Chapter 197: Chip Shot and Counterattack

The active play of Giggs and Van Nistelrooy had significantly disrupted Mallorca's defense. Although José emphasized defensive structure, defense always has a focal point. When facing a team that is equally dangerous on both wings, prioritizing one side based on the intensity of the attack is the logical choice.

However, Mallorca's defense was still quite solid. Even though their focus was on the left flank and the penalty area, they didn't completely neglect Beckham on the right, knowing full well his deadly crossing ability.

Yet, despite quickly shifting their offensive direction, Manchester United didn't play the ball to the right. Instead, they went straight through the middle!

Scholes received the ball at the edge of the penalty area. Motta positioned himself in front of him to prevent an immediate long-range shot. However, instead of shooting, Scholes turned and passed the ball to the onrushing Keane!

Keane drove forward with the ball. As Kaladze rushed in to cover, he instinctively shouldered Keane, willing to concede a dangerous free kick if necessary. But before going down, Keane managed to pass the ball to the right!

After several quick movements, Mallorca's left flank was completely exposed. Even Capdevila had shifted centrally to help defend. Beckham received the ball in an entirely unmarked position!

Beckham was stationed just outside the penalty box near the corner. As soon as Capdevila saw him receive the ball, he turned and rushed over. Franco, the goalkeeper, also stepped forward, preparing to intercept Beckham's cross.

Beckham's crosses were high, fast, and lethal. If a striker got a clean header on target, goalkeepers had almost no chance unless the ball was directed straight at them or missed the goal completely. Given this, stepping out to intercept was a valid defensive strategy.

Beckham stopped the ball, took a quick glance at the penalty area—Capdevila was still far away, no need to rush—then swung his right foot and struck the ball with power!

From the sidelines, José's pupils suddenly contracted. Although he was some distance away, he sensed trouble from Beckham's shooting posture.

"Could it be…"

Franco had been locked onto Beckham, preparing to read the trajectory of his cross. But as soon as Beckham struck the ball, Franco felt an ominous sense of danger. The next second, he realized why.

The ball traced a distinct curve in the air, and from its trajectory, the drop point was… behind Franco!

This wasn't a cross—it was a shot!

Franco immediately started backpedaling, but he made a critical mistake. Beckham's shot was fast. If Franco had turned and sprinted toward the far post, he might have had a chance to stop it. But by backpedaling with his back to the goal, even with quick footwork, he was already too late.

As he reached the edge of the six-yard box, the ball was already above him. In desperation, he leaped, stretching his arms as far as he could.

Still just a bit short—despite his best effort and his 1.88-meter frame, he was a hand's width away. The ball floated past his fingertips and dipped into the far corner of the net!

"Ohhhhhh! What a magnificent goal! David—Beckham! Manchester United's No. 7! Listen to the roar from the stands! Every Mancunian is proud of him!"

The Old Trafford commentator shouted excitedly as the stadium erupted in cheers. The fans were celebrating wildly as the No. 7 jersey raced across the pitch—he was their ultimate pride.

Manchester United's No. 7 had a tradition of greatness. And compared to legends like Best and Cantona, Beckham was proving he belonged among them.

While Beckham celebrated, Ronaldinho watched him closely. That chip shot… it didn't seem that hard. I should be able to pull that off too…

Ferguson was beaming, pumping his fist toward the stands. Though his relationship with Beckham wasn't in a honeymoon phase, it was still solid. Seeing Beckham score like that, the old man couldn't help but laugh in delight.

José, on the other hand, was less than thrilled. The goal was brilliant, no doubt, and not every superstar could pull off such a strike. But to concede such a goal—it was frustrating.

Still, they were only one goal down. No need to panic yet.

One of the advantages of playing the first leg away was that conceding first wasn't the end of the world. As long as they could grab an away goal, it would be a huge boost. If not, they still had the home leg to turn things around.

