809 Who the Hell Is This Kid?

"Barcelona is currently leading in overall score! And, more importantly, they also have an away goal! How will Nottingham Forest fight back? Tony Twain is not in the technical area. He's always the best at adapting to changing circumstances..."

The commentator's concern was also worrying the Nottingham Forest fans. John, Bill, and the others next to Twain turned to look at him as if they wanted him to make a decision.

They did not expect Twain to look into each pair of expectant eyes and laugh: "What are you looking at me for? I'm not on the sidelines."

"You can use our mouths, Tony," John said, pointing at his.

Twain shook his head and said, "Before the game, we took into account all the things that might happen—including, of course, us letting in a goal, even though I thought the probability of it was small... It seems that Piqué has a great fighting spirit..."

"So, did you come up with any counter-measure?" Bill asked impatiently.

"No." Twain continued to shake his head.

"Tony..."

"Haha!" Twain laughed. "The fact is, Barcelona got a bit lucky with this point. They haven't obtained control of the game. Apart from this corner kick, they haven't really had any chances to threaten our goal. So, with regards to what adjustments we have to make: we just have to keep up our offensive pace. Barcelona's defensive weakness will not be cured as a result of this goal. So, I'm not worried..."

"But we need to score two more goals now if we want to advance directly, Tony..."

"Is scoring two goals difficult?" Twain asked in return.

He stumped everyone with this question. Two goals would be really hard to get, so why was Tony Twain so confident?

Twain stopped explaining things. He wanted to watch the game now.

※※※

In fact, Barcelona was in high spirits after their goal and besieged Nottingham Forest's net for a while. However, they did not get a decent chance to score due to the constrained conditions on the pitch and Nottingham Forest's defense. Their goal had come purely down to luck, just as Twain had said.

Soon, Nottingham Forest drove Barcelona back. At that point, with 25 minutes to go, they needed to score a goal to make sure that they would not be eliminated within 90 minutes. To directly advance to the next round, they needed to score at least twice.

It would be an impossible task for an average team facing up against Barcelona. But, for Nottingham Forest, nothing was impossible.

They had all the right conditions. They had no excuse to lose this game!

After watching for a while, Twain said to the people next to him in the stands, "They should press forward boldly. Barcelona's force is spent."

Accordingly, the north grandstand erupted with a burst of chanting voices: "Forest, Forest, charge forward! Barcelona is finished! Forest, Forest, press forward! Barcelona is done for!"

They chanted over and over again. The Nottingham Forest players knew the chanting was coming from the north grandstand, and were aware of whom it came from...

When the two fullbacks, Joe Mattock and Nkoulou, boldly pressed ahead, the chanting finally dissipated.

Twain high-fived the people around him and thanked them for their help. "Well done, guys!"

※※※

Nottingham Forest's oppressive advance kept Barcelona so busy that they had no time to attack. Perhaps they thought that it would be better to cling fast to defense until the end of the game under such circumstances. That way, they could eliminate Nottingham Forest with a total score of 3:2 and advance to the semifinals.

Soon, Nottingham Forest was awarded a free kick in the danger zone. The Barcelona players were nervous, as they knew that such a set-piece was key to this game. Consequently, a human wall lined up deliberately close to the football. When the referee did not pay attention to them, they slowly took small steps and inched forward. Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.

Twain frowned in the stands and said, "They might as well place the human wall in front of the football!"

This time, without waiting for his instructions, the fans in the north grandstand began to chant in unison, "The human wall is too close! The human wall is too close!"

Whether the referee could understand them or not, they wanted to make a different sound. The shouts were accompanied by a huge number of boos.

The Nottingham Forest players also noticed Barcelona's petty maneuver. They got hold of the referee and signaled to him to take notice of the position of Barcelona's line, which had moved forward about a meter from where they were originally.

The referee turned around and motioned for Barcelona's wall to move backward. The Barcelona players dragged their feet and were unwilling to move. They even gestured that they were in the right position.

The referee knew that words would not be persuasive enough. He needed to demonstrate that Barcelona's line was not far enough away, so he started to walk from the penalty spot up to the human wall. Each step was equal to one yard. The standard free kick distance was ten yards (9.15 meters) from the opposing line, which would be about ten steps.

As he began to walk, Twain and the rest of the fans in the north grandstand joined in to count it out for the Barcelona players who did not know the numbers:

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

As the counting progressed, more and more fans joined their camp. At that moment, loud counting voices rang out over the City Ground stadium.

"... Five! Six! Seven!"

