“This kid is a bit different today; he better not get reckless!”
Erik ten Hag watched the big screen from the sidelines, his heart a mix of joy and worry.
The players on the field were indeed greatly boosted in morale, but Gao Nuo's expression made him concerned.
He was known in the team as a hot-blooded youth.
Coupled with the fact that in everyone's eyes, Gao Nuo didn't have much experience in major competitions, it was inevitable that they feared he might act impulsively.
Erik ten Hag waved for Garnacho to start warming up, his eyes fixed on the field.
If Gao Nuo became irrational, he would be substituted immediately.
Antony has grown well over the past two years, contributing every time he plays, gradually living up to his hundred-million-dollar price tag.
Neymar's injury had little impact on the team's strength and provided great spiritual support to the team.
Watching the players on the field, their morale high, the singing at Old Trafford grew louder.
In the 76th minute of the match, Paris Saint-Germain's stamina was running low, and Zidane made personnel adjustments.
Müller, Soler, and Mendes came off to rest.
Asensio, Botebaku, and Bernat came on as substitutes.
The three-in, three-out positional adjustment signaled Paris Saint-Germain's counterattack.
In the 78th minute of the match, Gao Nuo dropped back to receive the ball, and just as he controlled it, he felt a pain behind him.
Mukiele was completely outmatched in his struggle with Gao Nuo.
In the previous match, they could still trash-talk each other, but meeting again, he couldn't keep up with his opponent's rhythm.
This angered the Frenchman, who was full of superiority.
Seeing Gao Nuo protect the ball with his body once again, Mukiele, who had no advantage in height or leg length, became desperate.
He secretly used his big dark elbow to jab Gao Nuo's lower back, pushing forward with force.
Erik ten Hag's worries were not unfounded; Gao Nuo was a bit overexcited at this moment.
“Holy crap!”
The pain in his lower back came, and he involuntarily blurted out a swear word, then immediately turned and dribbled forward.
Mukiele's first attempt failed, so he tried another trick.
While chasing, he grabbed Gao Nuo's arm, forcefully lifted it, lowered his head, and brought his face into intimate contact with Gao Nuo's hand.
“Beep—!”
The Referee blew his whistle while running towards the scene of the incident.
“Mr. Referee, he slapped me! Look at my face!”
Mukiele, who had just fallen exaggeratedly, now stood up and shouted.
Gao Nuo stood by, his foot on the ball, hands on his hips, completely dumbfounded.
“Is something wrong with this guy? Did he forget to take his medicine today? Doesn't he know there's something called VAR?”
The Referee was very experienced and didn't rush to express an opinion, pressing his earphone and waiting for the fourth official's prompt.
“Oh, wow—!”
Old Trafford erupted in laughter.
The close-up shot clearly recreated the entire process of Gao Nuo's “crime.”
It even replayed Mukiele's big dark elbow from earlier.
“Beep—!”
The Referee showed Mukiele a yellow card, and Manchester United was awarded a free-kick in midfield.
Gao Nuo still didn't speak; he had slapped someone for free and caused his opponent to get a card, so there was no need to argue further.
Unlike Gao Nuo's magnanimity, Antony, who witnessed the entire process from the side, already had a murderous glint in his eyes.
The free-kick was taken, Rice passed the ball to the right, and Manchester United continued to attack down the flank.
Antony decisively passed the ball to Gao Nuo after receiving it, then diagonally cut into the penalty area.
Marquinhos worked with Mukiele to close him down.
Six feet kicked wildly around the ball, making for a lively scene.
Gao Nuo somewhat awkwardly threaded the ball into the penalty area, but it was blocked by Marquinhos.
Mukiele took the opportunity to push Gao Nuo, controlling the ball at his feet.
The Referee ignored the fans' boos; this was not a foul.
Firstly, Gao Nuo had already passed the ball.
Secondly, Mukiele merely used the momentum of his fall to push, not actively extending his hand, and the movement was very small.
These matters had nothing to do with Antony.
The bad boy had reached his limit.
Aim!
Charge!
Just as Mukiele was about to dribble the ball out of the danger zone, he felt a strong force on his backside, and his body uncontrollably fell forward.
He took a face-plant, then Mukiele turned and jumped up from the ground, spitting out two blades of grass from his mouth, glaring angrily at the short guy behind him.
Antony did not back down, widening his eyes even more, looking ready for a fight at any moment.
Mukiele was pulled away by Donnarumma, who rushed over; he already had a yellow card and couldn't afford to make another mistake.
Gao Nuo also quickly scrambled up from the ground, hugging Antony to prevent the incident from escalating.
The Referee gave Antony a yellow card, warned both players to be careful with their actions, and then elegantly walked away.
“Well, Gao Nuo is fine, but Antony is stirring things up first. Has he forgotten Luke Shaw's red card from the last match?”
Erik ten Hag on the sidelines had a splitting headache.
“There isn't much time left in the match, and we see a lot of tension on the field. It seems both sides want to finish the game in regular time!”
“Indeed, that's for sure. Both sides have expended a lot of energy, and going into extra time would not be good for either.”
“And also, the decline in physical fitness is causing both sides' movements to become distorted, leading to many fouls.”
Zhan Jun and Zhang began discussing the issue of physical fitness animatedly.
Mukiele's self-directed performance made the match a bit easier.
Antony's momentary impulsiveness made the atmosphere tense again.
At this moment, Gao Nuo was running towards the center circle with a now calm Antony.
“Hey, Antony, I know you also want to win this match for Neymar, but this isn't the way.”
This chapter is not over, please click next page to continue reading!
Antony looked a bit impatient. Although he liked the yellow-skinned kid beside him, it didn't mean he could boss him around.
Gao Nuo knew this guy's temper and continued, unconcerned: “Listen, Neymar and I had planned to focus on attacking the flanks during counterattacks, but unfortunately, he got injured.”
“But it's fine, our cooperation is also good. Pay attention to my runs.”
Antony's expression improved. Attacking from the flanks aligned with his own thoughts, so he nodded in agreement.
With only 20 meters, they didn't have time to explain everything clearly.
As long as the direction was set, the rest would be improvisation on the spot.
In the 82nd minute of the match, Manchester United's defense was showing signs of fatigue, and Varane was the first to cramp up.
Injuries had taken their toll on Manchester United's stalwart, and his performance this season had fallen into a slump.
Erik ten Hag, with a grim face, brought on Lisandro Martínez.
The tall central defensive pairing he had deployed, fearing the opponent's attacks from both wings.
Not only did it not work, but now he had to use up a substitution slot.
This made Erik ten Hag's resentment towards Zidane even stronger.
During the substitution interval, the voices of Zhan Jun and Zhang came through.
“Both sides still have two substitutions left. It seems the main players on the field won't be easily replaced until they're completely exhausted, and neither coach dares to make a hasty substitution.”
“Yes, that's right. In such an important match, at this point in time, no one dares to act rashly. The drama of a 'god-like' substitution doesn't happen very often.”
“We don't know what changes this adjustment will bring to the situation on the field. Let's wait and see.”