Once the early probing phase ended, Arsenal gradually took full control of the midfield.
The shift was obvious.
In the Sky Sports commentary booth, Paul Merson finally let out a long breath.
For a moment earlier, he had feared the worst.
Arsenal had a long history of uncomfortable nights in European competitions. On several occasions, they had dominated domestically, only to stumble unexpectedly in Europe.
When the match opened with a few shaky moments, fans had felt that familiar concern creeping back.
But Arsenal quickly corrected themselves.
The midfield settled.
Control returned.
"Alright," Martin Tyler said with a chuckle. "Arsenal do enjoy giving their supporters a bit of drama early on. But they've settled now, and this match is properly underway."
On the pitch, Kai stepped forward and positioned himself right inside the center circle.
Cazorla moved alongside him, almost level.
It was a clear message.
Arsenal were committing numbers forward.
They were going to attack.
"Damn it," Tielemans muttered under his breath.
Something about the current rhythm of Arsenal made him uneasy.
At the start of the match, there had been small openings. Arsenal looked slightly loose.
Now that had vanished.
Every movement felt organized.
Every press came at the right moment.
Whenever Tielemans tried to receive the ball, an Arsenal player immediately appeared beside him.
He had good balance and could escape pressure in tight spaces, but he was not especially quick.
Against Arsenal's structured pressing, that weakness became obvious.
Their zonal pressure kept closing the passing lanes around him.
And the biggest problem sat directly in the middle of the pitch.
Kai.
And N'Golo Kanté.
Tielemans disliked admitting it, but both players had the ability to shut him down in direct duels.
A voice from behind shouted.
"Youri! Drop back, come for the ball!"
His teammates needed help.
Arsenal's pressure in the attacking half was suffocating their build-up. Even the forwards were being forced deeper to help the midfield circulate possession.
Tielemans had no choice but to retreat toward the defensive midfield area to collect the ball.
It was not where he felt most comfortable.
His preferred receiving zone was slightly higher, on the right side of midfield.
The structure was already disrupted.
From the very beginning of the match, the pressure had been intense.
Tielemans received the ball and tried to turn.
Immediately, two red shirts arrived.
Ángel Di María from the front.
Santi Cazorla from the side.
They closed around him instantly.
Di María blocked his path forward while Cazorla pressed aggressively from behind, practically wrapping an arm around him as he fought for the ball.
Tielemans tried to hold his ground, but Cazorla refused to give him space.
Then Di María suddenly stretched his foot forward.
A quick flick.
The ball was gone.
Tielemans' expression changed immediately.
Losing possession in the defensive midfield zone was the worst possible outcome.
He looked up in panic.
Di María had already broken free and was sprinting straight through the center.
Anderlecht's defensive line scrambled.
Di María dribbled diagonally toward the right side of the box, which forced the entire defensive line to shift in that direction.
Full back Acheampong stepped up to confront him.
If Di María tried to push forward, Acheampong was ready to crash into him without hesitation.
Then Di María suddenly slowed.
Acheampong reacted instantly and slammed on the brakes.
He collided straight into Di María.
But the Argentine winger was already moving again.
The sudden stop followed by an explosive burst created a tiny gap.
Acheampong missed his moment.
He reached out to grab Di María's shirt, but his hand caught nothing but air.
Now Di María was clear.
From the commentary booth, Martin Taylor's voice rose with excitement.
"Di María slows it down, then accelerates again. Acheampong's beaten. Di María now with a shooting angle, what does he do here?"
Alan Smith leaned forward slightly.
"This is dangerous. He doesn't need much space."
Di María did not even glance up.
There was no thought of passing.
The angle was good.
The opportunity was there.
He trusted his instinct.
Bang.
The shot left his foot sharply.
From the right side of the area, he aimed across his body toward the far post.
The direction went completely against the natural movement of the goalkeeper.
Silvio Proto had already shifted his weight to the right.
Now he desperately stuck out his left foot, trying to block the shot.
But the ball slipped past his toes.
He could only watch.
None of the defenders had recovered to the goalmouth.
The ball struck the inside of the left post.
Then it rolled quietly into the net.
Only nine minutes had passed.
Arsenal were already ahead.
The entire sequence happened with brutal efficiency.
From the counter press to the final shot, everything was fast, decisive, and precise.
In the commentary booth, Martin Taylor raised his voice.
