"Miguel, this is normal. If I were him, I'd make the same choice." This time, Hierro didn't follow Sánchez's criticism. He actually admired the opposing head coach's arrangement—the decision was decisive, with no hesitation at all. He was putting himself in the other man's shoes, thinking about how he would choose if he were in that position.
Hierro, serving as a head coach for the first time, was actually just like André on the pitch—learning and improving every moment.
"So what do we do next?"
"Have Aarón go warm up. Since he's giving us the chance to attack, we naturally have to take advantage of it."
Five minutes later, in the 80th minute of the match, Real Oviedo chose to make another substitution.
Real Oviedo's attacking midfielder, number 7, Aarón Ñíguez, replaced Bárcenas, one of the team's three forwards. This wasn't just a simple substitution. With Aarón coming on, Oviedo's formation on the pitch shifted to a flat 4-4-2.
Julio quickly realized Hierro's intention. Because Alcorcón had pulled back their entire formation, Oviedo's midfield—already at a numerical disadvantage—was struggling even more. Taking off a forward didn't mean Oviedo was giving up on the attack. Instead, Julio could see that Oviedo would likely ramp up their offensive pressure in the remaining time.
Because after the substitution, a strange situation developed on the pitch. Real Oviedo's tallest player, André, wasn't actually the target man at the very front. Instead, Saúl was leading the line. Rather than calling Oviedo's formation a 4-4-2, it was more like a 4-4-1-1, with André positioned somewhere between a striker and an attacking midfielder.
Can you imagine a guy standing 1.9 meters tall playing as a second striker, while Saúl, who was nearly ten centimeters shorter, became the center-forward?
Julio was very confused when he saw this tactical setup, but his confusion soon turned to anxiety. He stood on the touchline, shouting incessantly at the pitch, because he realized that this lad—whose height and build didn't fit the mold of an attacking midfielder—had become the core of Oviedo's play. He discovered that what was terrifying about André wasn't just his physique or his headers, but an agility that completely contradicted his massive frame.
Yes! Agility. Julio felt like he was watching a bloody sci-fi movie. How could someone so built pull off a move like the Elastico?
In the 84th minute, André and the newly substituted Ñíguez played a quick one-two. Facing a defender coming over to press, André flicked the ball rapidly between the outside and inside of his left foot. This footwork was accompanied by deceptive sways of his massive upper body. It only took two shifts for the opponent to lose his balance completely. Then André pulled the ball back with his instep, poked it forward with the tip of his right foot, and accelerated—completing the breakthrough with ease.
André himself didn't think much of it, but in the eyes of everyone else, it was absolutely mind-blowing. A classic Elastico dribble had just been perfectly executed right before their eyes.
But because it was performed by a guy built like a tank, the scene lacked any sense of aesthetic grace. Words like "elegant," "nimble," or "balletic" didn't apply to him. At that moment, a classic image popped into the minds of many Oviedo fans in the stands—King Kong! As for the defender who'd been turned inside out, he looked like a ragdoll being tossed around by the great ape.
Unfortunately, this attack didn't result in a goal. After beating his man, André sent a lofted pass into the penalty area. Saúl's low shot, however, struck the post and bounced out of play.
André put his arm around Saúl's neck like a disappointed father.
"Did you do that on purpose? You just don't want me to get an assist, do you?"
"No, definitely not, André! Believe me, I swear on my character."
"Pah! The captain told me that your oaths are the least trustworthy thing in Oviedo. They're about as useful as toilet paper. My nan could've kicked that in, but you couldn't? Are you taking the piss, or did you bet against us? I'm going to tell the boss when we get back—you definitely put money on a draw."
"Bloody hell, André! I'm going to fight you."
"Fine. Whoever doesn't show up after the match is a coward."
"I was wrong. I want to fight the captain instead. He slandered my character."
"Get lost. If you miss a sitter like that again, I'll boot you into the net myself."
Having been together for over two months, André got along very well with his Oviedo teammates. André felt he was just naturally good with people, but no one told him that half the reason for their harmony was his reputation for violence. Once, during gym training, André had punched a heavy bag until it burst open. From that day on, André was officially integrated into the squad, with every teammate showing him the utmost care and concern.
Before the league started, he'd even called Cristiano to brag, saying that Oviedo was a very united and loving family where teammates were like brothers.
With only a few minutes left, both head coaches stood on the touchline, watching the match nervously. Their prayers were different, but their focus was the same.
In the 87th minute, after receiving the ball, André flicked it up with his right foot, turned past the defender behind him, and immediately unleashed a thunderous volley from the edge of the penalty area. Unfortunately, although the goalkeeper had already given up, the ball grazed the crossbar and flew out of play.
That shot sent a cold shiver down the spines of Julio and the Alcorcón players.
Perhaps it was to let Hierro and the Oviedo faithful know that good things come to those who wait. Or perhaps the football gods were intentionally teasing them.
In the 89th minute, Oviedo's attack came again. The fourth official on the sidelines was already preparing the stoppage time board.
This time, Oviedo broke through on the right wing and sent a cross in, attempting to find André in the box. However, the ball's placement was poor, and André couldn't get a proper shot off. Positioned at the near post, André could only flick the ball on with his head. The ball changed trajectory and flew toward the far post. But Ñíguez, making a late run from deep, was a split second too slow. His outstretched right foot missed the ball by inches, and it eventually rolled out of play.
The fourth official held up the stoppage time board.
The 90 minutes of regulation time were over.
Three minutes of injury time.
Three minutes to find a winner.
Hierro clenched his fists on the touchline.
Julio stood frozen, barely breathing.
And in the center of the pitch, André looked toward the Alcorcón goal.
One more chance. That's all he needed.
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