Chapter 143: Premier League Rookies Stir Up the Emirates
Son Heung-min, after beating two men in succession down the left, pulled the ball back and drove toward the penalty area.
Per Mertesacker immediately stepped out of the box, trying to stop Son's cut inside.
On the edge of the penalty area, Son didn't want to get into too much tussle with Mertesacker.
Seeing Mertesacker trying to block his cut, he nudged the ball, turned, and laid it back to a teammate running in.
Through the middle, just turned twenty-year-old Harry Kane charged forward like his stocky predecessor, pounding the high tempo and crashing through.
Near the penalty spot, after receiving the ball he shifted and feinted his body to the left—
But it was a dummy!
Samuel Umtiti lunged quickly to the right,
and the England striker—third generation—had created a shooting angle with that fake.
Kane saw the opportunity and didn't hesitate; he pulled his leg back and unleashed a thunderbolt.
The ball streaked like a white comet toward goal.
The angle wasn't especially vicious, but the shot was blisteringly fast and close, around the penalty-spot area.
Martínez had no time to make a save; he could only watch the ball nestle into the net.
In the 35th minute of the first half, two young Spurs players combined to level the score.
Umtiti, who'd been beaten by the feint, angrily kicked the turf. Captain Thomas Vermaelen stood with his hands on his hips, watching Son racing across the pitch behind Kane, and thought to himself: "The post-90s are fierce! Before the post-80s have grown old, the post-90s are already vying for power. These two young men remind me of our own Xia Qi and Kevin De Bruyne…"
On the sideline, Tottenham coach Mauricio Pochettino pumped his arms and rushed out of the dugout to embrace his substitutes.
"Many in the Spurs squad are Premier League rookies—Son Heung-min, Harry Kane, even the coach Mauricio Pochettino. Tonight is their first North London Derby in life; excitement is inevitable…"
With the score at 1–1, play restarted and both sides grew more cautious.
After the restart, Arsenal, under Jack Wilshere's direction, began to manage the tempo instead of blindly charging.
After a few passes, Spurs gradually adapted to Arsenal's rhythm and began countering on the beat.
Wilshere, however, apparently didn't notice the shift; he still received the ball facing away from the attacking direction.
Under the gaze of more than forty thousand Arsenal fans, Paulinho once again crept up behind him.
"Prince Wil, danger!"
Hearing the chorus from the stands, Wilshere abruptly cut his turn,
but Paulinho didn't stop for his aborted turn; he planted a foot behind him and knocked him down, then stole the ball and started a counterattack.
At the instant Wilshere hit the turf, a chorus of jeers rose above the Emirates; Arsenal fans roared: "Red card!" "Red card!"
The match referee ignored the crowd's emotions.
He pointed forward with his right hand,
signaling advantage to Tottenham!
"The referee didn't blow! He signals that Tottenham's attack is on."
Wenger, the ever-patient man, was furious on the touchline.
Whether Paulinho's back-kick deserved a red card is another debate, but a foul should have been given.
The referee didn't call it and instead signaled advantage.
This was clearly a biased whistle!
The jeers in the Emirates swelled to double volume; Wenger quickly strode from the bench to the fourth official to protest.
Play continued on the pitch.
Son Heung-min once again ran riot down the left. Because Arsenal were playing three at the back and hadn't set up wing-backs, neither Cazorla, Gustavo nor Vermaelen could catch Son in terms of speed, resulting in yet another dangerous run and cut inside.
This time Son didn't cross. After cutting into the left of the box he took a tight-angle shot.
Martínez got a hand to it but it spilled wide.
Then Spurs surged again: Kane rose high at the edge of the six-yard box, headed across, and Son slid in on the left to stab — the ball grazed the post and out.
Two minutes later, again Spurs.
Christian Eriksen and Paulinho played a one-two into the edge of the box and struck from distance!
The ball arced and clipped the outside of the left post, spinning wide for a goal kick.
In the ten minutes since Wilshere was felled, Arsenal had completely lost their cutting edge and had become the side taking punishment.
In the last ten minutes of the first half, Arsenal fans in the stands were so frightened they dared not breathe deeply.
