Su Hang suddenly understood.
"Holy shit! I thought you were trying to mess with my mood so I'd foul and get booked. I didn't expect you to be this vicious—using psychological suggestion to trigger the trauma of my right-ankle injury!"
Zidane froze, clearly not expecting Su Hang to completely misread him—only for him to expose himself instead.
As they brushed past each other, Su Hang's lips quietly curled upward.
Like he wouldn't understand psychological suggestion?
Anyone who's watched Prince of Tennis knows.
In the series, Momoshiro Takeshi developed lingering trauma after hurting his right foot, overusing his left and ending up with a new injury.
In competitive sports, the psychological shadow of injuries is an obstacle almost impossible to overcome.
It's nowhere near as easy as people imagine.
Simply put, athletes who recover from injury without psychological scars—who regain their power habits and movement patterns quickly—are the true minority.
Injuries make athletes know their bodies better… but also doubt them more.
Even if you're a legend, your form will fluctuate wildly for a while after an injury.
Unless you're certain—absolutely certain—that your body is perfectly fine.
Su Hang: How convenient! I'm 100% sure I'm fully recovered!
Zidane: "Uh… well…"
So after this whole psychological-suggestion attempt…
Zidane's heading actually became a bit shaky,
while Su Hang's right foot remained completely normal.
…
Twenty-seventh minute.
Su Hang drifted out to the right flank, with Abidal stepping up to defend.
But in the next instant, Abidal was stunned.
Su Hang's feet swept across the ball at terrifying speed—
and with terrifying stiffness, like he'd been electrocuted.
Just as the French fans were about to laugh at the ridiculous motion, Su Hang flicked the ball inside and cut straight past Abidal.
A late-reacting Abidal could only grab and tug him down, barely stopping him from entering the box—
and earning himself a yellow card.
First duel, and Abidal had already been eaten alive.
Domenech quickly shouted at Makélélé from the sideline, telling him to give more support to Abidal's side.
Then Alonso curled in a beautifully placed attacking free kick.
Bodies from both sides jostled desperately in the box.
Zidane jumped at the near post, trying to clear it with a header—
but…
He completely mis-hit it!
Whether it was psychological pressure or simply that shaving his head changed the friction on his skull, something threw off Zidane's feel for the ball.
It skimmed off him and dropped sharply—almost like a shot.
Thankfully, Barthez pulled off a god-tier save and slapped it away.
Chaos erupted.
Thuram, Sergio Ramos, Villa and others all got touches as the ball ricocheted around, until it rolled toward Su Hang near the six-yard line.
Su Hang stepped forward with his left foot.
Gallas lunged to block.
Barthez, just scrambling back to his feet, spread his legs preparing to cover the near post.
But the ball slipped past Su Hang's left foot, and with a right-foot toe-poke swung around from behind him—
A rabona shot!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
The ball slipped through the legs of both Gallas and Barthez, rolling into France's net at a not-so-fast but absolutely humiliating pace.
Su Hang sprinted toward the corner flag.
Passing Zidane, he laughed: "My bad, Zizou. Your heading's not affected at all—your assist was beautiful!"
Then he planted both feet, launched himself skyward, spun 180 degrees mid-air, and crashed down like a falling god.
"Siuuuuuuu!"
The stadium shook with the roar.
Derek Rae's face flushed red with excitement:
"I knew it!"
"Su Hang!"
"This is Su Hang!"
"As he said—when the whistle blows, the siu isn't far behind!"
"That earth-shaking roar spreads like drumbeats carrying peace!"
"No matter how either side plays—if the chance lands at Su Hang's feet, he never lets it go!"
"That rabona finish was absolutely stunning!"
"If Portugal's Cristiano Ronaldo did that, we wouldn't be surprised—he's used rabona passes countless times in the Premier League this season."
"But Su Hang… this is like a heavyweight boxer doing fine needlework!"
"And he used his right foot! That proves he has zero injury shadow—his right foot comes when called, fights when summoned, and wins when fighting!"
"One-one! Su Hang equalized just six minutes after France took the lead!"
"That's his eighth goal of this World Cup!"
"The last player to do that? Ronaldo!"
The stands erupted in a sea of red.
Mbappe changed kits at lightning speed, joined the red camp, and did a siu on the spot.
Faced with the puzzled looks of the two beautiful sisters beside him, Mbappe spoke with absolute conviction:
"Where I come from might suggest one thing, but my heart is always drawn to the light!"
"Once a siu, always a siu!"
Clara and Jennifer could only applaud the eight-year-old Mbappe.
The broadcast camera lingered on Zidane—unclear whether to imply he was at fault for the goal or to hint at a coming response.
The director certainly knew how to stir the pot.
…
Thirtieth minute. Instant karma.
Another incisive Zidane through ball created danger.
Ribéry cut inside off the ball, took the pass, dribbled twice, and crossed—
straight into Marchena's arm.
The referee whistled for a penalty.
Marchena pleaded frantically. It wasn't deliberate, and he'd tried to avoid it—
but in that era, handball calls in the box were extremely strict.
There was no debate.
Zidane stood over the spot.
Ten seconds later, he blasted it in.
France 2–1.
They took the lead again.
"Oh! Zidane answers right back! Another answer ball!"
"Su Hang creates danger with an over-the-top pass, Zidane responds with an over-the-top assist."
"Su Hang scores, Zidane scores!"
"A legend is still a legend! Zidane's game is complete, and so is the way he keeps Su Hang in check!"
In the stands, Jennifer and Clara had grown accustomed to "Little Blackie's" rapid outfit changes.
Mbappe had, of course, switched back into the France jersey.
No one celebrates better than Mbappe!
One match, two teams, three goals—yet Mbappe celebrated three times, enjoying three moments of joy.
In that sense, Mbappe absolutely won.
Nobody gives you more value for your ticket.
After scoring, Zidane approached Su Hang again:
"I'm sure you noticed—I used your penalty method."
"Simple as it is, without much technique, it shows everyone who God favors today."
Good grief.
After psychological-injury warfare…
Zidane had moved on to mystical warfare.
Football has never been just about strength.
Form, IQ, EQ, tactics, fan atmosphere, referee leniency, football officials' attitudes, sponsors' opinions, betting-market signals, and luck all play a part.
And Zidane's true brilliance lies not only in his skill—
but in how he masters every controllable factor, especially intelligence, emotional intelligence, and luck!
...
(35 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser