Godfather Of Champions 975 One Minute

But it was different today.

During noon time, he locked himself in his office and specifically instructed the secretary not to let anyone disturb himself. Then he planned to watch the game live on the Internet. But it was unfortunate that he was called into a discussion by his boss just when he was going to do it.

It was a disaster. What was even more tragic was that his boss came to him in high spirits this time to talk to him, telling him that the company intended to promote him to the next level and that he might be entrusted with a heavy responsibility. He did not dare to refuse to attend such a discussion and he also did not dare show any impatience during the conversation... even though he was really impatient.

Looking at his boss across from him, he really had such an impulse: to pick up the heavy glass ashtray on the table, put it over his head, and then make a dash for the door to run to watch the game. As for his job...how could this be the time to think about it?

The unexpected conversation made him realize one thing - that he still could not let go of football in his heart. He thought he had forgotten, but in actual fact, he had not. He only buried it in the deepest part of his heart, so deep where he himself could not even detect it. Until today, the rush to watch the UEFA European Championship had woke him up as if he had been in a dream.

He was only able to leave when his boss had covered the matters of proper business. Looking at the watch on his wrist, it was less than five minutes to go until the end of the 90-minute game.

He trotted all the way to the elevator, and discovered the elevator was still ten stories away. Looking at his watch again, he did not have the time to wait for the elevator here, so he simply rushed to the stairwell next to it. He skipped and hopped down the stairs as he ran.

Although it was only a few minutes, he did not want to give up just like that. His feelings for English football had faded, and the only team in his life that had impassioned him was Nottingham Forest. He just wanted to see how his old friend would look like, standing on the most dazzling stage of the international tournament.

I don't know if he still has that kind of arrogance, ha!

Like a whirlwind, Michael whooshed past the papers and documents on the tables on either side of the aisle and dashed into his own office under the surprised gazes of his subordinates, not forgetting to shut the door.

Flying over to his desk, Michael eagerly opened a link to the live stream and began to wait impatiently for the streaming to load.

The quality of the online network in the United States was very good. The online broadcast took only ten seconds to get on, and it was very smooth.

Still breathing raggedly, his eyes were fixed on the computer screen and he almost forgot to breathe.

In the player, the first scene he saw was the fourth official standing on the sidelines, holding up the signboard for the injury stoppage time: 5.

"Five minutes of injury stoppage time!" The ESPN commentator informed Michael, who had just opened the broadcast, in English. "And England is still 1:2 behind, leaving only five minutes for them. I can't imagine how Twain's team can salvage the situation..."

In between the commentary, the camera was aimed at the England team's manager, Tony Twain, who was standing in front of the technical area.

Michael saw his old friend whom he had not seen in a long time, but he did not see his face, because the first sight he had was of Tony Twain's back. The man was standing on the sidelines with his arms around his chest, and the back of his white shirt was drenched with perspiration.

The live broadcast did not give him a direct close-up of his face, because the game on the field had entered the white-hot stage. The camera only panned to Twain's back once and then turned back to the field.

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"The England team is in trouble. With five minutes into the injury stoppage time, they must seize it or it's all over! But can they grab the opportunity offered by the five minutes? Or can it be said...that how much time can the Italians give them? For it is the Italian team that's holding the ball now!"

"Are we going to let them just pass the ball back and forth at the back? That's not going to work!" Vaughn rushed up and wanted to intercept the ball in the front field.

Chiellini rushed to pass the football to Silvestri next to him.

But Silvestri had just come on the field. Both his legs had not even fully warmed up from running and all of a sudden, he received a pass from his teammate. He stopped the ball with a slightly bigger movement. Like a shark that had smelled blood, Rooney appeared in front of him in an instant. At this point, he could not even think about continuing to control the ball at his feet. In order not to make a mistake, Silvestri directly sent the ball with a long pass.

England finally got possession of the ball. It was less than five minutes away at this point. They had to hurry up and attack.

The Italians also did not have the strength to interfere in the front field. After 90 minutes of fierce fighting, their physical strength was lacking. In order not to have anything go wrong, they chose to retreat to the back half of the field to defend. Lippi did not care how pathetic his team would look in the last few minutes, as long as they could hold on. Then the final victory would be his.

