Ruled by the Genoa Rotation (Happy New Year)-Se é irmão, venha jogar bola(Ye Liangchen, o Enterrador do Amor)

The players from both sides took the pitch to warm up.

Maradona was quite flamboyant, always enjoying a bit of flair when juggling the ball.

"That guy is looking at you, Dejan!" Pari warned.

"Let him look. Looking doesn't hurt," Lu Deyang said with a smile.

"You're not like a young man at all, kid. If it were Roberto, he'd be challenging him to a keepppy-uppy contest right now," Vialli remarked.

"Turns out we bring our own humiliation," Lu Deyang muttered.

Could Mancini compare to Maradona's ball control?

Mancini was very good, but everything depended on the point of comparison.

Stadio San Paolo.

The name of this stadium was imbued with religious significance, standing as the third-largest stadium in Italy. Even so, it could not satisfy all the fans.

Cheers, endless cheers.

The East Germans, having just "emerged from prison," found everything so novel, and the broadcast cameras treated them as protagonists.

Gerd Müller took a sip from the cup in his hand and immediately wore a look of comfort.

Beckenbauer couldn't help frowning as he reminded him, "My friend, don't become a captive of alcohol again. No one is going to save someone who chooses to sink into depravity."

Müller had long struggled with alcoholism, a problem that only worsened after his retirement. It was he and Hoeness who had proposed bringing Müller back to work at Bayern, which finally helped the fellow break his drinking habit.

"I'm just having a little sip," Müller said, wearing a ingratiating expression. "With so many, um, compatriots watching the match together, I have to blend in, don't I? Look how cheerful they are."

Beckenbauer said nothing more. The two of them appearing here today was not entirely because of football.

Compared to the boisterous Germans, the other fans were far more sharply divided. Local residents, regardless of whether you were a Napoli fan, expected you to support the home team the moment you set foot in the Stadio San Paolo; otherwise, you would face endless trouble. Of course, most people did so spontaneously—this was their local club, and they possessed Diego Maradona!

Aside from the Germans, several English people in the stands stood out prominently. Looking completely different from the Italians, they kept their chins up as if they were superior to everyone else. These people had come to the venue specifically to watch Maradona lose.

With too many tourists around, the Italian Football Association forced Napoli to reallocate tickets; otherwise, the roughly 3,000 away tickets could never satisfy everyone.

Beside Charlton sat another heavy drinker.

"George, if you keep drinking like this, you'll die of alcohol poisoning sooner or later," Bobby Charlton warned.

"Alright, old man, thank you for not forgetting me," Best joked. "After I went to jail, everyone abandoned me."

Having crashed a car while drunk a few years prior, his professional career had ended prematurely.

"I am your captain, how could I not care about you?" Bobby Charlton said somewhat helplessly.

George Best draped an arm around his neck, playing the rogue. "Yes, yes, yes. That's why I came here to clear my head with you. Hopefully, the match will bring some surprises."

Charlton silently rolled his eyes. This guy.

Compared to the tourists, the Italian football legends were not quite so conspicuous. Yet upon closer inspection, retired old-timers were everywhere in the stands. As the hosts, how could they possibly miss this grand footballing event?

Mancini, who had initially hoped to boast to the fans in the stands, was now in despair. Even though he felt he was doing quite well, Rivera and Riva sat to his left, while Altafini and Mazzola flanked his right. In front of such company, he had no room to speak at all.

"You must be Roberto, you play well," Rivera said.

Mancini forced a smile and nodded vigorously.

"Diego!!!"

Maradona executed another flamboyant keepy-uppy, once again triggering earth-shattering cheers. The city near the ruins of the temples of Jupiter and Apollo was cheering for its new deity.

The showboating Maradona drew worldwide attention even before the match had begun.

"Mom, Sampdoria feels so far behind," William said with disappointment in the private box.

"Yes, mom," five-year-old Harry echoed, looking up.

Before kickoff, Napoli's momentum had completely overwhelmed Sampdoria.

"Be patient, boys. Sometimes patience is also a virtue," the lady holding a glass of champagne said with a smile, patting her son's head.

The players began heading back down the tunnel, and the world was stirring with anticipation. Everyone knew that this globally watched blockbuster was about to commence.

Nike executives stared fixedly at the television.

They made it!

Just in time, they had crafted a pair of boots for Lu Deyang. The cost was a 1.5 million dollar per year contract.

It was a crazy gamble; when discussing signing Jordan, the price tag had only been in this ballpark. Vialli had won a championship wearing their shoes in previous years, and they wanted to achieve even greater success in the realm of football. As long as Lu Deyang could thwart Adidas's marquee endorser, the money would be well spent.

Boom—

As the players followed the officiating crew back onto the pitch, reporters hammered away at their camera shutters like madmen, eager to capture every single movement of the two teams. Even the slightest micro-expression might be analyzed and make tomorrow's headlines.

Alberto Bigon walked toward Boskov, extending a hand first. "Your team is very good."

"Yours is decent too," Boskov replied with a smile.

