*** So today's chapter is here on time. I didn't skip the streak đ This weekend, I plan to edit some of the earlier chapters, already did some changes .
I've also gotten back to collecting pokemon cards and bought a lot this week , so will be sorting them out as stress relief which means less time for writing . They have gotten super expensive man ! It feels I'll go broke if I continue xD , so I stopped at 300 bucks or so .
Anyway, Here's the good stuff you all want. I tried experimenting with the PoV changes in this chapter.
When I write anything other than match , it seems those are less viewed, but they take same time and effort to write. I bet some of you didn't even notice how I changed a little bit of stuff In the groups. I hope you guys can embrace the journey rather than just some action and the match stuff. All of the things outside combined make it more fun. That's the true journey of football star.***
After training and preparing for a few days, the final matches of Group G were here. 26th June dawned crisp and clear over BrasĂlia, as fans began their journey to the EstĂĄdio Nacional ManĂ© Garrincha . The early morning sky was a pale blue canvas on which anticipation was painted in broad, bold strokes.
As the city stirred awake, thousands of supportersâdraped in Portugal's red and greenâconverged on the stadium, their excited chatter and jubilant cries echoing through the empty streets. Banners, flags, and scarves created a vibrant tapestry of national pride that promised an unforgettable match.
In the secluded warmth of the dressing room, the atmosphere was electric with a mixture of nerves and resolve. Adriano and his teammates gathered around Coach Santos, whose calm yet commanding presence held their attention .
The coach's eyes swept over the young warriors as he outlined the strategy.
"Listen up, everyone," Santos began, his voice resonating with both authority and empathy. "Ghana is a team that thrives on physicality. They know that if we back off, they will use their strength to dominate.
Tonight, we must combine our willpower with finesse. Push them physically when needed, but do not compromise our style. We must show them the strength of Portugal.
And rememberâthis match isn't just about advancing; it's about proving to ourselves that we have what it takes to go further."
He paused, locking eyes with Adriano. "Adriano, your role in midfield is pivotal. You are the engine of our game. I need you to dictate the tempo and create opportunities, no matter the challenge.
Play with heart, play smart, and if they try to break you down physically, let that fire make you stronger. I know some of you guys might be in pain and get tired sometimes, but we're here to win. Are we clear?"
A chorus of determined voices filled the room. "Yes, Coach!" came the unified reply.
In that moment, a palpable sense of camaraderie and purpose surged through the group. The players clapped each other on the back, exchanged resolute nods, and stepped out of the room as one unified force.
***
As the players walked onto the pitch, the atmosphere at the ManĂ© Garrincha stadium was electric. The crowd, a sea of red and green, vibrated with anticipation, the air thick with the rhythm of drums and chants. The national anthems blared over the speakers, and for a brief moment, there was a unified silence. It was a transcendent feeling, a bond between the players and the supportersâan understanding that tonight, they were all in it together.
Adriano stood tall at the edge of the group, taking in the scene. He felt the energy wash over him, the raw power of the crowd infusing him with a quiet confidence. As the final notes of the anthem echoed out, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile, grounding himself in the moment. His focus remained fixed. The handshake ceremony was brief, but charged with mutual respectâa recognition of the battle ahead.
The whistle blew, and Ghana immediately came at Portugal with intensity. Their pressing was relentless, swift, and direct. The Black Stars sought to establish their physical dominance from the outset. Every Ghanaian player was a force, charging into every duel with sheer determination. The battle was clear from the first whistleâphysicality versus finesse.
Portugal, however, was not intimidated. Adriano quickly found his rhythm in the midfield. The game was a clash of stylesâGhana's aggressive pressing against Portugal's fluid passing. Every time the ball came to Adriano, the weight of it was felt. He had to fight to control it, evade a flying tackle, or slip past a Ghanaian midfielder closing in from the side. But his movement was effortless, and every pass he made was calculatedâeach touch sharp and purposeful.
"Keep it together, boys! Control the game!" Adriano called out to his teammates, his voice calm amidst the storm. Despite the pressure, he kept his composure, distributing the ball with confidence. His passes sliced through the chaos, each one an invitation for his teammates to make runs.
Yet the Ghanaian defenders were unforgiving. Their physicality was a constant threat, but Portugal's discipline was unshaken. There was no space for error. With each challenge, Ghana's midfielders pushed harder, trying to break Portugal's flow. As the minutes ticked by, the tension increased. The game became a tug-of-war in midfield, as each team fought for control. Ghana's strategy was clearâpress, press, press. But Portugal's passing gameâquick, precise, and calculatedâcontinued to thwart them.
By the 25th minute, the referee had already issued three yellow cards. Ghana's approach was clearly testing the boundaries of fair play. The game had a rough edge, with every tackle leaving a mark. But Portugal refused to be rattled. They absorbed the challenges, recalibrated, and kept possession. The technical brilliance that defined their play was becoming more evident as the half wore on.