England was a little at a loss with an Italian team that even had its strikers retreated to the front of the penalty area to defend. After passing the ball horizontally several times in a row, there was still no suitable opportunity for a straight pass. The somewhat anxious Bentley simply did a long shot from the flank that was outrageously deflected ...

The Italian fans in the stands warmly applauded his shot, thanking him for helping to waste an attacking opportunity for England.

Twain was no longer as restless as before. He was indifferent on the sidelines to Bentley's blind long shot. He did not make any rueful action and did not yell. It was as if it was not his team that was trailing behind. Perhaps it should be said that at present he had run out of ideas. As a manager, he had done all that he could. He could not possibly go on the field and help the team play?

What happened after would depend on the performance of the players.

For example, James Vaughan had not been able to achieve anything since he came on.

Vaughan himself was also unhappy with it - he complained that he was not put into good use before he came on whereas Agbonlahor, who was his substitute, had scored a goal. But when he had a chance to play and the team was in danger, he did not contribute, which was really unacceptable.

　　※※※

"We need to score goals! Rooney! Vaughn! And Walcott, what are you all doing?"

In pubs across Britain, countless people stared at the screens, asking such questions. Twain had used all three substitutions, and there was nothing else he could do after.

"What else can we do at this point? We can't go up there and help them score goals, but we can inspire them with our songs!" John fervently pleaded to his friends in the stands at the Bernabéu, "Guys, sing with me - Saint George blesses England! Saint George blesses England——!!"

"Saint George blesses England!!"

The song came out of everyone's mouth, as if rivers flowing into the ocean, and ultimately forming the momentum of stormy waves beating against the shore.

At this point, the England fans became the absolute masters of the stands, and the voices of the Italians were completely suppressed by them.

However, it seemed their singing did not help. England failed to threaten Italy's goal in the first three minutes of the injury stoppage time.

"The Italian team proves itself worthy and so is Lippi. Their defense has left Tony Twain's England team at a loss. The Italian team is a little closer to their second ever UEFA European Championship, while the England team, leading at first, is moving further away from their first UEFA European Championship title. It is a reality that has left England fans dispirited and saddened..."

It was not known if anyone else thought so, but John and the other fans in his section did not give up singing due to it.

Even Motson was a little frustrated and said, "Perhaps only the gods that come from the heavens can save us... Such a reality is so cruel. Who would have thought we were still one goal ahead twenty minutes ago?"

　　※※※

The injury stoppage time had officially entered in the fourth minute.

Now the two managers had no other cards on hand. All they could do was to watch the game at the side. Lippi also got up from his seat and walked slowly to the sidelines. During such a tense moment, even he, who had experienced numerous storms, could no longer sit still.

The outcome of the game was almost finalized.

George Wood was holding the ball. He was under little defensive pressure because he was in a position that was relatively closer at the back while the Italian players had retreated even further back. There was a long distance between the two parties. The cautious Italians did not rush up to intercept the ball. They did not want to give the England team a chance to play behind them.

Wood gave the ball to Bentley on the sideline. Bentley then sent out a long pass to give the ball to Chris Cohen on the other side.

It seemed that England could still only pass horizontally across so pointlessly and were unable to send the football to the front.

Chris Cohen got his leg up to cross the ball, which Rooney struggled to get the ball, but the ball flew off out of the end line when it struck Criscito's body.

The England team quickly send out a corner ball, which was a tactical kick. Wood came forward to receive and pass the ball back to the full back, Joe Mattock, who rushed forward. Mattock faced Balotelli's defense. After a feint to grab the ball, he wanted to break through, only to be knocked to the ground by Balotelli.

The referee's whistle sounded, and the England team was awarded a low-angled free kick on the left side of the Italian goal. It was more like a closer 30-degree corner kick.

At this point, every place kick had the possibility of cracking open the opponent's goal. Terry and Taylor were all pressed forward. Even Joe Hart was restless and wanted to rush up and score a goal for the team.

Bentley was a right-footed player. Rightfully speaking, the free kick should be crossed over at this angle and would make more sense for a left-footed player to kick it. But for a right-footed player to carry out a free kick on the left, it had another function.

