November 14th.
Match day arrived.
At the pre-match press conference, a local reporter asked, "Mr. Southgate, what are your expectations for today's match?"
"Our goal is to finish first in the group and advance with confidence," Southgate replied with a polite smile.
After asking Southgate a few simple questions, the reporters quickly turned their microphones elsewhere.
"Ling!"
"Jeremy Ling!"
"Ling, over here!"
The overlapping voices blended into chaotic noise.
The press officer hurriedly restored order, pointed at one reporter, and signaled him to ask first.
"England have often cursed against technically strong Balkan sides in major tournaments. Croatia in 2018 is still fresh in the memory. Do you think Serbia can become another trap?"
A local reporter asked.
'Damn it.'
Hearing this question, Ling almost wanted to curse.
What kind of bullshit crap was that?
Anyone who did not know better would think Serbia were World Cup champions!
"First of all, England have won plenty of difficult matches. I don't know where this so-called curse comes from."
Ling's expression was serious and earnest.
"Even if there is one, I've broken many since my debut — the curse of Manchester United's number 7 shirt, the curse of being three goals down away in the Champions League. This one wouldn't be anything new."
The reporters below quickly jotted down his words.
Arrogant... just like Mourinho!
"Serbia's head coach Tumbaković said he would use targeted tactics to limit you and defeat England with fighting spirit. What are your thoughts on that?"
The reporter pressed on.
"Then you can ask teams like Manchester City, Real Madrid, Barcelona, Liverpool, and others whether they managed to limit me."
Ling did not waste words with empty talk because of public opinion.
Take tactics seriously, but despise them strategically.
That was tradition.
The press officer wiped cold sweat from his forehead and quickly called on another reporter.
"Serbia's defense is considered one of the most physical in Europe. Are you confident you can break through them?"
That reporter still wanted to stir up controversy.
Ling obliged and left behind one sentence.
"I don't pay attention to Serbian defenders individually, and I can't tell them apart. To me, they're all the same."
As expected, after the interview, public reaction exploded.
Southgate did not have much to say about it.
He felt that talented players should be proud of themself.
Shouldn't they?
📱 @SkyFootball ✔
Ling before Serbia match: "Ask City, Madrid, Barcelona and Liverpool whether they managed to limit me."
| ↳ 📱 @UnitedStand ✔
| Reply: Mourinho raised him. This is not surprising.
📱 @ThreeLionsWatch ✔
It's arrogant, yes. But if you've done what Ling has done, is it even arrogance anymore?
📱 @SerbiaFootballTalk
He says all Serbian defenders look the same to him. Fine. Let's see if he still thinks that after ninety minutes.
📱 @StretfordEndTom
Every time Ling says something insane, I remember he scored a Champions League final hat-trick and just let him cook.
...
Inside England's dressing room, Southgate looked around the room.
"Just as Jeremy said, don't worry about who the opponent is. They may be strong, they may be physical, but does that mean they are stronger than us?"
He gave the answer himself.
"Of course not."
Morale.... Southgate had always felt that England in the past sometimes lacked a certain emotional edge.
They had structure, discipline and talent.
But football required passion and fire too.
Players without emotion could not play their best football.
"Lads, the whole country is watching us. Let's not disappoint them, and let's not disappoint ourselves."
And Ling brought that emotion.
"Let's go!"
"Let's go!"
The roars echoed through the dressing room, filling everyone with burning passion.
Soon after, Ling pushed open the dressing-room door and led the way into the player tunnel.
When the Serbian players saw him, their hearts could not help trembling.
There was no helping it.
This was the most promising candidate for this year's Ballon d'Or.
Even though they had talked about targeted tactics before the match, no one truly believed those tactics would be enough.
If they were really effective, how could he have become a Seven-Title Winner?
But Serbia had never been a team that backed down out of fear.
No matter how strong the opponent, they had to stand firm.
Soon, led by the referee, the two teams walked out of the tunnel.
Whoosh!
Although this was Serbia's home ground, the away end was full of white and red.
England flags waved fiercely, and the songs from the traveling fans cut through the roar of the home support.