José analyzed the situation. His team's defense hadn't really made a mistake; they had just been caught by United's relentless attack and Beckham's moment of genius. As long as they tightened up, they could avoid similar lapses.

After taking the lead, Manchester United eased off their attack slightly, while Mallorca quickly launched a counteroffensive. Despite having three defensive midfielders, it didn't mean their attacking ability had weakened. Kaladze had some offensive prowess, and Capdevila's overlapping runs were excellent. With the right side focusing on defense, the left flank could be the primary attacking channel.

As the game continued, Mallorca's attacks increasingly came from the left. Kaladze, Capdevila, and even Ronaldinho and Luque kept pushing forward aggressively.

This relentless pressure put United's right flank under heavy strain. Though Beckham tracked back to help defend, Mallorca had a numerical advantage, continuously passing the ball to create opportunities.

United's midfield began shifting toward that side. But they weren't too worried about Mallorca suddenly switching play to catch them off guard. On the right, only Campano and García could contribute to the attack—one was tied up by Giggs, and the other had limited offensive ability. United had little to fear.

From Ferguson's perspective, Mallorca's attacks looked intense but weren't truly threatening. No matter how strong their left-side dominance was, it was still just along the flank. If United could withstand this phase, the momentum would shift back in their favor.

Even top teams at home had to weather a storm against lesser opponents before striking back. There was no need to crash head-on into an opponent's strongest moment.

Ferguson and United were waiting—waiting for Mallorca's offensive energy to wane. That's when United would strike again.

José stood on the sidelines, expressionless, watching the match. He knew their current advantage was only superficial. If the tempo slowed, United would regain control.

But this was also an opportunity. If Mallorca could capitalize on this moment and score, the momentum would shift in their favor!

That's the beauty of football. Even if you win 4-1 at home, you could still lose 4-0 away. The game changes in an instant. Victory or defeat isn't decided until the final whistle.

The right flank—was it really a weak point in Mallorca's attack? Compared to United's solid right-side defense, their left side, with Silvestre at left-back, was a potential liability. José wouldn't let that weakness go unexploited.

Since the start of the match, Eto'o had been almost invisible apart from one early dribble. He couldn't win headers in the box and was quiet outside of it. But he was José's hidden ace for the right-flank attack.

A deep-lying card, waiting for the perfect moment.

After sustained left-flank and central attacks, Mallorca slightly slowed their tempo. Sensing this, United pressed forward, looking to regain control.

Mallorca continued passing in midfield, searching for an opening. United expanded their defensive line and pushed forward—Ferguson had emphasized midfield control for this match.

Although Mallorca's players were skilled at short passes, United's relentless pressing made ball retention difficult. Their midfield's stamina and pressing ability were top-tier.

Mallorca was gradually pushed back. United followed suit, tightening their grip. They had been waiting for this moment.

José's eyes narrowed—Now is the time. Eto'o had been completely ignored by United's defense. If someone could deliver a through ball…

His players didn't disappoint. Ronaldinho dropped deep to receive the ball and played a return pass. Motta got to it ahead of Scholes and, under immense pressure, delivered a beautiful through ball!

A flash of brilliance!

The 30-meter pass sliced through United's lines, heading toward their half. A white blur burst forward from the right flank—Eto'o!

Silvestre reacted first and started tracking back. He wasn't slow, but as Eto'o reached the ball, he was already bearing down.

José bit his lip—he trusted Eto'o to shake him off.

Eto'o didn't disappoint. As Silvestre lunged in, Eto'o hesitated for a split second—then exploded forward!

Silvestre hesitated, and by the time he reacted, he was too late. His athleticism was solid, but his first reactions were always a beat slow. At fullback, it wasn't a huge issue, but as the last defender, it was fatal.

Just like in the Club World Cup against Edmundo—he was left for dead.

Eto'o stormed past him, charged into the box, feinted a shot to send Barthez to the ground, and slotted the ball into the empty net before Blanc could recover!