Bentley put the football in place and got up to walk away. He waited for the referee's whistle.

"It's an inner curve ball! Be careful of their plug-ins from the back!!" The goalkeeper, Amelia shouted in front of the goal, urging his teammates to step up on the defense.

At this point, the players on both sides were concentrated near the penalty spot and did not huddle in front of the goal like it was a corner kick. It was obviously to let the player carrying out the penalty shot to kick the football toward the goal, rather than to swerve the ball outside, and then for the group of people in the middle to plug in from the back and simply rush to do a header to break the goal. And because those players who were defending also had to rush toward the goal with the attacking players, it was somewhat difficult to let them shake their heads to put the football in the opposite direction in the process ... Even if no one could head the football, it would continue to follow the established trajectory straight to the back corner of the goal. As long as Amelia was momentarily blocked by anyone in the whole process, and lost the decisive opportunity and due judgment, it might lead to the football flying directly to the goal.

That was the advantage of having a right-footed player execute a place kick on the left side and for a left-footed player kicked a place kick from the right.

How could the Italians not possibly see such obvious tactics? The Italians stepped up their guarding of the England's players. They were even willing to use the pulling and tugging of the football jerseys to stop their attack.

Everyone turned their attention toward Bentley's shot in the air.

George Wood stood next to Bentley without attracting any attention. Although Wood had used a free kick combination to score a goal in the game against France, the free kick's position was directly in front of the penalty area on the penalty area line. The angle of the shot was very good. Now that the football was at about thirty degrees angle from the goal, Amelia could easily seal the angle. A volley shot would not work here.

In the penalty area, the England players and the Italian players were entangled together, with one side trying to get away and the other side struggling to stick to them. Both sides were unwilling to give in. But the England players had their own little plan – it did not matter, let them pull. When the ball comes out, we just need to follow the momentum and fall. Maybe it will yield a penalty kick?

The referee retreated from the penalty area and he blew the whistle to kick off the free kick.

Bentley did not pass the ball straight into the penalty area after he ran up to kick, but instead pushed the ball aside!

Wood, standing on the side, rushed up, picked up his left foot and directly volleyed the football straight in!

From Amelia, to the striker, Foti, Italy's eleven players had put the center of gravity of their defense in the air. No one expected the football to roll along the turf toward the goal!

Could it really be a direct shot at the goal?

Amelia turned pale with fright and quickly dropped his center of gravity. He hunkered down and tried to pounce on the ball by throwing himself sideways.

At the same time, the penalty area was like the Royal Ascot with warning shots fired. The Italian and English players fought hard to be the first and rushed toward the goal.

In fact, it was not a shot to the goal, but a cross pass. It was a Wood-style pass. The football rushed to the far corner of the goal. During the process, as long as someone touched it, then it would be...

Rooney, in the front position, did not manage to kick the football under Criscito's interference. He narrowly missed the football. Wood's powerful "volley shot" was indeed too fast. The chance to shoot was fleeting.

Walcott and Terry, both in the middle, also did not touch the football either. Instead, it bumped into Chiellini and Di Natale and made a mess.

This multiple collision also interfered with Amelia. When he managed to shake free of the situation in front of him and got ready to make a save after much difficulty, he realized it was too late!

In the chaotic penalty area, people outside could not see exactly what was going on. But only a white figure could be seen suddenly sprang out of the crowd as if it were a flashing cold dagger. Then the football was seen changing direction all of a sudden just a step away from the goal and rolling over the goal line!

It was a really unexpected scene. No one thought this free kick could actually turn into a goal!

"What? What...what a great GOOOOOOOOAL!!!"

John Motson, who was still somewhat dejected just now, was instantly revived.

"What are we seeing here? A miracle that's happening! England has equalized the score in the fourth and ten seconds of the injury stoppage time!! Who has scored the goal? Or is it simply an own ball?!"

Just when he was still baffled, one person rushed out of the crowd in front of the Italian goal, and it was James Vaughan wearing the white jersey!

As he ran toward the corner flag, he lifted his jersey in front of the camera lens, revealing the T-shirt which he had long prepared, that read, "We're with you, Aaron!"

