277_Dojo Breaking -2
Even without meeting each other's eyes, without communicating through words or gestures.
The reason we can read each other's thoughts and move as desired is because there are patterns created through repetition to the point of tedium during training.
If such patterns exist for us, it is only natural that our opponents have patterns as well.
And their pattern is exceedingly simple, and for that reason, it seems certain.
Just as complex machines are prone to breaking down while simple ones are not.
Tat-a-tat—!
Their speeds at pulling away are different.
I see the backs of two players running side by side toward the ball, but one back is visibly pulling away faster than the other's.
Ruben Dias was never a slow player.
Rather, he was among the faster ones.
Especially when he set his mind to running in open space, even our team's wingers found him tough to handle.
But even that Dias couldn't catch up.
Even though he was running frantically, nearly losing his balance at times, the distance gradually widened.
If Dias is a fast human, what is running beside him looks like a four-legged beast.
Fwaaang—!
Mbappé traps the ball that fell into space.
Not simply trapping it, but with a delicate touch, he knocks it forward without killing his speed.
Handling the ball while standing still and handling it while running at maximum speed are completely different stories.
There is as much distance between them as there is between feet and hands.
From that fragmented touch alone, you can realize that he doesn't have only speed.
No.
It might still be too early to judge him.
Boom—!
Mbappé's right-footed shot skims low, and after taking a bounce past Ederson, who had thrown his body, it burrows between his ribs.
Swhaaaa—
Thwack—!
Soon, the stadium is filled with a noise that seems to tear the ears.
They had conceded the first goal.
Waaaaaaaah—
Before that colossal noise, Mbappé folds his arms with an air of triumph, striking an arrogant pose.
A celebration as if to say this was no big deal.
At that celebration, the stands become dyed an even more frenzied cauldron.
"···"
Even when I saw him a year ago, he was undoubtedly the world's best player.
It was almost unbelievable that I was running on the same pitch as him.
His presence was overwhelming.
But in that one year, that presence seems to have grown even larger.
Watching his back as he stood proudly before the fans cheering for him, it was as if I were looking at the Emperor of Paris.
*
"The atmosphere has completely shifted. Manchester City players seem a bit flustered by the goal that came just in the 11th minute of the first half."
"Not only that, but Paris's momentum has fully awakened. The stadium atmosphere is going crazy too. I can barely hear myself right now."
"From the left, Ousmane Dembélé! He drives straight in! Shoot—! But it narrowly misses the goalpost!"
"Wow—that missed, but it was a bold attempt. It's completely Paris's flow now. Manchester City needs to sort this out quickly. If they concede another goal here, things will get very difficult."
After Mbappé's opening goal in the 11th minute of the first half.
The three shots that came in the following five minutes all belonged to Paris Saint-Germain.
Mbappé's goal was the catalyst.
The stadium's heat, which had been ready to erupt—no, already half-erupted—exploded massively with Mbappé's goal.
Riding that momentum, Paris continued to attempt simple and fast attacks, boldly targeting the goal.
There are times when such an air flows through a football pitch.
An air where once you shoot, it feels like it will go in.
An anxious air where, from the opposing team's perspective, even absurd shots seem to refract into goals.
That was the case now, and Paris—possessing the two fastest attackers in the world, Mbappé and Dembélé—was the team most suited to making that air even more threatening.
Without giving Manchester City players time to communicate, regroup, and reorganize.
They continually fed the ball into space, opening the fence to let the two black panthers roam free.
"It may not be the time to say this yet, but it's been talked about since before the match, so I can't skip it. I'm talking about the condition issues of both teams' players."
"For Manchester City, their previous match was one where they fought for the league title. They poured everything into that match and are now playing after flying all the way to Paris. It's quite a forced march. On the other hand, Paris secured the league title early and has been managing their condition."
"Any reason becomes an excuse in the face of defeat. But I think it could certainly be one of the causes. I'm talking about how Manchester City players' reactions seem a bit slower."
Manchester City hadn't been without such crises.
Even in the previous quarterfinal, they had faced this kind of atmosphere after conceding an equalizer at the Allianz Arena.