The Barcelona players looked a little worried. Even if they did not understand English, they still knew what the most basic terms like "one, two, three" meant.

Before the referee could reach them, they began, one by one, to retreat.

The referee was delightful, too. Even when Barcelona's human wall moved back, he did not stop there, but continued walking. So, the Nottingham Forest fans in the stands also followed suit, and were determined to embarrass Barcelona.

"Eight! Nine! Ten—!!"

After they counted to "ten," a huge cheer erupted in the stands. The Forest fans celebrated their victory against Barcelona in this round. Even the commentator could not help but laugh at the scene.

In the end, the referee stood in a position that coincided with Barcelona's human wall. Then, he walked back to signal to the Forest team to get ready for the free kick.

Bentley's free kick bypassed the opposing line and flew straight at the top corner of the goal, posing quite a threat! Unfortunately, Valdés pounced for it and turned it into a corner ball.

Off the field, Kerslake waved to signal for both Woodgate and Kompany to go up. As a fullback with a height of 1.88 meters, Nkoulou also squeezed to the front of the goal to prepare to fight for a header. Joe Mattock was the shortest in the rear defensive line, so he retreated nearly to the center circle to defend.

After Nottingham Forest's corner kick was sent out, Nkoulou received the ball. But his header was slightly off due to interference. The football brushed against the goalpost and flew out, making all of Barcelona's people gasp.

※※※

"Barcelona has fully retreated to defend, leaving Nottingham Forest to pass the ball back and forth in front of our penalty area. It's a dangerous move... I don't really understand why Guardiola did this!" The Catalan commentator was dissatisfied with the situation. Barcelona playing so pathetically was a great embarrassment for the Catalans.

But he was a typical armchair expert. If he were playing, he would realize Guardiola's frustration in this scenario.

The Barcelona players could not execute an effective offensive on such a pitch. If they were to rely on their star players' personal skills, they would easily get caught up in the quagmire of the Forest team's collective defense. If they were able to hold on to their one-goal advantage, then why not just do that?

As the game entered minute 70, Guardiola looked at his wristwatch. They were only twenty minutes away from victory.

Nottingham Forest attacked again, with the Forest fans in the stands chanting, "We need to score a goal! We need to score! We aren't satisfied—quickly score a goal to make us happy!"

When Bentley took the ball to the sidelines, he was about a dozen meters from the penalty area and looked unthreatening. Lahm did not immediately rush up, because he wanted to guard against Agbonlahor inserting himself diagonally behind him. Yaya Touré and the others were also paying attention to Tiago and George Wood. In short, no one thought that Bentley, who was far away from the penalty area, was a threat. If he were to cross from the sideline, he would face Lahm's defense. If he passed the ball, Yaya Touré was standing guard in the middle.

Bentley, on the other hand, found a way to create a threat that no one had thought of —he swung his leg at the ball on the spot and directly sent it across through the midfield, into the penalty area!

The player furthest forward at this time was Aaron Mitchell, who was still outside the penalty area—so what was the point of this pass?

He hadn't sent the football toward the goal. Actually, the ball's distance from the goal was as wide as a penalty area...

Aaron Mitchell sprinted forward during Bentley's pass, and Piqué closely followed him. This time, due to Bentley's sudden pass, Puyol did not catch up in time. With only Piqué near him, Mitchell was confident of winning the header against his rival.

But what would happen if Mitchell won it? He did not have a teammate around him to whom he could pass... Piqué began to focus on defending the second point of the fall. He observed for a moment. Agbonlahor, the player nearest to Mitchell, was on his right. Was he going to ferry the ball over?

After they had competed for most of the match, Piqué believed that the tall man did have that ability, as his header was really strong.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

When Mitchell turned back to confirm the direction of the football, he took a glance at the situation around and found that there was no Barcelona defender in front of him, apart from the goalkeeper, Valdés. Perhaps it was a good time to shoot?

Am I too far away? He thought. I don't know where I am right now! I only saw a wide-open goal, and a goalkeeper standing slightly forward...

Mitchell, who had made up his mind to shoot, leaped high after his sprint. He opened his arms wide like he was a glider and blocked Piqué behind him so that no one could interfere with him.

"Mitchell's header... Is this a shot at the goal?"

The commentator could not believe it. Mitchell's current position was still outside the penalty area. he was precisely at the top of the arc demarcating the zone.