"GOOD EVENING FROM BELGRADE!" Peter Drury's voice rang out over the broadcast.
"A city of noise, nerve, and old football pride welcomes an England side chasing certainty, chasing control, chasing the right to call itself a contender!"
"Serbia stand in their way — broad-shouldered, stubborn, and ready to turn this night into a fight!"
Jim Beglin added, "This is a proper test, Peter. England have had some comfortable wins, but Serbia will challenge them physically and emotionally. We'll learn more about Southgate's side tonight."
"And at the centre of England's story," Drury continued, "is Jeremy Ling — Manchester United's storm-bringer, England's new spark, and the man every opponent now plans for before discovering planning is the easy part."
The camera showed the lineups.
"Serbia line up with a compact shape, built around direct transitions, wide delivery, and the presence of Mitrović in the box."
"England continue with Southgate's flexible structure. Pickford starts in goal. Walker, Stones, Maguire, and Rose form the back line. Henderson and Rice provide the platform, with Ling given freedom ahead of them. Sterling, Kane, and Sancho complete the attack."
Online comments flooded in.
📱 @ThreeLionsWatch ✔
Big test tonight. Serbia are physical, direct, and nasty in the best way. England need composure.
📱 @EnglandTalks ✔
Walker vs Kostić might decide a lot. If that cross keeps coming, Mitrović will cause problems.
📱 @UnitedStand ✔
Ling walking out first like he owns the place. My captain, even when he's not captain.
| ↳ 📱 @StretfordEndTom
| Reply: He's the captain of vibes and violence.
📱 @NeutralEuroWatch
Referee needs to keep control early. Serbia will test Ling physically, no doubt.
...
The camera returned to the pitch.
BEEP!
After the referee's whistle sounded, the match officially began.
Serbia started with possession.
After a few simple passes, the ball reached Kostić on the left.
He pushed forward with a burst of speed, forcefully squeezing past Walker.
"KOSTIĆ DRIVES!"
"That is a powerful surge down the left, and Serbia have opened England early!"
He created space and immediately looked for Mitrović near the front post.
Mitrović outmuscled Stones and headed toward goal.
Whoosh!
The ball grazed the post.
Serbia almost scored!
"MITROVIĆ WAS THERE!" Drury shouted.
"A flash of Serbian steel, and England feel the warning burn across their face!"
"One cross, one leap, one breath away from disaster!"
Jim Beglin exhaled. "That's exactly what England had to avoid. Kostić gets away too easily, and Mitrović will attack those deliveries all night."
The entire England side breathed a collective sigh of relief.
If Serbia had scored a quick goal, the blow to morale would have been significant.
"Stay focused! Pressure the wings!" Ling shouted to his teammates.
Perhaps the intense away atmosphere had caused some distraction.
"Rice, drop back a bit deeper."
Walker did not try to tough it out either, calling for support when needed.
After all, Ling was on the right side.
No need to worry about defensive intensity there.
Following the tactics Southgate had set before the match, England reduced backward and sideways passes.
Forward!
Taking advantage of Serbia's focus on defending Ling's side, they pushed forward quickly from the other flank.
Sterling received a pass from a teammate.
Thump!
Gudelj immediately closed in from behind, crashing hard into him.
Sterling's physique was not weak, but against this kind of direct contact, he could only sweep the ball toward Henderson, who was making a forward run, before losing balance.
"A curling pass into Kane in the half-space!"
"His back-to-goal hold-up play is crucial here!"
"Kane holds off Milenković and lays it back to Ling!"
"BEAUTIFUL!"
A sudden roar erupted from the stadium.
There, dressed in England white, Ling faced the onrushing Serbian midfielder.
He knocked the ball low and broke through.
But it was not over yet.
From the side, another Serbian player flew in with a sliding tackle, the timing and angle both tricky.
In that instant, Ling hooked his left foot slightly, flicked the ball up, and pushed off with his right foot to leap.
He and the ball together evaded the tackle.
Serbia's head coach nearly popped his eyes out.
What the hell kind of targeted tactic worked against this?
Serbia's pressing was not finished yet.
