Chapter 1 Johannesberg

Johannesburg, Ellis Park Stadium.

A small number of Colombian fans erupted in thunderous cheers. Just thirty seconds before, their number one idol, the team's most famous midfielder, Martin Aberlani, had used his personal skills to force his way into the penalty area in front of Mexico's penalty area, only to be brought down by a helpless defender, and the referee unhesitatingly awarded a penalty.

Now the Mexican players were surrounding the referee to explain, while the Colombian players were embracing and celebrating like their fans.

Both sides were Latin American teams, technically delicate and evenly matched during the game. After a stalemate of seventy-seven minutes, the score was still tied 1-1. Colombia only had one point so far. They originally had no expectations of qualifying, but unexpectedly they were awarded a penalty at this moment!

If they had been awarded a penalty in the first ten minutes, they might still not have dared to dream of qualifying. But having won such a crucial penalty as the game drew to a close, they now had every right to dream—defeating Mexico and accumulating four points to compete for a qualifying spot. As long as the Chinese team could win against Italy, everything could come true.

Jones excitedly hugged Aberlani. He was the team's number one penalty taker, so he would naturally take this penalty. An opportunity to score a goal in the World Cup, and a goal that could help the team qualify, Jones naturally wanted to thank Aberlani for creating the penalty.

The noisy Mexicans were waved away by the referee, and Jones steadied his mind and stood in front of the football. He felt that the goal in front of him was so big, and the opposing goalkeeper standing in front of the goal with his arms outstretched was so small.

This ball will definitely go in! I swear!

Jones heard the referee blow the whistle in his mouth. He ran up and kicked the football. The opposing goalkeeper completely misjudged the direction—he pounced to the left, but Jones pushed it to the center.

"Ole——!!"

"Goal!! Colombia leads Mexico 1-0! Who could have imagined before the game? In the first game, they were惨败 0-5 by China. Unexpectedly, Colombia was awakened. They tied the powerful Italy in the second game and now lead Mexico by one goal! No wonder Group G is called the Group of Death. The situation is really chaotic! The team that was generally considered the weakest in the group now has a very high chance of qualifying!"

Jones ran wildly. He had no purpose. He just wanted to feel the wind blowing against his face and listen to the cheers from the stands. He felt like he was Colombia's hero.

Behind Jones was a group of cheering teammates.

※※※

"Colombia is in the lead?" Qiu Suhui looked at Hu Li with some doubt, and Hu Li gave him an affirmative answer.

"It's really chaotic..." Qiu Suhui raised his head and rubbed his temples. "The Italians must have seen hope. As long as they defeat us, they can qualify. Although we and Colombia have the same points, we can still rely on the head-to-head record to qualify... Tell me, Lao Hu, should we let Italy off the hook?"

Hu Li looked at Qiu Suhui in disbelief: "These words shouldn't be coming out of your mouth."

Qiu Suhui laughed: "You know it's good. I won't let Italy off easily. Compared to them, I prefer the energetic Colombia. But football is not something I can win just by saying so. If the Italians want to qualify, they have to fight for it themselves."

※※※

After hearing the news from Johannesburg, Trapattoni's spirits were lifted. Mexico losing to Colombia was the most perfect result. This way, as long as his team could win this game, they would qualify with five points. And the Chinese team would not be eliminated because of the loss in this game—regardless of the head-to-head record, the number of goals scored, or the goal difference, China had an overwhelming advantage over Colombia.

The most ideal result, of course, would be for Italy and China to advance hand in hand.

He stood up again and had his assistant loudly convey the latest news to the field: Mexico is behind, our chance is here!

Italy's offensive intensified.

An Ke was cursing in his heart. Italy, backed into a corner, was truly terrifying!

Pirlo suddenly took a long shot from twenty-five meters away from the goal. No one blocked it. An Ke tried his best to save it but didn't touch the ball. In the end, the football flew out of the baseline, brushing against the goalpost. Although it didn't go in, it made the Chinese break out in a cold sweat.

Such thrilling scenes appeared frequently in front of the Chinese team's goal during this final period.

The Chinese team's counterattack came to an abrupt end twenty-seven meters away from the goal. Kru's advance was stopped by Pirlo and De Rossi in a joint effort—with a foul.

