Chapter 28 – A World-Class Goal
The rain didn't stop.
It wasn't heavy—just persistent. A fine mist that clung to jerseys and blurred the floodlights above Elland Road. But it only made the tension feel heavier, like every pass dragged a bit more weight behind it.
From the tenth to the twenty-second minute, Leeds had tried.
Nathan had tried.
They'd pushed forward again and again, but Arsenal's midfield was an iron gate. Every time Leeds tried to build centrally, either Thomas Partey or Declan Rice snuffed it out with chilling precision.
Thud!
A tackle from Rice.
Clack!
A second-touch steal by Partey.
The ball barely stayed at Leeds' feet for five seconds in the middle third before it was swallowed.
Nathan felt it.
That creeping frustration.
Like running in a dream—feet pumping, heart racing, but never getting closer.
—
Minute 37.
Leeds had just lost the ball again. McClellan swore under his breath. Their fullbacks were too slow to retreat.
Suddenly—
Whap!
Ødegaard flicked the ball wide to Saka.
"Shit—watch him!" Tyler Brown shouted, but it was too late.
Saka turned on a dime, skipped past Carter like he wasn't even there, danced around Tyler Brown, and whipped in a devilish cross.
Nathan had barely turned to watch when he heard the collective gasp—
THUMP!!
Merino flew.
His forehead crashed into the ball like a bullet.
CLANG!
It hit the crossbar. Shook it. The ball bounced out violently.
A split-second blur of legs and mud—Brown cleared it.
Nathan, already sprinting, caught the rebound and surged down the wing.
His boots tore through the wet grass as he drove forward.
"I've got Lewandowski Finishing…"
His eyes flicked toward the far end. The box seemed miles away.
"…But it's useless unless I get in front of goal."
He cut inside.
Zinchenko hesitated.
Nathan took advantage—he slid the ball to Leeds' right winger, bursting through the space.
Now. Let's go. Give it back—
But just as the winger pushed it forward—
CRACK!
Thomas Partey stepped in like a phantom.
The ball was gone. The chance—dead.
Nathan exhaled hard.
"Again…"
—
Minute 45.
The fourth official raised the board. +1 minute.
One more breath.
Just one.
Arsenal passed it backward at first—probing. Leeds looked organized enough, but Rice saw it. A tiny misstep in their back line.
And he punished it.
ZIP!
A through ball—perfect weight—cutting through three defenders like a blade.
Martinelli exploded into space.
"Shit, someone track back!"
No one could catch him.
He didn't even hesitate. One touch. Two. Cross into the box.
Nathan's eyes widened as he turned—
Merino again.
He's going for it? No way. That angle—
SWISH!!
A bicycle kick.
BOOOOOOM!!
The sound of the connection echoed in the soaked stadium.
Time slowed.
The ball arced. Spun.
Haaaaah…!
It soared over Meslier's outstretched hands and slammed into the top corner of the net.
GOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!
The Emirates away fans were in hysterics.
Smoke bombs, flags, shirts tossed in the air. It was a world-class goal.
Merino landed on his back, arms spread, a calm smile on his face like it was just another day in the office.
Leeds players looked stunned.
Tyler Brown crouched, hands on his head.
Carter just stared at the scoreboard.
Nathan?
He didn't move.
He watched the replay on the stadium screen.
Again.
And again.
Every time, the same result.
2–0.
Right before halftime.
He sat in the dressing room, a towel over his head, steam rising from soaked jerseys and boots around him.
No one said anything for a while.
Then Jamal broke the silence.
"They're not better than us everywhere."
Grayson looked up. "Go on."
"We're losing because we're trying to beat them where they're strongest. Rice and Partey are reading us like a children's book."
Nathan nodded slightly.
"They're walling off the middle," he murmured.
Grayson pointed. "Exactly."
Jack McClellan leaned back. "So… what? Long balls and hope?"
"No." Grayson's voice was sharp.
He stood up, grabbed a marker, and drew on the board.
"Look here. Zinchenko is inverting constantly. He becomes a midfielder the moment they get the ball. That leaves their left side open when we switch fast enough."
He looked directly at Nathan.
"You've been pulling Ben White wide. Keep doing it. Drag him further."
Nathan looked up.
"And then?"
"You're not going to break through this team with brute force," Grayson said. "You break them by ghosting in."
Jamal's eyes widened. "You mean—"
Grayson nodded.
"Third-man runs. From deep. We send the ball right, drag them, and then… bang. Nathan cuts through the middle like a knife."
Jack nodded slowly. "Can work. Especially if they're caught watching."