Brazil’s penalty taker was originally supposed to be their captain, Ronaldinho.
But since Kaka had won the penalty almost entirely by himself, and had nearly been injured in the process, Ronaldinho stepped aside.
“Ricardo, you take it.”
“Me?”
Kaka looked a little surprised.
Since the start of the Confederations Cup, Ronaldinho still hadn’t scored.
There hadn’t been much criticism from the outside, but there certainly hadn’t been none either.
And yet he was willing to give up the penalty?
“Yeah.
You take it.”
Meeting Ronaldinho’s firm gaze, Kaka smiled and accepted.
He wouldn’t mind becoming the kind of football king who didn’t need penalties to prove anything.
But when free food was placed directly in front of his mouth, refusing to eat would just be stupid.
Especially when the system needed points.
He accepted happily.
Unfortunately, that left Adriano standing nearby with envy written all over his face.
“I want to take penalties too!”
“I’m not picky.
Seriously.
Give me one, and I’ll happily take it.”
Originally, Adriano had thought that with Ronaldo Nazario skipping the tournament, this Confederations Cup would become his stage.
No Ronaldo.
No problem.
He would become Brazil’s undisputed attacking star, soak up all the attention from the supporters, and establish himself as the national team’s new hero.
After all, among the other attackers, Robinho was talented, but Adriano was confident he wasn’t a real threat to his status.
As for Kaka and Ronaldinho, they were midfielders.
They had to spend plenty of energy creating chances and organising attacks.
So naturally, in Adriano’s mind, this tournament should have been his perfect opportunity to shine.
Then Kaka happened.
A central attacking midfielder had somehow transformed into a goal machine even more terrifying than the actual strikers.
Seriously.
When were centre-forwards ever going to get some respect?
Adriano felt increasingly miserable.
And watching Kaka, who had already scored far more than him, stand over yet another penalty only made it worse.
Strong.
Talented.
A huge appetite.
God really had favourites, huh?
Kaka placed the ball on the spot and slowly took three steps backward.
Then he calmly looked toward Germany’s goal.
His expression still carried that harmless, handsome-boy-next-door quality.
But Lehmann, standing between the posts, felt sweat forming across his back.
He treated Kaka like a mortal threat.
Beep!
The whistle sounded.
Kaka inhaled deeply.
One step.
Two.
Then he swung his right leg through with full force.
Lehmann committed completely to his left.
The ball went straight down the middle.
By the time the German goalkeeper realised what had happened, he was already helplessly flying in the wrong direction.
The net bulged.
Simple.
Brutal.
Straight down the centre.
Why bother aiming for the top corner and risking sending it into the stands?
Sometimes the simplest answer was the best one.
The goal stood.
“WOOOOAAAAA!!!”
Kaka smiled and turned to celebrate with his teammates.
Compared with a solo dribble through several defenders, a penalty wasn’t exactly thrilling.
The system awarded the same points either way, but emotionally?
Not even close.
Kaka himself wasn’t particularly excited.
Neither were his teammates.
The supporters, however, were losing their minds.
Their cheers shook the stadium.
Brazil 2-1 Germany.
By then, the clock had already reached the 45th minute.
The referee added five minutes of stoppage time.
Nothing particularly important happened during them, and the teams headed into half-time.
The moment Brazil returned to the dressing room, Parreira immediately called for the medical staff.
He insisted that Kaka’s left foot be examined properly.
Kaka couldn’t talk his way out of it, so he simply sat down and let them do whatever checks they wanted.
At the same time, Parreira told Roque Júnior to start warming up.
If Kaka’s condition looked even slightly questionable, he was coming off.
The fifteen-minute break passed quickly.
After a full examination, the team doctors confirmed that Kaka’s left foot had no serious problem.
There was some pain, but nothing that would prevent him from continuing.
So when the second half began, Kaka returned to the pitch.
Brazil came out flying.
Almost immediately after the restart, the ball was worked back toward defence.
Maicon received it on the right.
Then, for reasons known only to himself, the full-back suddenly charged forward as though someone had injected adrenaline directly into his bloodstream.
Maicon was fast.
Very fast.
And his technique was already surprisingly polished for a defender.
He burst down the right and beat two German players in succession.
Unfortunately, once Arne Friedrich and Frings closed him down together, his adventure finally came to an end.
Possession lost.
And when a full-back charges forward and loses the ball…
There’s usually only one thing coming next.
A counter-attack!
Sure enough, Frings reacted instantly.
The moment Maicon turned to recover, Frings launched a long pass toward Ballack in the middle.
The ball flew high toward the centre circle.
Ballack moved underneath it, tracking the flight.
At the same time, Kaka sprinted over.
Both jumped.
Bang!
Their bodies collided heavily in mid-air.
Ballack was built like a tank.
But after his physical upgrade, Kaka was hardly fragile anymore.
Even so, Ballack was still Ballack.
A proper heavyweight midfielder.
When it came purely to brute strength, impact resistance, and physical hardness, Kaka was still slightly behind him.
Ballack got his head to the ball first, but Kaka’s pressure was enough to throw him off.
The header went astray, and both Zé Roberto and Deisler rushed toward the loose ball.
In the end, Deisler brought it under control.
But by then, Maicon had already sprinted back into position, closing the space on Brazil’s right.
With no opening to exploit, Deisler could only recycle possession and wait for another chance.
The match settled into a midfield battle.
In the 51st minute, Ballack carried the ball through the middle and tried to bulldoze past Kaka with sheer strength.
Kaka immediately gave him some of his own medicine.
