Dominating Football with Perfect Ball Control

Chapter 372: 372. De Bruyne Unleashes Unyielding Spirit

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”Holy crap, it actually went in!”

Lance’s first reaction after scoring was genuine surprise.

Even with the template equipped, the Tiger Shot couldn’t guarantee a 100% scoring rate. What the skill actually did at the moment of striking was slow the flow of time and grant an invincibility effect, shielding the shot from outside interference.

In that brief window, it allowed for perfect control of the ball’s contact point, recreating the clean conditions of an undisturbed training session. Any professional player can put the ball away cleanly in training. Doing it in the middle of a fiercely contested match was a different thing entirely, and that was what made the skill so abnormal.

Without the template’s boost, Lance couldn’t guarantee a perfect strike. At best, he had given himself a 60% chance on that one.

He hadn’t expected Joe Hart to so completely live up to his reputation.

100% guaranteed to concede against a world-class shot.

Looking at Joe Hart’s stunned expression, Lance felt a brief flicker of sympathy.

It was quickly buried under the rush of scoring. He pulled Griezmann into a hug and the two of them sprinted toward the away supporters, celebrating with the 2,000 Atlético fans packed into their end of the Etihad.

As for Joe Hart, well. This would probably follow him for a while. Lance had a vague sense that the trauma would accumulate over time, eventually grinding Hart’s confidence down until he was no longer Manchester City’s first choice, and eventually had no club to go to at all.

But what could you do?

Better you than me.

Lance wanted to lead Atlético Madrid to the Champions League title. Nobody was going to stand in the way of that. Not Joe Hart. Not even his good friend De Bruyne.

”Sorry, Joe. Sorry, Kevin. I’m winning this series.”

The match resumed.

”Manchester City have become quite cautious since that world-class strike. They’re reluctant to push forward too freely now.”

”Yaya Touré, Fernandinho, David Silva... back to Kompany... back to Joe Hart... out to Zabaleta, Fernandinho, Otamendi, Kompany, Hart again...”

The ball was being cycled around the backline, returning repeatedly to Kompany’s feet. Atlético Madrid made no effort to press high. Their three lines were stacked neatly in their own half, like three walls holding a city together, blocking everything out.

Time ticked toward half-time.

Then Lance spotted something.

Joe Hart was getting restless.

The world-class goal he had conceded was clearly eating at him. He had been working hard ever since, holding his position at the edge of the penalty area as part of Manchester City’s passing structure, functioning as an extra outlet at the back to help them maintain possession. The tactic was working. Manchester City’s possession rate had climbed to 73%, squeezing Atlético Madrid further and further back.

David Silva and Yaya Touré were beginning to push higher. De Bruyne was quietly coiling, waiting for a moment to strike. And Joe Hart’s position was gradually creeping forward, drifting outside the penalty area as Manchester City’s whole shape pushed Atlético back into their own 30-metre zone.

”Saúl!”

”Antoine!”

Lance called out quickly. Griezmann to his left, Saúl to his right. A single exchange of glances between the three. Done.

Griezmann gave a thumbs-up. Saúl shifted toward Lance’s position without a word.

Half a season of playing together. They didn’t need language. A look was enough.

”Atlético Madrid are under real pressure now. Manchester City are trying to press for a goal before half-time. They don’t want to go into the locker room level after being at home.”

”Agüero, constantly making runs through the penalty area.”

”Good, De Bruyne!! What a pass, incredible imagination!! Godín just manages to intercept it!”

Hiss.

Agüero made his diagonal run, trying to burst into the space behind Godín. De Bruyne’s low, bending pass swept perfectly past Filipe Luís, aimed straight into Agüero’s path.

Agüero was already moving into position.

At the last moment, Godín’s positioning was perfect. He read the lane and stuck out his foot to cut it off.

”Godín! A crucial interception!”

Jian Jun slapped the table.

Godín’s influence was everywhere. This was exactly what Uruguay’s starting center-back brought to the team.

Behind the scenes, Godín had been sweating through that one.

Before the match, Lance had spent session after session in training playing passes with De Bruyne’s thought process in mind. His passes weren’t technically identical to De Bruyne’s, but the timing and trajectory were always unexpected in the same way.

