Chapter 240: The Netherlands Come Back to Lead 2–1
Fonte Nova Arena in Salvador erupted!
England's fans were set ablaze the moment Xia Qi scored.
On the pitch Xia Qi had eaten defenders at speed and produced a now-rare outside-of-the-foot curl, and within the first minute he'd already found the net. All of this sent the stadium's adrenaline through the roof.
Online commentary was even more heated:
[An unimaginable start — an even matchup was instantly overturned.]
[Xia Qi's dirty tricks in the open are masterful; that opening strike was lethal! The Dutch show regret and disbelief on their faces.]
[The World Cup is like a college entrance exam: you must give everything, every mistake will haunt you.]
[That goal was gorgeous! Xia Qi kept accelerating while at top speed — was his previous life a roc soaring nine thousand miles? And that curve — is that the fabled "Quanxue trajectory"?]
[Netherlands: Ref, someone's cheating!
England: No brilliance without Xia Qi!]
[Showing strength from the start; you don't need to brief Robin van Persie against Xia Qi.]
[I don't know what van Gaal thought — facing an attack-strong, defense-weak England, he chose to play three at the back. Is that not courting disaster?]
[Who would've thought Xia Qi would play as the center forward? Maybe Roy Hodgson isn't as useless as the media say; he's got some tactical sense.]
When Xia Qi scored the assistant coach leapt on Hodgson and hugged him tight: "Boss, you're brilliant — your adjustment put us ahead…" Hodgson was squeezed breathless and couldn't explain anything.
On the pitch the goal-scorer Xia Qi was ecstatic under a pile of teammates. They were thrilled because the positional swap between Xia Qi and Rooney had been their mutual decision.
If anything went wrong they'd shoulder the blame. Now all the pressure was gone.
…
Play resumed. Van Gaal stood on the sideline urging calm and telling his players not to be shaken by the concession.
"Keep an eye on Xia Qi!" he shouted. "Don't give him space."
Hodgson, hearing van Gaal, smirked and crossed his legs.
"Boss, should we shore up the defense since we're up 1–0?" asked his assistant.
Hodgson replied calmly: "No need. Xia Qi isn't just about pace."
Ten minutes after England's goal, the Oranje were pinned in their own half.
In that ten minutes the Dutch had only two shots; England's midfield was competent enough, but Wayne Rooney's stewardship of the midfield wasn't as reassuring as Xia Qi's presence.
England had not managed a shot or organized an attack aside from Xia Qi's anxious runs; the rest felt they had done well, nullifying the Dutch efforts.
As Dutch fans stamped their feet in frustration at wasted opportunities, Dirk Kuyt robbed Steven Gerrard and found Sneijder, who deftly settled the ball with his right foot.
At the same time on the left Arjen Robben executed his signature footwork, weaving past defenders like water.
A chance! Sneijder's eyes lit up! He didn't hesitate and slid a 45-degree deep diagonal pass.
The instant Sneijder served the "east wind express," England's backline realized too late. Right-back Glen Johnson was in a panic sprint toward Robben.
He sprinted and glanced at the linesman: what the hell? No offside — is the linesman on the other side?
Johnson strained with all his might but couldn't catch the flying Robben.
Robben leaped in sprint, lifted his right foot in the air, and used the inside of his foot to control the ball.
Landing, he cut left and then dragged it in — Johnson's attempt to close in became a reckless lunge.
In England's box Robin van Persie had already raised his right hand, indicating "I'll take this!"
This was on.
Robben, understanding the cue, didn't cut in to shoot; instead he swung a left-footed cross.
Robben could have cut and had an uncannily effective shot — his cut-ins usually are unstoppable. So John Jagielka and Gary Cahill's priority was to stop Robben from cutting inside, and this sudden cross left the two a bit stunned.
Selfish Robben? Suddenly he's thinking team?
In the middle van Persie seized the moment, not giving England's two center-backs time to recover.
He sprang up before the ball hit the ground in Phil Jagielka's surprised gaze.
In the air van Persie had a noticeable hang-time, then he brought his leg through in a sweeping, sublime strike.
The movement was as elegant as if it had been executed on the ground.
Boom!
A thunderous crack! The ball rocketed toward England's goal like a meteor.
Such pace! Even though Joe Hart reacted quickly, he couldn't stop another "Hart gets beaten from distance" masterpiece!
"Beep!"
The whistle confirmed the goal and the Fonte Nova was ignited again — this time by the Netherlands fans.
"Van Persie's volley is always so beautiful."
"If Xia Qi's goal is worth a drink, van Persie's is worth popping a bottle!"
"Van Persie may not be elite-class at everything, but his output is top-tier; almost every goal could win a Puskás award."
"After Xia Qi showed the beauty of speed, van Persie demonstrates the beauty of power. Their duel has only just begun."
After scoring, van Persie was ecstatic. He ran to the Dutch fans, leapt, spun 180 degrees and struck Cristiano Ronaldo's trademark "siu" celebration. Landing, he turned his back to the England fans and gave them a thumbs-down, pointing at his name.
That move angered England supporters, who roared "Arsenal — champions!" Let the mutual hurting begin!
…
Play resumed. Two minutes later England's attack was cut out again — this time Georginio Wijnaldum won the ball back from Rooney and the ball was fed to Sneijder.
Sneijder played a long counter; Robben took off down the left. Under the pressure of Jagielka and Johnson he danced and cut inside.
Entering the box, ignoring the screened positioning of Gary Cahill and Joe Hart, Robben lifted his leg and curled a shot.
Cahill rushed up to block with his body but Robben's strike seemed to have a life of its own and threaded the tiny gap past Cahill toward the far corner.
Joe Hart's dive became mere background.
1–2!
The Netherlands have come from behind to lead 2–1.
(END CHAPTER)
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