This free kick was a bit far. Zhang Jun, who was originally standing in front of the football, looked at the distance and gave up the idea of ​​shooting directly. He pulled Yang Pan, who was covering him, and then beckoned Li Yongle over.

The three had to discuss how to play the next game. Anyway, they were maintaining the advantage now, and he didn't mind delaying the time.

"Colombia is in the lead," Zhang Jun said bluntly.

The other two nodded, indicating that they already knew.

"Italy must have seen the hope of qualifying, that's why they are attacking so fiercely. We can't give them a chance. If this continues, I can't say whether An Ke's goal will be lost. So, we should give them a fatal blow while they are pressing up with a large force and completely cut off their hope of qualifying."

Yang Pan raised his eyebrows: "You are really 'cruel'..."

Li Yongle spoke up for Zhang Jun: "Being merciful to the enemy is being cruel to yourself. I agree with Zhang Jun's statement. We have to let the Italians know that they have no hope of qualifying."

Zhang Jun patted Li Yongle on the shoulder: "You're the only one who understands me... You take this kick. Let's prepare and take advantage of the Italians' all-out attack to ambush them!"

Yang Pan also nodded: "Find the most suitable time and deliver a fatal blow!" He waved his hand forcefully.

While the Italian players were impatiently lining up the wall and planning to report the Chinese team to the referee for blatantly delaying the game, the three-person meeting ended. Zhang Jun and Yang Pan scattered like birds and beasts and didn't kick the ball, which made the Italian wall of up to five people feel like they had been fooled.

Li Yongle's long pass was very accurate, but in the penalty area where people could be crushed to death, no matter how accurate it was, it was difficult to shoot. Wu Shangshan leaned against the opposing defender Bonera, but he couldn't turn around and shoot. Forcing a shot only allowed Buffon to easily confiscate the football.

Another Chinese team attack ended.

※※※

Italy continued to bombard the Chinese team's hinterland. If it weren't for their current abundance of attacking talents, these attacks might not have posed any threat to An Ke's goal at all.

But they had Cassano, Gilardino, Pazzini, Montolivo, Pirlo, De Rossi and others. No matter how good An Ke was, he was just an individual, not a thousand-handed Guanyin. Now, under Italy's powerful pressure, Zhao Pengyu and Yang Pan were basically fixed in the full-back positions and rarely assisted forward.

During this period, the Chinese fans at home no longer cheered loudly. Everyone held their breath and stared nervously at the TV screen. Every Italian attack made their hearts jump into their throats. If the ball didn't go in, a group of people would keep shouting: "Good job! Good job!" to cheer themselves and the Chinese team on.

And every time the Chinese team counterattacked, they would howl non-stop, even wishing they could go up and kick the football in.

Before the game today, many calm analysts pointed out that as long as the Chinese team didn't lose, they would definitely qualify. But facing this team that eliminated them four years ago, everyone hoped that this time the Chinese team could defeat Italy and avenge the elimination four years ago.

No matter how critical the defensive situation was, Qiu Suhui insisted on not letting Zhang Jun retreat to defend. Leaving him in front was naturally for counterattacks. If Zhang Jun needed to retreat to defend, it would be better to replace him with a defender.

Another one who was ordered to stay in front was not Kru, but Wu Shangshan!

From this, it could be seen how strong Qiu Suhui's obsession with winning was.

※※※

An Ke firmly held a shot that wasn't very threatening in his arms, as if he was afraid that the football would bounce out of his arms by itself. Then he got up from the ground and saw Li Yongle raising his hands high and asking him for the ball.

An Ke unhesitatingly threw the football to Li Yongle.

Li Yongle took the ball, turned around, and then passed it to Kru in the frontcourt. Kru dribbled the ball, it looked like just one of the Chinese team's countless counterattacks, nothing special. Sure enough, Kru's dribbling was quickly interrupted by Pirlo and De Rossi's double-teaming.

Italy immediately launched a counterattack. They had to seize every opportunity to attack. There was little time left, and they couldn't waste it on midfield entanglements.

