Chapter 168: Volume 2, - 168: First Half, First Warning

Chapter 168: Volume 2, Chapter 168: First Half, First Warning

The whistle blew, and the air on the Estádio Aurélio Pereira pitch immediately filled with the sharp, overlapping chorus of teenage urgency.

"Man on!"

"Turn!"

"Set!"

"Hold!"

For the first ten minutes, CD Cova da Piedade showed precisely why they had earned their place in the Nacional Juniores B opening round. They weren’t overawed by Sporting’s academy reputation; they pressed with compact discipline, closing passing lanes and denying Salvador Almeida any comfortable seconds on the ball in the central zone.

Rayan received his first real test inside the opening quarter-hour. Salvador switched play with a crisp diagonal pass that dropped right into the left channel. Rayan trapped it instantly on his chest, taking a soft touch down as Cova da Piedade’s right-back lunged forward to close the gap.

’Too close.’

Rayan tried to drop his shoulder and burst past on the outside, attempting to use his explosive first step. But the defender had anticipated the angle, read the shift of weight, and used the touchline perfectly as an extra defender, body-checking Rayan off balance and hooking the ball away down the line.

Rayan chased the transition back, his jaw tight with annoyance. He didn’t offer an appreciative nod to his opponent; he just dragged his boots back into position, fuming silently at his own heavy touch.

"Hard work, Rayan! Next time!" Duarte called out from the central pocket, spinning away from his marker to demand the throw-in.

Cova da Piedade retaliated immediately, launching a sharp counter-attack down their right flank that forced Bernardo Rocha to sprint fifty yards back, sliding in with a perfectly timed tackle to clear the ball out for a throw.

"Good cover, Bernardo!" Salvador shouted, organising the defensive line as the visitors prepared to throw. "Keep the line tight! Second balls are ours!"

The throw dropped near the penalty spot when Sporting’s centre-back mistimed his jump. A Cova midfielder cushioned it towards the edge of the area, and their number ten struck through a crowd. The shot clipped Salvador’s shin; Sporting’s goalkeeper had to palm it wide.

"Wake up!" Nuno shouted. "We can’t lose the first contact and then forget the runner!"

From the corner, Rayan guarded the near-post space while Bernardo tracked a runner arriving behind him. Tiago headed the delivery clear, but Cova’s right-back reached the second ball before Rayan and sent it straight back into the box. Salvador won the header this time. When the clearance found Duarte, he shielded it from a midfielder and drew a foul to give Sporting a moment to reorganise.

Sporting absorbed the pressure, weathered the early physical duels, and gradually began to suffocate the visitors through sheer territorial dominance. Salvador swept up a loose clearance in midfield, took a sharp touch to evade a lunging tackle, and recycled possession back to Bernardo on the right. Bernardo surveyed the pitch, slipped a clever inside pass to Duarte, who instantly redirected it into the feet of Salvador.

The rhythm quickened.

Salvador shifted the ball wide to Rayan on the left touchline. This time, instead of forcing an immediate dash, Rayan checked his pace, inviting Cova da Piedade’s right-back to step out. As the defender committed, Rayan clipped a disguised pass inside to Duarte, who spun and instantly swept the ball back out wide into the vacant space.

Rayan exploded into the acceleration window, driving past his man before the recovery challenge could arrive. He didn’t look up; he knew the shape. Tiago Silva had already made a fierce, curving near-post run, pinning the central defender.

Rayan whipped a low, violent cross across the six-yard box.

Tiago met it on the slide, driving a clean, powerful shot past the sprawling goalkeeper and into the back of the net.

"Get in there!" Tiago roared, sliding on his knees toward the corner flag as Bernardo and Salvador rushed over to swamp him.

Rayan jogged over, clapping his hands. "Proper run, Tiago."

"Proper ball," Tiago grinned, chest-bumping him before running back to the halfway line.

Cova da Piedade’s resistance cracked under the weight of the opening goal. Just five minutes later, Sporting struck again through pure, devastating transition.

Bernardo intercepted a loose square pass deep in Sporting’s half and immediately fed Salvador. Salvador didn’t hesitate, launching a vertical ball through the central channel. Duarte let the ball run across his body, drawing two midfielders with him before flicking a clever blind-side pass into the inside-left channel.

Rayan had already anticipated the gap before the ball left Duarte’s boot.

He ignited into open space, leaving the right-back flat-footed as he surged onto the pass. The central defender scrambled across, desperately attempting to close down the angle, but Rayan kept his composure. With a sharp, controlled instep touch, he opened his body and curled a fierce, low shot around the keeper’s outstretched hand, burying it cleanly into the bottom right corner.

"Yes!" Rayan yelled, wheeling away toward the technical area and sliding on the turf as his teammates piled on top of him, youth coach Nuno Marques clapping approvingly from the touchline.

At two-nil, Cova da Piedade’s captain pulled his midfield four deeper and told the right-back to stop chasing Rayan all the way to the touchline. Sporting kept possession, but the visitors blocked two attempts to play through the middle. Duarte received with his back to goal and tried to turn; a midfielder leaned into him and knocked the ball loose.

"Give it and move!" Salvador called, his palm out.

Duarte scowled, then jogged back into the pocket between the lines.

Five minutes before halftime, a clearance fell to Salvador near the centre circle. He played right to Bernardo, who held the touchline until the visiting left-back stepped forward. Bernardo cut inside, drawing a second defender towards him. Duarte slipped away from his marker and arrived at the edge of the area.

"Here!"

Bernardo shaped to shoot, then rolled a pass into Duarte’s stride. A defender lunged to block. Duarte moved the ball across his body with his first touch, letting the challenge slide past, and sent a low left-footed shot through the gap. The goalkeeper got fingertips to it but couldn’t keep it out.

Duarte turned towards Bernardo, both fists clenched.

"On a plate!" Bernardo shouted.

"About time," Duarte shot back as Tiago bumped his shoulder.

Sporting led three-nil. Rayan clapped from the edge of the area, already looking towards the gap opening beside Cova’s right-back.

Perhaps too comfortable.

A minute before the interval, Rayan received a square ball from Salvador deep in Cova da Piedade’s half. Tiago was making a clear diagonal run into open space on the right, offering the obvious, simple pass to unlock a four-on-two situation.

Rayan saw him. But feeling the comfortable cushion of the three-goal lead, he decided to chase a bit of individual glory instead.

Instead of releasing the ball, Rayan lowered his shoulder and tried to flick it past a retreating defender for a second time. The defender stood his ground, read the predictable trick, and poked the ball away cleanly into touch.

Nuno Marques’s voice cut across the pitch like a whip.

"El Mansouri! Move the ball! Stop playing for the highlights!"

Rayan threw his hands up in brief, irritated frustration, turning back to track the throw-in without answering.

The referee blew the halftime whistle seconds later.

Sporting 3, Cova da Piedade 0.

As the players turned toward the tunnel, breathing heavily in the midday heat, Nuno stood waiting by the technical area, his eyes fixed squarely on Rayan.