Chapter 1186 - 283: Morici the Boxer

"GOAL!"

"It’s in, it’s in, it’s in!"

"In the last minute of stoppage time, Lu Yang takes on Apple one-on-one and succeeds, scoring an unbelievable goal!"

"Lu Yang has scored five goals in this match! And for these five goals, he only used... nine minutes in total!"

"Wait, Lu Yang hasn’t gotten up?"

Fans all over the world, hundreds of millions of versions of ecstasy; except for Bayern’s supporters, everyone is going crazy, because the goal really was spectacular.

But as commentators, they have to suppress their own excitement and tell everyone everything that’s happening on the pitch.

For example... right after Lu Yang’s rabona shot, the broadcast director professionally switched the camera to the ball, locked onto its trajectory, and at the first possible moment showed everyone what happened to it afterwards.

Just from this you have to admit: the crew serving a Champions League final are insanely professional.

The broadcast director, cameramen, main referee, commentators—these are the very best in the business.

And precisely because of that, the commentators are among the very few who both saw and are focused on what happened to Lu Yang after his shot.

Right after Lu Yang’s rabona, Santos came charging in and launched into a full-blooded sliding tackle, without the slightest attempt to pull his leg or ease the force.

He was coming over to cover.

He’d seen Zhang Linyan’s attack earlier, and he’d read Lu Yang’s follow-up move.

But just like Apple, Santos was late.

They’d all been deceived by Lu Yang.

Yet just as Apple had a pre-set sequence of actions in his mind, Santos already had his defensive sequence mapped out in his head.

In that split second of lightning and fire, there were still moves he hadn’t executed, but he was already beyond the point of stopping himself.

So even after the ball had flown away, he still belatedly went through with the slide, and he didn’t hold back at all.

It was far more forceful than the tackle he’d originally planned.

That’s not hard to explain.

A lot of players take dives on the pitch: they get brushed by an opponent’s arm, and only two seconds later do they go down—that’s because their reaction is slow.

They get hit, then realize they can fake a fall to draw a foul.

By the time they decide to do it, a good bit of time has already passed.

That’s a clumsy dive.

Same principle as Santos launching a tackle he shouldn’t have.

On the other hand, people’s tempers are often hard to control.

Maybe at the instant Santos slid in he was still normal, but right after that his fury might have just exploded.

Maybe because Lu Yang had put too many goals past him.

Maybe because he sensed that this one strike might steal the Champions League away from Bayern.

Maybe because he was jealous of this youngster’s talent and brilliance.

Impulse is a demon.

Many superstar players with good temperaments have left behind moments on the pitch that they regret forever because of a single impulse.

Santos was no exception.

So this kick, he didn’t dial back the power.

He even deliberately lifted his foot a bit higher, showing his studs.

Bang!

Just as the ball flew past Bauer, Santos’s slide smashed into Lu Yang’s left supporting shin.

There was a tremendous crack.

Santos came sliding in from Lu Yang’s left.

And Lu Yang was launched off to the right.

His whole body spun 360 degrees in the air, his feet going from planted on the turf to hanging upside down in midair, then crashing down hard on the other side.

Almost like a side flip.

But the passive kind.

The ball rippled the net.

The entire Camp Nou shook in an instant, the roar echoing across the whole Barcelona area.

That roar drowned out the sound of Lu Yang slamming into the grass.

Apple froze.

He instinctively looked at Santos, and Santos still hadn’t realized what he’d just done.

"Doctor! Doctor! Get the doctor on, now!" Apple was frantically waving toward the sideline, his eyes going bloodshot in a heartbeat.

He is a professional footballer, with top-level professional ethics.

But... before all that, he is a person—a normal, kind human being.

He had just watched Lu Yang’s left shin warp massively right in front of his eyes.

That unnatural twist, a sideways bend close to ninety degrees, instantly shattered his psychological defenses.

But no one could hear Apple’s voice.

The celebrations all around were too loud.

The fans could barely see what had just happened, and anyway their attention was glued to the ball; all they knew was that after shooting, Lu Yang seemed to get knocked over by Santos.

But is that really a problem?

Of course not.

In the next moment Lu Yang would get up off the turf, then sprint while tearing off his shirt, then charge toward the Corner Flag Area, leading all the fans in chanting "San Remo Miracle!"

Scenes like that—Lu Yang’s fans couldn’t be more familiar.

Nothing can bring him down.

He is just that strong.

After Santos chopped Lu Yang down, all he registered was that Lu Yang flew a bit high; he had no idea how much damage that kick had actually done.

An angry man, under a blast of adrenaline, can erupt with Power beyond his usual limits.

Until...

"You fucking bastard!" Morici came sprinting over from a distance.

By then the cameras had finally cut away from the goal net and back toward Lu Yang.

The broadcast director’s intention was obvious: next, Lu Yang should be getting up to lead the celebrations.

He was the god of this match!

He single-handedly destroyed Bayern, who were almost at their peak!

But in the frame, as Morici charged at Santos, he suddenly leapt, his body soaring.

His move brought Bruce Lee to mind.

Bang!

Morici launched a flying kick, his boot slamming into Santos’s stomach.

Santos is 1.89 meters tall, over 85 kilos, a standard big unit.