Pirlo sent a long pass to Cassano. Cassano looked back at the football and then ran forward. He didn't plan to stop the ball, but wanted to pass it directly, just like when they scored a goal, continuous one-touch passing, and then tear apart the Chinese team's defense.

But as soon as he received the football, he found a wall standing in front of him.

Li Yongle, this opponent from his club days, was still doing the good deed of disrupting his attack in the national team as always.

In a panic, Cassano planned to get around this strong defensive midfielder, and he couldn't implement a pass at all. First of all, he had to be able to avoid being intercepted.

Helplessly, he stopped the ball too close just now, and his center of gravity couldn't be completely shifted away. Li Yongle saw Cassano's intentions, and he naturally wouldn't let the opponent launch a quick counterattack—no, or rather, a quick counterattack could be launched, but it couldn't be completed. Now the two Italian full-backs were overlapping on the flanks, and De Rossi was also running forward.

Cassano feinted to the left. Li Yongle didn't fall for it and directly tackled the football away from the middle!

Then he pushed Cassano away with his hand and suddenly passed the football to Kru in front. The Chinese team counterattacked again!

Kru didn't dribble the ball. He didn't even turn around and flicked the football with his heel to Yang Pan, who was very close to him. Since when did Yang Pan run from the "right full-back" position to the "right midfielder"? His speed was really surprising! You know, when Cassano got the ball just now, Yang Pan was still waiting in the backcourt for Italy's attack.

He received Kru's pass. At this time, Pirlo had just run to Kru's position. The Italians exclaimed. The speed of the Chinese team's counterattack was surprisingly fast.

"Defend! Defend! Rush back!" Nesta shouted loudly to his teammates while retreating. Bovo and Zambrotta rushed back from the frontcourt. They had just rushed up, originally planning to cooperate with the team's attack, but they didn't even touch the ball and had to run back again.

"Attack! Attack! Overwhelm them!" An Ke roared excitedly from behind. "Let those grandsons see our strength!"

"Wo——!!" The Chinese fans in the stands cheered loudly, "Chinese team! Go! Chinese team! Go!!"

Since Zambrotta, who was responsible for defending this side, hadn't returned in time, Bonera had to rush over to fill the position and defend Yang Pan. You know, Yang Pan's long shots were also equally threatening.

When Yang Pan saw Bonera rushing towards him, he knew that there was only Nesta defending in the center of Italy's penalty area. He directly passed the football to Zhang Jun, who was responding in the middle.

Now in Italy's penalty area, there were Zhang Jun, Nesta, and Buffon. For Zhang Jun, this situation was equivalent to a one-on-one breakaway!

Even though he was in a very unfavorable situation, Nesta calmed down instead. He knew very well what it would mean for the Italian team if this ball was lost when there were less than ten minutes left in the game.

They would be eliminated without even qualifying for the group stage. For them, who were in high spirits before the World Cup, it was too cruel…

Zhang Jun! This former teammate in Milan, in the Serie A league, repeatedly ruined their Milan's good deeds, repeatedly snatched the championship from Milan's hands, and repeatedly made himself taste the pain of failure… Could it be that now in the national team, on the stage of the World Cup, he would personally bury all this? Would he have to let himself taste even greater pain?

No! I don't want to! Nesta roared in his heart, his eyes became sharp, and his movements became swift, completely unlike what a thirty-four-year-old veteran should show.

As long as he could delay Zhang Jun, not let him shoot successfully, or interfere with him while he was shooting, so that Buffon could catch the football, his mission would be completed.

At the same time, Zhang Jun looked at his opponent in front of him: Nesta. So many years had passed, and the hatred in his heart for Milan had long since disappeared as he repeatedly defeated Milan in the league. He no longer played football with a sense of hatred in his heart.

But not hating didn't mean he would sympathize with his opponent. Coach Qiu was right, in order to avoid Argentina, who was most likely to become the first in Group E, they had to win this game and qualify for the group stage undefeated. For the benefit of China, only Italy could be sacrificed.

This wasn't a question of who was right and who was wrong. Who made us opponents in this game? Alessandro… or rather, who made you so uncompetitive, drawing two games in a row? Originally, we could have played the last game harmoniously and then qualified hand in hand. What a perfect ending that would have been…

If Italy is destined to fall into hell, please let me give you a push from behind! As a professional athlete, this is the best reward for you for defending me so desperately, Alessandro.

