Chapter 16 - The Miracle at 118 Minutes
PEEEEEEEP!
The second extra time period began with a shriek of the referee's whistle, slicing through the heavy air.
The ball came rolling toward Nathan, kissed across the turf like a summoned destiny.
He stepped to it, heart hammering.
Now. It's now or never.
With a deft touch, he gathered the ball on the left wing. His head snapped up — defenders closing in, space shrinking.
He had to create something. Had to be the spark.
But doubt flickered in the back of his mind.
Ward-Prowse Free Kick Mastery... It's a dead-ball skill. How can that help me now?
That split-second hesitation — that tiny shiver of uncertainty — was all it took.
CRACK!
A crunching tackle from the Ipswich right back sent the ball skidding away.
Nathan stumbled but stayed upright, gasping, spinning to see the counter unfolding.
Ipswich tore forward like a pack of wolves, ball snapping from boot to boot.
The Leeds midfield scrambled back, frantic, desperate.
A long pass carved open the defense.
The Ipswich striker unleashed a vicious shot from just outside the box—
BOOM!!
The ball screamed through the air.
Blackwell flung himself backward—
And the ball SLAMMED against the crossbar with a savage clang!
GASP—!!
Thirty thousand breaths caught at once.
Nathan stood frozen for half a heartbeat, the echo of the shot ringing in his ears.
The ball bounced wildly back into play, where Leeds managed to hook it clear.
They had survived.
Barely.
Nathan sank to one knee, pounding the ground with his fist.
"Focus! Focus, Nathan!!"
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The clock ticked mercilessly toward oblivion.
118 minutes played.
Two minutes — maybe three — remained between salvation and heartbreak.
Nathan's lungs burned. His legs felt like dead weight. His jersey clung to his body, soaked through with sweat and desperation.
Come on... Just one more chance... Just one...
Suddenly — like lightning splitting the night — the chance arrived.
Tyler Brown, stole a loose ball near the halfway line.
Crack!
A sharp turn. A shimmy past the first defender.
The crowd roared to life.
Tyler stormed forward, bulldozing past another Ipswich midfielder with sheer force.
Nathan chased after him, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Go, Tyler!! GO!!
Tyler didn't look up — he just knew.
A perfect through ball, knifing between the Ipswich center-backs.
Marco Reed, was already on the move — muscles coiled, instincts razor-sharp.
The ball rolled into his path like it was drawn there by fate.
Marco touched it once, twice, flying toward goal, alone, unstoppable.
The keeper charged out, arms wide—
But before Marco could pull the trigger—
THUD!!
An Ipswich defender barreled into him from behind, clattering him to the ground.
PEEEEEEEP!!!
The referee's whistle shrieked like a blade tearing through cloth.
Chaos exploded instantly.
Players from both teams swarmed the scene — some shouting in fury, others begging for mercy.
The referee sprinted over, face grim and unwavering.
Without hesitation, he plunged his hand into his pocket and flashed the red card high into the air.
"OHHHHHHHH—!!"
Elland Road shook to its foundations.
Ipswich players howled in protest. Their manager ranted and raved on the sideline, arms flailing like a man possessed.
But it didn't matter.
The decision was final.
Nathan stood a few meters away, chest rising and falling heavily.
A slow, wild grin broke across his face.
A smile that teetered between madness and destiny.
This...
This was it.
He raised his hand, calling out above the noise:
"Leave it to me... I swear I'll score."
For a moment, his teammates hesitated — uncertainty flashing across their battered faces.
Marco panted, hands on his knees, then gave a weak grin and a nod.
"You better, mate," he rasped.
The others stepped back, clearing the way.
Nathan walked forward slowly, each step hammering into the earth.
He placed the ball down just outside the penalty box, the white line brushing the tips of his boots.
The world around him blurred into a distant hum.
Only the ball remained sharp.
The ball... and the goal.
He inhaled deeply.
Ward-Prowse Free Kick Mastery.
It wasn't just a skill. It was an extension of his will now.
The walls, the pressure, the noise — none of it mattered.
He locked his eyes on the top right corner — the impossible spot, Ward-Prowse's signature kill zone.
The whistle blew.
Nathan stepped back two paces.
One heartbeat.
Two.
He surged forward.
Boom!!
The strike was pure.
The ball exploded from his foot with venomous speed, spinning violently through the air.
It rose, curved, dipped—
Clang—!!!
The ball smashed against the inside of the crossbar at the top right junction!
GASP—!!
The entire stadium sucked in a breath, thousands of souls frozen in horror and awe.
Nathan's heart plummeted.
No... NO!!
He raised his hand, face twisting in shock—
But fate hadn't finished its work yet.
The ball ricocheted violently back into the box, spinning wildly.
And there — like a lion smelling blood — Marco Reed lunged.
One touch, one blast—
BOOM!!
The net bulged.
[4-4]
The stadium erupted.
Fans leapt out of their seats, spilling beer, throwing scarves, hugging strangers.
Some screamed.
Some cried.
Some simply collapsed into their seats, hands over their mouths.
Elland Road became a living, breathing beast — roaring, shaking, singing.
Nathan dropped to his knees, hands to the sky, as if begging the stars themselves.
He couldn't believe it.
They had clawed their way back from the abyss.
Against every odd, every curse, every mistake — they had fought and survived.
Marco sprinted toward the corner flag, sliding on his knees, fists pumping the air.
His teammates chased after him, piling on in a frenzy.
The bench exploded too — substitutes, coaches, even staff rushing toward the celebration.
In the chaos, Nathan stayed kneeling for a second longer.
His vision swam.
Not from fatigue.
Not from pain.
From something deeper.
This... This is what it means to fight until the very end...
He dragged himself up and stumbled toward the others, where Marco grabbed him in a bear hug, nearly crushing him.
"Oi, you little genius!!" Marco yelled over the noise. "That was YOUR goal!!"
Nathan laughed hoarsely, shaking his head.
"No... It was ours."
The referee restored order, motioning for kickoff.
There were still seconds to play — but Leeds had the momentum now.
Ipswich looked broken — their heads drooped, their legs sluggish.
Nathan jogged back into position, still riding the wave of adrenaline.
He caught Tyler Brown's eye across the field.
The midfielder gave him a sharp nod.
Nathan returned it.
They understood without words.
It's not over yet.
If the match went to penalties — they had a chance. A real chance.
Nathan flexed his fingers, feeling the blood surging through them.
Stay sharp. Stay alive.
The ball was kicked off again, but Ipswich barely strung together two passes before the referee checked his watch.
One last blow of the whistle.
PEEEEEEEP!!
Full time.
Extra time complete.
4-4.
It was going to penalties.
Nathan wiped his face with his sleeve, breathing heavily.
The stadium buzzed with nervous energy.