The Greatest of all Time

The cheers around the stadium were deafening.

Rosenborg had managed to score its opening goal in the 13th minute of the second round of the Norwegian Football Cup.

Kristin celebrated the goal with the rest of the Rosenborg fans in the stands. She could sense that all the supporters around her seemed to be venting their pent-up frustration since their club had lost its previous two fixtures.

"Okay, there we have it, the first goal of Rosenborg Ballklub," Kristin heard Anne Rimmen, the commentator, say, the voice coming to her through the stadium's loudspeakers.

"That was some incredible finishing from Nicki Nielsen, as usual." The commentator chuckled softly.

"The Troll Kids are ahead by one goal. Nicki was as composed as ever in front of the goal. But the assist was even more spectacular. It was the hallmark of quality from Rosenborg's young midfielder—Zachary Bemba." She drawled, trying to pronounce the last name correctly.

"But what we would like to know: was that pass a fluke, or did he intend it? Harald, what do you think?"

"Well, all that matters is that he made the assist that resulted in a goal," Mr. Harald Brattbakk replied. "Moreover, we can't know for sure whether that was luck or pure skill since it is our first time seeing this young midfielder in the Rosenborg colors. We don't have any basis for any inferences."

"Oh," Anne Rimmen said, seeming slightly disappointed. "But if you're to analyze that fifty-yard pass that was the assist, do you think he can replicate that again?"

Harald laughed. "You're a persistent one," he said.

"Yes, I'm."

"Well, from the moment Zachary Bemba touched the ball in his half, you could tell that he intended to release the forwards as quickly as possible for a counterattack. You can see that from the way he made that incredible Cruyff turn to lose the two midfielders that were closing him down."

"He is a very talented midfielder. That I can tell. Just look at the way he made that yard of space for himself in that crowded defensive midfield. That shows us that he has good game reading and can spot opportunities quickly."

"However, that raking pass was something else," Mr. Harald Brattbakk continued. "You have to see how it flowed through the defenders and dropped right into a great position behind Strindheim's defensive line. There might have been some luck involved. But who knows? Maybe we shall get to see some more of the same from Zachary in the future."

"Luck," Kristin heard Kasongo scoff from beside her. "Those people haven't seen anything yet."

The friends around him laughed at that.

"For a moment there, I thought he would go ahead and run through the opponents with the ball," Melissa Romano said, her words colored by her Italian accent.

"This is the professional league, not the academy," Kendrick said, shaking his head. "Dribbling would be quite hard for him at this stage."

"Well, you never know," Kasongo said. "If anyone can do it, it's Zachary. He's phenomenal."

Kristin was getting more and more curious about Zachary's current level of skill. From the way his former teammates talked about him, it seemed they believed he could establish himself on the Rosenborg starting roster in no time. They made it seem like making crazy assists was merely a walk in the park for him.

Kristin was surprised. Although she believed in her grandpa's vision, she had thought that Zachary needed time to mature before he could be of any help to Rosenborg.

She'd only been teasing him when she previously requested him to help Rosenborg reach the Europa League quarter-finals. The Troll Kids couldn't even defeat Molde the previous season in the Norway Cup's fourth round. So, it wouldn't be easy for them to go past the group stage of the Europa League.

But if Zachary did have the skills to unleash passes like the one he'd just made, Rosenborg would soar in the following seasons. They already had Mike Jensen, who'd arrived at the club from Bröndby IF the previous February. If they could add on another good midfielder, then they had a chance to go beyond the group stages of the Europa League. She could feel her heart beating much faster than usual as she thought through the possibilities.

"The players have taken their starting positions once again," she heard Anne Rimmen's melodic voice from the loudspeaker. "The celebrations have ended, and the game will be restarting in a few seconds. Harald, do you think since Rosenborg has already scored in the 13th minute, they'll surely win this game?"

"As I already said, you can never be one hundred percent sure in football. Anything can happen."

"Strindheim has had its bouts of attacking spells in the opening minutes. They must be dominating possession by at least 52% if my estimation is right. However, they lack one key factor. They haven't been able to penetrate the final third and score. Their forwards can't seem to connect with their midfielders. If they could correct that simple flaw, they could give Rosenborg a run for their money."

"On the other hand, Rosenborg is now quite comfortable after securing that goal," Mr. Harald Brattbakk continued. "They could sit back and relax—and weather Strindheim's attacks. And when there's an opportunity, they could hit Strindheim on a counterattack. They're the stronger team. So, they can achieve this easily. However, it will all depend on whether the young midfielders can continue holding their own in the middle of the field of play."

"Okay, thank you, Harald," Anne Rimmen said. "For now, let's take you back to the live-action. The game has just restarted, and it's Strindheim with possession."

Kristin smiled, returning her entire focus to the goings-on on the pitch. A Strindheim center back had just received the ball close to his box. However, before he could release it, Nicki Nielsen, the Rosenborg number-9, was upon him.

Nicki closed down the defender and angled his body to block all the possible passing routes forward. The Strindheim center-back could only distribute the ball back to the goalkeeper due to the pressure.

However, Nicki Nielsen didn't let up the heat on the Strindheim defense. He seemed to have gotten more energy after scoring the goal. He continued chasing after the ball until he pressurized the keeper to release the ball wide towards the left-back.

