Chapter 1103 - 264: Tactical Tearing, The Honest Man’s Counterattack (Part 3)

In the previous moment, they were still cheering because Lu Yang wasn’t taking the free kick.

But the next moment, Morici cleanly scored the free kick.

Making it seem like Paris Saint-Germain fans were celebrating Morici’s goal.

This made the Paris Saint-Germain fans feel miserable.

"Wow! Gorgeous free kick goal! Morici’s technique is incredibly precise!"

"I told you, as a player of assist king caliber, his passing is so great, how could his free kicks not be!"

"Looks like everyone, just like me, forgot that Morici is actually San Remo’s top free kick taker."

"Such a small San Remo, unexpectedly possessing both Lu Yang and Morici, two great free-kick masters, indeed a team with no weaknesses in their main lineup."

"If their substitute lineup is strong enough, the race for this season’s Serie A championship might be even more exciting! It’s really a pity."

"Lu Yang obviously understands Morici well enough; he didn’t even participate in the scramble within the penalty area for this free kick."

Regarding this, Lu Yang commented that the commentators were overthinking.

He was simply waiting for the pain in his foot to subside.

It has nothing to do with trust.

Three to two, San Remo took a significant lead.

This instantly made Miguel stop hesitating.

"Give the ball to me!" Miguel ordered the midfield players.

The midfield players nodded.

Boe’s expression turned slightly gloomy.

He performed so well, but Stiepelman continually missed good opportunities; what could he do?

Now Miguel’s words sounded like blaming Boe for the team’s lag.

Naturally, Boe felt uncomfortable.

The team was behind, and he also wanted to strive to score for the team, leveling the score.

Miguel didn’t have time to explain much to Boe; this stems from the rise of the Internet and Barça’s renewed changes, this match only has sixty minutes left!

In the first few minutes, when the football was at Miguel’s feet, it seemed not much different from being at Boe’s feet.

Miguel was also dribbling past players on the wing, then attempting a pass.

But Naji repeatedly created havoc over Stiepelman’s head.

Miguel quickly noticed that Stiepelman was not in the zone.

It’s the effect of the injury.

This cannot be solved.

Miguel could only change tactics, for instance... shoot himself!

Bam!

Miguel made a sudden shot, scaring Areola into a cold sweat.

But fortunately, it was blocked.

Don’t look at Miguel’s goal count, it’s never exaggerated, at most it’s just a dozen or so.

But his shooting is actually very strong, at least stronger than Boe.

In Paris Saint-Germain, his shooting might be the strongest.

Because Stiepelman, a typical post-style central forward, is better at scoring with headers; his footwork for shooting is decent, but it’s not top-notch.

In the thirty-ninth minute, Miguel struck back.

Once again, breaking through Camihong on the wing.

Camihong’s performance this season is commendable, but among this team, he might be the most mediocre member.

Being completely overwhelmed by Miguel is not surprising at all.

Anyone who faces him gets overwhelmed, it’s that simple.

No wonder everyone says Miguel is an exceptionally underestimated super winger.

After he ventured to Paris Saint-Germain and took on the responsibility with Stiepelman, people gradually realized this.

If it weren’t for the dazzling brilliance of Real Madrid, the tactical demands of Manchester United being too harsh on Miguel, and his national teammate Mateo being uniquely exceptional, he would have long become a superstar.

Whistle!

A whistle blow.

Bernulin committed a foul, knocking Miguel down.

Although he didn’t receive a yellow card, Paris Saint-Germain gained a very advantageous free kick position.

No choice, after Miguel got past Camihong, Bernulin had to step out and take the hit.

This time wasn’t too bad; Bernulin managed to stop it.

If he hadn’t, Miguel would have had a good chance to pass or shoot, and both would have been threatening.

Bam!

Miguel executed a tactical free kick.

The ball lofted to one meter behind San Remo’s penalty spot, very tricky.

Stiepelman and Naji competed, but the aggressive Naji ultimately headed the ball out of the goal line.

If it wasn’t for him, Stiepelman likely would have scored.

Stiepelman angrily glanced at Naji.

This bastard, constantly crashing against my forehead.

Just now, if I had headed the ball, my forehead would definitely clash with Naji’s; at that time... he was doing it on purpose!

A hint of fierceness appeared in Stiepelman’s eyes.

Whether or not I’m afraid of pain is my own problem.

But if you’re exploiting this, then it’s your problem.

"You’ve angered me, young man of San Remo!" Stiepelman said to Naji.

Naji was startled.

Did he realize?

"So what?" Naji replied firmly, "Don’t just talk, prove it with your actions! If words could count, I would have been defeated countless times by unknown figures!"

Stiepelman suppressed his anger with deep breathing, indicating he remembered Naji.

Then, Paris Saint-Germain took the corner with Sevajos.

Naji and Stiepelman collided again, interfering with each other.

But behind them, there was another towering figure, which was the 1.91-meter-tall Lande.

Paris Saint-Germain’s two towering figures, one at the front and one at the back, were really too daunting.

And on San Remo’s side, only Naji could match them.

Everyone else was at a disadvantage in terms of height.

This contrasts sharply with San Remo’s dominance in midfield height.

Paris Saint-Germain’s midfield is notoriously lacking in height.

Bam!

Lande swung his head, the football smashed against the frame, the rebound shot into the net!