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Chapter 51 - Chapter 49

CHAPTER 49 — Marseille U18 vs. Monaco U18 (Second Half)

‎The cold hit harder after halftime — a biting wind sweeping across the pitch, pushing mist off the turf like low smoke. The players jogged out, breath sharp in the air, cheeks flushed. The stadium buzzed; the 1–1 scoreline had lit something inside the fans. They believed something special might happen.

‎Kweku bounced on his toes, shaking out his shoulders. Louis tapped his boots with him.

‎"Second half, bro," Louis said. "Let's finish it."

‎Kweku nodded. His heartbeat felt steady now. Controlled. Ready.

‎The whistle snapped across the field.

‎The second half begins.

‎---

‎Monaco tightens the noose

‎Immediately, Monaco showed their intent. They pressed even harder, sending three men to swarm every Marseille buildup. Their midfielders played like wolves — quick bites, sudden lunges.

‎> "Monaco looking sharp again. They want the early goal!"

‎A loose touch from Sissoko turned into danger — Monaco charged forward. Their striker slipped past the last defender, firing a low shot.

‎Saved.

‎Reynaud smothered the ball against his chest, rolling to the ground for an extra second to regain breath.

‎Marseille exhaled as one.

‎Kweku clapped loudly. "Reset! Reset! Let's go!"

‎---

‎Marseille fight back — through him

‎The next phase of the game was all about survival and patience. And it ran through Kweku.

‎He dropped deeper than any midfielder should, receiving passes under pressure, using quick one-touch releases or sharp turns to break Monaco's momentum.

‎> "Mensah again, acting like a pivot — calm, composed. Everything runs through him!"

‎Louis stepped closer to combine. Ndiaye drifted inside to give passing options.

‎A triangle formed.

‎Pass — touch — return — switch.

‎Slowly, Monaco's pressing rhythm began to crack. Their midfielders couldn't chase as hard. Their wingers hesitated.

‎Kweku noticed.

‎"Push up," he whispered to Louis. "We go now."

‎---

‎The first big chance

‎It started with a simple give-and-go.

‎Louis played with Kweku.

‎Kweku flicked it back blind.

‎Louis surged forward.

‎The crowd rose.

‎Louis threaded a pass to Ndiaye.

‎Ndiaye cut right.

‎Shot—

‎Blocked!

‎The rebound spun into the air, wobbling toward the box.

‎Kweku arrived late — perfect timing.

‎He struck—

‎But a defender threw himself in front.

‎> "WHAT A BLOCK! Monaco hanging on!"

‎Kweku hissed, hands on his knees for a second. So close. So sharp. But no goal yet.

‎---

‎Monaco counter — chaos ensues

‎Right off the block, Monaco exploded forward.

‎Their winger sprinted down the line like lightning, chopping inside with a dangerous run. Fofana slid desperately. Missed.

‎Cross incoming.

‎The stadium held its breath.

‎Header—

‎WIDE.

‎> "Renard should score! Marseille escaped narrowly!"

‎Coach Devereux shouted instructions, voice cracking against the wind:

‎"TRACK RUNS! WAKE UP!"

‎Kweku motioned with his hands, calming the team.

‎"Focus! Stay compact!"

‎---

‎A shift in momentum

‎Minute 67.

‎Everything changed.

‎Kweku received the ball from Louis in midfield. Two Monaco players closed in. He dragged the ball backwards with his left foot, spun, and burst through the gap.

‎The crowd roared at the move.

‎> "Beautiful footwork by Mensah! That's elite!"

‎He kept running. The pitch opened. Ndiaye ran wide. Louis overlapped.

‎Three options.

‎Kweku chose the riskiest.

‎He chipped a through-ball over the defensive line — soft, floating, almost delicate.

‎Ndiaye darted under it.

‎Controlled.

‎Shot!

‎Saved again — fingertips pushing it over the bar.

‎The stadium groaned, half in pain, half in awe.

‎Kweku bent over, hands on his thighs.

‎"Next one," he whispered. "Next one goes in."

‎---

‎Monaco breaks the rhythm again

‎The game became stretched. Tired legs. Cold lungs. Loose touches everywhere.

‎Monaco exploited the chaos.

‎One long ball over the top — their striker broke free.

‎Reynaud rushed out.

‎Shot.

‎HIT THE POST.

‎Gasps everywhere.

‎Fofana hacked the rebound clear.

‎Marseille breathed again.

‎Coach Devereux placed his hands on his knees, staring at the ground, muttering,

‎"Mon dieu… we are living dangerously."

‎---

‎Minutes 80–85: the storm before the breakthrough

‎Both teams grew desperate.

‎Tackles flew.

‎Passes zipped off boots.

‎Players slipped on frozen patches of turf.

‎Ndiaye took a heavy touch.

‎Monaco countered.

‎Louis intercepted.

‎Monaco recovered.

‎Kweku tried to dribble.

‎He was fouled — nothing given.

‎> "It's frantic now! The match is hanging in a knife-edge!"

‎Fans stood for the final minutes. Even the academy scouts leaned forward, phones forgotten in their pockets

‎Kweku's lungs burned. His calves tightened. But something inside him — pride, fear, ambition — kept him moving.

‎"Next play. Next play," he repeated like a mantra.

‎---

‎Minute 88 — the moment

‎Louis won a duel on the right, poking the ball toward midfield.

‎Kweku arrived first.

‎Touch with the left.

‎Shift to the right.

‎A sliver of space.

‎He spotted Ndiaye, tired but still running.

‎Kweku threaded the ball between two defenders — barely, perfectly.

‎Ndiaye burst forward.

‎One-on-one.

‎The stadium screamed—

‎Shot.

‎Saved.

‎But the rebound spilt loose… rolling to the edge of the box…

‎And Louis was there.

‎He struck it clean.

‎Low.

‎True.

‎Into the corner.

‎GOAL. 2–1 MARSEILLE.

‎The entire crowd exploded.

‎> "LOUIS SCORES! MARSEILLE LEAD LATE! And what a pass from Mensah to start it all!"

‎Louis sprinted toward the stands, sliding on his knees, arms wide.

‎Kweku didn't celebrate loudly — he just lifted both arms and closed his eyes for half a second.

‎Relief.

‎Joy.

‎Vindication.

‎---

‎Final whistle

‎Monaco pushed everyone forward in the last moments — their keeper included.

‎A final cross came in.

‎Headed out.

‎The referee blew the whistle.

‎FULL TIME — Marseille 2, Monaco 1.

‎The boys hugged, shouted, jumped.

‎Kweku was pulled into three different embraces, his face split with a rare, full smile.

‎Coach Devereux grabbed his shoulders.

‎"You controlled that entire second half. Superb."

‎Kweku swallowed the praise quietly, chest heavy with cold air and pride.

‎Louis draped an arm around him.

‎"Bro… we did that."

‎Kweku nodded.

‎"Yeah. We really did."

‎Snowflakes began falling — tiny ones — drifting slowly onto the pitch as the fans applauded the young team.

‎Winter had come.

‎But so had Kweku.

‎---

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