And back then, Manchester City had shown themselves huddling together tightly, responding with such composure that the crisis didn't look like a crisis.
But as for now, well.
Could it be that the stamina problem is causing trouble, just as the commentators said?
Because the decline of physical strength soon leads to the decline of mental strength.
Of course, it's not at all the time to talk about such things.
However, everything is relative.
Unlike Manchester City, which had been looking only at the match against Arsenal until a few days ago, Paris had prepared with all focus on today's match.
Just by looking at the players' movements from both teams, one couldn't say that influence is nonexistent.
And amid all that.
In an air that smelled of gunpowder, as if something else were about to explode, another explosion occurred in the 20th minute of the first half.
[BOOOM—!]
"Mbappé! Mbappé's second goal!"
"He fooled Stones and Ederson at once! It looked like he would shoot to the far post, but he tucked it inside!"
Mbappé again.
Mbappé's second goal had come.
This time, it wasn't even a counterattack, but a precise finish following a perfect dribble breakthrough in a buildup situation.
Walker, who rarely allowed 1v1 breakthroughs, gave up the flank, and Stones stepped in front but couldn't block the shot.
It was because Mbappé feigned shooting to the far post and stabbed it to the near post.
Ederson too could only slump down heavily.
"Mbappé! Already his second goal in just the 20th minute of the first half! At this rate, that's 10 goals in the Champions League alone!"
"Could this be the coronation of Mbappé, who was called the next emperor, becoming the true emperor!"
Celebratory cannons fired.
Red flames soared from all around the stands, and Paris's chants began to echo.
There are various types of chants.
There is the main chant sung most often, chants mainly sung when losing, and chants often sung when victory is already certain.
Paris St Germain—!
Lo lo lo lo lo lo—!
Paris St Germain—!
Lo lo lo lo lo lo—!
The chant that began ringing from the 20th minute, when Paris started leading 2-0, was the chant sung when victory was considered certain.
Had they already decided this was a win after just 20 minutes? I don't know about the second leg, but perhaps they had come to feel that at least today's match was one they couldn't lose.
Thanks to Paris fans popping champagne early, the stadium atmosphere was turning into a festival, and within that festive atmosphere.
A small number of fans began to act out, intoxicated by that atmosphere.
Insults and ridicule appeared, going beyond simple cheering.
*
Language as a means of communication has fascinating aspects.
Because sometimes, even without knowing the language, you can understand through intonation or nuance alone.
Perhaps it's because language includes not just words but other elements like actions and gestures.
"Vous êtes des idiots!"
"Au revoir, putains de salauds!"
French keeps flying from the stands, making accurate interpretation impossible.
But even without knowing any French at all, one can tell it is cursing and mockery.
With that expression, shouting while raising the middle finger like that—surely it can't be anything good.
There are even kindly interpreters providing translations.
"Fuck you!"
"Go home, losers!"
The phrase "riding high" seems perfectly appropriate.
The score is 0-2, so it's understandable, yet it's so over-the-top that one might think the 90 minutes are already over, which is secretly irritating.
A bit... noisy.
The strange thing is that I'm not particularly scared.
It was a scene where I should be terrified.
Tens of thousands of people who look capable of anything are spewing venom—how is that not scary?
But somehow, I'm not scared.
Instead, I'm starting to get really annoyed.
It's so loud that I want to make them quiet.
Seeing our team's fans quietly huddled in the corner of the stands and the home fans mocking them makes me even more annoyed.
"From the start!"
I shout to my teammates with the loudest voice I can muster.
The stadium is so loud that if I speak moderately, I won't be heard, so I have no choice but to yell.
Honestly, it doesn't suit me.
Yelling as if I'm somebody at players far greater than me.
But that's not the meaning behind my shout.
Because I can't do it with my own strength, I want to borrow my teammates' strength.
This is a plea to get a grip and try again from the top.
"From the start, again!"
No matter what happened, I didn't want to leave here with a loss.
*
"I think Manchester City can count itself lucky that no more goals were added and it ended 0-2. The flow was completely Paris's until the middle of the first half."
The first half concluded with Paris leading by two goals.