Their pre-match plan was to have at least three defenders close him down whenever possible.
The last defender, Milenković, saw Ling about to touch the ball again.
Remembering the coach's instructions, he reached out with his right hand toward Ling's shoulder and his left toward the shirt, clinging on like an octopus.
But then he felt a surge of immense power.
He was dragged half a meter across the turf before the two tangled and fell.
The Serbian fans were stunned.
Even with all that pulling and tugging, they almost had not stopped him?
The referee showed no hesitation, promptly blowing for a defensive foul.
It was as blatant as could be.
He did not dare to gamble with his decision, otherwise, there would be trouble.
"LING HAS GONE THROUGH ONE, OVER ANOTHER, AND ALMOST DRAGGED THE THIRD INTO TOMORROW!"
"That is power, balance, imagination — and finally, Serbia have no choice but to pull him down!"
"You can write a plan for Jeremy Ling, but once he starts moving, the paper catches fire!"
"In the 7th minute of the first half, England have won a free kick in the attacking third, 25.6 meters from goal — well within direct shooting range."
"Let's see who takes responsibility here..."
"Jeremy Ling."
"Standing alone over the ball. Interesting. He rarely takes free kicks for his club, mostly because United prefer him attacking the box rather than striking from outside it."
"But that does not mean his free-kick technique is poor."
"Here he goes."
Serbia's goalkeeper stared intently at Ling, watching for any tiny shift in his center of gravity.
Then his eyes widened in disbelief.
Ling took one step back.
Two steps.
Three steps.
He retreated a full ten meters.
What did that mean?
In the entire history of football, only a few players had been known to take free kicks with such a long run-up.
Roberto Carlos was the most famous among them.
The Serbian players forming the wall could not help trembling.
It was not just because of the unusually long run-up.
It was because Ling had even rolled up his shorts, revealing muscles as solid as carved marble.
Truth be told, his free-kick technique was only average.
But he felt he needed to make a statement, to help England seize the initiative in this hostile away ground.
So he decided to rely on sheer power to work a miracle.
Technique.
Angle.
Finesse.
All of it was cast aside as he swung his leg with full force toward goal.
If it went in, great.
If it hit the wall, he could reluctantly accept that too!
"Huff... huff..."
His chest rose and fell with deep breaths as his core muscles tightened rapidly.
As he reached the ball, his left foot planted firmly, and his right leg coiled back.
Like a battle-axe swinging down!
Every ounce of strength erupted in an instant, as if he meant to tear through every inch of leather.
Boom!
A deafening crack echoed across the stadium.
Immediately after, the ball shot forward like a cannonball trailing fire, roaring toward the wall.
One Serbian player instinctively turned his head away.
The next second, the Serbian goal shuddered violently as the ball thudded into the back of the net, spinning wildly before finally dropping lifelessly to the ground!
0–1.
For a brief moment, the entire stadium fell into stunned silence.
Then—
Whoosh!
The England end exploded!
The traveling fans roared until their voices cracked.
This kind of brutally powerful direct free-kick goal perfectly showcased the raw charm of football, the kind that made hearts race and blood boil.
Ling stumbled forward a couple of steps from the momentum.
"Ouch..."
He might have strained something from using too much force, but it probably was not serious.
He just needed a moment to recover.
Ling quietly skipped the celebration, simply hugging and high-fiving his teammates.
Peter Drury meanwhile, almost tore his voice apart.
"JEREMY LING..."
"OH, GOOD HEAVENS, WHAT HAS HE JUST DONE?!"
"That was not struck, that was UNLEASHED!"
"A ball hit with the fury of a storm, with the violence of a thunderclap, with the arrogance of a man who looked at twenty-five meters and decided it was close enough!"
"Serbia built a wall. Ling brought a cannon!"
Jim Beglin could only laugh in disbelief.
"The keeper doesn't even move properly, Peter. He hears it before he sees it. That is ridiculous power."
"The speed reading is coming through now," Drury added, voice still burning. "A staggering 127 kilometers per hour!"
"Wherever his gaze falls, it seems, is shooting range."