"Arsenal have the lead! Just nine minutes gone, and it comes from a brilliant counter press high up the pitch!"counter-press
Alan Smith added calmly.
"Excellent work from Cazorla and Di María to win the ball back. Once Di María got into that space, the finish was very composed."
"This is the difference in quality. Anderlecht are a strong side in the Belgian league, but when you face a club like Arsenal, small mistakes become very expensive."
Back in the Belgian broadcast studio, commentator De Liete fell silent.
The goal left him visibly uncomfortable.
His earlier confidence suddenly felt misplaced.
Beside him, Rossman simply shook his head.
The gap between the two teams had always been clear.
Encouraging exaggerated expectations would only create embarrassment when reality arrived.
And there was another factor.
Tielemans had slighted Kai before the match.
Kai was not just any player.
He was Arsenal's captain.
From another perspective, challenging Kai meant challenging the club itself.
How could Arsenal players ignore that?
Rossman quietly murmured, almost to himself.
"This is only the beginning."
On the pitch, the game restarted.
After conceding, Anderlecht tried to push forward again, hoping to regain control.
But Arsenal refused to give them any space.
The midfield remained completely under Arsenal's command.
At one moment, Kai used his shoulder to nudge Tielemans aside while collecting the ball.
Tielemans steadied himself and saw Kai moving left with possession.
He immediately rushed in for a tackle.
Just as his foot stretched toward the ball, Kai changed his movement.
The dribbling foot pulled the ball back.
Then came a quick horizontal pass.
The ball slipped cleanly through Tielemans' legs.
A nutmeg.
Kai stepped forward, keeping his body between Tielemans and the ball, already looking ahead for the next option.
"Slow down," Kai called calmly.
The pass rolled toward Cazorla.
Around him, several Arsenal players were already sprinting forward.
They looked almost too eager.
Kai shook his head slightly.
His teammates were still fired up from the earlier provocation.
They were attacking with pure energy, sometimes ignoring rhythm and structure.
Too much excitement.
Too much impatience.
Part of Kai's role as captain was controlling that energy.
He had to pull the reins when necessary.
Yet even now, he could feel it.
His friends were like restless horses.
They stamped their boots on the turf.
Their eyes were fixed on the Anderlecht goal.
As if they wanted to smash it apart.
The tempo rose, and even a few overly eager moves began to create chances while Anderlecht struggled to organize themselves. Arsenal pushed well beyond the halfway line and started pressing the Belgian side deep into their own half.
Kai had considered slowing things down and calming his teammates. After watching them for a few minutes, he realized it was pointless.
The momentum was with Arsenal, and the players clearly needed an outlet.
This match had already carried tension before kickoff. Given how things were unfolding, Kai decided he would let his teammates release that energy on the pitch.
If they wanted to charge forward, then let them charge.
He quietly dropped deeper and positioned himself level with N'Golo Kanté in midfield.
If the attackers pushed high, someone had to stay behind and protect the structure.
Kai understood that responsibility.
Not everyone in a team could lose their heads and surge forward. Someone had to hold the line and provide cover.
As captain, that role belonged to him.
The rest of the Arsenal players were not thinking about any of that. They simply wanted to take the game to Anderlecht.
"Left!" Sanchez called, raising his hand for the ball.
Cazorla glanced up but chose the other side, sending the pass toward the right wing instead.
Sanchez frowned slightly.
Since the fifth round of the competition, Cazorla had clearly preferred combining with Ángel Di María. The Argentine's positioning was sharper, his dribbling more dangerous, and his final decision-making had been excellent recently.
Still, Sanchez was not particularly happy about being ignored.
On the right side, Di María was already in full flow.
After bringing the ball down, he accelerated immediately along the touchline.
Acheampong felt his eyelids twitch.
Their duel had not lasted long, but he had already felt the pressure from Di María.
This was a player who had performed at the biggest clubs in Europe. His reputation was well earned.
Acheampong had initially hoped to prove himself by shutting Di María down.
Now he simply hoped he would not be beaten too badly.
As Di María approached, he began shifting his body rhythm from side to side, constantly adjusting direction with quick touches.
Each feint forced Acheampong to hesitate.
One mistake in timing and Di María would be gone.
That was exactly the problem.
Every change of direction looked dangerous, and Acheampong could not tell which move was real.
Before support arrived, Di María suddenly released the ball.