The thoughts of the two were all over the place, of course, this was just a moment. To outsiders, they might not have been facing off for more than two seconds.

Nesta's defense was very tight, and Zhang Jun couldn't find a suitable opportunity to kick, but the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of a red figure rushing into the penalty area at high speed—Wu Shangshan!

Zhang Jun raised his foot to feint a shot. Nesta and Buffon were both focused and tense, ready to block the ball and then launch a counterattack.

They didn't see the football flying over as they wished. Nesta missed, and Buffon also misjudged. Zhang Jun passed the ball to Wu Shangshan, who was rushing towards the goal on the left!

Although Pirlo was desperately pulling him behind him, he was still left behind by half a body. Buffon had already been fooled by Zhang Jun and fell to the ground. It was impossible for him to make a save again in such a short time. The look in his eyes as he looked at the football was full of despair and terror.

Looking at the football in front of him, with Wu Shangshan in the middle, Pirlo decided to kick it down regardless of the consequences this action would bring to himself and the team!

Wu Shangshan thought that Zhang Jun would definitely shoot at this opportunity. This was a great opportunity to score twice and become a hero of all China! He rushed up purely out of a striker's instinct, hoping to have a chance to make a follow-up shot. Unexpectedly, after Zhang Jun faked a shot, he actually passed the ball to him!

Although Pirlo was interfering with him behind him, Wu Shangshan had already occupied the position. He was confident that he could shoot this ball into the Italian goal. If he couldn't even do this, how could he dare to compete with Zhang Jun for a position?

Pirlo and Wu Shangshan almost tackled at the same time. The difference was that the former tackled the person, while the latter tackled the ball.

The football was touched by Wu Shangshan's toe. In the process of rolling sideways, it suddenly veered and rolled straight towards the Italian goal…

"Oh no——!" The Italians all held their heads and shouted in pain.

And the Chinese fans all raised their hands high, ready to cheer.

Nesta looked back in horror as the football was touched by Wu Shangshan and then rolled quickly into the goal without anyone blocking it!

He painfully closed his eyes, and then his body softened and he fell on the grass.

"gooooooooooooooooooooooal!!"

One counterattack, four passes, one goal, this was the fatal blow Yang Pan was talking about.

The entire Italian heart was broken. Trapattoni seemed to have aged twenty years in an instant and collapsed directly into his seat.

Buffon only managed to catch the ball after it went into the goal. He slammed the football in his hand out of the goal, but what was the use of doing so? A goal was a goal. The whole world saw that this goal went into the goal he was guarding, Buffon's goal.

Wu Shangshan jumped up excitedly from the ground. He scored his first goal in this World Cup! He originally planned to run to the corner flag to celebrate, but after running two steps, he suddenly remembered something, turned around again, and then pounced on Zhang Jun, who was assisting him behind him. The two hugged each other tightly, leaving those media outlets who planned to report on their discord after the game dumbfounded and disappointed.

"This goal is dedicated to the 2004 Olympic team and the 2006 national team! They were eliminated by Italy twice. That was a past they were unwilling to look back on. Now they have defeated the Italian team, and it's still those people! They have completed self-transcendence! Wu Shangshan's goal has plunged Italy into an abyss of doom!" Although Wang Jianxiang's words were a bit exaggerated, the excitement in his heart was not exaggerated at all.

"The game is not over yet, we still have at least seven minutes of counterattack time! Stand up, everyone stand up!" Gattuso roared frantically on the sidelines like a mad dog. But at this time, not many people could hear what he was shouting on the sidelines.

※※※

At the same time, inside the Ellis Park Stadium in Johannesburg.

"What? Say it again!!" The Colombian coach, Evoli Montokalo, who was always very gentlemanly, was now grabbing his assistant's shoulders in a very ungentlemanly manner, shaking him hard and constantly.

"I, I said... the Chinese team, once again, once again took the lead against Italy, Italy... We, we are about to qualify! About to!" The assistant was shaken by Montokalo so that he couldn't even speak smoothly.