The repetition had drilled those patterns into Godín’s muscle memory, and at the critical moment, an instinctive read had put him exactly where he needed to be.

Manchester City hadn’t reacted. Players converged on Godín from all sides. Yaya Touré and Fernandinho instinctively rushed to plug Atlético’s midfield pivot, tying up Koke and Gabi in the process.

Conventional wisdom said Godín should either clear it long or recycle it to one of the fullbacks, sacrificing the counter-attacking threat in the process.

Godín had been spoiled by Lance. He didn’t go conventional.

He chose the most dangerous option: a low, curving long pass aimed directly at Lance in the center circle.

”Straight to Lance!!”

Lance dropped back quickly, getting in ahead of left-back Clichy.

Clichy’s brain was already racing. Former Arsenal starter. Top-level Premier League fullback. In his mind, Lance going at him one-on-one was the single biggest threat on the field.

He grabbed Lance’s jersey with both hands, almost pulling it out of shape. Even if Lance somehow twisted past him, Clichy was confident he could foul his way through it.

But at the critical moment, Lance flicked the ball backward with the outside of his foot.

A pass.

Clichy froze.

The defensive midfielders had both gone to deal with Atlético’s central players. The gap between the center-backs and midfield was temporarily open. But Lance was facing his own goal. How could he know who was making a run behind him?

The sound of footsteps suddenly accelerating behind Clichy told him everything.

”Saúl!!! Beautiful!!!”

Lance’s outside-of-the-foot flick had been timed perfectly for Saúl’s diagonal run. He collected the ball centrally in the space Clichy had just vacated.

The moment Clichy’s eyes shifted, Lance spun, turned, and went forward along the right wing.

Saúl looked left. Griezmann was making a forward run. Manchester City’s attention snapped across. Joe Hart moved across too, shuffling right to cut off Griezmann’s potential run-in and cover a potential through ball.

From the outside, Griezmann was obviously the danger. Saúl lifted his foot to pass. Clichy abandoned Lance completely and sprinted at Saúl. Otamendi arrived from the other side, the two of them closing Saúl down together.

Then Saúl stopped short, let Otamendi’s lunge go past him, and slipped a diagonal ball outside his right foot.

”Beautiful, out to the right!!”

”Lance!!!”

Lance was in space on the right wing. A clear run at goal ahead of him.

”Oh no!!”

Kompany immediately moved across. Clichy, again, stopped, reversed direction, and came sprinting back to cut off Lance’s run with a slide tackle. Former Arsenal starter. He knew what he was doing. The tackle was well-timed and angled to block the dribble path. At worst, he would force Lance to stop dead and kill the attack’s momentum.

At that exact moment, Lance didn’t keep running.

He shot.

From the touchline. Completely without announcement.

Tiger!

Boom.

”What?!”

Joe Hart’s pupils contracted. He hadn’t made it back to his position. A blur crossed his vision.

The ball smashed into the net.

Jian Jun inhaled sharply, then absolutely erupted.

”The rogue ball is in!!! God Lance delivers another worldie!!”

”A sudden burst from the wing! A long-range shot from over 36 metres goes straight in!!”

”A brace!!”

”Before half-time, Atlético Madrid take the lead! 2-1 away at Manchester City!!”

”Another big game, another Champions League knockout tie, and God Lance is making his mark!!”

”After going behind early, Lance turned the game on its head and put Atlético Madrid in front!!”

Inside the ground, the away end went completely wild.

Not far from the celebrations, De Bruyne stood with a troubled look on his face.

”Lance, is this the lesson you wanted to teach me?”

None of what had just happened had been about individual brilliance or flashy skill. It had been the understanding between three attackers and the kind of reading of the game that made most players look slow by comparison. De Bruyne had come in expecting a battle of technique.

Lance had turned it into a chess match.

”I’m not giving up that easily. You told me before I’d be the best midfielder in the world one day...”

De Bruyne’s expression hardened.

”I’m going to prove it.”

As his Manchester City teammates looked around in confusion, De Bruyne’s eyes on the field burned with focus.