"This ball is for you, Aaron!" He shouted to the camera as he pointed to the T-shirt on his chest.

"James Vaughan! James Vaughan!! He saved England!! He saved Tony Twain's heart!!"

Motson roared so hard that he almost lost his voice.

"What just happened? The ball has gone in? The England team has equalized the score?" The Italian commentator asked three questions in a row. The shock in his mind was unmistakable. "Good God, what's going on here?!"

The thunderous cheers from the England fans in the stands answered him, "Long live! James Vaughan! All hail! Saint George!"

　　※※※

Amelia laid on the ground with his hands outstretched to form a large shape. At this time, he did not even have the strength to get up. He only felt that he lacked energy and his entire body's strength was drawn away with this goal concede.

What was going on? His brain was still unclear up to this moment.

How did this happen?

It was perhaps also a common question among countless Italians.

Lippi stood on the sidelines and watched helplessly as the football rolled into the goal. His face was still expressionless.

Next door, Tony Twain jumped from the ground and waved his fists hard, as if he were about to yank his arms off to celebrate the goal.

His heart that had just beat faster in his chest suddenly slowed down, and his breathing was no longer ragged.

It was an escape from calamity...

　　※※※

Vaughn yelled at the camera near the corner flag, followed by the equally excited players behind him. The score was equalized at the final crucial moment of the game, so they wanted to celebrate it well.

But someone interrupted their celebration.

George Wood stormed into the Italian goal and snatched the ball away from Santon with a lightning move of the hand. Then he shouted at his teammates, still in the corner flag area, "The game is not over yet!"

Seeing him like this, Lippi, who had remained immoveable, suddenly felt a chill in the intense heat – he's truly a frightening guy ...

Lippi felt that even if the two sides tied for the game, it was not unacceptable. At least with 30 minutes left, he could make adjustments again and drag the game into the penalty shootout for the Italians would not suffer. But George Wood obviously did not think so. He wanted the game to end in 95 minutes!

Even with one second left, the game was not over for him yet.

　　※※※

"YES!" Michael waved his fists at the monitor. Vaughan's last-minute goal was so thrilling that it made him, a man located as far away as the United States, felt impassioned.

Meanwhile, in pubs of all sizes in Britain.

Golden colored beer sprayed over everyone's head, and countless beers were tossed into the air.

"Cheers to England!!"

　　※※※

Vaughn wanted to turn around and hug Wood, who had helped him with the attack, but he saw Wood waving to him to signal to get back on the field.

He was a little surprised by his action. Was it not enough to tie the score?

There was not much time left. What else did he want to do? Did he still want to score a goal?

Before he could think about it further, he was swept along by his teammates back to the field to prepare for the remaining game.

　　※※※

Lippi only paused on the sidelines for a while before he turned around and went back. He had to talk to Ferrara about the tactical strategy for the overtime.

Similarly, Twain called Walker to his side and began to prepare for the overtime as well as even the penalty shootout.

"We must curb their morale! We will storm to attack in the first half of the overtime!" Lippi himself might not have noticed that the volume of his voice had been unwittingly raised by a lot. He was clearly in a very emotional state. He said, "Take back the initiative of the game in our hands. Tell them, don't rush and don't panic. With a few dozen seconds left in the game, England must be thinking about playing overtime!"

"This damn five-minute break..." Twain complained that the game was coming to an end while England's hard to come by high morale could suffer a loss due to the five-minute short break. "Well, let's put this aside... The game is bound to head into overtime and we have to be ready. Tell them don't get besides themselves with joy during the break. The Italians are still very strong. Thirty minutes of overtime is like giving them a tranquilizer... Son of a bitch!" He still could not help but swore.

　　※※※

The two managers were racking their brains off the field for the sudden additional 30 minutes in the game, hoping to overwhelm each other and continue to take the initiative in their own hands.

Meantime, on the field, Wood seized the last bit of time to tell his teammates what to do next.

"I don't want to play overtime, not even for a minute. They will think we'd accept the outcome..." He pointed to the opposite side and said, "We're going to surprise them."

"But what are we going to do to score another goal? There's no time, George..." Terry was doubtful.

"I don't know too..." Wood was honest and shook his head to answer. If he was not familiar with his temper, Terry would have really thought that he was joking before...