The veteran manager had deliberately put on a hand-tailored suit today.

"I hope we have a flawless match," Alberto Bigon said again.

"As long as you lot don't foul us," Boskov retorted.

There were simply too many career-ending tackles from behind these days; he could dream of Lu Deyang getting injured in his sleep.

Alberto Bigon smiled and patted Boskov's arm. As Maradona's manager, he harbored the exact same concerns. No matter how brilliant a player you were, you could never dodge every single sliding challenge. Who knew which injury would force you to wave goodbye to the pitch forever?

During the handshake, Maradona kept his eyes on Lu Deyang. Being constantly compared to him made it impossible not to care. Even if he claimed otherwise outwardly, after watching Lu Deyang's match tapes, he knew this was a super talent—at least no worse than himself.

A bit taller than him. A bit more handsome than him.

Mm, pretty boys like this were very popular; if they were in the open-minded environment of Argentina, those girls would cling to him like steaks. Apart from that, nothing else seemed all that special. Football wasn't played with your face, after all.

Diego Maradona decided he would let Lu Deyang witness his true prowess firsthand today.

"Pelé! We saw Pelé. The legends in the stands today could practically form several of the world's greatest teams," Jim Beglin exclaimed.

The former Republic of Ireland international's career had not been particularly illustrious.

"Which just proves how right the television network was to broadcast this match. I'm sure viewers at home are just as eager as we are to see Sampdoria's performance," Martin Tyler said with a smile.

"Indeed, Martin, but let's first take a look at the starting lineups for both sides."

Napoli (4-4-2 Sweeper, Diamond Midfield, Two Forwards):

Goalkeeper: Giuliano Giuliani

Defenders: Ciro Ferrara, Giovanni Francini, Marco Baroni

Sweeper: Luca Fusi

Midfielders: Fernando De Napoli, Alemão, Maradona, Massimo Crippa

Forwards: Andrea Carnevale, Careca

Sampdoria (4-4-2 Double Defensive Midfielders, Double Wide Midfielders):

Goalkeeper: Gianluca Pagliuca

Defenders: Marco Lanna, Luca Pellegrini, Pietro Vierchowod, Srdjan Manojlović (Mannini)

Midfielders: Lu Deyang, Dossena, Cerezo, Fausto Pari

Forwards: Gianluca Vialli, Roberto Sosa (Salsano)

"The sweeper system is quite rare nowadays; Fusi is likely assigned specifically to man-mark Dejan today, looking to neutralize Sampdoria's core."

"That seems to be the case. Furthermore, Sampdoria didn't deploy Lombardo, opting instead for Fausto Pari to bolster flank defense. Dejan's task today is immensely heavy; without his wingman, he will find himself isolated."

"Boskov, the former Yugoslav international, must have his own ideas. Both managers have put a lot of effort into neutralizing each other's key players."

At 7:00 PM, elite referee Luigi Agnolin blew the whistle to signal the start of the match.

Lu Deyang received the ball and immediately pushed forward on the dribble.

The [Cruyff] persona was exceptionally well-rounded; most importantly, his stamina and endurance surpassed those of ordinary forwards. He was not like traditional marksmen who only liked to receive the ball near the penalty area. The [Cruyff] archetype featured numerous instances of long-distance surging runs with the ball in his career.

Luca Fusi sprinted toward the flank instantly, teaming up with Fernando De Napoli to defend him.

Lu Deyang remained unhurried, pivoting to play a backward pass.

Dossena collected the ball and recycled it further back, allowing Sampdoria to slowly organize in their own half.

Maradona was exceptionally energetic today, pressing like mad in the attacking third, which dragged Carnevale and Careca into chasing the ball as well. Both forwards essentially functioned as tactical foils for Maradona; as early as the '86 season, Carnevale had already lagged behind Maradona on the scoring charts. His job was to support and screen.

"Stop holding onto the ball, pass it out!" Boskov yelled.

Possession in the defensive third was far too dangerous.

The moment Marco Lanna received the ball, he immediately hoofed a long ball forward.

"Damn it..."

Boskov was just about to curse when he saw the ball fly straight toward the attacking third, locking onto Lu Deyang.

"Great ball!!!"

Lu Deyang gracefully brought the ball down with his back to goal, while Baroni stretched out a leg behind him without even managing to graze it.

Seeing his initial lunge fail, Baroni immediately glued himself to Lu Deyang, waiting for teammates to track back and double-team.

Right at that moment, Lu Deyang stepped forward with his right foot and suddenly executed a pivot and drag-back.

The Cruyff Turn!

Using a Cruyff Turn, he flicked the ball into the penalty area and burst forward in tandem.

By the time Baroni recovered his footing, he had already been left several body lengths behind.

Lu Deyang drove down to the byline and cut the ball back on a diagonal to Salsano, whose point-blank shot was blocked by Francini's stretched leg before Giuliani leaped up to claim it.

The Napoli fans behind the goal finally let out a sigh of relief.

