Football: Maxed Out The Wrong Stat

The adjustment helped.

With Raúl dropping into the half-space between the midfield and attack, the triangle he formed with Mateo gave Schalke a way to recycle possession that hadn’t existed before. Frankfurt’s press now had a third option to track, a third moving body in the central zone and the extra decision cost them fractions of seconds. Not enough to stop the pressure. Enough to let Schalke breathe slightly.

Mateo found Raúl twice in quick succession with short passes to feet. Both times Raúl held, turned, and played forward before the press arrived. Neither sequence produced a chance - Frankfurt’s defensive block was compact and well-organised, but the circulation was smoother. The ball was staying with Schalke longer before being turned over.

Frankfurt were still dangerous. Zavilas and Kittel kept rotating through positions in Schalke’s half, looking for the overload. Per Kluge was working hard, covering angles that the shape left exposed.

Then Uchida’s arm came up.

Altıntop had received wide on the left and was driving inside. Uchida, tight on his shoulder, reached out, not malicious, just instinct, the grabbing reflex of a defender who has been beaten and knows it. His right hand caught Altıntop’s shirt.

Altıntop went down.

Fweet—!

Yellow card for Uchida. Free kick to Frankfurt, attacking third, left of centre, twenty-two metres out.

Magath pressed his lips together. Uchida had a yellow now - any more and the right side of the defensive line would be exposed.

Kittel placed the ball.

Inside the box, both sets of players jostled for position. Metzelder had taken his marking responsibilities seriously, he’d identified Lord as the primary aerial threat and positioned himself to contest. Zavilas had drifted wide right. Frankfurt’s full-backs had pushed up to the edge of the area.

Kittel struck it with his right foot - in-swinging, aiming for the space between the six-yard box and the edge of the penalty area, the zone that caused maximum difficulty for goalkeepers and defenders alike.

The delivery was good. Pace, curl, dropping into the contested zone.

Metzelder rose and got there first, a solid defensive header, both feet off the ground, directing it firmly away from the goal. The ball flew out of the penalty area and bounced once on the turf.

It dropped to Mateo.

Twenty metres from goal. The Frankfurt players who had pushed up for the set piece were now behind him. Ahead: Schwegler recovering, Russ tracking back, Fährmann in his goal. And Raúl, already turning, already moving.

He played it to Raúl in one touch, inside of the left foot, firm and flat and ran.

Raúl received with Schwegler closing fast. He didn’t wait, one touch to push it right past Schwegler’s outstretched leg, turning through the space Schwegler’s momentum had left behind him. Past him in a single move.

Raúl was now in Frankfurt’s half with the ball at his feet and the penalty area thirty metres ahead.

Russ had given up tracking Huntelaar to deal with this. He came across at pace, angling to cut off the direct route to goal.

Raúl had been reading this run since before Russ had started it. He let him come - one step, two, close enough for Russ to commit his weight, then tapped it right with the outside of his boot. The ball slid past Russ’s left side.

Mateo was already there.

He’d made the run from the moment he’d played the first pass to Raúl, diagonal, into the space behind Russ’s line of travel, arriving as the ball rolled through. One defender between him and goal. The goalkeeper off his line, narrowing the angle.

Fährmann came out.

Mateo shaped his right foot as though shooting low to the left corner, the natural angle, the obvious choice. Fährmann’s weight shifted that way. His dive started.

Mateo’s ankle rolled right.

He pulled the ball across his body, past Fährmann’s trailing leg, and pushed it into the empty net with his right instep.

The ball rolled in slowly, as though it had all the time in the world.

Fweet—!

2–1.

Schalke.

He didn’t think about what to do next, it just happened. He pulled his shirt over his head and was already running when the yellow card appeared in the corner of his vision: the referee following him, the card already out.

He knew. He kept running anyway.

The corner flag. Both arms out. The Schalke supporters in the away end rising together.

The yellow card arrived as he slowed. He accepted it without complaint, he’d known it was coming before he took the shirt off and had taken it off anyway. That was something to think about later.

Raúl reached him first.

”I thought you were going to shoot left,” Raúl said, slightly out of breath.

”I know,” Mateo said. ”So did Fährmann.”

Huntelaar arrived, arm around Mateo’s shoulder. ”That’s a debut goal.” He said it with the specific emphasis of a player who had scored a lot of goals and knew which ones counted.

Annan and Pliatsikas came in behind. Magath, on the touchline, was animated, not jumping, but the contained version of it, hands clenched, turning to Hughes Yves. Whatever he said, Hughes Yves nodded emphatically.

The celebrations wound down. The referee gestured to the centre.

Tom Warrick, in the booth, had let the moment settle before speaking.

”Mateo Silva. Bundesliga debut. First professional start at the top level. A goal from a counter that he helped initiate and finished with the composure of someone who has been doing this for years.” A pause. ”He’s seventeen years and fifty-nine days old. One of the youngest starters in recent Bundesliga history. Whether the records matter or not, the performance is real.” Another pause. ”He has a yellow card now for the shirt. One more and he’s off. Worth keeping in mind.”

[He knew Fährmann was going to dive left. Watch the eyes, he doesn’t look left once.]

[Two goal contributions in twenty-something minutes of a Bundesliga debut. Against a team sitting unbeaten after three rounds.]

[The yellow is dumb. He can’t get another one.]

Mateo jogged back to the centre circle, pulling his shirt back on as he went.

He had a yellow card. Frankfurt were furious.

He looked at the overlay across the pitch and waited for the restart.

Plz Drop Some Power Stones.

For Advance/Early Chapters:

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