In the 44th minute, with the score still 0-0, the moment arrived that would change the game. Adriano found himself in a pocket of space near the edge of Ghana's penalty area. The ball came to him, and with a swift glance, he spotted Eder making a run into the box. With perfect timing, Adriano delivered a curling, weighted cross. The ball floated through the air like it had been guided by instinct, cutting through the tension and the bodies around it.
Eder, calm under pressure, read the delivery perfectly. As the ball dropped, he made a sharp turn and struck it with authority, sending it crashing into the net. The Portuguese bench erupted into a chorus of cheers. The crowd exploded, their voices echoing across the stadium in unison.
"GOOOAAALLLL!!! 1-0 for Portugal!" the announcer shouted, his voice reverberating through the stands. "Eder scores a brilliant goal to give Portugal the lead. Just before the break, a vital goal in a tense match!"
The stadium shook with the roar of the crowd. Some fans shouted, "That's how we do it!" Their joy was palpable, filling the air as they waved flags and sang. The energy in the stands was overwhelming, the tension of the match finally tipping in Portugal's favor.
As the half came to a close, the scoreline read 1-0, but it didn't tell the full story. Ghana's aggressive approach had been evident, with three yellow cards showing the physicality they had brought to the game. Portugal, though, had held firm. They had weathered the storm and found a way to break through with a moment of brilliance.
The match had been a battle of wills, and though it was far from over, Portugal had gained a crucial advantage. Both teams retreated to their respective halves, but the momentum had shifted slightly in Portugal's favor. The second half promised to be just as intense, but for now, the Portuguese players could take a breath, knowing they were one step closer to the next round.
***
During the break, the locker room buzzed with a mix of adrenaline and anxiety. Coach Santos gathered the team for a brief huddle, his eyes reflecting both concern and steely determination.
"We've shown them what we're made of," he said softly, "but the second half will test us even more. Remember, every challenge on that pitch is an opportunityâif you're pushed, push back harder. Trust each other, and trust yourselves."
Adriano sat quietly for a moment, massaging his shoulder and mentally replaying the earlier challenges. His resolve was unshaken, even as the physical toll of the match was beginning to show. The team's camaraderie was palpable; every word of encouragement and every shared look reinforced their mutual commitment to the cause.
***
The second half began under a cloud of mounting tension. As the players returned to the field, the urgency in Ghana's play was palpable. The news had rippled through their ranks: the USA had taken a shock 1-0 lead over Germany in another group-stage match, which meant Ghana's chances of progression now rested on a single victory. The weight of that knowledge, coupled with the aggressive determination of the Black Stars, was clear from the first whistle.
Ghana came out with renewed intensity, their pressing game even more aggressive, their tackles harder and more relentless. Portugal, already on edge, were about to face a new level of pressure. The physicality of the game, which had been fierce in the first half, escalated rapidly, with every challenge now feeling like a war of attrition. The Ghanaian players, aware that every point mattered, were pushing their limits, determined to disrupt Portugal's rhythm at any cost.
It didn't take long for the match to take a dramatic turn.
In the 62nd minute, with Portugal preparing for a corner kick, Adriano surged forward, eyes fixed on the ball as it arced toward the penalty box. He positioned himself perfectly, timing his leap to meet the ball in mid-air. But just as he was about to make contact, disaster struck. A Ghanaian defender, in an attempt to block Adriano's header, swung his elbow into Adriano's face with brutal force.
The collision was sickeningâan audible crack rang out across the stadium as Adriano's body twisted in mid-air. The impact sent him tumbling to the ground, clutching his face, blood trickling down from a cut on his forehead. The referee immediately blew his whistle, and without hesitation, he brandished a red card, sending the Ghanaian defender off for an unsportsmanlike conduct. Portugal was awarded a penalty.
The stadium fell into stunned silence, and then the roar of the crowd shifted into an anxious murmur. Fans held their breath as the drama unfolded. The tension was palpable, thick with anticipation. Adriano lay on the ground, visibly dazed, blood staining his shirt and face. The medical team rushed onto the field, their expressions grave, while his teammates hurried to check on him. The Ghanaian players, their protests louder than ever, argued vehemently with the referee, but the decision stood.
"Adriano, can you hear me?" a teammate called as he knelt beside the stricken player.
Adriano groaned, his voice faint and strained. "Yeah, I'm still alive," he muttered through gritted teeth, his vision blurry and his head spinning. It was clear the injury was serious, but he refused to give in.
