0033 Give the Home Team Some Face (Seeking Follow-up Reads and Recommendation Votes)

"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Goal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Paolo Rossi shouted excitedly, "Dejan, what a world-class strike!"

"Eight minutes into the first half, Dejan has once again shattered the Dortmund goal with a world-class strike. The West Germans thought they could launch a counterattack, but they never imagined that this place was actually Stalingrad!"

"Muller, who carried so many high expectations, scored a decent free-kick, giving them a glimmer of fantasy. But Dejan stepped up immediately. This super genius has once again proven how wise Rivera’s recommendation was; even Rijkaard or Gullit could not be more talented than him."

"Here, we can also see the weakness of the West Germans. Hallstein insisted that establishing diplomatic relations with West Germany meant refusing to recognize East Germany, yet the Soviet Union established relations with both simultaneously, and the West Germans only dared to pretend they hadn't seen it. Their style is well-reflected on the pitch; facing a stronger Italian team, they have once again shown their cowardly side!"

After the goal, Lu Dejan was swarmed by his teammates.

"That goal was fucking brilliant!!!"

Mancini, looking like he was on drugs, flushed red as he shook Lu Dejan's shoulders. Even just witnessing it made him feel energized—a lob from 40 meters out!

Dossena also gave a thumbs up. He had previously thought Lu Dejan preferred to enter the penalty area, but he hadn't expected him to be just as ferocious outside of it. Even from over 20 meters away, he could feel the power contained in that strike.

Boskov punched the air repeatedly on the sidelines. A spectacular goal during a match is a massive blow to the opponent's morale; it cannot be viewed merely as a single goal, as it often marks a critical turning point in the game.

The Westfalenstadion fell silent once again. The Dortmund players looked blank—this was the best interpretation of the situation. The veteran Yugoslav coach knew clearly that there would be no suspense left in this match.

Muller? Good. But far worse than my player!

Only a few months into the season, Boskov’s understanding and positioning of Lu Dejan had changed repeatedly. Now, Lu Dejan was the absolute core of the team. The arrival of this young man was as crucial as a fighter jet's engine. If he could return to last year's Cup Winners' Cup final with Lu Dejan on the roster, he was certain Barcelona would not have had the last laugh.

The past is the past, but this year, he felt much more confident against any opponent.

After the restart, Lu Dejan remained hungry to push forward. Every one of his runs drew massive boos from the Westfalen crowd. This Dortmund side was still quite aggressive, deploying a 3-5-2 formation in a football world dominated by 4-4-2s. However, this also left their backline lacking sufficient protection.

Muller would absolutely never participate in defense. Once possession was lost, McInally immediately sprinted toward the penalty area. He knew full well the team only had one core, which was Muller. Frank Mill tried to use a foul to stall for time, but Pari, who had the ball, didn't give him a chance; he carried the ball out of the arc and poked it forward with his toe.

The ball rolled a long way across the turf.

Oh no!

Klotz, who was marking Lu Dejan, noticed his opponent stop and immediately stood in his tracks.

Outside of the foot?

That guy had actually trapped the ball with the outside of his boot. As Klotz lunged forward, he saw Lu Dejan nudge the ball from his left instep to his right foot, using the momentum to drag the ball and spin.

Another Maradona turn!

The entire process made him look like a clown, shifting his center of gravity back and forth in place, unable to even extend a leg to cause the slightest hindrance. By the time he started to track back, he was already a step behind. Even as he kept applying pressure to Lu Dejan with his arms, Lu Dejan continued to charge forward steadily with the ball. He tried to pull at him but didn't dare to be too obvious.

Lu Dejan stumbled, but that only propelled him further forward; Klotz could only follow behind his back.

Bang—

Before Klotz’s teammates could come over to assist, Lu Dejan, having reached the edge of the penalty area, drew his bow again. This long-range shot grazed the crossbar and went out for a goal kick.