But as the captain, he must have been using this method to boost morale, right? It is not really that he cannot accept a draw. In fact, a draw is actually a good result. At least we don't lose the game in 90 minutes. Now there are still thirty minutes left, we can rouse ourselves and make a comeback.

That was what Terry thought. Wood did not really want to score a third goal. He just talked big to keep everyone's morale up.

The football was rearranged by Wood on the center circle for the kickoff, with James Vaughan and Wayne Rooney standing outside the center circle, waiting for the Italians to come up to kick off.

Vaughn became a hero, but now he did not have the energy to think about how a hero should be treated. Because the game was not over yet. It was only a tie. The captain was right in that the game was not over yet.

Lippi stood on the sidelines, yelling at the Italian players inside, "Keep the football under your feet, don't send out any long balls easily! Drag out the time to the end!!"

At this time, his original meticulous silver hair had been messed up because of his fierce movements. His gentlemanly manners had long gotten away from him. England's equalizer in the final minute gave the cunning silver fox a taste of danger. Years of experience told him that they should absolutely not think about scoring a goal again to take the lead at this time. It was what a dangerous "risk-taker" would do. There was only less than a minute left in the game anyways. There was only hope of winning the game going into overtime. In his original tactics, there was a deployment targeted for overtime.

Twain did not rush to the sidelines to shout because he felt it was foolish to run to yell nonsense since the game was bound to be dragged into overtime.

The Italian forwards, Foti and Balotelli had come up to prepare for the kickoff. They had already been given the latest instructions from the manager that the game would continue to be played in overtime.

The likes of Vaughan, Rooney and Walcott, who were waiting in front, suddenly heard the voice coming from behind.

"Go up and make a grab for it! Don't mind the defense. Go grab their ball!" It was George Wood! He urged, "Get the ball and we will have one more chance to attack!"

With a whistle from the referee, Balotelli knocked the ball to Foti, who then sent the ball back. Meanwhile, George Wood was the first to rush up. Vaughan and Rooney were slightly behind. Then Walcott, Bentley, Cohen, Joe Mattock, Richards... and the other people all rushed to the Italian team's half of the field. They only have one mission which was to grab the ball!

Like the "monkey in the middle" game played during training, the Italian players were passing the ball back and forth in the backfield while the England players seemingly act like they were rookies playing professional football for the first time, giving chase to the ball without any counterpoint defense.

The scene looked slightly comical.

The England fans in the stands were booing as they were unhappy with Italy's cowardly action. They could eager for the Italians to send the football directly to the feet of the England team.

In such a situation, Twain could only secretly swear for he had no other ideas.

It was the England players who were anxious on the field.

If the football was allowed to pass back and forth at the feet of the Italian players, then the referee might not wait for the injury stoppage time to really be up before he blow the whistle to end the game. That was not what they wanted to see.

Vaughn did a dangerous slide shovel, but he did not shovel the ball, nor did he shovel anyone. De Rossi dodged his rash tackle and passed the football to Aquilani next to him. Aquilani, facing Rooney's closing down on him, passed the ball to Chiellini behind him. Chiellini then passed to Santon on the right side.

Joe Mattock rushed up and Santon passed the ball to De Rossi in front. No matter how the England team fought, the football was always at the feet of the Italian players. In terms of the footwork skills alone, the Italians were indeed better than the English.

But when it came to interception of the ball, England's best man had not made his move yet.

Wood had been checking out the referee. Although he had not looked at the watch so far, there was little time left for England.

De Rossi took the ball again and this time, he passed to Balotelli in the middle. At the same time, Wood followed suit. In the face of his club's captain, Balotelli was not afraid, he even decided to bypass Wood, and then pass the ball again. But the next second he discovered how stupid the idea was. Wood pounced quickly and basically did not give him any time to show his footwork skills.

Helplessly, Balotelli had to turn around quickly and guard the football in front of him while blocking Wood with his back. He thought this would save the football for a while, but he did not expect Wood to suddenly extend his leg from the side to jab the football!