The medical staff gently helped Adriano onto a stretcher, their faces etched with concern. As they worked, Ronaldo stepped up to take the penalty, his face a mask of determination. The crowd held its collective breath. The noise from the stands was deafening as Ronaldo prepared to strike, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. With the eyes of a nation upon him, Ronaldo took the shot.Â
But in an astonishing twist, the Ghanaian goalkeeper dove expertly to his right, stretching every sinew to deny the penalty. The ball struck his gloves and was parried away. Ronaldo's frustration was evident as he slammed his foot against the ground, a rare show of emotion. The crowd erupted in disbelief, the earlier hope now replaced by a sharp sting of disappointment.
It felt as though time itself had slowed. Minutes passed in what seemed like an eternity as the medical staff tended to Adriano. One of the doctors stood up, his face grave yet composed. "We need to take you off for a scan," he said, his voice calm but insistent.
But in a moment that would encapsulate the very essence of his character, Adriano shook his head defiantly. "Not now," he whispered through gritted teeth, his voice low but filled with resolve.Â
"I'm not leavingânot now. We need to win. I want to stay," he said, pushing himself up from the stretcher with a determination that was nothing short of remarkable.
The pain was evident in every movement, but Adriano's stubborn courage shone through. He stood, shaky on his feet, blood staining his shirt as his teammates rushed to his side. Their admiration was clear as they clapped him on the back and rallied behind him. The crowd, too, recognized the effort. Their cheers began to grow, louder and more impassioned as they saw the resolve in the young player. The entire stadium seemed to rise in support, their voices a powerful tide that carried Adriano forward.
"Adriano isn't going anywhere, folks!" shouted Derek Rae, the commentator's voice booming through the speakers. "Despite the injury, he's staying on the field. His red shirt is now redder with blood, but his heart is even redder with passion. This is what football is all aboutâthis is why we love the game!"
Adriano returned to the pitch, his face set in a mask of determination. Every step was a battle against the pain in his head, but he refused to show any weakness. His teammates, inspired by his courage, found new strength as well. The physicality of the game continued to escalate, but Portugal now had a new energyâa fire fueled by their star's indomitable spirit. Every pass was sharper, every tackle more forceful, as they fought to maintain their advantage.
The tension on the field was mirrored in the stands. The Portuguese fans were on the edge of their seats, their chants now punctuated with gasps and cries of encouragement. They knew they had witnessed something extraordinaryâa moment of heroism that transcended the scoreline. This wasn't just about football; it was about resilience, about fighting through adversity, and about never giving up, no matter the cost.
In the 67th minute, Portugal began to regain control. Moutinho, who had been orchestrating much of the play from midfield, found himself in space. He surged forward, threading a brilliant pass between two Ghanaian defenders, cutting open the opposition's lines like a surgeon with a scalpel. The ball landed perfectly at the feet of Nani, who, with a single, decisive touch, lifted his head and looked up to see a teammate making a run into the box.
With perfect timing, Nani whipped in a curling cross that seemed to float through the air, its trajectory almost slow-motion in the tense atmosphere of the stadium. Adriano, still reeling from his earlier injury but undeterred, moved into position with the poise of a seasoned striker. Despite the fog in his mind, he found the strength to time his leap perfectly, leaping high above the Ghanaian defenders, his footwork a blur.
Adriano connected with the ball, but rather than going for a header himself, he deftly passed it to Bruno Fernandes, who had read the situation with remarkable precision. Bruno, cool under pressure, immediately passed the ball to Ronaldo, the final link in a chain of brilliance.
Ronaldo took the ball in his stride, his body coiled like a spring. With a quick glance at the goalkeeper, he struck the ball with explosive force. It sailed through the air like a bullet, a perfect shot that left the Ghanaian keeper no chance. The ball hit the back of the net with a satisfying thud, and the stadium erupted in a deafening roar of elation.
"GOOOOAAAAALLLLLLL!!!" Derek Rae shouted. "Ronaldo doesn't miss this time! He buries the ball in the back of the net after a rapid counterattack! Portugal is two goals to the good!"
The stadium exploded in celebration, with red and green scarves flying through the air and fans screaming with joy. The tension that had gripped the crowd throughout the match lifted in an instant. It was a goal that not only gave Portugal a crucial two-goal lead, but also symbolized their resilience in the face of adversity. Ronaldo's finish was clinical, but it was also a testament to the team's determinationâeach player had contributed to this moment of brilliance.
"Portugal is safe now," the commentator continued. "They can start planning for the next round in peace. But what a fight it's been! This match will be remembered for its drama, its heroism, and for the incredible courage of Adriano."
With the scoreline at 2-0, Coach Santos made a tactical decision. Despite the importance of the match, he knew that Adriano's injury was taking a toll. He gestured for Carvalho to come on, signaling a substitution.
Adriano, his body battered but his heart undiminished, walked off the pitch to a thunderous ovation. The crowd rose to their feet, chanting his name in admiration. His teammates patted him on the back, their eyes filled with respect and gratitude. This was more than a substitution; it was a tribute to the player who had laid everything on the line for his country.
