The Greatest of all Time-Novel

It was the eighth minute of the second round of the Norwegian Football Cup. Strindheim regained possession once again after Nicki Nielsen failed to connect with Ole's long-range pass. The Strindheim players, in yellow and blue, were on fire in the first few minutes of the game.

Mats Ingebrigtsen, one of Strindheim's center backs, had outjumped the Rosenborg forward and cleared the ball away from the box.

Without any delay, the Strindheim players resumed their attack. Sindre Kjos-Wenjum, the left-midfielder, picked up the ball from the Ingebrigtsen's clearance. He chested it down to the grass and made a through pass to Christopher Moen, the left-forward.

With skillful footwork, Christopher Moen skipped past Brede Moe, Rosenborg's right-back, once again. He dashed across the touchline, penetrating deep into Rosenborg's half in only an instant.

Zachary had been on the alert and had carefully tracked the forward's movement since he'd gotten ahold of the ball. He had already noted that the Strindheim players seemed to favor the left-forward since they kept feeding him passes. So, Zachary had long prepared himself to get into action and stop the striker once more.

The coach had repeatedly emphasized the midfielders' responsibility to help the defense in thwarting threats to goal throughout the match. For the first eight minutes, Zachary had observed those simple instructions to the letter. Whenever the opponents got on the attack, he would fall back into his half and adjust his position accordingly. That way, he had managed to stop three Strindheim attacks in the first few minutes of the game.

As a midfielder, he had to play smart, using his brain to wear down opponents rather than relying solely on tight-marking and tackling. So, at all times, he always made a mental map of all the players around the field in order to position himself perfectly.

Moreover, he had realized that it was easier to keep track of both opponents and teammates ever since he'd learned the Zinedine-Pirlo Mental Juju. He could analyze the risk on the pitch quickly and react accordingly. Thanks to that, he had slowly grown more confident in his defensive capabilities as the game progressed.

So, he wasn't afraid of meeting Christopher Moen in a one-on-one encounter. He had stopped him in his tracks before—he could stop him again.

However, Zachary changed his decision only after a few seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tore Reginiussen, the Rosenborg captain and center back, racing from his position and darting towards Christopher like a bullet.

The center back ran so fast that he caught up to the left-forward in only a few seconds. He didn't reduce his speed even when he reached the sprinting Christopher. He instead slid in and tackled the ball, shoving it out of the field of play.

In the meantime, Christopher was—sent tumbling to the ground by yet another Rosenborg player. He was having a nightmare of a game. It was the third time he'd been sent to the ground as he raced across the touchline.

"Ref," he shouted, waving his arms in the air as he picked himself from the ground. "High boot, high boot..." He added, running towards the referee. However, the referee just ignored him and indicated for Strindheim to take their throw-in.

Zachary smiled at seeing Christopher's reaction. He could tell that the skipper was too used to dribbling past defenders using his pace and footwork. But it seemed he'd forgotten that he wasn't playing a second division game but facing Rosenborg. His dribbling attempts were like child's play in front of the Tippeligaen's top defenders like Tore Reginiussen.

Zachary shook his head and jogged towards the right touchline to defend against the throw-in.

He made a mental note to prevent himself from falling into a situation like Christopher's. He would only try out the dribbling when he was sure his pace and skills—could best any defender in the Tippeligaen. Otherwise, he would be looking to embarrass himself.

"Brede!" Zachary heard Tore Reginiussen yell out loud as he settled into position close to the touchline. "That was the third time you failed to stop that kid. What are you doing on the pitch? Are you sleeping? Get your head into the game. Stop creating a mess for us." The captain seemed angry at the right-back and didn't mince words with him.

Brede Moe just smiled ruefully, shaking his head before concentrating on marking his man once again. He didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the captain's yelling at him.

*FWEEEEEEE*

The referee blew his whistle after giving a verbal warning to Christopher Moen for his arguing.

Mathias Hegna, the Strindheim left-back, took the throw-in. After a short dash, he planted his feet on the touchline and threw the ball across the line—towards Christopher Moen.

However, that time around, Brede Moe was alert and managed to stop the left-forward. He jumped high and headed the ball, directing it towards the midfield—in Zachary's direction.

Zachary sprang into action right away. He raced towards the ball like the wind and brought it under control with a simple deft touch, skipping past a Strindheim player in the process. His actions were seamless—like those of a veteran midfielder, not a fresh graduate from the academy.