When the half-time whistle sounded, anxious hearts in the stands finally calmed.
After the whistle, Xia Qi, having turned off his one-click AFK, kept his head down and quickly walked into the dressing room.
In the first half Arsenal played like China's A-shares: surging at the open then collapsing, and then oscillating at low levels all game — a sea of red and green on the ticker!
In the Penguin feed:
"Arsenal's lineup tonight has issues; the midfield can't stop Spurs' attacks, which makes the three-man defense wobble under Son Heung-min's bursts…"
"Wenger bought Gustavo to harden the midfield, but tonight his midfield hasn't looked much stiffer; the flowing combinational play is missing…"
"Kevin De Bruyne's absence has a big impact on Arsenal."
"From the results, yes, but on paper Wilshere should be able to take over. In fact Wilshere played quite well in the opening ten minutes, but then he faded. Once the midfield commander disappears, Arsenal loses its backbone…"
Wilshere, named and criticized by Zhang Lu, sat silent in the dressing room with his head down.
Xia Qi saw his miserable face and sat down beside him: "Don't be down; it's only 1–1, not doomsday. Give me two good passes in the second half…"
Wilshere's head stayed bowed; big tears fell onto his thigh.
Xia Qi and his mates were stunned… what was going on???
"It's not your fault, 1–1, it's that referee's rotten whistle."
"Xia, my foot's injured!"
"What?"
Xia Qi had noticed Wilshere's bright start then his fade and disappearance in the last ten minutes; he seemed to understand something yet not fully.
"You—what's wrong?"
Wilshere silently lifted his right foot.
His right ankle was ringed with bruising.
"How bad is it?"
"Not serious. With an injection I can still play."
Captain Thomas Vermaelen came over and rapped Wilshere on the back of the head: "Nonsense about injections — what's more important, one game or your whole life?"
Hearing the commotion, the Arsenal physio quickly rushed over.
Examination showed it wasn't severe.
An injection could indeed get him on the pitch, but Wenger and Xia Qi thought it unnecessary; the season was long…
After asking around, Xia Qi and the others learned what had happened.
Wilshere had already twisted his ankle on Paulinho's first tackle; he should have come off for treatment but feared that if he left the pitch Wenger wouldn't put him back in.
Having just regained a starting spot while Kevin De Bruyne was injured, he was terrified of being benched again.
He tested it out on the pitch and felt he could continue, so he did. Paulinho's second foul looked ordinary to outsiders but it aggravated the injury…
In a dressing room full of players, likely only Wojciech Szczęsny could truly understand Wilshere's choice.
If Szczęsny had known he might be replaced by Martínez after leaving, he might have made the same decision as Wilshere.
Unfortunately Wilshere couldn't grit it out; Paulinho's second tackle ended his persistence.
Wenger wanted to curse; in his eyes Wilshere's choice was foolish, but the words wouldn't come out.
People only saw the players' glittering surface and didn't know the "bare bones" at the base of the pyramid,
but Wenger knew…
"These kinds of things — I hope they never happen again in our team. Health is more important than victory; football is not everything."
After the break, Arsenal reverted to a 4-5-1.
This formation was Arsenal's usual last season and in itself had nothing wrong, but the personnel on the pitch looked odd.
The back line became three center-backs plus left-back Luke Shaw, midfield three defensive mids and the wide midfielders; only Mario Balotelli up front looked natural.
"News coming in: Wilshere has been injured — Paulinho's tackle injured him."
"Wilshere's ankle is bandaged and he's sitting on the bench — looks not too serious, otherwise he'd be taken to hospital."
"With Wilshere off, who will organize Arsenal's attacks, Cazorla or Arteta?"
"Wenger has chosen a left-back instead of a right-back? Still can't contain Son Heung-min? Are they planning to explode each other with Spurs?"
…
On the pitch, Spurs kicked off.
They didn't rush forward but recycled the ball at the back.
Arsenal's sudden reshuffle with their organizer Wilshere gone left Spurs momentarily unsure.
After seven or eight passes at the back, Jan Vertonghen suddenly launched a super-long diagonal.
