The Greatest of all Time

Within the area designated for the press, Olav Brusveen, the TV2 Sporten reporter, continued following the proceedings on the pitch. His signature soft smile outlined his face as his mood wasn't the least bit affected even after Rosenborg had conceded a goal. The more chaotic the match became, the better the headlines he would fish out for his blog the following day. Excitement had long started to swell through him as the game progressed in a much more unpredictable way.

"It's the 60th minute, and Rosenborg is still leading 2:1," he heard Kjell Roar, the commentator, say, his voice coming to him through the stadium's loudspeakers. "Rosenborg is on the ball again. Mike Jensen just controlled the ball in the defensive third before passing it on to Jonas Svensson, the other defensive midfielder, on his right."

"Jonas skips past Magne Hoseth, the Molde captain, before flicking the ball towards Zachary—who has just opened himself up close to the center-line on the left flank. It's all Rosenborg once again. The players in white and black are slowly bearing down on Molde's goal like predators on the hunt..."

Olav Brusveen turned his entire focus to the field when Zachary controlled the ball close to the touchline on the left flank. Without any dilly-dallying, the young Maestro turned around and started playing a couple of one-twos with Tarik Elyounoussi, the Rosenborg left-winger.

Their passes let them seamlessly get past Kristoffer Vatshaug, the Molde right-back, as they continued spearing deep into Molde's half through the left flank. Olav exclaimed again and again at Zachary's potential. His creativity as a player was growing steadily with every passing minute on the pitch.

The cheers of the Rosenborg fans around the stadium exploded as Zachary received a return ball from Tarik and finally stepped into the final third. But just as he was raising his leg, probably with the intention of passing, Jo Inge, the relentless Molde midfielder, slid in with a sweeping tackle to dispossess him.

However, Zachary managed to flick the ball quickly beyond Jo Inge's reach before the tackle could connect. He then followed that up with a lofted diagonal pass over Molde's defensive line to pick out Tobias Mikkelsen, the Rosenborg right-winger, on the other side of the field. With that defense-splitting pass, he'd managed to set Tobias loose on a clear path towards Molde's goal.

Everyone in the stadium, including Olav Brusveen himself, thought that Tobias would surely put the ball in the back of the net. Zachary had timed his pass perfectly to help the Rosenborg right-winger beat the defenders and leave them in the dust without much trouble. Tobias only needed to control the ball behind the defense and run for a couple of yards before firing home and widening Rosenborg's lead once more.

But the goddess of luck wasn't on his side at that moment. Olav's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Örjan Nyland, the Molde goalkeeper, save Tobias' right-footed shot with an outstretched foot. The referee pointed towards the corner flag and awarded Rosenborg a corner kick.

"Isn't this like the second or third time Tobias is missing a chance at goal when he's one-on-one with the keeper this season?" He asked one of the members of his camera crew that was closest to him.

"It's the fourth time, to be specific," the cameraman replied, eyes still following the match through the lenses of his camera.

"Oh, that's interesting," Olav said, inclining his head to one side to observe Coach Johansen in the home team's technical area. The bald and read-bearded coach was a comical sight. He was busy mouthing what seemed to be numerous curses while gesticulating frantically at Tobias for missing the opportunity.

Olav instantly decided the coach would make a good topic for one of his articles the next day. "Make sure that you start taking some shots of Coach Johansen's facial reactions as the match progresses. Don't just focus on the field of play." He added.

"Don't worry, man," the cameraman closest to him said. "Eirik is already covering the shots of the technical staff and some of the fans. In the meantime, the rest of us are covering everything else on the field of play."

"Excellent," Olav said, beaming. "We've got ourselves a lot of content for tomorrow's headlines. I wonder how the match—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes snapping wide open and focusing back on the field of play.

Örjan Nyland, the Molde goalkeeper, had just made another incredible save, denying Nicki Nielsen from benefitting from the corner kick and scoring a hattrick with a header.

But that wasn't the end of the excitement on the field of play. Örjan Nyland quickly picked himself from the ground—and without any dilly-dallying, made a long one-handed throw towards the left flank. With his strong arm, he managed to connect with Mattias Moström, the Molde right-winger, who'd long started making a run across the touchline.

The counter-attack was on. The Molde goalkeeper had caught the Rosenborg players unawares with that brilliant throw of his. Most of them were still in Molde's side of the pitch since they'd just been attacking the corner. So, it was two-against-three in Rosenborg's half during the 64th minute.

The stadium went quiet as Mattias Moström controlled the ball mid-sprint and continued across the wing, stepping past the center-line and penetrating deeper into Rosenborg's half.

Cristian Gamboa, the Rosenborg right-back, homed in on him immediately, trying to stop the lightning-fast counter-attack. But the Molde left-winger didn't try to hold on to the ball or dribble. Instead, he just flicked it towards Daniel Chima Chukwu, the Molde center-forward, who'd long started running in sync with him through the middle. He then pushed past Christian Gamboa and continued sprinting towards Rosenborg's goal like a bullet right out of a sniper muzzle.

Daniel Chima Chukwu received Mattias' pass, without slowing down, as he'd just stepped into Rosenborg's defensive third. Without a moment of delay, he chipped the ball over the two Rosenborg players that'd been trying to intercept him. He was so quick in setting it perfectly onto the path of the bolting Mattias to beat the Rosenborg defense.

Mathias used his fast pace to bolt past the two players in white and black before connecting with the ball. Without any pause, he headed it forward—towards Rosenborg's goal and then followed after it—speed like that of a predator on the hunt. He was so fast that he managed to step into the 18-yard box in a matter of seconds before chipping the ball over Lund Hansen, Rosenborg's keeper, to score Molde's second goal for the day. 2:2.

Olav heard the traveling Molde fans start yelling and cheering like there wasn't a tomorrow even from where he stood, within the area designated for the press—close to the tunnel entrance. Molde had finally managed to equalize and even the score against Rosenborg in the 65th minute.

Olav was in a good mood as he was enjoying every moment of the game. The thrill involved within every minute on the field was what would feed and enrich his stories the following day. He looked forward to interviewing both sides right after the game.

****    ****

Zachary gave a bitter laugh and cast a glance heavenward as the Molde players celebrated their second goal. He couldn't understand how his team was close to losing a game that had seemed like a sure win only half an hour ago. They'd been two goals ahead at the end of the first half, yet they'd lost that lead within the first 20 minutes of the second half. Yet, all the players on the team had been performing at their best. Zachary was almost choking on his frustration.

"Guys," he heard Tore Reginiussen, the Rosenborg captain, yelling at the top of his lungs, seemingly to make himself heard over the loud cheering in the stadium. "There's plenty of time for us to regain our lead. So, get your heads back into the game, and let's play some football. We haven't lost yet. Nicki, Zachary, and Tobias: hurry and get back into position. Let's win this game." He clapped his hands to motivate his teammates.

On hearing the captain yelling, Zachary immediately cast the negative thoughts out of his mind before jogging to his starting position, right outside the center circle. He understood that football was the sort of game where things could go wrong even if one did everything perfectly. So, Zachary shut out all the unnecessary distractions and focused back on the match with single-minded devotion. He'd decided to do his best and leave with no regrets on the pitch.