemate. Forest team was furiously trying to go on the offense to even the score before the end of the match; getting one point was better than getting none.

Meanwhile, Manchester United steadied their foothold and maintained a stable defense. They also went on the attack whenever there was an opportunity, keeping Forest’s defensive line constantly on their toes. This prevented the whole of Forest from being able to press forward. Although Ronaldo was off the field, George Wood still had to remain at the back to deal with the attacks from Ruud van Nistelrooy, Paul Scholes, Rooney, and Giggs.

The difference between now and earlier was that Forest could daringly make full use of the two full backs in offensive assists. They did not have to worry so much about leaving gaps behind for Manchester United’s players to work with.

Roy Keane’s withdrawal to defend also reduced the stress on Wood; he no longer had to face two Manchester players at a time and could roam the entire backfield, becoming Albertini’s bodyguard.

At the 80th minute of the match, Tang En made a substitution. He put in a forward, Crouch, to take the place of center back Matthew Upson, further enhancing their offensive power. The Forest’s formation became 3-4-3. In reality, their backfield was only left with three people—Piqué, Wood, and the goalkeeper Darren Ward—whenever they went out on the offense.

The players of the Forest team were going all out, and so was Tang En. To say “I wouldn’t feel angry if we lost” was a matter for after the match ended. Right now, so long as there was a glimmer of hope that they would not lose, they must not give up.

“Time is running out. The players of Forest are looking as though they can no longer run… Manchester United still hasn’t given up on the offense, and George Wood is being kept busy in the backfield. He can be seen all over their half of the field. Does this kid know what it is to be tired?”

The commentator was right. The match was about to be over, but the limelight was on neither the offensive players of Manchester United or Forest team. It was on George Wood.

On Ferguson’s command, Manchester United did not give up counterattacking. Whenever they got an opportunity, they would rush forward determinedly.

So, Wood had no choice but to frequently fill in the gaps left behind by his teammates, who had moved forward to assist. He would turn up momentarily at the position of right back, a little later stand in for the left back, and follow up with guest-playing as the center back, clearing the ball with a header.

Under Forest’s offense, Manchester United’s defense refused to yield. Compared with the ball he had lost earlier, Ferdinand had become much more cautious. Wood, while defending the back, was also paying attention to the situation in the front. Seeing no change to the score after a long time, impatience inevitably seeped in.

The time left in the match was only getting shorter, and Forest’s players were tiring. Even a player like Ribéry found it difficult to dash forward. Most of the time, the team could only try to utilize long passes to Crouch or Viduka, but such simple tactics were not very effective against Manchester United.

When the Fourth Official raised the sign for an additional four minutes of play at the sidelines, Tang En turned his back on the field. It looked like they could only accept the result.

Now, regardless of who got the ball, Forest or Manchester United, the air of Old Trafford was filled with jeering. They were not jeering at either of the teams or their players but at the four minutes of injury stoppage time. For Manchester United, who only had one point of advantage over their opponents, four minutes of additional play was far too long.

What could happen in four minutes on the field? An offense, a head-on crash, or meaningless passing of the football…

Manchester United held possession of the ball, and they were not at all eager to pass forward. Instead, they dilly-dallied in the hopes of wasting some time. In terms of ball control, the Forest team was no match for Manchester United. Eastwood, Viduka, and Crouch were all trying their best to steal the ball at the front but were powerless; their ability fell short of their wishes. They ran hither and thither thanks to the passing among Manchester United’s players.

Time ticked down rapidly.

It seemed like there was nothing else Forest could do.

Matches were like that. Despite all of the effort Forest team had put in in that time, their effort came a bit too late. At this point, that mere difference of a single goal became a barrier they could not cross.

Ferguson walked down from the technical area and stood at the sidelines. He was preparing himself for a handshake with Tony after the match ended. Regardless of the result of their squabble before the match, he was the victor of the match now. Even though Tony was not a renowned or highly-regarded manager within the English football scene, there was an even greater satisfaction in defeating such an untameable, unruly opponent than in defeating Kevin Keegan.

Queiroz stood next to his boss, waiting along with him for the handshake. They seemed utterly convinced of their victory. With Manchester United in possession of the ball, would it be possible to intercept their ball?

Three minutes of the injury stoppage time had already passed. The end of the match was only a minute away. The players from Forest were already prepared to give up. The ball was under the foot of their opponents, after all. If they simply passed it around in the backfield, they would be able to prevent Forest from stealing the ball.

They did not care about wasting their energy to press for the ball, only to be played around with like fools.

