From Arsenal to the Ball God

"Whish!"

In fact, no one saw the trajectory of the soccer ball clearly; in an instant, the ball smashed into the upper left corner of the goal, in the dead angle. They saw more of the grass clump that didn’t fall even after the ball hit the net.

"Ah..." Joe Hart wanted to shout to boost morale and then counterattack. But as he lowered his focus, the ball had already hit the net behind him.

He wasn’t sure, perhaps hoping for a fluke, but as the sound of the violently shaking net reached him and Ma’el seemed to be suddenly injected with adrenaline, sprinting towards the sideline, he had to believe.

Goal!

One to zero!

France leads!

"Yeahhhh.....!!!" Warsaw National Stadium erupted as more than thirty thousand French fans screamed hysterically, their drowsiness vanished, as if witnessing a decisive goal.

"Ciel...!!"

In the stands, Wenger’s eyes widened, not bothering to hug his wife and daughter beside him, but instead raised his hands shouting repeatedly: "Ciel...! Ciel...!! Mon Dieu.....!"

What a goal!

From thirty meters out, a shot that left the goalkeeper with no time to react!

Having dedicated nearly his entire life to soccer, he had witnessed countless long-distance strikes, but he confirmed that he had never seen a shot with such speed!

Is this... Ma’el’s offering to his first European Cup in life?

"Ahhhaaa...!"

In the France team wives’ area, witnessing Ma’el’s long shot, Isabella screamed instantly, disregarding any expression management, her face and neck turning red.

If she weren’t English, she could be even more excited.

She loved soccer before knowing Ma’el, willing to give all her passion for the team she liked, let alone dating one of the top five, or even top three athletes in the world now.

Isabella promised, no one could understand her feelings at this moment.

Because no one could in such a beloved sport, at such a grand event, see her boyfriend score the first goal in the Anglo-French war, igniting the entire field!

"Isabella!"

"My God!"

"He’s utterly speechless!"

The other ladies of the France team’s wives group also lost control over their expressions, jumping ecstatically in place, after celebrating, they ran towards Isabella, celebrating together with her, many giving cheek kisses.

They looked at Isabella with some envy, imagining how great it would be if their boyfriend or husband scored such a goal first.

Unfortunately, apart from trying to empathize with Isabella, they couldn’t truly experience that intoxicating feeling.

"Ohlàlà...!!"

In the France team coaching area, a bunch of substitute players and assistant coaches jumped up from their seats, celebrating wildly in place.

Among their intertwined figures, a Basque person stood with clenched teeth and raised head.

He didn’t make a sound, as if speechless or trying to appear profound at the moment.

But from his intensely trembling cheeks, people could still feel the overwhelming emotions within him.

Deschamps stood still, hands behind his back, his gaze slowly becoming blurred. After realizing he couldn’t control his emotions well, he turned to the bench to drink water, calming himself down.

"The goal is in!! Wow.....! This is a spectacular goal!! A miraculous strike!!"

Inside the commentary box, commentators from various countries quickly flapped their lips. Many, like the fans, stood up or held their heads, "Ma’el awoke the sleeping French team like an angel! He broke the dullness of the match!!

"One to zero! France team is leading the England team! They should maintain this score till the end of the first half!

"It was so sudden, an unexpected shot, an unexpected goal! Let’s look again.....Wow...! The speed of the ball is too fast. No one can stop this ball, no one!!"

At Sky Sports’ commentary desk, Reinke’s light smile froze, and he held his forehead, rendered speechless.

Henry’s expression was equally frozen. After a long pause, he trembled and spoke, "What just flew by? The French team is ahead like this? Oh oh.....!"

While speaking, his hands were busy, quickly inputting the shot footage into the high-tech equipment provided by the station and began calculations.

234.4km/h!

An astonishing number flashed instantly, the ball’s speed from the shot!

Henry, as a top striker, was very sensitive to this number, and immediately slightly opened his mouth, drawing a breath before saying, "234.4km! This means the ball flew into the net from thirty meters out in less than 0.5 seconds!

"Joe Hart sighs at the ball for a reason. He certainly didn’t anticipate at this distance, the time given to him to react and save was just that much!

"Is this a world record?

"I’m not quite sure, but I really can’t understand how this could be blasted by an eighteen-year-old player?!"

In a continuous stream, he said a lot, even forgetting to breathe until the final breath ran out and then took a breath, continuing: "I don’t understand physics or mechanics very well, but I can explain how amazing it is from a soccer perspective.

"If I remember correctly, a shot speed exceeding 200km is a rarity over the years!

"Generally, such balls come from aerial strikes following clearances or crossings when the ball already has some force, adding another momentum!

"No one can strike such a ball in place unless there’s an issue with the soccer ball or an issue with the wind speed that day!

"But today’s Poland Warsaw is almost a windless day!"

"..."

Stuck in a shocked state, he even forgot to tease the ’opposing’ commentator Reinke, talking a lot on his own.