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Football: God-like Vision at the Start, Crushing Europe

Chapter 19 / 94

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Chapter 19 of 94

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Chapter 19: A Cannonball Long Pass Tearing Apart the Boca Juniors Defense

Football: God-like Vision at the Start, Crushing Europe

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“Damn it!”

Gate turned to chase, but he was already too late.

Paredes dribbled the ball past the center circle.Full novel: Football: God-like Vision at the Start, Crushing Europe — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠

The River Plate midfield line was torn apart once again.

Three Boca Juniors players in the front court started their runs simultaneously.

The blue and yellow fans in the stands waved their scarves like madmen.

“Paredes!”

“Destroy them!”

“Shut River Plate up!”

Paredes’s ears were filled with shouts; he relished this feeling.

This was the kind of match he wanted.

A derby, the whole stadium watching, scouts from Europe observing, and media cameras filming.

He wanted to settle the match as quickly as possible, preferably with a three-goal lead by halftime.

Then, he would leave the pitch early in the second half, letting everyone see that he didn’t need to play the full ninety minutes to dismantle his peers.

He wasn’t that recently hyped-up River Plate player; he was the true number ten of Boca Juniors, the one pursued simultaneously by Roma, Paris, and Juve.

Paredes continued to dribble forward.

A River Plate midfielder rushed up to block him, but he pulled the ball with the sole of his foot and easily evaded him.

A second River Plate player collided with him from the side.

Paredes lowered his center of gravity, held his ground with his shoulder, and used his right foot to nudge the ball forward.

Another one passed, two in a row!

The Boca Juniors bench had all stood up.

The Boca head coach’s eyes lit up, and he clenched his fist, growling, “That’s it!”

On the River Plate bench, Gil rushed forward in anxiety by two steps.

“Stop him!”

“Don’t let him enter the danger zone!”

Giovanni also turned his head and shouted, “Tobías!”

But Paredes had already charged into the danger zone of River Plate’s half.

Only the final defensive midfield line remained in front of him.

Ahead, a Boca Juniors striker made a diagonal run.

The right winger was open, and a teammate on the left was overlapping at high speed.

Three options, all of them threats.

Paredes looked up while still dribbling; he was ready to deliver a lethal pass.

Everyone thought that Boca Juniors’ scoring opportunity was coming.

At that very moment, a red and white figure closed in from behind and to the side of Paredes.

Tobías.

He didn’t slide tackle, nor did he collide.

He used his right foot to block the landing spot of Paredes’s next touch, positioned his body between the passing lane and the ball carrier, and poked the ball away cleanly with his toe.

A clean interception of the ball from Paredes.

Paredes froze completely; he didn’t even have time to turn around.

A second ago, he had dribbled past two River Plate players in succession, bringing Boca Juniors’ three-pronged attack into the danger zone.

The next second, the ball was gone.

The shouts of the Boca Juniors fans in the stands were stuck in their throats.

The River Plate fans were also stunned for half a second before erupting into a roar.

“Great interception!”

“Tobías!”

“Keep that number ten locked down!”

On the sidelines, Gil clenched his fist tightly.

“Good!”

Gate chased up from behind, his face flushed, and roared at Tobías, “Beautiful!

That’s it!”

But Tobías didn’t celebrate; the moment he won the ball, an overhead view unfolded in his mind.

Boca Juniors had pressed too far forward as a whole.

Both fullbacks had crossed the halfway line, the defensive midfielder was following behind Paredes, and all three forward players were charging toward the River Plate penalty area.

Their defensive line only had two center backs and one fullback who was half a beat slow to track back.

What was worse, a huge gap had opened up between the center and the right rib area.

That gap was huge, large enough that if the ball could get through, it would be a one-on-one.

Tobías looked up; Giovanni had already moved.

He didn’t hesitate, nor did he shout; this was the instinct of a striker.

The moment Paredes lost the ball, Giovanni had already started a diagonal run from the side of the Boca Juniors right center back.