The commentators speak as the second half resumes.
"They nearly collapsed completely. Unlike Manchester City. It even felt like they were being swept away by the massive tide. After the 30th minute, they did show signs of regaining stability little by little, though."
"You'd call it their depth. A lesser team might have suffered a disaster, but I think it's because they're Manchester City that they could endure."
"Of course, the crisis isn't completely over yet. Paris will want to seal it. The answer to how to contain Mbappé and Dembélé hasn't come out yet."
"The stadium is still echoing with Paris's chants."
There was a brief cooling time called halftime, but the stadium's heat remained unextinguished.
As if intending to carry the atmosphere straight through, even after the first half ended, Paris fans remained seated and sang their chants, which continued until the second half began.
Thanks to that, Manchester City fans who had traveled to Paris for the away game were suffering immensely.
At least the security guards and police deployed along the edges were holding them back.
They could only block physical encroachment; they couldn't block sound.
Mockery came from all sides.
Most tried not to react, thinking that the more cowardly the dog, the louder it barks, and that this was the fate of the strongest team.
But such self-comfort only served as fodder for the excited opponents to mock them for being so quiet.
Maintaining composure had its limits.
The problem was, in the end, that they had nothing to say back.
They were down 0-2, and it was true they had been anxious throughout the first half.
In this situation, fighting with words would only result in getting hit more.
In the end, to shut these mad dogs up, the whip is the only medicine, and only the players could administer it.
The only thing that could turn this hell into heaven was turning the match around.
"···"
"···"
The away fans, dead silent, watched the pitch with troubled expressions, arms crossed.
When the home fans surrounding those away fans had even turned their bodies as if to make them listen, pounding their chants.
The 10th minute of the second half.
Once again, it was Paris that seized the opportunity.
"Vitinha, to the left. Mbappé gets the ball again. Mbappé, driving in!"
Mbappé, having received the ball on the left, penetrates the left side of the box.
Every time he touches the ball, he attempts a dribble—a display overflowing with both confidence and drive.
It was only natural, since every attempt created threatening scenes.
Fwaaang—!
This time, City's defense succeeds in blocking it.
It was Walker, virtually the only player who could not be pushed back by Mbappé in a footrace.
And from there, the counterattack begins.
Fwaaang—!
Walker, having won the ball, gives it to Ederson.
Boom—!
Ederson, checking the front, without delay launches the ball long and forward.
Tat-a-tat—!
The feeling between 2-0 and 3-0 is completely different.
Against Manchester City, 2-0 feels like it could be overturned at any time, but 3-0 feels like the game is completely suppressed.
Therefore, to step on them while they could, Paris had their line pushed up, unlike the early first half.
Ederson's kick aimed for that widened back space, and Haaland rushes toward that ball.
Fwaaang—!
Overcoming the contest with Marquinhos, Haaland wins the ball.
That ball falls at De Bruyne's feet.
Fwaaang—!
De Bruyne opens up the path wide to the left.
Grealish runs with all his might toward the ball played into the wide left space.
Tat-a-tat—!
At this, both Manchester City and Paris players rush pell-mell toward the goalmouth, mixed together without distinction.
Grealish, having run ahead to receive the ball and observing the scene, soon times his cross.
Fwaaaang—!
In a cross situation, the space most to be wary of is the area between the goalkeeper and the defense.
Haaland was rushing toward that space, and to prevent the cross from connecting to Haaland.
All of Paris's defenders focused solely on running toward the goal.
But Grealish's cross wasn't toward the front of the goalkeeper; it was a cutback cross aimed at the back of the box.
And as if he alone could see the future.
While everyone ran forward, the ball rolled to the lone player who had stepped back and taken his position.
Boom—!
I Jian connects with a non-stop left-footed shot.
The defenders in front of him have no time to react.
By the time they turned while running forward, the shot had already passed.
Shuuuuuung—
Thwack—!
The net shakes, and the noise of the stands, which had been loud until just moments ago, dies down instantly.
Instead of celebrating, City players rush like mad, snatch the ball, and begin heading back to the halfway line.
It was the moment when it felt like the direction of the wind was changing.