As he made his way to the touchline, Coach Santos leaned in close, his voice firm but affectionate. "Take care, kid," he said, a hint of admonition in his tone. "I know your heart is in this, but don't risk your future for one match. Get checked out as soon as we're done here."
Adriano nodded silently, the pride and pain mingling in his eyes. As he watched Carvalho enter the field, he felt a quiet sense of fulfillment. They had fought, they had endured, and now, thanks to their collective spirit, they had a foothold in the tournament.
The remainder of the match became a grim affair for Ghana. The red card had sapped their energy and disrupted their momentum.
With one player down and their pressing reduced to half its former ferocity, Ghana's efforts to claw back into the game faltered.
The final 15 minutes were marked by a cautious, almost resigned style of play from Ghana, while Portugal settled into a disciplined defensive posture. Every tackle, every clearance was met with a sigh of relief from the Portuguese bench and a wave of approval from the jubilant crowd.
When the final whistle blew, the noise in the stadium was overwhelmingâa cacophony of celebration that reverberated far beyond the pitch. Portugal had secured a hard-fought 2-0 victory, ensuring their passage to the next round.
The celebrations spilled over from the field to the stands, with fans dancing, hugging, and chanting in pure, unadulterated joy. Social media exploded with congratulatory messages, and the news channels were quick to hail the match as a testament to Portugal's unbreakable spirit.
The news from another part of the tournament had just come in: Germany had won 2-1 against the USA, and with that result, they had emerged as Group G champions with a total of 7 points.
The prospect of a knockout clash with Belgium loomed large for Portugal, adding yet another layer of excitement and anticipation to the already euphoric atmosphere.
As the celebrations began to subside, the focus quickly shifted to the aftermath of the game. Amid the festivities, Adriano was taken aside by the team's medical staff.
In a quiet, tense atmosphere in the medical room , the doctors administered a thorough scan of his head. The doctor was surprised by his sturdy skeleton despite his lean physique.
The results were a mixture of relief and cautionâthey confirmed that while the injury was serious enough to warrant a few days of rest and a couple stitches , it was not too threatening. Adriano's fiery determination and fitness had carried him through the ordeal, but even he would need time to heal fully.
Later, in the privacy of the team's recovery room at the hotel, I reached for my phone and dialed a number that I know is really concerned about me, judging by the number of missed calls.
When my parents answered, their voices were laced with worry and relief. "Adri, are you alright? We've been so worried," his mother's voice trembled with emotion.
I took a deep breath, forcing a calm he did not entirely feel. "Mom, it's nothing serious. I'll be fineâI just need to rest a few days rest . Coach said I'll be ready for the next match against Belgium, although I might not start." he reassured her, a smile of determination breaking through the pain.
His mother's voice softened, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, sweetheart. We can't have you risking too much for one game."
I chuckled lightly, despite the lingering ache in his forehead. "I promise, Mom. I'll be careful. But tonight, we celebrate a victory that means so much for all of us."
Dad added from the side, " Don't try to act cool next time. You are our only son, and even if you don't do anything in life , all we want is for you to be happy and healthy."
I nodded with a smile, " I'll remember dad. But no promises."
After the call, Adriano returned to the hotel where his teammates had gathered to continue the celebrations. The corridor was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the warm camaraderie of a team that had just overcome tremendous odds.
In the midst of the revelry, Coach Santos took a moment to speak to the group. "Today, we witnessed the power of determination and sacrifice. Adriano's bravery on that pitch is something we will remember for years. But let it also be a lessonâwe must balance passion with care. Rest now, and come back stronger."
That evening, as the city's skyline glittered under the night sky, the celebrations continued into the early hours. In one of the hotel's modest banquet halls, the team gathered around a long table.
Stories of the match were recounted with animated gestures and bursts of laughter. Ronaldo, who had played a crucial role in the second goal, raised his glass in a toast.
"To our team, our spirit, and to every challenge that made us stronger tonight!" The cheers were thunderous, and even those who had not taken the field that day felt a deep sense of inclusion in the collective victory.
Amid the jubilant chatter, conversations grew more personal. Bruno laughed and said , "I've never seen a match where every minute felt like a battle for survival. Today, I learned that playing for something bigger than ourselves is what really matters."
The sentiment was echoed around the room, each story weaving into the fabric of the team's legacy.
For Adriano, the night was a mixture of quiet reflection and shared elation. Sitting in a corner, his head still lightly bandaged, he watched his teammates celebrate.
Every cheer, every pat on the back, was a reminder that while the match had been grueling, it was also a stepping stone toward greater dreams. He knew that the upcoming clash with Belgium would demand even more of themâbut tonight, in this moment of triumph, they had proven that no obstacle was insurmountable.