"Everton are in total control here," Martin Tyler remarked, his voice smooth and paternal. "Fiorentina are passing, yes, but it's the sideways passing of a team that has run out of ideas. Roberto Martínez has set the trap, and the Italians have walked right into it."
But then, the air in Goodison Park shifted.
Milan Badelj, the "Wild Bull," had finally finished his psychological demolition of Ross Barkley. For fifteen minutes, Badelj hadn't just defended; he had haunted Barkley's footsteps. A shoulder here, a late (but clean) challenge there. The young Englishman was looking at the referee more than the ball.
In the 41st minute, the trap snapped shut.
Barkley received a pass with his back to goal. Before he could turn, Badelj was there, a physical wall of Croatian steel. He didn't foul; he simply took the ball, a clean pocket-pick that left Barkley face-down in the Merseyside mud.
Badelj didn't look at the goal. He looked for the number 21.
Renzo Uzumaki received the ball forty yards out. The Everton midfield—Gareth Barry and James McCarthy—converged. Captain Phil Jagielka stepped up to close the gap. To any normal observer, the passing lanes were dead.
Renzo didn't look at the ball. He looked at the grass between the defenders.
[Mission Objective 3: Threatening Passes (1/6)]
With a flick of his right ankle, Renzo didn't use his laces or his instep. He struck the ball with the outside of his boot—a Trivela pass that defied the laws of geometry.
The ball didn't travel in a straight line. It started wide, curving like a scythe around Gareth Barry's outstretched leg, then dipped back inward, slicing between Jagielka and John Stones. It was a pass delivered with the spin of a pool shark's cue ball.
"Wait... look at the curve on that!" Tyler's voice rose an octave, losing its professional calm. "Is he... surely not!"
Mario Gomez didn't even have to break his stride. The ball arrived exactly three inches in front of his lead foot. The German "Bull" didn't hesitate. He put every ounce of frustration from the last forty minutes into a thunderous strike that nearly tore the roof off the net.
1-1. Goodison Park, which had been a roar of 40,000 voices a second ago, went deathly quiet. You could hear the rain hitting the plastic seats. You could hear the heavy breathing of the Everton defenders who had been bypassed by a pass they didn't believe was possible.
Renzo didn't celebrate wildly. He simply pointed at Badelj, acknowledging the work of his enforcer.
"Alan, I've been doing this for fifty years," Martin Tyler whispered into the microphone, sounding genuinely breathless. "I've seen Hoddle, I've seen Scholes, I've seen Pirlo. But a sixteen-year-old, on his European debut, playing a Trivela through-ball with that much ice in his veins? That is... that is something else entirely."
In the dugout, Montella finally sat back down, a thin smile on his face.
The "Premier League Rejects" had just drawn blood. And the "Regista" was just getting started.
30+ chapters are available now and daily updates! @patreon.com/Authorzero