Montokalo suddenly pushed the assistant away, then looked up at the night sky and shouted excitedly: "Qualify! Round of 16! Haha! What a tempting prospect! Now Colombia is about to become one-sixteenth of the world's attention! God! I praise you!"

Please forgive his gaffe, any team that was seriously underestimated before the game, or even despised, would react the same way as him when they had such a day of glory.

Looking at the embarrassed Mexican team on the field, still struggling to make a final effort, Montokalo really wanted to loudly announce to everyone now: Colombia is not a pushover! Colombia is not the weakest team! Colombia is not here to give Italy and Mexico points! We also have pursuits, we also yearn to qualify! Now we have done it, let Mexico and Italy these "strong teams" all go to hell!

The Colombian fans who had already learned about the situation on the other field in the stands were even more anxious than their coach. They kept shouting loudly: "China 2:1 Italy! This is our hope! Guys! Beat Mexico, we qualify!"

The sound was so loud that it could be heard clearly even in the TV broadcast.

The Colombian players on the field naturally heard it clearly. Jones and Aberlani looked at each other, and they saw ecstasy in each other's eyes. Qualifying, they hadn't thought about it. But after the first game, a 0:5惨败 to China, the domestic media almost scolded him to pieces. At that time, they definitely didn't dare to expect that they could qualify. They only asked that the last two games not be lost too badly and not lose all their dignity. Now that there was an opportunity to qualify, they really had to thank the Chinese team who had defeated them so decisively.

"Martin! You said that Cape Town is a very beautiful and lively city, now we have a chance to see it!" Jones shouted at Aberlani across the field. If they qualified from the group, they would move on to Cape Town.

"John, don't be too complacent for the rest of the time, persevere until the end of the game!" The two friends encouraged each other and then turned around and rejoined the battle.

※※※

The Johannesburg World Cup Stadium was bustling with noise. Now it had become a red sea. You may never have seen so many Chinese people in any overseas stadium at the same time. They wore uniform red jerseys, waved the five-star red flags in their hands, and created an artificial red wave in the stands.

With less than five minutes left in the game, the impatient Chinese fans had already started the countdown.

This was not the first time in the Chinese team's history that they had qualified for the World Cup group stage, but for fans who had been depressed for decades, any qualification was enough for them to celebrate.

The Italians finally recovered from the sadness and pain of conceding a goal. They gathered their last strength and launched a storm-like attack on the Chinese team's goal. It could even be said that their attack was like moths flying into a flame, it was suicide. Because at this time, they couldn't care less about whether there was one or two people in their own half. For them, losing one goal was losing, and losing two goals was also losing, so why not go all out? Maybe they still had a chance to create a miracle and tie the score at the last moment—at this moment, they had no time to care about the game between Colombia and Mexico, and naturally they wouldn't know that although Colombia was only leading by one goal, the game was firmly in the hands of the Colombians.

This was a desperate gamble. The Italians completed three shots in two minutes, one of which almost went in again, but was kicked out by Yang Pan, who had returned to the goal line, and the football flew in a spinning motion into the side stands.

Both in front of the TV and in the stands, there was a burst of exclamations at the same time.

"Brothers! Hold on! This is the Italians' last counterattack. As long as we hold on, it's victory! Don't be careless! The Italians are fighting us like men, and we must hold on like men!" Yang Pan shouted loudly to boost the team's morale. He did a much better job in this regard than Zhang Jun.

"Defend! Mark the man! Mark... damn it! Don't let anyone through!" An Ke was also roaring non-stop. As a goalkeeper, he liked this kind of atmosphere, the kind of atmosphere that was so tense that even his breathing was trembling, the air seemed to be distorted, his body couldn't stop, he just wanted to keep soaring, saving, pressing every shot under his body, catching it in his hands, holding it in his arms. Ending the Italians' few remaining hopes again and again, extinguishing their fire of hope little by little. As the terminator of the opponent's attack, the goalkeeper enjoyed the hateful eyes and desperate struggles of the opposing striker.

