Rio Ave's players all smelled blood—they sensed the kill—and swarmed toward Kai.
Kai shifted his left foot, stepped on the ball, half-turned, and dragged it back with his right… a horizontal Marseille turn from right to left.
Bold as hell.
And it worked.
But the payoff wasn't huge.
The move brought Kai slightly closer to the top of the penalty area—but what could he do from there?
A through pass?
Too crowded. The "human wall" formed by both teams was packed tight in front of goal.
No angle.
Shoot?
The wall was so dense he couldn't even see a shooting lane.
To fans, a lot of shots look ridiculous—skied, dragged wide, completely off.
But if you watch replays from the player's perspective, it's different.
Most of those "terrible" shots actually thread through the only available gap, perfectly avoiding defenders. The miss happens because that one narrow path was misjudged—not because the player is shit at shooting.
That kind of miss is completely different from those brain-dead "airplane shots."
Pass back?
Stoppage time was basically over. If he recycled possession, the referee would likely blow the whistle. 2–2. Finished.
Wait…
Something…
Kai had already looked away—but that moment replayed in his head.
He saw it.
A path.
A path where there should be none.
He nudged the ball.
Lowered his body.
Like drawing a bow.
And released.
Boom!
Kai smashed it with his left foot.
Coming in from the right, with the boost of Arjen Robben's "socks," his left-footed strike was still reliable.
"Cristiano Ronaldo!"
Kai shouted the name as he struck.
The ball flew.
"Shot! Kai goes for goal!"
"But that's way too far!"
"It's not even on target!"
"He's right-footed—why shoot with his left?!"
"He didn't even wrap his foot around it properly!"
"It's flying wide left—completely off frame!"
"A left-footed shot from the right edge is already the widest option—and missing the target entirely is just outrageous!"
"This isn't even an angle-chasing miss—it's miles off! That ball should've gone somewhere between the left post and the corner flag!"
"That's not just a small error—that's completely off!"
In an instant, anyone with decent judgment of trajectory came to the same conclusion.
Louis van Gaal kept shaking his head.
Kai's mentality still wasn't good enough.
If he couldn't even hold onto a lead to secure promotion, how could anyone trust him in bigger matches later?
Compared to that, Andrés Iniesta from Barcelona's youth setup looked far more promising.
Kai? Not even close.
Boom!
Cristiano Ronaldo stood near the left side of the wall, body angled toward goal, ready to jump for a potential cross.
But when he heard Kai shout his name, he turned his head to the right—
To look at Kai.
Except he couldn't see him.
Because—
Bang!
The ball smashed straight into his forehead.
Ronaldo dropped instantly.
Like a cardboard cutout hammered flat.
The ball struck his forehead, and as his head turned, the trajectory changed with it.
A sudden deflection.
The ball bent like a "<" symbol.
Skimming past the left post—
And into the net.
Everyone froze.
What the hell…?
Was that… a goal?
"GOOOOAL!!!"
Kai spread his arms and sprinted wildly.
He ran toward Ronaldo.
Then past him.
Straight to the corner flag.
Behind him, almost every Moreirense player charged over, celebrating like maniacs.
Only Ronaldo remained on the ground in the penalty area, staring at the sky.
He had no idea what just happened.
His head felt heavy. He rubbed it—yeah, that hurt.
Everything around him felt muted.
The crowd was either clutching their heads in disbelief or throwing their arms up in celebration—but strangely, it was silent.
Completely silent.
And for some reason… it felt peaceful.
Sometimes, the sheer noise of a stadium can mess with a player's head.
"GOAL!!!"
"GOAL, GOAL, GOAL!!!"
"I swear—I've NEVER seen anything like this!"
"This is insane! I'm losing my mind!"
"A flash of absolute genius!"
"Kai just used Ronaldo's HEAD to score!!!"
"3–2!!! LAST SECOND WINNER!!!"
"Moreirense have done it!!!"
"Promotion AND the title—they're taking BOTH!!!"
"I can't believe this! Did Kai plan this from that Marseille turn?!"
"This is NOT a random shot! His shooting may not be elite, but it's reliable! There's NO way he accidentally hit Ronaldo's head like that!"
"And he shouted Ronaldo's name before shooting! This is coordination! A one-sided conspiracy! Ronaldo unknowingly cooperates—and pays the price by getting smashed in the head!"
"It's absurd! It's beautiful!"
"This is the BEST goal in Europe this year! No doubt!"
On the sidelines, people clutched their heads.
Cameras flashed wildly.
And then—
Amid the chaos—
The referee blew three sharp whistles.
Full time.
Stoppage time had already expired. He could've ended it earlier.
But he didn't.
Because he witnessed something unreal—and got lost in it.
Rio Ave players should've protested.
But they didn't move.
Because when your opponent scores something beyond human logic…
You don't even feel like arguing.
Every other goal suddenly feels boring. Meaningless.
Of course, part of it was practical.
Even with the loss, Rio Ave still had enough points and goal difference to secure promotion to the Portuguese Super League.
Otherwise?
They might've completely lost their minds.
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