Balotelli watched Wood skirt around him to give chase to the ball. He hurriedly reached his hand out to yank in a panic. Originally, it would have been impossible for Wood to give up his pursuit of football in the face of such a pull. But when he found out that it was Aquilani the front of the football while he was yanked by Balotelli, it was probably not enough for him to reach the football, so he calculated in his mind.

Balotelli naturally pulled Wood with all his strength, but Wood's fall to the ground was a little too smooth...

The referee's whistle followed closely.

"Balotelli has fouled! England is awarded a free kick in front of goal! This can very well be England's last chance to attack!" In actual fact, the injury stoppage time had long gone for more than five minutes. But the England team had scored a goal earlier. The celebration of the goal and waiting for the Italian team to come forward to kick off had delayed the time a little. Although the fourth official did not raise the signboard again, the little bit of time still had to be added accordingly."

The atmosphere on the pitch was not tense, because everyone's mind was currently thinking about overtime, not the game at present. Even John Motson began to speculate about what tactics the two managers would use in overtime.

After Gerrard was brought off the game and even though Bentley could also carry out the free kick, the current free kick was somewhat special - 32 meters from the goal. If he wanted to shoot directly at the goal, Bentley's leg power could not reached that far. He could only choose to pass the ball.

Bentley had the same plan when he carried the football over.

But someone stopped him.

"If you kick the ball out, the game is over." Wood stopped him halfway.

Bentley looked at the captain and could not understand what he meant by that.

Wood took the football from his arms and said, "I'll do it."

This remark greatly surprised Bentley. He and Wood had been teammates at Nottingham Forest for many years, but he had never seen Wood practice free kicks because his free kicks were not good at all,. He himself was aware of it, so he never asked to carry out a free kick during a game.

Why did he suddenly want to execute the penalty in the final moments of the game?

Bentley kept guessing and could only take it that Wood wanted to get a kick out of it. Anyway, it was the last attack and the chances of a goal were too small.

So, he allowed Wood to take away his right to carry out the place kick.

Looking at Wood place the football on the ground, Twain also wondered: Could it be that he was going to kick the ball himself? What did that mean?

Lippi saw Wood prepare for the penalty shot and he had no more worries on his mind - the game looked certain to head into overtime.

"George Wood? It looks like England is going to give up this last chance to attack, ha!" The Italian commentator was no longer flustered.

　　※※※

The Italian players were forming a human wall. The ball was indeed a little far away from the goal. The human wall did not line up with five or six people. There was only four people blocking in front of Wood. The referee looked at his watch and prepared for after the free kick was played. He was going to blow the whistle to signal the end of the game, no matter what the outcome was.

Thinking that they were going to play overtime soon, there were not as many English players going on the attack as there were before.

The stands suddenly quieted down. Regardless of whether they were the England fans or Italian fans, they both chose to shut up. Maybe the endless fighting for 95 minutes had exhausted them at the end. Maybe it was because they felt it was a critical moment, for fear of any noise disturbing them.

Equally quiet as they were, were also the fans of the two countries in front of the televisions as well as Michael Bernard, located as far away as the United States.

Sophia could not watch the game live at the stadium. She sat at home, staring fixedly at the television screen with both her hands clasped together as if she was praying to God.

In such a quiet environment, it seemed that everyone's heartbeat could be heard.

　　※※※

Wood put the football in place, which was in a blink of an eye. However, so much had happened around him that it felt like another 90 minutes had passed.

The Italian human wall did not step forward. They thought the ball was too far away and it was going to be kicked by Wood. So, it was not really a threat.

Wood set the ball and began to pull back to help with the run-up distance.

He did not take two steps and stop. Instead, he kept backing until he was almost at the center circle. The distance to run up was about ten meters.

Could it be that he wanted to take a leaf out of the long-retired Roberto Carlos, Brazil's left-back and master of powerful free kicks?

Wood looked at the football ten meters away and the human wall further afield, as well as the goal at the end of the path. At this time, he recalled something that happened a long time ago. At the time, Demi had not yet retired and was still playing at the Forest team. Twain had asked Wood to follow Demi to learn how to be a good midfielder. So Wood was often with Demi, including when Demi was having extra practices on free kicks. He was never far from his side.