The Strindheim left-back received the ball but was also instantly closed down by John Chibuike, the left-forward. The left-back looked around to find a safe place to release the ball before the Rosenborg number-10 could dispossess him. But he was unsuccessful. All his nearby teammates had already been tight-marked by the highly agile Rosenborg forwards and midfielders. So, he could only kick the ball high towards the Rosenborg half, trying to pick out the Strindheim forwards with a long-range pass.

But, all was still in vain. Tore Reginiussen, the Rosenborg captain, was in top shape in the defense. He out-paced the Strindheim forward and headed the long ball safely back to the keeper. Rosenborg regained possession in that way.

For the next ten minutes, Kristin watched intently as the Rosenborg players dictated the game's tempo. Whenever they didn't have possession, they would use high-pressing tactics to force the Strindheim players to play the ball high. The highly tactical Rosenborg defenders and midfielders would then out-muscle the opponents and easily regain the ball that had been—released. Rosenborg completely overwhelmed Strindheim in the few minutes after the goal.

The young midfielders performed very well in the middle of the field. Their passing was pinpoint-accurate and reminded Kristin of the Tiki-Taka playing style of Barcelona. They'd completely dominated the midfield with that style of play.

Zachary especially stood out. He could tackle and defend. He was also good at running into free spaces, placing himself between opponents, and opening up to receive passes. His sense of positioning on the field and his vision were incredible.

He didn't look in any way like someone playing his debut match. He looked confident and connected with his teammates—to play splendid flowing football. All the midfielders and forwards around him came alive whenever he was on the ball.

By the 25th minute, Rosenborg had managed to push back all the Strindheim players into their own half because of their dominant midfielders. It had been a long time since Kristin had last seen Rosenborg bullying another team, whether strong or weak, in such a manner.

In the 28th minute, Zachary intercepted a Strindheim long-range pass once again. He chested it down close to the center circle and let loose a grounded through-pass towards the wing where Jaime Alás was lurking. And as he'd done throughout the entire game, he dashed forward towards Strindheim's box after releasing the ball.

Jaime Alás, the Rosenborg left-forward, got to the end of Zachary's through-pass close to the touchline. He didn't pause to control the ball since it had landed directly onto his sprinting path. Instead, he fed it past Kristian Sörli, the Strindheim right-back, with a deft first touch—before beating him for pace.

Jaime Alás shrugged off the left-back—who was desperately trying to pull his shirt and chased after the ball like the wind. He got to it close to the goal line on the left flank and sent a teasing grounded pass into the box.

The cross came in so fast that it left the Strindheim center backs without much time to prepare for it. Even the Strindheim goalkeeper didn't come out from between the posts to intercept the ball. The defense of the men in yellow and blue was in shambles.

Nicki Nielsen took advantage of the lapse in defense and sprang into action like a hungry predator that had spotted prey. He skipped past Mats Ingebrigtsen, the Strindheim center back, and slid towards the goal to tap the ball into the back of the net.

It was the best chance Rosenborg had created in minutes. All the fans, including Kristin, stood up from their seats, anticipating another goal from the forward.

However, the number-9 was a second too late. The ball skimmed across the goal's mouth, between the keeper's outstretched hand and Nicki Nielsen's foot by mere inches. It then continued onwards past the legs of a few other players and towards the right flank.

"Oh, my goodness me," Anne Rimmen, the commentator, yelled out—her voice dwarfing the sighs of the Rosenborg fans in the stadium. "What a missed opportunity. That should have been 2:0. Wait..." She paused for a second. "Rosenborg's chance is not over yet. Brede Moe, the Rosenborg right-back, has picked up the ball close to the touchline. He is going to feed it back into the area..."

Kristin's whole attention was on the field of play. She saw Brede Moe skip past Christopher Moen and then unleash a lovely lofted cross into the box.

The second time around, all the players in the box, including Rosenborg's Nicki Nielsen and John Chibuike, jumped high to connect with the incoming cross. All the while, the two tried their best to out-muscle the Strindheim defenders.

However, the Strindheim Keeper, who had just recovered, jumped high and beat them to the ball. He showed great determination and out-muscled all the other players mid-air—before punching the ball away from the box with a strong arm.

Kristin's eyes followed the ball as it flew in an arc—over the players in both black and yellow jerseys—before bouncing a few yards away from the box.

"There it's, it's coming," Kristin heard Kasongo shout excitedly from beside her. She wondered what the African was talking about, but she didn't have time to probe the issue. Instead, her eyes remained trailing the loose ball that was still bouncing away from Strindheim's box.

She was almost letting loose a sigh about the missed opportunity. But then, she saw a tall figure meet the ball that was mid bounce with a left boot, sending it back from whence it'd come. The figure was Zachary, and he'd just unleashed a missile of a shot towards goal on a half volley from twenty-eight yards away.

Kristin was surprised. [How had he gotten there so fast?] She wondered, blinking by reflex. The ball was traveling like a bullet bound for the goal. By the time she reopened her eyes to follow its trail once more, it was just smashing off the crossbar and bouncing on the green—into the back of the net.

2:0. Kristin fell in a trance, mouth agape as she couldn't believe what she'd just witnessed. She could sense that even Zachary's friends, who knew him best, were surprised by the goal.

"Oh my goodness me," the commentator shouted, waking her from the trance. "What a touch of brilliance? What a shocker? Glorious, glorious, magnificent goal! What about that? Zachary Bemba has braced us with an absolute beauty in his debut game. Oh, my! I can't believe it." Anne Rimmen's intoned words in Norwegian at the pace of a machine gun.

The stadium burst into loud cheers once again.

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