Free Web NovelChapter 75: Controversy II
On the touchline, Eric Maddox felt a familiar heat rising in his throat. This was the injustice of the game he both loved and hated. He stepped into the technical area, his eyes burning as he glared at the fourth official.
"That’s never a penalty!" Eric screamed, his voice cracking with the force of his anger. "He got the ball! Your man was ten feet away and still missed the call! It’s a disgrace!"
The fourth official ignored him, staring straight ahead with a stone face. This only fueled Eric’s rage. He kicked a water bottle, sending it flying into the dugout. The away fans behind him were going wild, a chorus of boos and cusses echoing around the stadium. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
[> "The Rising Stars bench is not happy," <] Peter Walsh observed. [> "They feel hard done by. Maddox is showing a lot of passion down there." <]
Then, the "miracle" occurred. Marcus Price, who moments ago looked like he might require immediate surgery, suddenly stopped rolling. He jumped to his feet with the agility of a gymnast.
There was no limp, no sign of pain. He walked over to the ball, picked it up, and tucked it under his arm, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he glanced toward the Northcastle bench.
[> "Price will take it himself," <] Michael Harrison noted. [> "He’s the man for the big moments. He looks to have made a very... quick recovery." <]
The Rising Stars players were still circling the referee. Jack Stones wouldn’t let it go. As the captain, he felt the weight of the injustice more than anyone. "You’ve made a mistake, ref!" he shouted, blocking the official’s path. "That was a clean tackle! You’re ruining the game!"
The referee had reached his limit. He didn’t say a word. He simply reached into his pocket again. Another yellow card.
[> "Stones has been cautioned. Two yellow cards now for Northcastle Rising Stars," <] Peter Walsh said. [> "The captain letting his emotions get the better of him." <]
Eric groaned, putting his head in his hands. He needed Stones on the pitch, not suspended or sent off. He signaled for his players to back away, to focus on the task at hand.
The penalty area was cleared of everyone except the two protagonists: Marcus Price and Freddie Booth.
[> "This is a huge moment," <] Michael Harrison observed. [> "A goal here could decide the match. The momentum is all with Hastings now." <]
Freddie Booth stood on his line. He looked small against the backdrop of the massive goal, but Eric knew the kid had potential. He had seen the stats through the System interface, Booth had a high "Reflex" rating and an "Anticipation" score that was top-tier for this league.
The young keeper was bouncing on his toes, his eyes locked on Price. He was trying to stay calm, trying to get into the striker’s head.
[> "Booth needs to pick a side," <] Peter Walsh noted. [> "Price is a good penalty taker. He usually goes for power over placement." <]
The referee checked that both players were ready. He blew his whistle. The sound was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
Marcus Price placed the ball meticulously on the spot. He took five slow steps back, then two to the side. He was breathing deeply, his eyes fixed on the back of the net.
[> "Price ready to take it," <] Michael Harrison said, his voice dropping to a whisper of anticipation. [> "Can Booth pull off a miracle?" <]
The striker began his run-up. It was slow and deliberate, a stutter-step in the middle designed to make the keeper commit early.
Freddie Booth didn’t fall for the stutter. He waited until the last possible microsecond. As Price’s foot made contact with the ball, Booth launched himself to his left. He had guessed right.
The shot was low and hard, aimed with surgical precision at the bottom corner. Booth’s body was fully extended, his fingertips brushing the leather of the ball. For a fleeting second, it looked like he had done it. The ball slowed, deflected by his touch. The Northcastle fans began to cheer.
But the shot had too much power. Even with the deflection, the ball squeezed under Booth’s ribs and trickled across the line into the side netting.
[> "GOOOOOOOOOAL!" <] Michael Harrison screamed, his voice reaching a fever pitch. [> "MARCUS PRICE SCORES FROM THE SPOT!" <]
The stadium exploded. The noise was a physical force, a wall of sound that hit Eric in the face. Marcus Price didn’t look back at the keeper. He was already sprinting toward the corner flag, his teammates trailing behind him like a pack of wolves.
[> "Booth got a hand to it," <] Peter Walsh noted, his tone sympathetic. [> "But it wasn’t enough. The power was just too much." <]
Price slid on his knees in front of the home supporters, his arms spread wide as he soaked in the adulation. It was a scene of pure jubilation for Hastings and utter despair for Northcastle.
[> "Forty-three minutes played," <] Michael Harrison said as the replays began to roll on the big screen. [> "Hastings Coastal Academy lead 2-1." <]
The Rising Stars players looked devastated. They stood frozen in the box, some with their hands on their hips, others staring at the grass. They had fought so hard to find an equalizer, only to have it stripped away by a moment of theater and a questionable whistle.
[> "Cruel blow for Northcastle Rising Stars," <] Peter Walsh observed. [> "They felt that penalty was harsh, and honestly, looking at the replay, they might have a point. Van Drunen definitely got the ball." <]
On the touchline, Eric was still fuming. He walked to the very edge of his technical area, pointing a finger at the fourth official. "That’s never a penalty!" he yelled again. "You’ve robbed us! You’ve absolutely robbed these kids!"
The fourth official finally looked at him. "Get back in your area, Mr. Maddox, or you’ll be joining your captain in the book."
Eric took a deep breath, trying to force his heart rate down. He looked at his players. They were demoralized. The body language was all wrong. They were looking at the ground, their shoulders slumped. If he didn’t do something, they would concede a third before the half-time whistle.
The restart was delayed as the Hastings players finally finished their celebrations and retreated to their own half. The atmosphere in the stadium was toxic, a mix of triumphant jeers and bitter frustration.
[> "Rising Stars need to regroup quickly," <] Michael Harrison noted. [> "There’s still a few minutes plus stoppage time. They can’t afford to go into the break two goals down." <]
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