He had revealed the idea of trying to practice free kicks at the time, but he dropped the idea since he did not have the talent. But Demi said something that deeply impressed him. It was what Demi had advised him when Wood wanted to master Albertini's banana kick. He said, "I have my own style and Beckham has another. There are many styles of free kicks, George. A powerful volley shot is also a style of ..."

A powerful volley shot was also a style!

The referee blew the whistle, signaling that Wood could make the penalty kick.

Wood took a deep breath and then stomped his feet hard. Following which, he leaned his body forward and adopted a stance to start a 100-meter sprint. His entire body's muscles contracted and tightened. And he launched like a cheetah in the next second!

The distance of ten meters was covered in a flash. He had already rushed to the front of the football. His left foot stamped firmly at the side of the ball and his left hand swung out, drawn in a circle, while he picked up his right foot. The power traveled up from the ground through his left foot and right foot respectively and the strength from the left foot was then amplified by the waving of his left hand. He twisted to the right at the waist, combining the force from the left and right sides which directly sped up to the arch of his right foot.

In the end, the force which came from the ground reached its final destination -

Wood's right leg was like a whip, and the arch of his foot was the tip of the whip, pumping the ball hard.

The football shot to the sky as if it had been shot out by a cannon and whizzed forward.

The people nearest in distance were the Italian team's human wall. They only felt a gust of wind blowing over their heads and the football flew past them.

The whizzing sound emitted by the football's friction over the air sounded like an alarm, ringing out over the Italian team's defensive zone.

WARNING! WARNING!! WARNING!!!

With the sound of "whizz--", the football had already flown into the penalty area.

Amelia began to move once he saw the football went over the top of the human wall, ready to pounce. When the football flew into the penalty area, he jumped and made a saving action.

But a terrible thought suddenly emerged from his mind - I may not get to the ball...

"Wow!" The image of the football in his eyes did not gradually magnify, but it was as if it suddenly expanded, twice over, and then doubling again. Now it was close at hand, but his hands were not in place yet.

"Crap..."

It was the only thought in his mind as the football flew over his defense.

Soon after, in the quiet pitch, he heard the rustling of the football brushing against the net, as well as the gasps of his Italian teammates.

　　※※※

The people outside the field only saw a white line piercing through almost half of the pitch, then crashed head-on into the goal and lifted the net.

The first people to react were the England fans in the stands. They jumped from their seats with their hands raised high. The deafening cheers from the crowd broke the silence of the stadium.

It was closely followed by John Motson who had also woken up from a trance and was extremely thrilled as he shouted, "Saint George! Saint George! Oh my God, what just happened? What do I feel like I'm dreaming? Is it true? Did the football really enter the goal, and not just hit the net at the side? A goal scored at the last second... Yes, not the last minute, but a goal scored at the last second! It's simply unbelievable!!"

Not to mention him, even the England players on the pitch could not believe what they were seeing. It was reasonable to say that after their teammate had scored, they should raise their arms high and cheer. These people's arms were opened, but they were holding their heads and staring at the ball inside the goal ...

Terry stood in the back as he did not go up to take part in the attack because he thought the game was over and it was a wise move to save his strength to play overtime. But now as he looked at George Wood's back, only then he realized that he was not talking big to boost morale. He was for real!

"I can't believe that George Wood can shoot a ball like this! If he were to do it again, he would most likely shoot it to the sky! This must have been a shot by God! It was God who used Wood's right foot to kick a goal like this! In the last second of the game, England got their last chance and they reversed the game! Can anyone believe such a game if we were to tell them?" The Spanish commentator was also very excited as he said, "But this is happening! We have the privilege of witnessing a game like this... No, it's a miracle!"

Wood, who scored the goal, was not as excited as the other people. He did not dash to the sidelines or take off his jersey. He just stood there in the same spot, with his arms open and his clenched fists pointing to the sky.

Even if he was not excited, other people would naturally be excited. His teammates rushed excitedly from all directions to fully surround him. In the end, they simply lifted him up and threw him into the sky! Such a celebration was really a rare sight. In the past, no matter how excited they were, they only piled on top of the goalscorer...

"George Wood – what an incredible goal! Whether it was the way he scored the goal or the timing of a goal, it's incredible! The Italians lost at the last second! They did not manage to drag the game into overtime. They lost the championship trophy in the last second!"