The Boca Juniors defenders were still pressing forward, half a beat slow to react.

That half-beat was enough.

Tobías nudged the ball in front of him with his right foot, his body turning naturally to follow through.

High up in the stands, a man in a dark coat slowly stood up straight.

Diego Simeone, the manager of Atlético Madrid.

He had made a special trip back to Argentina this time just to watch his son Giovanni in this derby.

A youth derby might not be considered a big match in the eyes of many, but for River Plate and Boca Juniors, there was no such thing as a “small match.”

Furthermore, Giovanni had gradually established a firm foothold in the River Plate youth team.

As a father, no matter how busy he was, he wanted to see it with his own eyes.

But from the start of the match until now, Diego Simeone’s attention hadn’t been solely on Giovanni.

He had been watching Tobías the whole time.

That sixteen-year-old River Plate midfielder who had recently signed a contract extension and was being called a rising star by the media.

At first, Diego Simeone was just watching casually, but as he watched, his expression changed.

“This kid… is a bit interesting.”

The accompanying staff member whispered, “Are you talking about that River Plate player?”

Diego Simeone nodded, his eyes not leaving the pitch, “His defense doesn’t rely on physicality.”

“Just now, as Paredes kept pushing forward, the other River Plate players were all being led by the nose, but he was the only one who didn’t lose his composure.” You are reading on g.com, the official source.

“He was waiting the whole time.”

The staff member looked at the pitch, “Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for Paredes to bring the ball to his most comfortable position.”

Diego Simeone’s voice was low but firm, “Top-tier defense isn’t about rushing in to tackle every time; it’s about letting the opponent think they have a chance, and then taking the ball away when they are at their most relaxed.”

He paused for a moment and continued, “This kid’s anticipation, positioning, and timing of his tackle are all very high-level.”

The staff member was a bit surprised, “To what extent is it high-level?”

Diego Simeone glanced at him, “In the youth team, it’s rarely seen.”

These words carried a lot of weight.

Diego Simeone himself was a defensive midfielder by trade.

He knew too well that whether a midfielder’s defense was good or not didn’t depend on how flashy the movements were or how fierce the tackles were.

It depended on judgment.

When to press, when to retreat, when to block the passing lane, and when to extend a foot.

Tobías’s move just now was perfectly timed at the most uncomfortable node for Paredes.

A moment earlier, Paredes could have changed direction.

A moment later, Paredes could have passed the ball out.

Yet, Tobías’s timing was neither too early nor too late.

Diego Simeone felt a stir in his heart as he watched.

But the next second, he frowned again, “However, his speed isn’t fast.”

The staff member followed his gaze.

After the interception, Tobías didn’t rely on explosive power to rush forward; instead, he adjusted his body immediately, preparing to pass the ball.

Diego Simeone said bluntly, “His acceleration and absolute speed are not top-tier.

If he reaches the senior team in the future and faces high-intensity impact, he won’t be able to rely on speed to compensate.”

“But…”

He paused; on the pitch, Tobías had already swung his leg.

“Game intelligence can make up for a lot of things.”

Bang!

Tobías struck the lower half of the soccer ball.

It wasn’t the kind of elegant long pass with a curve, nor was it the kind of beautifully curled ball from yesterday’s training that made people cheer involuntarily.

This kick was raw and brutal, the ball speed extremely fast.

The soccer ball, like a cannonball, blasted directly from the center of the River Plate half toward the space behind the Boca Juniors defense.

The Boca Juniors defensive midfielder instinctively raised his foot to block it.

Too slow.

The soccer ball whizzed past his side, skimming across the turf and kicking up a thin trail of grass clippings.

The first center back turned his head, and the second center back turned his body.

The Boca Juniors left fullback also started running back.

/c/DRUNK_TL(remove space between)

Full novel: Football: God-like Vision at the Start, Crushing Europe — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠
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