Mitchell jumped really high, and even had time to adjust his posture in the air, positioning himself to directly face the incoming football. Then he gave the football a powerful flick with his head. It drew an arc in the air that would normally only be achieved by a kick—bypassed Valdés, who was standing slightly out in front—and flew into the far corner of the goal...

Piqué, who was behind Mitchell, could not believe his eyes—Mitchell had actually shot at the goal with a direct header from outside the penalty area!

What made it even more unbelievable for him was that... the ball actually went in!

Valdés had been standing a little far out during Bentley's pass. He had wanted to intercept the pass, but did not expect it to have a wide arc. He retreated after he moved back into the penalty area. He knew that the ball was directed at Mitchell, but he did not expect that the player would dare to attempt to score a goal with a header from so far away.

Unable to respond in time, he hastily jumped. But how could he possibly stop the ball?

"What a beautiful goal! Incredible! A long-range header shot from outside the penalty area! From Aaron Mitchell—this is his first goal of the season! It is also the first official goal he has scored for Nottingham Forest!"

This time it was the English live commentator's turn to go wild. He had been upset a little while back when the Catalan commentator had raised his voice next to him and shouted "GOOOOAL!" This time, he had a chance to take revenge. His mouth was like a Gatling gun, popping out all sorts of flattering words.

"Valdés has been completely stunned by a goal like this! Piqué, Barcelona's best-performing player, is also at a loss in the face of such a beautiful goal! I bet he did not even think that Mitchell would choose to shoot directly! What a genius idea! Mitchell had extraordinary confidence in his header, and he did it! Congratulations! The twenty-year-old player will pull Nottingham Forest back from the edge of a cliff! It was definitely not a momentary lapse on Tony Twain's part when he allowed him to make his debut!"

Mitchell still stared blankly at where he had seen the football fly into the goal. He was uncertain as to whether he had really scored...

When he heard the deafening cheers ringing in his ears, he then realized that he was not dreaming—this time, he was not fantasizing in his bedroom. He could shout as loud as he wanted, and his father would not break the bedroom door down and rush in to admonish him.

"GOOOAL! GOOOOAL! GOOOOOOOAL—!" He had rehearsed this moment many times. He roared, his arms wide open, and rushed toward the camera near the corner flag.

"Two-point-two meters tall, excellent headers, marvelous bounce! Where did Tony Twain find this giant? It's said that his breakout force is also very powerful… He's formidable! We're seeing another master header play! Look at his goal—who would have thought he was playing as a goalkeeper and center back eight years ago?"

Aaron Mitchell was so obscure that most Forest fans were not able to call his name at first. They could only chant during the cheer: "Number nine! Number nine! Our number nine, master header!"

Mitchell's father was so dizzyingly happy where he stood in the stands that he kept shouting, "That's my son! That's my son! I'm his father! I'm his father! Hey! Son, I'm here!"

"You have a good son!" The fans next to him came up to him to hug and congratulate him. "Also, what's his name?"

"Aaron! Aaron Mitchell! Hey, guys, remember this name. I promise you'll shout it a lot in the future."

"I hope so, old chap!"

Soon, the shouts in the stands turned from "Number nine! Number nine! Our number nine, master header!" into "Aaron! Aaron! Our master header, Aaron!"

Then the fans present made up a song for the goal-scorer, and, of course, the singing started from the north grandstand.

"Aaron! Aaron Mitchell! If you don't know his name yet, you're outdated! Outdated!"

※※※

When he saw Mitchell use his header to launch the football into the goal that Valdés was guarding, Tony Twain, who had put him on the starting lineup, also rose from his seat and cheered with the fans around him, his arms raised up high. His sense of accomplishment in seeing the success of a player whom he had personally dug up was indescribable.

Kerslake, who was celebrating in the technical area, got hold of Dunn and shook his head as he admitted his failure. "Tony does have a keen eye for players. Luckily, I did not make a bet with him this time around... Aaron did a wonderful job!"

※※※

Things on the Barcelona side were different from those in the jubilant Nottingham Forest technical area. Guardiola, who had just picked up a water bottle to take a sip, threw it down before he could put it to his parted lips.

"Who the H*ll is this kid?!" He could not help this outburst of cursing.

When Bentley had passed the ball, he had not thought for a moment that Nottingham Forest could score...

They had actually been able to head the ball in from so far away. They were insanely lucky!

The manager issued his angry question, and the people around him could not help, because they, similarly, did not know who the kid was...

There were no details about the player in the information about Nottingham Forest. It was as if he had descended from the sky, bringing with him a gust of wind to blow away Barcelona's fire of hope.