Many Dortmund fans let out a sigh of relief. At this moment, they realized with a sense of sorrow that the match was proceeding differently than they had expected. They had wanted to watch their team engage in a fierce battle—both were teams fighting near the top of the league—but from the first minute, it had been a complete crushing by Sampdoria.

Beckenbauer, up in the stands, shook his head. The two teams didn't look like they belonged to the same era. The biggest problem was the vastly different performances of the two playmakers. While the "New Beckenbauer" had scored a goal, most of the time he could only function as a tool to link the back and front fields, possessing no flair whatsoever.

In contrast, Sampdoria’s number seven—even though he was playing on the wing—could still be seen as the heart of the field; the playmaker, and also the attacking core. When he had the ball, he always made the appropriate choice. This wasn't a matter of technical level, but of football IQ and game-reading ability.

And his magnificent technique.

It reminded Beckenbauer of an old rival—Johan Cruyff!

Lusch soon noticed a problem: the person in front of him had been swapped!!!

Michael Lusch looked at Lombardo, somewhat puzzled, and gestured as he asked, "Aren't you a winger too? Why... keep listening to him?"

Lombardo, understanding the implication, rubbed his forehead and rolled his eyes in annoyance. *You and Beckenbauer are both players, why aren't you the Emperor of Football?* Did he think he didn't want to be the team's core? This idiot!

Since the attack hadn't yielded results, Lombardo swapped positions with Lu Dejan again as he retreated. In truth, playing this way was very comfortable for him because he was a player proficient on both the left and right flanks. Frequent switching put even more pressure on the defenders and allowed him to perform better on the wings.

After Dossena made an interception, he sent a through ball to the left flank. Lu Dejan, receiving the ball, nudged it with the outside of his boot and charged into the penalty area; Kutowski could only begin to track back the moment he faced him.

"Don't let him shoot!" Sammer shouted. He was sprinting back.

But Lu Dejan had no intention of going deep into the penalty area. As soon as he reached the corner of the box, he twisted his body and curled the ball with his right foot.

Damn it!

De Beer knew it was bad the moment he saw it. He was positioned in the middle, guarding against Lu Dejan passing across the center, but fearing Lu Dejan would drive to the byline, he was prepared to lunge toward the left. This ball, lofted to the far post, was the most difficult for him.

He needed to relax his legs to unload the tension before he could lunge out. His secondary burst of power was fast; he completed the adjustment almost instantly. At that moment, De Beer still held a shred of hope—what if he could save it?

The ball was inches away, but his fingertips felt nothing.

It was over. He hadn't touched it.

As he turned his head, the ball struck the junction of the post and the crossbar and slammed into the goal.

The top corner. An absolute, definitive top corner!

He was going crazy!

Paolo Rossi was losing his mind. The retired striker shouted into the microphone. He had not expected an Italian team to have such dominance against the powerful West Germans.

"Dejan, Dejan, Dejan, Dejan, Dejan..."

His limited Latin-based vocabulary left him unable to find any phrases to express his excitement.

Pure bliss!

And some people said Germany was getting stronger? Eight years ago, in the World Cup semi-finals, Italy could beat West Germany; eight years later, the Italian team still wouldn't give the West Germans any chance.

"Are you alright, mate?" Pezzotti asked, supporting Boskov. He had walked to the sidelines and noticed Boskov didn't look right, so he hurriedly steadied him.

Boskov exerted strength in his arm, gently pushing Pezzotti away while steadying himself, and said, "Fine, I couldn't be better. Just got a bit too excited."

"Then shouldn't we do something else first?" Pezzotti pointed to the stands as a reminder.

The Dortmund fans were overly fanatical. If a massacre were to occur, he feared there might be incidents outside the stadium. It would be better to let the players take it easy; this match was already won, anyway.

"Right, substitution! Get Dejan off immediately!"

Boskov, having just steadied himself, immediately turned around and crooked his finger toward the bench.