Chapter 69: We Are the Champions!

"3-1! The penalty shootout has gone through three rounds, and Mallorca is leading 3-1! The next penalty is crucial—if Mallorca scores, they win the match!"

The ESPN commentator shouted, his voice filled with disbelief. No matter how you looked at it, Arsenal had the greater reputation, and the misses by Suk and Vieira—one hitting the post and the other the crossbar—were quite a surprise. This match had felt off from the start, almost as if something strange was in the air...

Arsenal's fans were pale, disappointment etched on their faces. Unless Mallorca missed both penalties in the next two rounds, and Arsenal scored theirs, the shootout would have to go to five rounds...

José waved his hand and turned to his assistant coach and the substitute players with a big laugh, saying, "Guys, wait for Thiago to score this one, then we can start celebrating!"

The Mallorca players raised their fists in agreement, though some had their doubts. The eighteen-year-old Mota, facing such a crucial moment, could he score this penalty?

Mallorca's fans in the stands were equally uncertain, having never seen Mota play before...

But after a moment of thought, they realized Mallorca didn't really have many penalty specialists. The young Brazilian might need support.

So, the applause from the Mallorca fans rang out, offering their encouragement to the young player, while Arsenal's supporters dared to hope that this inexperienced player might choke in the shootout.

Amid the loud applause from the Mallorca supporters, Mota stepped towards the penalty spot. This was the most important day since he joined Mallorca, and this moment was the most crucial of all!

It was impossible for Mota not to feel nervous at this point, but he knew there was no use in being anxious.

As Mota approached the spot, his teammates from Mallorca stood together, hands on each other's shoulders, silently cheering him on. They didn't know Mota well yet, but at this moment, they had no choice but to trust him.

On the other hand, Arsenal's players were praying that the young man would miss, hoping that the previous three successful penalties by Mallorca might trigger a chain reaction of failure...

The walk to the penalty spot seemed long, but it ended quickly, with Mota taking the ball from the referee. He placed the ball on the spot, stood up straight, and looked at the goalkeeper, Lehmann.

Lehmann, who was twice his age, seemed intimidating, but Mota stood firm.

The whole stadium fell silent, even the commentators, who had been constantly talking, were now quiet. Everyone knew that this moment could very well be the last of the match.

If Mota scores, the match is over. If he misses, the shootout continues.

José, on the sidelines, had his arm around his staff and didn't blink as he watched the moment unfold.

The referee saw that both players were ready, raised his hand, blew the whistle, signaling that Mota could take the penalty!

Mota began his run!

All cameras were focused on the young player, under eighteen, as he approached the ball and swung his left leg!

Lehmann dived to his left!

But Mota's left foot connected with the bottom of the ball!

A chip penalty!

The ball arced gracefully through the air, not too fast, and landed perfectly in the net!

Mota spread his arms wide and knelt down, while the Mallorca fans erupted in wild celebration!

At the same time, the Mallorca players near the center circle rushed toward the penalty area, while the assistant coaches and substitute players also stormed the field!

"The ball's in! Mota scores Mallorca's fourth penalty! The shootout is over—4-1! Mallorca wins the shootout! Congratulations! With strong defense and perfect accuracy in the penalty shootout, Mallorca has defeated Arsenal and won their first European trophy in the club's history! The first-ever UEFA Cup post-merger, and the champions are Spain's Real Mallorca!"

The scene at Parken Stadium in Copenhagen, Denmark, had become the stage for Mallorca's celebration!

On this night, and at this very moment, everything that happened would forever be etched into José's memory, never to be forgotten. This was his first trophy as the head coach, marking the beginning of his future success. From this day forward, the name José Alemany would ring loudly across Europe.

Since the start of the match, José had been impressive, whether shouting commands from the sidelines, yelling at N'Gonga after his red card, or fist-pumping after each successful penalty. His every move had been captured by countless cameras. Yet, at this moment, with no one else around, José stood still on the sidelines, dazed—he had imagined what he would do after winning, but now, with the moment here, he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

He had appeared energetic and confident throughout his tenure—after all, who else could have taken a bottom-ranked team and brought them to safety, not to mention winning the UEFA Cup? But only he knew how much pressure he had been under.

Working tirelessly, step by step, tweaking tactics, managing his players—it all culminated in this achievement, surpassing Mallorca's current capabilities. Every moment had been filled with José's sweat and dedication.

The freshness of his first solo managerial job had also made him mature rapidly.

He felt tired, not just physically, but emotionally drained as well. For half a season, he had been working tirelessly, thinking about tactics, making adjustments... now all he wanted was a long rest and a vacation.

But it was clear that José couldn't rest yet. The match was over, but the celebrations were just beginning!

The loudspeaker blared: "The 99-00 UEFA Cup champions are... Real Mallorca!"

"¡Mallorca! ¡Mallorca! We are the champions! European champions!"

Amid the thunderous cheers of the fans, Mallorca's players and staff noticed something: their most important figure had yet to join the celebration. Under the leadership of assistant coach Natal, they all rushed toward José and, without warning, hoisted him into the air and threw him up toward the sky!

"One, two, three!" The Mallorca players tossed their coach José into the air, clearly showing their admiration for him. No wonder—he had taken the team from the bottom of the league and led them to safety, all the while winning the UEFA Cup!

The commentators were in disbelief: "What a coach! To take Mallorca, a team barely out of relegation, and lead them to victory—truly impressive!"

José was tossed up several times, each time landing with a thud. His back ached from the impact, but he didn't care; after all, he had earned a long vacation and could visit the doctor later...

In this moment, all that mattered was the exhilaration of winning, of being adored by everyone!

After being tossed around for a while, José finally landed. Rubbing his back, he glared at the team: "You guys! You nearly broke me! When we get back, we're doing extra training for a week!"

The players laughed, knowing it was a joke. The sound of their laughter filled the area.

After the long celebration, the awards ceremony began, with Wenger and his players quietly collecting their silver medals. This season had been a failure for Arsenal—second place in the league, no trophies in domestic cups, and losing to Mallorca in the UEFA Cup final...

After the runners-up collected their medals, it was time for the champions.

Arsenal's fans were already leaving, but Mallorca's fans didn't care. Neither did the neutral fans—this is the cruel nature of football; no one remembers the runner-up.

Mallorca had won, and everyone praised their "brilliant tactical execution, overcoming the odds to win a classic UEFA Cup final." If Arsenal had won, the praise would have been for their "powerful performance in breaking through Mallorca's defense and securing the victory."

This is how the world works—victors are celebrated, the defeated are forgotten.

UEFA president Johansson smiled as he handed gold medals to the Mallorca players. When José walked up to receive his medal, Johansson shook his hand and smiled, saying, "Well done, young man! You're the youngest coach I've awarded a medal to..."

"It's an honor, Mr. Johansson," José replied, smiling. He had no ill feelings toward the UEFA president, despite his preference for other figures in football.

"Congratulations, champion coach," Johansson said, handing José the UEFA Cup trophy.

Taking a deep breath, José held the trophy in both hands, then lifted it high above his head!

A faint crack echoed from his waist, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming cheers from the crowd. No one noticed the slight stiffness on José's face in that instant.

"We are the champions! Long live Mallorca!"