Kaka’s brilliant run had dragged the entire German back line toward him.
Ronaldinho spotted the opening immediately and burst forward.
At the very last moment, with Lehmann rushing out to confront him, Kaka cut the ball back toward the left.
Ronaldinho arrived perfectly.
One simple side-footed finish.
Lehmann had no time to recover.
He could only watch helplessly as the ball rolled into the net.
It was Ronaldinho’s first goal of the Confederations Cup, and he celebrated like he’d been waiting forever for it.
He sprinted straight toward Kaka and jumped onto his back.
Kaka burst out laughing and carried him for several steps while the rest of the Brazilian players rushed over, shouting and joining the celebration.
Meanwhile, Lehmann dropped to his knees and slammed a fist into the turf.
He looked toward his defenders.
Then toward the celebrating Kaka.
His lips twitched.
He didn’t even know who to blame.
Himself?
Should he have rushed out earlier?
But anyone who knew football understood that when an attacker broke through one-on-one and had that much time, blaming the goalkeeper was hardly fair.
His defenders?
Lehmann had watched the whole move.
Germany’s back line hadn’t exactly stood around doing nothing.
From his perspective, they had tried everything they could.
As for the two defenders who had been sent the wrong way by Kaka’s fake shots…
Well.
Lehmann could only respect the effort.
If neither he nor the defence had really done anything wrong, then there was only one conclusion left.
Blame Kaka.
The guy was simply too strong.
Lehmann would have loved to keep a clean sheet.
Unfortunately, sometimes wanting something and being capable of doing it were two very different things.
By the time Brazil finished celebrating, the clock had already reached the 87th minute.
Normal time was almost over.
Germany trailed 3-1.
They were standing at the edge of the cliff.
Ballack was breathing heavily, but the German captain still raised both arms and shouted at his teammates.
“There’s still time!”
“Come on!
We still have time!”
His presence managed to drag some fighting spirit back out of the team.
Germany restarted and immediately pushed everyone forward for one final assault.
“Ballack with the long pass, looking for Podolski!”
“Podolski’s touch is loose!”
“After nearly ninety minutes, fatigue is clearly starting to affect the players.”
Podolski failed to control it properly, and Roque Júnior smashed the ball away toward midfield.
Frings recovered possession and immediately returned it to Ballack, allowing him to organise again.
Ballack tried to carry the ball past Kaka himself.
Bad idea.
His close control had never been his greatest strength, and with Kaka pressing tightly, he nearly lost possession.
He quickly moved it on to Hanke.
Hanke carried forward for a few steps before threading a pass into Asamoah, who had only recently come on.
Fresh legs.
That was the difference.
Asamoah knocked the ball left and suddenly accelerated.
He powered past Cicinho.
Cicinho wasn’t slow, but he still lacked that extra burst of top-end speed.
Asamoah got around him.
Roque Júnior immediately stepped across.
Together with the recovering Cicinho, he tried to force Asamoah toward the byline and close down the shooting angle.
The angle became increasingly narrow.
There was no obvious passing option.
So Asamoah gritted his teeth and decided to hit it anyway.
He swung his right foot through the lower half of the ball.
The instant he made contact, his heart sank.
Wrong contact.
That shot was going miles over the bar.
As a striker, he knew it immediately.
Unfortunately for Brazil, Roque Júnior didn’t.
Panicking, he threw himself into the block.
The ball had barely left the ground when it smashed into his left elbow.
He had tried to pull his arm in, but the desperate motion still left it in the path of the shot.
Asamoah’s eyes lit up.
He immediately raised an arm.
“Handball!”
Ballack and several other German players charged over as well, arms raised.
Ballack reached the referee first and even shoved aside the protesting Roque Júnior.
“Referee, that’s handball!”
“Clear handball!”
“His arm stopped a certain goal.
That should be a red card!”
Standing nearby, Kaka couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
Certain goal?
That shot was heading high enough to threaten air traffic.
If it hadn’t hit Roque Júnior, it might have brought down a Boeing.
Ballack’s exaggeration was unabashed.
But the referee still gave Germany what they wanted.
Ignoring the protests from Roque Júnior and Cicinho, he pointed straight to the spot.
“Penalty!”
“The referee has ruled handball against Roque Júnior!”
“The Brazilian defender is shown a yellow card!”
“Germany have a chance to reduce the deficit!”
“Ballack will take it!”
There was nothing left to argue about.
Roque Júnior walked out of the box looking frustrated.
Kaka stepped over and patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s fine, Roque.
That wasn’t your fault.
Besides, Ballack’s not scoring this.”
Roque Júnior gave him a tense look.
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
His eyes stayed fixed on Ballack as the German captain prepared for the penalty.
Kaka stood just outside the area.
Ballack took several long steps backward, planted his feet, and rested his hands on his hips.
Watching him, Kaka suddenly remembered something.
In the original timeline of this very match, Germany had also won a penalty because of a Roque Júnior handball.
That one had come in the 45th minute.
In the original match, that penalty had also been taken by Ballack.
The German midfielder had blasted it straight down the middle.
Dida guessed wrong and dived to his right, allowing Germany to make it 2-2.