Amelia knelt on the ground, while his teammates next to him looked at the excited Englishmen in a daze. No one could accept such a reality - just a minute ago, they thought they were going to be champions. Just a second ago, they thought the game would be dragged into overtime. And with their impenetrable defense, they would still be the winners.

Wood's world-class kick shattered their dreams. The post-victory revelry had now been shattered into pieces and scattered away in the night wind in Madrid.

Lippi stood blankly on the sidelines. This time he was not calm, but completely lifeless... He did not expect his team to lose the game in this way. In the most unlikely moment, the most unlikely person had become the one to end the game.

They almost had the game in the bag...

While Lippi was struck dumb, Twain did not jump up and down like the people around him. He stood in place but held out his right hand and pressed on his heart.

He was feeling his heartbeat, which was very fast and strong.

"Hey, Tony! We're champions! The European champions!" Walker did not give him a chance to feel the emotions here. He ran up from behind to hold him. "We did it, we really did it!"

Twain did not struggle and just let him hold himself as he howled crazily.

He felt as if a weight had been taken off his mind. It was a good thing someone was holding him. Otherwise he really doubted that he could continue to stand any longer...

At this point, he did not have to care about what kind of counterattack Italy would do, because he was certain that the game was already over. This time it was really over!

No one would need to fish out the football from the net and put it in the center circle. The leading England team would not do that. Nor would the trailing Italians do the same.

The referee followed closely with three whistles to end the game after he blew the whistle to declare the validity of the goal.

The game was over!

The England team's substitute players rushed to the pitch along with the coaches to celebrate their first ever UEFA European Championship in history.

Twain did not follow the crowd to rush up. He stood on the sidelines and got ready to shake Lippi's hand.

It was a post-match etiquette.

Lippi was back to normal after the game ended. Having won numerous championships in his life, he also had won a lot of runner-up titles. He had experienced a lot of such defeats.

"Congratulations, Mr. Twain."

He politely congratulated as he held Twain's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Lippi."

The two men did not have any more conversation. Lippi needed to be busy appeasing his players. Those people were already crying as if they were dissolved in tears. And as for Twain himself... he was already surrounded by a large group of reporters, waiting for him and Lippi to finish shaking hands before they rushed up to interview him.

Lippi had just turned around to walk away when the reporters swarmed up to surround Twain for fear that he would run away.

"Mr. Twain! First of all, congratulations on winning the first UEFA European Championship in the history of English football..."

"Mr. Twain, can you talk about what you are thinking now?"

"Was it beyond your expectations that you would win the game at the last minute, Mr. Twain?"

"Do you have anything to say about George Wood's goal?"

"Mr. Twain..."

"Tony..."

"Mr. Twain..."

"Mr. Tony Twain..."

Countless questions, microphones, recording pens and mobile phones were stuffed to the front of Twain's lips. Now even if he were to let out a fart, it would be considered fragrant. Any remark he made would be presented as famous. No one in the world of football would dare to question his ability to coach the national team anymore.

Tony Twain was the champion. The established law would come into effect again in the national team.

At the end of the first installment of the classic film, , Michael Corleone finally became the new godfather of the Corleone family. With his wife peeking at the door, he accepted the kiss on the hand from his men as vows of loyalty and devotion, completing the transformation from a young officer full of ideals to a ruthless mafia don.

Now, at the Bernabéu, the old godfather of Italian football was walking off the stage, step by step. He was comforting his players. No media outlet expressed any concern about him, and no one cared how he felt as the "loser."

And Twain had received unprecedented welcome and popularity.

Tonight, the whole of Europe squirmed at his feet and kissed the hand that he extended to acknowledge their allegiance.

As the old godfather alone departed in disappointment under the Sicilian afternoon sun, the new godfather sat high on the throne of power, enjoying the pledges of allegiance from the new recruits. Overlooking the world, he was full of mettle, as if there was nothing or anyone in the world that could stop his steel horses from conquering the world.

It was only Europe tonight. Two years later, he wanted the whole world to surrender at his feet!

He had no doubt about it, for the champion's heart in his chest was beating powerfully.

Chapter end