Who the hell would have thought the Genoese would try to punch them in the mouth right from kickoff? If Salsano hadn't shot so hastily, it would have been dangerous; had he laid it off to Vialli instead, Napoli likely would have conceded.

"Dammit, get your heads in the game, all of you!" Maradona yelled, turning back with his hands on his hips.

He had no intention of losing this head-to-head clash. Having established his fame years ago, losing to a rookie in his first top-flight season would look terrible on him.

Giuliano Giuliani gave a thumbs-up to the midfield, gesturing for Maradona to trust him. At Napoli, Maradona's status superseded everyone else's. He had conquered his teammates purely through footballing brilliance, and possessed immense personal charm—he even paid the bill for everyone at nightclubs.

Noticing Maradona dropping deep to collect the ball, Francini immediately fed it to him. Maradona carried it forward, neatly evading Vialli's pressing.

"I've got him!" Pari threw himself into a sliding tackle without a second thought.

Maradona hooked the ball and smoothly spun away, prompting a roar of cheers from the Stadio San Paolo.

"Maradona turns!"

Having shaken off Pari, Maradona threaded a diagonal pass to Careca. Before Careca could even accelerate, Lu Deyang blocked his path toward the flank, and Lanna charged in to slide the ball out for a throw-in.

Lu Deyang bent down and pulled Lanna to his feet.

"Dejan, those bastards are provoking you! That's clearly the Genoese Spin!" Lanna protested indignantly.

Ever since the match against Dortmund, the move was increasingly referred to as the "Dejan Spin" or the "Genoese Spin." As a local boy, he was fiercely fond of the latter term. Hearing the Napoli fans chanting "Maradona Spin" made his blood boil.

"Just a minor thing, I don't care," Lu Deyang patted Lanna's shoulder.

Lanna remained somewhat disgruntled, prompting Dossena to march over and kick his shin. "Get back to defense and stop jawing."

Crippa hurled the throw-in, and Lanna lunged into another sliding tackle, but Maradona received the ball and executed a quick drag-back to evade him. Dossena and Cerezo surged forward without hesitation, granting Maradona zero reaction time.

"Brilliant!"

Dossena poked the ball away successfully.

Lu Deyang collected possession and immediately burst into a blistering forward sprint.

"Boo—!"

Maradona went to ground with a sliding challenge, easily sidestepped as Lu Deyang pulled off a sharp drag-back, crossing the halfway line in two strides.

Alemão stepped into his path ahead of time, looking to execute a direct slide. But with a subtle shimmy of Lu Deyang's shoulders and a deft pull of his right foot, Alemão misjudged the trajectory entirely; trying desperately to readjust, he lost control of his body and slid awkwardly onto one knee.

"Dejan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Martin Tyler roared Lu Deyang's name at the top of his lungs. The Englishman, experiencing the charm of Genoese football for the first time, felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest.

Everyone in front of their televisions clenched their fists tightly, staring at Lu Deyang driving forward with the ball.

In the private box, the noble lady squeezed her son's arm, as if trying to transmit her energy onto the pitch. Even with all her might, she still couldn't contain her passion, her legs shifting restlessly.

"Mom, you're hurting me," young Harry complained.

Snap—

He accelerated!

Lu Deyang nudged the ball forward with his right foot, forcefully slicing through the gap between Crippa and Fusi.

The jeers of the Stadio San Paolo drowned out everything else.

They were afraid.

The locals were terrified.

Fusi, having been beaten, immediately launched into a desperate recovery slide from behind, failing to even graze Lu Deyang's heels.

"Step up, press him!" Giuliani screamed frantically from his goal line.

What the hell, was this the city gates? Even a herd of pigs wouldn't get beaten this easily.

Fortunately, the center-backs were still stationed near the box.

Francini slid in from the front without hesitation.

Instead of lingering on the ball, Lu Deyang neatly flicked a square pass to the right flank while on the run, continuing his forward surge.

Mannini, who had joined the attack, gathered the ball and scanned the field instantly, calculating how to return it to Lu Deyang. Lanna had also surged up the left flank. The primary responsibility of Sampdoria's full-backs was to support Lu Deyang.

He passed!

Mannini reached the top-right corner of the penalty area and immediately whipped a pass across the edge of the box.

Lanna felt a sudden urge to curse. *Dejan is completely swarmed, and you're passing it to him anyway?*

The next second, however, he watched as Lu Deyang hooked the ball with his right foot, planted his left, and executed a swift pivot.

The Genoese Spin!

And he wasn't done yet!

Just as Ferrara lunged into a sliding challenge, Lu Deyang hooked the ball once more, executing a second Genoese Spin to effortlessly evade his right foot.

Two consecutive Genoese Spins completely toyed with the entire Napoli backline.

*Dejan, and you said you weren't holding a grudge?*

The Neapolitans had just been running their mouths face-to-face, and he responded by pulling off two consecutive spins right at the edge of their box?

Lanna suddenly realized he had gained a completely new perspective on the concept of magnanimity.