"Middle!" Acheampong shouted as he turned.
The cross skimmed past him and headed toward the center.
Anderlecht's defenders were already scrambling, but the pass was dangerously close to goal.
Proto reacted quickly.
The goalkeeper rushed out and punched the ball clear with both fists.
The ball flew out of the penalty area.
"My ball!" Tielemans called, spreading his arms as he moved toward it.
He brought the ball under control and prepared to turn.
Then he heard a shout.
"Watch out!"
Tielemans' heart jumped.
A moment later, he felt a powerful presence behind him.
The pressure forced his body sideways, and before he could react, the ball was gone.
Tielemans dropped heavily to the ground and stared ahead in disbelief.
The figure in front of him wore red and white.
Number four.
And the captain's armband.
It was the player he had mocked before the match.
Kai.
Before kickoff, Tielemans had been full of confidence. He believed he was one of the brightest young talents in Europe. He even imagined making his name by outplaying Kai.
Reality was far harsher.
Against Kai, he could barely stay on his feet.
Every collision sent him backward.
Too weak physically.
Too slow to react.
Not sharp enough with the ball.
The comparison was brutal.
In that moment, Tielemans realized something uncomfortable.
The advantages he believed he had were nowhere near enough at this level.
Kai won the ball cleanly and passed it forward to Sanchez before jogging back into position.
While retreating, he noticed Tielemans was still sitting on the grass, staring upward.
Kai ran past him without slowing down, glancing briefly in his direction.
On the broadcast, Martin Taylor spoke calmly.
"Another strong intervention from Kai in midfield. Tielemans thought he had time there, but the Arsenal captain closed the space immediately."
Beside him, Alan Smith added,
"That's the difference in physical presence. Kai reads the situation early and simply muscles him off the ball."
Back in Belgium, commentator De Liete sounded frustrated.
"What a chance for a counterattack, and it disappears just like that. Tielemans simply could not escape Kai's pressure."
His co-commentator shook his head.
"Anderlecht's approach is risky. Against a team like Arsenal, if you cannot handle their midfield pressure, you will struggle to launch any counterattacks at all."
Arsenal's reputation in the Champions League had been uneven in the past, which led some teams to believe they could cause an upset.
This version of Arsenal felt different.
Their system was disciplined.
Their reactions were quick.
They adapted faster than most sides in Europe.
Then suddenly the stadium noise changed.
A roar came from the corner where the traveling Arsenal fans were gathered.
The camera swung toward the Anderlecht goal.
The ball was already inside the net.
Luis Suárez sprinted across the pitch with his arms spread wide in celebration.
De Liete glanced down at the clock.
Twenty-six minutes.
Only seventeen minutes had passed since Arsenal's first goal.
Arsenal were two goals ahead.
A heavy feeling settled in the commentary box.
The match continued, and that feeling only grew stronger.
Arsenal kept attacking.
Every wave of pressure forced Anderlecht deeper.
Proto barely had time to reset between saves.
Each time an Arsenal player approached the box, the goalkeeper braced himself again.
Anderlecht refused to surrender.
They tried repeatedly to break through midfield and find a way back into the game.
But the pair sitting in front of Arsenal's defense were immovable.
Kai and N'Golo Kanté.
The two midfielders shut down passing lanes again and again.
Even long balls behind the defense brought little success.
With most threats already cut off by the midfield screen, Arsenal's defenders dealt with the rest comfortably.
As the first half wore on, Anderlecht managed only two shots.
Neither troubled the goalkeeper.
The possession numbers told the story.
Seventy-nine percent for Arsenal.
Twenty-one percent for Anderlecht.
Arsenal's control was overwhelming.
And the pressure kept building.
Just before halftime, Cazorla picked up the ball outside the area.
He took one touch and struck a powerful low drive toward the goal.
The shot skidded across the grass and flew into the penalty area.
On its way through, it clipped an Anderlecht defender's foot.
The deflection completely wrong footed Proto.
The ball bounced straight into the net.
Three nil.
The stadium fell quiet.
Anderlecht were now three goals behind.
And only forty five minutes had been played.
The second half remained.
Very few inside the stadium believed a comeback was possible.
. . .
Please do leave a review and powerstones, which helps with the book's exposure.
Feel like joining a Patreon for free and subscribing to advanced chapters?
Visit the link:
[email protected]/GRANDMAESTA_30
Change @ to a