Bovo had already been substituted. At the last moment, Trapattoni desperately substituted a forward—the experienced Totti, hoping to force a goal. Bovo, who was substituted, refused to return to the bench. He even refused the coat handed over by the assistant coach. At this time, he didn't feel cold at all. He knelt on the sidelines, with tears in his eyes, helplessly looking at his teammates who were still working hard on the field. He must be very regretful, why did he score an own goal in the second game? If Italy had four points, how could they have fallen into this situation now?

After scoring the own goal, although he was frustrated, he also felt that there was still time, and everything hadn't reached the point of being irreversible. Italy would definitely win in the remaining time of the game against Colombia, and everything would end very friendly in the game against China, and then the two teams would qualify hand in hand.

Now what? Everything had really reached the point of being irreversible.

The old Totti was once the prince of Italy, but now he was substituted in the most critical moment for Italy, but he couldn't save his Italy like a hero in a fairy tale.

The Chinese team almost all retreated to defend. At the same time, Qiu Suhui had the last card in his hand—he still had a substitution quota, and he could completely delay the time in injury time in a legitimate way.

Kru had already been substituted, and the remaining one to be substituted should be Zhang Jun, right?

Unexpectedly, during a dead ball, Zhang Jun made a gesture to Qiu Suhui: Don't substitute me, I want to play until the last minute!

Zhang Jun's idea was very simple, he was unwilling to rely on this method of delaying the game to obtain the final victory. The Italian's performance in the second half made him admire them. This was an opponent worthy of his respect, and he planned to finish the game with the same attitude.

So now he had also returned to the edge of the penalty area to participate in the defense.

Seeing that Zhang Jun's attitude was firm and he had taken the initiative to participate in the defense, Qiu Suhui put down his hand that was planning to call Shao Jiayi back.

※※※

"Italy, go! Italy!!" The Italian fans were crying and cheering for their team in the stands. They hoped that their players could create miracles and qualify. Although the hope was gradually becoming slim, they still hoped… unswervingly.

Totti had just come on the field, but his white jersey immediately became green and black, which was a sign of desperation. Cassano passed the football to his older brother in Rome. Totti looked ahead, where the crowd was dense, and it would be difficult to pass or shoot.

But he didn't plan to pass the ball. What did Cassano mean by passing the ball to him? He needed to take responsibility for it.

Wang Yu gave up Montolivo next to him. He staggered towards Totti, and when he was about to arrive, he tripped and fell forward.

At the same time, Totti suddenly kicked and shot angrily! A long shot from as far as twenty-seven meters from the goal! Everyone thought that Totti's shot was too irresponsible. Perhaps it would have been a good choice for him to pass to Montolivo. But no matter what, Totti didn't pass the ball, but chose to shoot directly!

Wang Yu, who was falling to the ground, felt a chill on his head, and then he fell down headfirst.

When An Ke saw Totti suddenly kicking from a very far place, he didn't dare to be negligent at all. His body sprang out like a tightly drawn bowstring, and his direction was correct without error. But he still underestimated Totti's shooting speed and power. He jumped a little slowly, and watched as the football was about to fall from behind him.

In fact, An Ke and everyone knew that even if Italy tied, they would still be unable to qualify, because injury time had already entered the last minute—the third minute. And just thirty seconds ago, the game between Colombia and Mexico had ended, and Colombia had won an important victory. They currently had four points, and had directly sent Mexico, who had two points, back home. At the same time, even if Italy tied this game, they would still be eliminated with three points.

But An Ke was unwilling to let the opponent score. His body straightened in the air, and his hand stretched out another inch, touching the football. The football bounced upward slightly on his hand, and then slammed into the crossbar, straight up and down!

An Ke had already fallen to the ground at this time. He was powerless for this ball. There was a mess in front of the goal. Xiang Tao roared and rushed over from the outside, like rushing for a rebound in basketball, leaping high, and then heading it. The football that had just fallen was headed out of the baseline by him. At this time, a corner kick didn't matter anymore.

Seeing the football being headed out of the crossbar, Totti's legs softened and he knelt directly on the ground. And Pirlo was about to run over to take a corner kick when he heard a whistle!

He was stunned for a moment, and then heard two more rapid whistles.

"The game is over! We have won! We have qualified!" Wang Jianxiang excitedly raised his hands and stood up from the commentary box.

