Chapter 110: That’s Just Who He Is

"Ronaldinho makes a breakthrough down the middle! He passes to Luque... Oh, what a brilliant diagonal ball! The ball soars from about 30 meters out and lands perfectly at Eto'o's feet near the edge of the box! What a fantastic pass from Luque… Will Eto'o take the shot? He cuts inside, dribbles… No, he doesn't shoot! He lays it off! Novo is charging in! He shoots! GOOOOOAL! It's in! Novo smashes the ball straight into Alavés' net, leaving Herrera with no chance at all! Eto'o played that perfectly, drawing in two defenders and the goalkeeper with his dribble before setting up Novo for the finish. The defenders were completely caught off guard! This is Novo's first goal in La Liga, and maybe—just maybe—Mallorca has found yet another young talent! From Valerón to Tristán, then Luque, and now Novo! Every team must take this Mallorca side seriously—they don't just buy talent, they produce it themselves!"

Novo spread his arms wide before embracing Eto'o tightly.

Initially, his run was just a tactical movement—when Ronaldinho and Luque were positioned deeper and Eto'o was the furthest forward, the nearest supporting player had to move up. Novo simply did his job. Eto'o returned the ball to him, and all he had to do was swing his right foot in the most natural way and strike it with power!

The commentator's words painted the perfect picture—Eto'o was like an artillery platform, and Novo was the cannon, blasting the ball right on target.

José smiled. Novo had lived up to expectations. His positioning and ability to break forward were top-notch, easily placing him above average for a La Liga midfielder. It was a shame that José had never heard of him before. Clearly, he needed to pay more attention to homegrown talents. Given the foreign player restrictions in La Liga, utilizing and molding local talent was essential.

After all, the next decade would be a golden era for Spanish football, with a surge of homegrown talent. Ignoring this wave would be outright foolish.

Sure, building a squad entirely of foreign players wasn't impossible, but why do that when quality local options were available? This wasn't England, where a local player's price automatically inflated by 50% just because of their passport...

While the stands at San Moix erupted in cheers, Alavés wasn't about to back down.

One goal down? So what? We'll just get it back!

What followed was a full-throttle attack from Alavés, throwing everything forward. But Mallorca wasn't one to back down on their own turf. They met the challenge head-on, engaging in a fierce midfield battle.

Alavés certainly had firepower—their frontline had gelled well, and Moreno had been in stellar form this season.

Mallorca's center-backs were solid and disciplined, capable of withstanding sustained attacks without losing their shape. However, Motta alone couldn't cover the entire defensive midfield area, and with gaps starting to appear, Alavés found a breakthrough.

In the 32nd minute, after a series of crisp passes, Jordi Cruyff received the ball near the edge of the box. As Motta moved to close him down, he cleverly played a pass out wide. Moreno's run had drawn most of Mallorca's defenders away, leaving the trailing midfielder, Tomić, wide open. He struck the ball first-time, unleashing a rocket past the helpless Franco and into the net!

A sigh swept through the Mallorca supporters. Their team had created plenty of chances earlier but failed to convert, making this equalizer hard to swallow.

But Mallorca wasted no time responding—if Alavés could score, then they would simply score more!

Ronaldinho controlled the ball centrally before feeding an overlapping Kaladze. Kaladze passed to Capdevila, who pushed to the byline but cleverly cut back inside before returning the ball. Seeing the pass come back, Kaladze wound up his left foot and unleashed a thunderous strike!

Back in his Dynamo Kyiv days, he had scored in almost every season he played, barring this one due to limited appearances. He was more than just a defender…

His shot packed serious venom. Herrera managed to get a hand on it but only parried the ball back into the box.

Eto'o, as if appearing out of thin air, was already at the perfect spot to stab the rebound home! Mallorca regained the lead!

This was pure attacking dominance, tearing through Alavés' defense with sheer force. Alavés' backline was mid-tier at best in La Liga, but Mallorca had rarely managed to score in such a direct manner before.

Their attacking prowess was evolving. Last season, even with a goal machine like Tristán, their offense was mostly reliant on wingers crossing into the box for him. That was a limited approach. Most of their goals came from counterattacks because they lacked players who could break down defenses or distribute the ball effectively in midfield. They didn't even have many long-range threats.

But this season was different.

That was why José had the confidence to play an attacking game—because he finally had the tools for it.

With a 2-1 lead, Mallorca headed into halftime.

"It's not enough. Our attacks aren't sharp enough." José shook his head in the dressing room. "Be bolder. Don't assume their defense is weak and that goals will come easily. Don't forget—they're a La Liga team too. Stay focused in attack, be aggressive. If they can score, then we'll just have to score more before they do!"

For fans in the stadium and those watching at home, this match was a feast—a rare, full-throttle attacking battle at the professional level. Three first-half goals, all created by brilliant offensive play rather than defensive mistakes. This was a true shootout!

The second half picked up right where the first left off.

Kontra surged down the right and whipped in a cross, only for George to cut inside for a shot. Just as Jordi Cruyff fired a long-range effort at one end, Ronaldinho responded with a delicate chip to set up Luque. Moreno forced his way into the box to score, only for Eto'o to fire back with a long-range rocket that forced a desperate save…

Every two minutes, there was a shot on goal. The tempo was relentless. Had Mallorca played like this last season, they would've been run into the ground. But with only Nadal as the sole veteran on the pitch, they showed no fear.

Alavés, however, thrived in this kind of chaotic battle. They were the first to find another breakthrough.

In the 71st minute, Moreno latched onto a pass from Jordi Cruyff, took a clever touch inside to evade Gamarra, and rifled a shot into the net!

Moreno was ecstatic—his 14th league goal of the season. Fueled by adrenaline, he sprinted to the Alavés supporters, pumping his fists wildly in celebration.

But his celebration had provoked someone.

"Let's go, guys! Attack! Take the lead again!" Ronaldinho shouted, pumping his fist.

Luque and Eto'o nodded in agreement—no forward worth their salt would let an opponent celebrate like that in their own backyard.

As play resumed, Alavés' players, still buzzing from their equalizer, suddenly found themselves under an onslaught. Mallorca's attack was overwhelming.

A sequence of quick passes pushed them upfield. Ronaldinho played the ball to Kaladze, who initially shaped to shoot from range but instead passed back to Ronaldinho.

Ronaldinho, standing just outside the box, seemed to prepare for a touch—only to surprise everyone with a delicate outside-foot pass into the penalty area.

Luque controlled the ball inside the box, and without hesitation, nudged it sideways.

Ronaldinho, who had continued his run, met the ball in stride and unleashed a stunning volley!

The ball rocketed into the net like an arrow. Herrera didn't even have time to react.

"3-2! Mallorca regains the lead! Just three minutes after Alavés' equalizer, they strike again! And the scorer is their new winter signing—Ronaldinho! His first official goal for Mallorca!"

Ronaldinho waved his arms in excitement, then turned to the stands, pumping his fists in celebration.

"Haha! That kid really doesn't like losing," José laughed, clapping as he turned to Natal.

"More importantly, he actually scores," Natal said, still in disbelief.

"He's a special player," José grinned. "Whether Mallorca hits our targets this season—it'll depend a lot on him."