After Rio Ferdinand got hold of the ball, he found that even Crouch, who had entered the field last, made no attempt to come up and press on him. At that moment, he knew that the match had ended; they just needed to wait for the referee’s early whistle to signal the end of the match.

He looked up at the referee ahead of him. Good, the referee was looking at his watch.

Wait up!

What was that?

A streak of shadows abruptly appeared within his field of vision.

“Oh, God!” Even the commentator himself exclaimed. “This is… where did he spring out from?! George Wood!”

At that moment, Ferdinand’s brain shorted out; he was shocked by the yellow figure that suddenly dashed in front of him.

No one knew how Wood had rushed all the way forward; even the Forest players themselves did not know. Only Piqué saw it… When Manchester United’s players started passing among themselves in the backfield and Forest’s members were already too drained to run forward to press them, there were several points in which Wood had wanted to rush up.

But this time, he had more resolve than he had the previous times. He had no intention of returning to defend once he moved forward.

At the 93rd minute, George Wood seemed as if he had only been on the field for 93 seconds. He was completely energized with a running speed no different from when he had chased after Cristiano Ronaldo. Just like the wind, he flew across the field, passing Albertini, passing Scholes, passing Eastwood, passing Roy Keane, passing Kleberson, passing Viduka, and finally emerging swiftly from behind Crouch!

Ferdinand was standing before the penalty area when he started paying attention to the referee’s actions. At that point, he did not expect there to still be a Forest player who had the ability to press forward and steal the ball!

As Tang En turned, preparing to return to the technical area, collect his tactical board, and shake hands with Ferguson, he heard loud yelling from Kerslake beside him. “Wait! Tony! Wait… Oh God, it’s Wood! He rushed forward!”

Tang En spun and saw Wood run in front of Ferdinand. Just how he would defend in the penalty area, he stretched his leg out to steal the ball…

The jeers that erupted from the spectators’ stands of Old Trafford were louder than ever before.

“Ferdinand lost the ball!! He completely failed to see Wood!”

The biggest problem with England’s most expensive midfielder was that he would, from time to time, lose his focus while on the field. Now he was caught by the ever-persistent Wood; he only felt a brief stumble of his feet, and the ball was gone!

Wood had jabbed the ball away, leading to another surge in the jeering.

He had no one in front of him. There was only the goal and Manchester United’s goalkeeper, Tim Howard. There were no teammates who could come forward to support him; it was impossible for him to make a pass.

When Tang En saw this, he was immediately reminded of the scene just a while after the beginning of the first half: Wood’s attempt to score. His position then was about the same as now. Previously, Wood had booted the ball straight up into the sky… and the results of his shooting drills in the usual training were not the best either. To entrust all the hope of Forest to someone like that…

Why wasn’t it Viduka, Eastwood, Crouch, Albertini, or even Chimbonda who had stolen the ball? It just had to be George Wood, who was the worst at shooting!

He suddenly regretted not getting Wood to do more shooting drills during training.

Regardless, he still blurted, “Shoot!”

Wood stared at the rolling ball beneath his foot. The steal he had pulled off in one breath was successful, but what was he going to do next? Pass? There was no one to pass to. Shoot?

Shoot…

He remembered what Albertini told him before the match. “At times, you need to rush into the opponent’s penalty area and do a powerful long shot!”

Isn’t that time now?

A voice suddenly rang out from the sidelines and drifted into his ears, “Shoot!”

His gaze sharpened as he looked down and lifted his right leg.

I have no other choice but to shoot.

With an arched heel, pointed toes, a mighty swing of his arms, a twist of his waist, and a follow-through with a swing of his leg… Shoot!

Under the gleaming lights of the Theatre of Dreams, the yellow Nike football transformed into a streak of a shooting star, streaking past Howard’s outstretched fingers and slamming into the net!

Ferdinand turned around only to see the football fly into the goal. His half-turned body abruptly lost momentum and collapsed onto the ground.

Roy Keane, who was running back to defend, stopped in his stride, breathing heavily as he stared wide-jawed at the shamefaced goalkeeper, Howard.

Tang En pounded his fist on the floor.

The smile on Ferguson’s face stiffened, and the outstretched hand towards Queiroz stopped in mid-air as if paused.

The jeers stopped.

On the television, a high voice could be heard from the receiver, “This is incredible! Incredible! 93 minutes 47 seconds! 2:2! Defensive Midfielder George Wood dashed madly across half the field, stole the ball from Ferdinand’s careless handling, and took a shot… And he succeeded! Tonight, the lead of the Theatre of Dreams, just as the curtains were about to close, made another grand appearance!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Novelsays.Com