The Chinese team's substitutes and coaches who had been waiting on the sidelines rushed into the field at the same time, spreading their arms and running towards the players on the field. While celebrating the victory and celebrating the qualification, they were also celebrating the successful revenge.

Pirlo bit his lower lip tightly, quietly watching the Chinese players running around him, shouting and screaming.

League champion, Champions League champion, I have lost all of them, what's so great about losing another game? I won't cry, I will definitely not cry! A voice in Pirlo's heart kept repeating. But the more he thought this, the more sour his nose became. In the end, he still lifted up his jersey and covered his head. No one could clearly see what expression was on the face covered by the clothes at this moment.

"The referee blew the whistle, and the game is over. The qualification spots for Group G have finally been determined. This result is really shocking… The Chinese team's qualification is what everyone expected, but Colombia's qualification is beyond the expectations of the whole world. The most unpromising team has become the final qualifying team, which is really the best irony for the analysts. In addition, this is a wonderful game. We have seen the passionate Chinese team and the Italian team that is desperately defending their dignity. Congratulations to China and Colombia, their performance is worthy of the glory of qualifying. We also thank Italy and Mexico, thank them for their efforts, and wish them good luck. This is truly an unforgettable night…"

※※※

Zhang Jun slumped on the grass. He felt that he was cramping. He felt that the last ten minutes were more tiring than the previous eighty minutes. Several times, he even thought that the Italians were going to tie the score. Fortunately, fortunately…

He raised his head and saw Pazzini crying alone not far away. He struggled to get up from the ground, and then staggered to Pazzini's side and put his arm around his neck. "Gianpaolo... you did a great job, don't cry like a woman."

Damn it, why am I comforting my opponent like this? Zhang Jun thought in his heart, then straightened up, took off his jersey, and handed it to Pazzini: "Here, I know you don't lack my jersey, but this is the jersey I wore as a member of the Chinese national team... A month ago, we were still celebrating the Champions League victory together. Now I have to send you off with my own hands, but this is football. Sometimes it will bring you endless joy, and sometimes it will bring endless pain. Thank you, Gianpaolo, this was a wonderful game."

Pazzini stopped crying and took Zhang Jun's jersey: "I know this is the jersey you wore as a member of the Chinese team, and I will cherish it. Although we have been eliminated, life will continue. I am going on vacation, and I will cheer for you on the beaches of Spain. The team that defeats us should never stop before the final!"

Zhang Jun smiled: "Don't worry, we won't. There is another stronger opponent waiting for me." He thought of Kaka.

Pazzini took off his No. 11 jersey—the reason why he was also No. 11 was because he admired Zhang Jun, so he also chose 11 as his number in the national team—and handed it to Zhang Jun: "Next season, we will fight side by side again. I will be waiting for you in Florence then."

Zhang Jun took Pazzini's jersey: "It's a deal."

After sending Pazzini away, Zhang Jun saw countless reporters swarming towards him, and they opened their mouths and asked: "As the best player in this game, with one goal and one assist, can you say a few words to us?"

Zhang Jun turned his head and saw Wu Shangshan, who was passing by him and cheering with his teammates. He quickly rushed over and pulled Wu Shangshan over. Then he said to the reporters in a serious manner: "You must be joking. The real hero of this game is him. If it weren't for his last goal, the Italians might be celebrating the victory now. Let him say it!" After speaking, he pushed Wu Shangshan towards the reporters and slipped away from behind, so fast that he didn't seem like someone who had been running at full speed for ninety minutes.

Wu Shangshan turned his head to look at the receding figure, and then turned back to look at the dumbfounded reporters and asked with a smile, "Excuse me, do you have anything to say? If not, I still have to go and celebrate with my teammates."

Without waiting for the reporters to recover from their shock, Wu Shangshan turned around and ran away in a puff of smoke.

One reporter said with a sad face: "They are all so uncooperative, how can we write the manuscript? Who is the hero of this game anyway?"

"Idiot!" An old reporter next to him reprimanded him, "The heroes of this game are all the people who worked hard on the field. There is only one winner, but... there are many heroes." He looked up at the night sky in South Africa. Those shining stars represented one hero after another.

Hu Die Lan