He didn't feel any pressure despite that being his debut match. Instead, he felt his heart throbbing with excitement as he turned with the ball hooked to his left foot. He intended to release the strikers as quickly as possible since he had noticed that most of the Strindheim players had been on the attack in Rosenborg's half.

It was a perfect chance for a counterattack. He couldn't understand why, but he could feel it in his bones. He was sure of it. However, two of Strindheim's central midfielders closed him down quickly, even before he could release the ball.

[What the hell?] Zachary couldn't help but curse inwardly.

He wondered why the Strindheim midfielders had been closing him down quickly ever since the game started. Whenever he was on the ball, they would be upon him in just a matter of seconds.

At the beginning of the game, he'd thought nothing of it since he believed that that—was the tempo and intensity befitting the professional football stage in Europe. However, as the match progressed, he had come to notice that the opponents were targeting him specifically. It seemed like they had taken him as the weak link in Rosenborg's midfield and were intent on forcing him to commit blunders so they could reap profits. In other words, they were giving him special treatment as a newbie fresh from the academy. That time around was no different.

Although Zachary didn't like the feeling of being identified as a weak link, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He had a choice to make. He couldn't let the slight bit of displeasure disturb his state of mind.

At that moment, he decided that he could play it safe and pass the ball back to the keeper—the safest option. Or he could take a risk and try to pass the ball beyond the zone of intense rival pressure. That way, he could release the strikers quickly and initiate a counterattack.

Zachary was a gambler by nature. So, he took the riskier but most rewarding action. He raised his leg high and faked a pass towards Lund Hansen, the Rosenborg goalkeeper.

But instead of passing the ball back, he pulled it towards himself with his left boot—thereby initiating one of his Cruyff-turn variations. He'd trained the skill to a high level of mastery and could use it in any situation, even under pressure.

Zachary spun around with the ball, skipping past one of the Strindheim midfielders. With that simple Cruyff-turn, he'd created a yard of space for himself. But he needed to act within seconds, or else the opponents would be upon him once again.

Zachary didn't wish for that to happen. So, he didn't dawdle and looked up across the field. His eyes quickly darted across the two Rosenborg forwards—positioned beyond the zone of intense rival pressure. In his mind, a mental map with the open linear routes for passing the ball appeared instantly. All the while, his A-graded game intelligence coupled with the Zinedine-Pirlo Mental Juju helped him deduce the best place to distribute the ball in nothing more than a flash.

Zachary's mind had worked so fast, probably in overdrive, that he managed to find the best passing route in only a span of a second. Thanks to that, he managed to notice that Nicki Nielsen had just stepped away from his marker in Strindheim's half.

Zachary didn't dilly-dally any longer. He raised his right foot and unleashed a raking pass with the outside of his boot just before the Strindheim midfielders could close him down. He didn't relax, though, but followed after the ball.

The ball flew mid-air through the gaps in-between both opponents and teammates on the pitch, heading towards Nicki Nielsen. Emil R?kke, the Strindheim defensive midfielder, tried to intercept it close to the center circle. He even dived, trying his level best to stop it from reaching Nicki Nielsen with his head. However, all was in vain. The ball seemed to be controlled by a high-tech missile guidance system. It flashed by him at a distance of mere centimeters, continuing onwards to Nicki—who had long started sprinting towards Strindheim's goal.

The cheers in the stadium died down momentarily as Nicki Nielsen, Rosenborg's center forward and number-9, controlled the ball just in front of Strindheim's box. The fans in the stands waited with nervous anticipation—their eyes fixed on the number-9 as he stepped into Strindheim box uncontested.

Zachary's defense splitting pass had helped him gain an advantage over the opposing center backs. So, he had long left them in the dust even without being offside.

Zachary, too, watched with nervous anticipation as the Strindheim goalkeeper came out of the goal to greet Nicki Nielsen. Although he knew the number-9 was a talented striker who had been on form since the beginning of the new season, he couldn't rule out the possibility that he could still miss the opportunity. If that happened, Zachary would lose his chance of making his first assist on the professional stage. So, he was on tenterhooks.

Fortunately, the goddess of luck seemed to be with Nicki Nielsen, Zachary, and the whole of Rosenborg. The number-9 maintained his composure like the talented striker he was. He chipped the ball over the helpless goalkeeper and managed to put Rosenborg ahead in the 13th minute.

1:0

The cheers of the Rosenborg fans exploded like a thunderstorm in the Ruta Arena.

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