And now…
The situation looked almost identical!
A thought suddenly flashed through Kaka’s mind.
He shouted toward Dida.
“Hey!
Nelson!
He’s going down the middle!”
Both Ballack and Dida froze for a split second after hearing him.
Each of them immediately started thinking.
Beep!
The referee blew the whistle.
Ballack began his run-up.
Quick steps.
A slight stutter.
Left leg swinging through…
And right before contact, Kaka’s shout suddenly echoed in his head.
Down the middle!
Ballack instinctively adjusted the angle of his foot slightly.
His left instep struck through the centre of the ball.
Straight down the middle.
At the exact same moment, Dida remembered Kaka’s warning.
He had originally been preparing to dive to his right.
But his body hesitated for half a second.
Then he saw the ball flying directly at him.
Dida immediately dropped his centre of gravity and brought both hands together.
Bang!
The shot struck his gloves cleanly.
He gathered it into his arms and immediately bent over, pressing the ball safely against the turf.
Saved!
“Hahaha!”
Ballack grabbed his head and dropped to his knees.
What the hell had he just done?
Why had he actually gone down the middle?
Had he really just wasted a penalty gift like that?
“Ballack takes the penalty!”
“Straight down the middle!”
“Oh!”
“Dida doesn’t move!”
“He stays right where he is and catches the ball Ballack practically passes into his arms!”
“What a bizarre moment!”
“Germany have thrown away a golden chance to pull one back!”
“Hahaha!”
Seeing everything unfold exactly as he’d hoped, Kaka burst out laughing and ran over to hug Dida.
“Ricardo, how did you know he was going down the middle?”
Dida still looked relieved.
If he hadn’t hesitated at the last moment, he would’ve dived the wrong way and conceded.
Kaka grinned.
“Heh, German players are too rigid.
They don’t do anything fancy, right?”
Dida laughed as well.
With the penalty saved, normal time had essentially run out.
The referee added ten minutes of stoppage time.
Parreira immediately took off Kaka and Ronaldinho, sending on Juninho Pernambucano and Renato.
Germany kept throwing players forward, but the missed penalty seemed to have drained whatever fighting spirit they had left.
Their final attacks were dealt with comfortably.
Beep!
Beep!!
Beeeeeeep!!!
Full time.
Brazil 3-1 Germany.
Brazil were through to the Confederations Cup Final.
Kaka had contributed two goals and one assist, directly participating in all three goals.
There was no question who had been the biggest reason for Brazil’s victory.
…
After the match, the players exchanged handshakes and embraces.
Ballack might have been fierce and relentless on the pitch, but after the whistle he was much calmer.
He smiled faintly, hugged Kaka, and exchanged shirts with him.
Although…
When they embraced, Kaka couldn’t help feeling that Ballack’s pats on his back were slightly heavier than necessary.
After saying goodbye to the roaring supporters, the Brazil squad returned to their hotel in Nuremberg.
Parreira had already arranged dinner in advance and even thoughtfully allowed a small amount of low-alcohol drinks.
A group of exhausted footballers who had spent more than a hundred minutes running themselves into the ground gathered around the table and ate like starving men.
The conversation was lively.
After a few drinks, everyone gradually returned to their rooms to rest.
The Confederations Cup final wouldn’t be played until June 29.
So Brazil were in no hurry to leave immediately.
They decided to rest in Nuremberg for a day before travelling to Frankfurt.
The following day, the other semi-final took place at the AWD-Arena in Hanover.
Mexico against Argentina.
On paper, Argentina were clearly stronger.
Most of the Brazil players expected them to win without too much trouble.
The actual match, however…
Was something else.
The two teams dragged each other to a 0-0 draw through normal time.
It looked less like elite international football and more like two angry amateurs trying to kick each other while occasionally remembering there was a ball involved.
Kaka nearly fell asleep.
But as time passed, the atmosphere became increasingly hostile.
In the 90th minute, Javier Saviola caught a Mexican player with a high boot and was shown a red card.
Then, in extra time, Rafael Márquez was also sent off for a challenge from behind.
Argentina flew into tackles from every direction.
Mexico answered with equal enthusiasm.
Both teams seemed to pay tribute to Fight Club more often than football.
Apparently, someone had forgotten to tell them this wasn’t an MMA pentagon.
Then, in the 104th minute, the deadlock finally broke.
Carlos Salcido surged forward from the left, beat two players, and unleashed a fierce shot.
The ball struck Fabricio Coloccini, changed direction, and flew into the net.
Mexico led 1-0.
Six minutes later, Argentina responded.
In the middle of a chaotic goalmouth scramble, Luciano Figueroa produced a clever touch before turning and sweeping the ball into the net.
1-1.
Neither side could find another goal.
Extra time ended.
Penalty shootout.
And finally, after all that violence, chaos, and mutual suffering…
Argentina won 6-5 on penalties.
They advanced to the final.
The moment the match finally ended, Kaka let out a long breath and collapsed backward onto the sofa.
“What an exhausting mixed martial arts match…”
He stared at the screen.
“Seriously, why even bring a ball to a brawl?”