The ball flew from his own half into Arsenal's half and dropped near the touchline outside Arsenal's box on the right.
This ultra-long pass caught Arsenal by surprise.
Son had been running through Arsenal on the left all night; Arsenal naturally stacked bodies on that side (their right). Vertonghen was alert and in a flash spotted a weakness in Arsenal's defense and played a killer long ball.
Luke Shaw, covering the right for Arsenal (their left), saw the ball coming toward him and was utterly unprepared — his heart jumped.
He hurriedly retreated while watching the ball.
Unfortunately, Vertonghen's pass was precise, landing behind him so he couldn't jump to clear.
At the same time, Spurs' young striker Harry Kane ghosted into the box; as the ball bounced Kane arrived in time.
He cushioned it with the inside of his right foot, then used a classic centre-forward hold-up to protect the ball and pin Luke Shaw behind him.
"Beautiful — Kane's control and hold-up play are shockingly mature for his age."
Kane caught sight of Samuel Umtiti charging out of the box to try to double-team this rookie.
Without hesitation he nudged the ball toward the middle, pivoted on his left foot and spun.
After the turn his right foot swept and executed the diagonal-back pass, laying the ball off to the incoming Christian Eriksen.
Mikel Arteta, defending Eriksen, got in front and slid in,
but the ball narrowly slipped past his toe.
Eriksen received the ball and drove it into the box.
Gustavo and Santi Cazorla were both busy tracking Son's runs, and now saw Eriksen go unmarked.
Gustavo didn't dare delay and changed direction to rush toward Eriksen's path.
Eriksen saw Gustavo closing and didn't accelerate; he kept his stride calm.
Just as Gustavo was about to meet him, Eriksen took a low driven shot that skimmed the turf and flew to the left-front space.
Someone behind me???
Gustavo looked back in horror; in his memory the six-yard box should have been filled with his teammates.
But what he saw was a body in white!
Son Heung-min!
It was Son!
When had he slipped into the box??
As Gustavo had moved to cover, the man assigned to mark Son — Santi Cazorla — had been left in the dust by a sudden burst of pace from Son.
Eriksen hadn't been hurried because he'd been waiting for Son.
The ball rolled rapidly to the left-front.
Son sprinted toward the near left post.
Cazorla chased behind him; Vermaelen and Mertesacker raced after the ball one in front of the other…
It was a test of speed!
A sprint race was playing out inside the box, the air thick with hormones and the sight driving fans in the stands wild.
Supporters used every last bit of lung power to cheer for their players.
At three metres in front of the left post, Son flicked the ball back with his left foot.
The ball rolled back and brushed past Vermaelen as he rushed to clear.
Vermaelen's momentum was forward and he couldn't extend his leg to intercept at full speed; the only option was to brake hard!
Son's flick not only bypassed Vermaelen but widened his shooting angle — though three meters from the near post is close, the angle is tight and not an ideal shooting spot.
Mertesacker, behind Vermaelen, saw Son open up the shooting angle and immediately darted toward the right post to help cover the far corner.
Martínez could not hesitate or wait to judge Son's shot. The distance was too close; even if Son had pulled the ball slightly back it would still be around five meters.
Martínez gambled: as Son opened for the shot he spread both feet and hands and launched himself to the near post.
He was betting on covering as much area as possible.
In a flash of lightning, Son did not aim for the far corner — if it had been Xia Qi he might have chosen that unguarded far corner.
Center-backs are easier to fool than goalkeepers!
Son is human, and his thought was coherent: he'd feinted past Vermaelen to hit the near corner.
Without even adjusting his center of gravity, come hell or high water, he thrust his left foot forward.
The ball changed course and flew into the inside of the left post.
"Fuck!"
Martínez, seeing Son's shooting posture, knew he'd been greedy.
He should have chosen between low-left and high-left moments earlier, not like this.
The ball skimmed the turf and kissed the inside of the left post under Martínez's nose and bulged the net.
1–2!
After conceding first, Tottenham scored twice in succession to reverse the score!
(END CHAPTER)
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