Chapter 95: [95] "Becoming a regular thing"
Hugo was already in the half-space between Normandie’s midfield and defensive lines, the pocket he had been occupying for the longest time with quiet authority. Somehow he always understood that space existed before it appeared on the pitch.
Klaus played it to him with no hesitation.
Hugo took it on the turn.
Normandie’s holding midfielder read the play and stepped across to close down, but his press came too late. Hugo had already opened his hips toward Gabriel’s run down the right channel of Valois’ attack.
The pass was of the perfect weight. Low and fast, rolling with the exact amount of pace that required Gabriel to maintain his stride rather than check his run.
Gabriel absorbed the ball at full speed, the sight of it was something else entirely.
He was past the Normandie left back in no time.
His cross arrived early. Deliberately early, because Gabriel had learned in training sessions that Luc preferred the ball to arrive before the defensive line had finished shifting.
Luc arrived at the near post off the shoulder of the Normandie left center-back.
The left center-back had tracked the dummy run Idriss made to the far post, and that was the mistake.
One touch with his left foot, redirected the cross into the bottom near corner.
Goal!!!
1-0.
The home crowd went silent.
Normandie’s manager was already at the edge of his technical area, pointing at his left back, whose decision not to track Gabriel more aggressively was now being reviewed by thousands of people.
The left back jogged back to his position, shaking his head like he would have preferred a different profession entirely compared to marking Gabriel.
---
Minute eleven.
Normandie reorganized quickly. Their manager pulled the left back tighter to Gabriel, essentially man-marking the Brazilian before the ball even gets to him.
Gabriel received the adjustment without complaint and immediately began making runs in the opposite direction. Inside, toward the center, drawing the left back into territory he wasn’t designed to defend.
That left the Normandie’s left side open.
Bastien found space in the fourteenth minute. A late diagonal run off Gabriel’s shoulder, arriving in the space the left back had vacated to chase Gabriel. They were both essentially abandoning their wide roles.
Henri allowed it. He didn’t rate Normandie enough to correct them.
The cross from the right of the Valois attack arrived and Idriss attacked it at the near post.
The Normandie keeper got both hands behind it.
Good save. But it was the first time Normandie’s shape had been pulled in three directions at once, and every Normandie defender hated it.
---
Minute twenty-two.
Normandie settled into a deep 4-5-1. Their wide midfielders tucked in and pushed back, compressing the space in front of their defensive line, a response to the pace they couldn’t match.
Their manager was smart about it. A low block against SC Valois was correct. But the low block invited possession, and possession belonged entirely to someone like Hugo.
Hugo circulated the ball for minutes through a series of combinations with Klaus that had the Normandie midfield stepping, adjusting, stepping again. The shape strained at its seams each time the ball switched sides.
Minute twenty-nine. Klaus received at the top of the midfield and played it immediately back to Hugo, who had already started a run.
The Normandie right midfielder had to choose between tracking Hugo or covering the space Klaus had in front of him.
He chose Hugo.
Klaus arrived into his own space free and unmarked.
The pass from Hugo was driven low and hard, splitting the right midfielder and the covering center-back simultaneously. Klaus took it in stride at the edge of the box, the other center-back stepping across to block the shot.
Klaus didn’t shoot.
He squared it instead.
Bastien arrived from behind the line of the play, a run he had started before Hugo had even decided to pass to Klaus.
Completely free since the last defender committed to a Klaus shot that never came, the finish was side-footed, low to the right post, placed with composed certainty. No doubt he had scored exactly this kind of goal in training about forty times and was simply repeating it under different circumstances.
Goal.
2-0.
Bastien didn’t immediately take off towards the corner flag. He raised both arms above his head and stood still in the Normandie penalty area while his teammates arrived to meet him.
Probably his last goal in black and gold.
He just let them come to him.
The halftime whistle sounded at 2-0.
Henri’s team talk lasted barely four minutes. He changed nothing because nothing needed changing.
He did look at Bastien and say, "Good goal. Stay sharp."
Bastien only nodded once.
Klaus poured water over his head and shook it like a man who had recently decided that SC Valois was an acceptable place to spend the rest of his career.
Gabriel was on his phone. He appeared to be texting someone.
"Put it away, the match isn’t over," Luc said.
Gabriel put it away without arguing, which was more than most players managed.
---
Second half. Normandie came out differently.
Their manager had made a double substitution. Fresh legs on the flanks, both players faster than the ones they replaced. He was addressing the pace problem directly, which was again, the correct call.
It was also exactly what Luc wanted.
Faster wide players pushing higher meant the space behind them was larger. Deep it, the would be higher up the pitch in less time. And Gabriel Assis in a footrace with anyone in this league, was not a race Normandie’s fullbacks were winning.
Minute fifty-four.
Gabriel received the ball on the right, from Hugo’s switch of play.
The new left back was younger, quicker, and had decided that his job was to contain Gabriel rather than attack down the overlap. He dropped into a compact defensive stance, cutting off the inside channel. Stupidly.
What was Gabriel doing on the inside, he took one touch outside.
The left back’s repositioning had opened a crossing lane at the byline that hadn’t existed a second ago. What the man he replaced was trying to stop all match.