Dominating Football with Perfect Ball Control

Chapter 446: 446. Who Says Lance Can’t Pass?

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”Lance!!!”

When Lance perfectly controlled the ball and used a divine rainbow flick to cut through Portugal’s midfield barrier, the Dongda fans, past 3 AM, were instantly ignited. They thought this was already the most exciting performance of the night. Who would have thought the real show was still to come.

A super long-range volleyed lob from 40 meters out!!!

Who else in the world would dare to be so bold? To gamble so big in a European Championship final? If anyone else had missed, they would have been flamed into retirement by fans and media alike. Every counter-attack opportunity in a major tournament final is worth its weight in gold. No one dares take that risk.

Only Lance, with his superior skill and nerve, didn’t hesitate.

Because the puzzle of [Space Perception] had already been completed 40 meters into the midfield. So he struck. Taking advantage of the 0.5-second window when the goalkeeper was positioned too far forward, he lobbed it. The ball streaked across half the field, as if stretched out for a century, yet also as fleeting as a shooting star. Immediately, the wild cheers of over 60,000 people at the Stade de France soared into the clouds.

”The ball is in!!!! A worldie!!! God Lance!!!!”

Duan Xuan had lost count of how many times his voice had cracked tonight.

”Beautiful!!! Lance’s super long-range worldie!”

”No matter which team he plays for, no matter who his opponent is, no matter what kind of mountain-like pressure he faces on the field...”

His poetic side erupted, unable to hold back.

”Whenever facing a deficit, it always brings out the most terrifying Lance!”

”The world’s strongest desire to win allows him to achieve miracle after miracle!”

”This goal is Lance’s most representative masterpiece!”

”The 12th goal! The only player in European Championship history to reach this height in a single tournament!”

Duan Xuan was nearly in tears.

Regardless of whether Belgium wins the championship today, Lance is a god.

Across the country, nearing 4 AM, tens of millions of people cheered at the same time. If there were a god above who could capture sound, he would have felt a sudden burst of noise in an instant. What late-night disturbance? Who cares. The lights in countless residential areas had already lit up. Shouts of ”God Lance is awesome” echoed through the night sky. Disturbing the old man next door’s sleep? Sorry, the old man next door was also cheering. ”Damn it, damn it!”

”You’re... forget it, work harder. It’s just an equalizer.”

Cristiano Ronaldo wanted to curse the goalkeeper standing so far off his line, but Patrício’s pitiful expression stopped him cold. As captain, he could only comfort his teammate.

The goalkeeper hadn’t made a catastrophic mistake. Who would have thought Lance could instantly control the ball, rainbow flick past two men, and volley directly from 40 meters? If he had started half a second later, the ball never goes in. It just so happened that Lance’s ability to seize moments was on another level entirely.

Even Messi had never made Cristiano Ronaldo feel this uneasy. After years of going head-to-head with Messi, he now faced a 19-year-old who had pulled out a Browning M1911 and pointed it straight at him.

”Cristiano Ronaldo, times have changed.”

Who could withstand that?

”Portugal has been a bit conservative during this spell, actively trying to slow the pace of the game.”

”That’s right, pressing forward costs energy too. Slowing things down and tightening the defense makes sense. Prioritize stability first.”

”Yes, after all, it’s a European Championship final. Caution is certainly right...”

Duan Xuan had just finished the thought and was about to comment on Portugal’s defensive shape when Belgium launched an attack, and a rather audacious one at that. Everyone except the goalkeeper was in Portugal’s half. Weren’t they afraid of a Cristiano Ronaldo counter? They were actually high-pressing.

Duan Xuan was bracing himself to worry about Belgium when, to his surprise, the high press started working. They had Portugal pinned back.

”Since the backline is a little exposed, why not take the fight to their half!”

”Our attacking line is world-class!”

Belgium’s coach Wilmots stood on the touchline with a quiet smile. This was his plan. Lance had shifted from attacking midfielder into a deeper role, suddenly operating as a midfielder in the 4-3-3 system. That was the key. And it wasn’t Lance anchoring the midfield alone. De Bruyne also dropped into that position from time to time, swapping positions with Lance and letting him initiate attacks from the right wing.

De Bruyne’s passing combined with Lance’s right-footed Crescent Blade had once reduced Portugal to lifting their heads only to breathe.

”Beautiful!!! De Bruyne’s attempt, that pass cuts right through the penalty area! It’s a pity Hazard’s shot after cutting back grazed the post and went wide...”

”Good ball!! Lance’s header, Belgium keep possession!”

”Continuing the siege! Portugal have switched to full defense!”

”Wide right, good! Lance, De Bruyne, Lance... Nainggolan, Lance!!! De Bruyne, Lance!!! Beautiful!!”

”Belgium’s twin stars!!”

As Duan Xuan’s voice rose with excitement, tens of thousands of spectators clapped and cheered in unison. Lance and De Bruyne played a brilliant combination down the right, trading consecutive wall passes with the kind of understanding that only comes from total synchronization. De Bruyne moved inside while Lance stretched wide to create the threat, his feet weaving between two Portugal players.

Breaking into the penalty area.

”Right-back Meunier is overlapping. Will Lance pass?”

”A passing feint!! Good ball!! Shakes off Pepe with the left foot!!!”

Even surrounded, the Portugal players in the area didn’t dare commit, fearing Lance would beat them and draw a penalty. Lance exploited that hesitation perfectly. He faked a pass to the right-back, pulled it back suddenly, and used an Elastico in the box to leave Pepe flat-footed. Then struck the ball with his left foot.

Portugal’s goalkeeper was at full alert, eyes locked on the near post, braced for the heavy cannon he knew as Lance’s signature.

Instead... ”Did he miss?”

Lance’s shot looked like a mishit, curling on a strange arc toward the far post. It looked like it was heading out of bounds.

”Hahahaha! What a ridiculous ball!!”

The Portuguese commentator burst out laughing.

The man hyped as the world’s best had produced that in a penalty area? Normal. Lance is human after all, and only 19 years old. A bit of nerves in a major final is perfectly understandable... ”Wait!!”

Cristiano Ronaldo’s first reaction was relief. Lance had finally made a mistake. But the next moment, something felt wrong.

On the far side of the box, a red figure flashed out of the crowd like lightning, streaking toward the back post.

”It’s over!!”

A pass. It was a pass. The all-time top scorer in European Championship history, 12 goals in a single tournament, had passed?

At the moment Cristiano Ronaldo realized he had fallen into his own assumptions, it was already too late.

Hazard burst out of the crowd from a completely unexpected angle, threw his entire body forward, and slid it into the net.

A goal that caught everyone off guard.

Commentators from every broadcast booth were stunned for half a second before erupting along with the crowd.

”Hey hey hey!!! It’s in!! It’s in!!”

”Lance didn’t miss!! He was passing!!! A wonderful trivela pass!!!”

”Who says Lance can’t pass? He’s produced surgical assists throughout this tournament!”

”That feint carries the full style of a midfield maestro!”

”After falling behind early, Lance now has one assist and one goal. Directly involved in both Belgium goals!”

”2 to 1!! Belgium complete the comeback before the end of the first half!!”

After the assist, Hazard charged toward the corner flag in pure joy, spun around, and waved Lance and his teammates over to celebrate. Lance ran past the stunned Portugal players with a wide smile, and as he passed Cristiano Ronaldo, he couldn’t help but give a small shrug.

Sorry. That was a Monster Pass.

The [Bachira Meguru] template isn’t just for dribbling. It’s an assist machine too.

You thought I could only shoot?

Too naive. You’ve still got a lot to learn.