Hands.
Shoulder.
Legs.
Everything went into the challenge.
Thump!
Ballack went down.
Beep!
The referee’s whistle sounded at once.
In truth, Kaka’s challenge hadn’t been particularly violent.
But Ballack was an experienced veteran.
The moment he hit the ground, he rolled dramatically, grabbed his left foot, and even added a few miserable groans for effect.
Anyone who didn’t know better might have thought he’d just suffered a career-ending injury.
The referee showed Kaka a yellow card.
Kaka merely shrugged.
No point arguing.
A second later, Ballack was already back on his feet, calmly fixing his hair before walking over to take the free kick.
“Kaka and Ballack have turned this match into a direct battle between the midfield leaders of both teams!”
“When Kaka attacks, Ballack gives him plenty of physical pressure.”
“And when Ballack tries to dictate play, even someone as elegant as Kaka is refusing to back down!”
Play resumed.
After repeatedly failing to gain much of an advantage against Kaka, Ballack finally accepted reality.
He changed the focus of Germany’s attack.
Not toward the right side guarded by Maicon.
Instead, Germany began targeting Brazil’s left.
More specifically…
Gilberto.
Compared with Maicon, who only occasionally ventured forward, Gilberto seemed to have the soul of a winger trapped inside a full-back’s body.
Charging forward?
Normal.
Staying forward?
Also normal.
Remembering that he was supposed to defend?
Apparently optional.
Naturally, that created space behind him.
In the 60th minute, Robinho lost possession while trying to break down the right.
Germany immediately switched play across the pitch, and the ball found Frings, who surged forward down Brazil’s left.
“Robinho loses it!”
“Arne Friedrich switches play toward Frings!”
“Frings drives down the left!”
“Gilberto has gone forward and hasn’t recovered!”
“Frings combines with Kurányi!”
“One-two!”
“Cross into the box!”
“Podolski…”
“Oh!”
A wave of disappointment swept through the stands.
Frings’ cross was cut out by Roque Júnior, who slid across and knocked it behind for a corner.
Podolski, arriving at the near post, was only a fraction too late.
Even so, Germany had clearly identified Brazil’s weakness.
Their left side was vulnerable.
Before the corner, Dida grabbed the heavily breathing Gilberto by the collar.
“Hey!
Gilberto!
You can’t keep charging forward and then standing around in midfield!
Defend your side first, understand?”
Gilberto, trapped by the neck, could only nod repeatedly.
“Okay, okay!
I know, Dida.
I’ll watch it.
I promise.
Ugh, don’t look at me like that.
It won’t happen again.”
Dida stared at him sternly before finally letting go.
Germany prepared for the corner.
Deisler raised his right arm to signal the delivery, then curled the ball toward the far post.
There, Ballack and Kaka were already wrestling for position.
Both jumped.
Neither got anywhere near it.
Deisler had overhit the cross, and the ball sailed straight beyond the far post and out for a goal kick.
Kaka jogged back toward midfield, breathing heavily.
In the 73rd minute, Parreira finally made his first adjustment.
Brazil had created several attacks without finding another goal, so Cicinho came on for Maicon, adding even more attacking threat down the right.
Klinsmann responded immediately.
Kurányi, who had struggled to make an impact, was replaced by Gerald Asamoah.
Tim Borowski came on in midfield.
And the exhausted Deisler made way for Mike Hanke.
The game resumed.
As the team trailing on the scoreboard, Germany naturally became more aggressive as time began to run out.
Brazil had no reason to force the issue.
But defending for too long was asking for trouble.
And besides…
Sitting deep and desperately protecting a lead simply wasn’t Brazil’s style.
Especially not with this attacking lineup.
In the 79th minute, Ronaldinho, who had been unusually quiet for most of the match, suddenly came alive on the left.
He received a pass from Kaka.
Then his feet began to dance.
Frings was beaten.
Borowski was beaten.
Before Schneider could close him down, Ronaldinho lifted a delicate cross toward the goal.
Adriano charged into the box like a tank and stabbed the ball into the net.
“Goooooal!”
But Adriano didn’t celebrate properly.
Instead, he immediately glanced toward the assistant referee with a slightly guilty expression.
Sure enough…
The flag was already up.
“Offside!
That wasn’t a goal.”
Kaka and Zé Roberto had initially started toward the referee to protest.
Then they saw Adriano’s face.
They stopped.
Yeah.
Probably offside.
Even though the goal didn’t count, Ronaldinho’s dribbling and Adriano’s finish had been brilliant enough to earn loud applause from the crowd.
Then came the turning point.
83rd minute.
Kaka and Zé Roberto combined in midfield to cut out Ballack’s pass.
One quick one-two took them past the approaching Borowski.
Then Kaka changed gears.
One enormous touch forward.
And the supercar launched.
“Interception!”
“Beautiful one-two between Kaka and Zé Roberto!”
“Kaka accelerates!”
“That’s a huge touch!”
“Frings and Hanke are coming across!”
“He powers straight through them!”
“Kaka beats the double-team!”
“Only the defenders remain!”
“Can Huth and Mertesacker stop him?”
“Kaka enters the penalty area!”
“Huth steps out!”
“Shot?”
“No!”
“Fake shot!”
“Huth commits and goes down!”
“Kaka again!”
“Mertesacker steps across!”
“Another fake!”
“Mertesacker is beaten!”
“The goal is open!”
“Kaka shoots…”
“No!”
“He passes!”
“RONALDINHO!!!”
“GOOOOOOOOOAL!!!”