THE GREATEST OF ALL TIME

Zachary felt a little guilt coursing through him when he watched the medical personnel help Magnus Wolff Eikrem, one of Molde's defensive midfielders, off the pitch. He hadn't meant for anyone to get injured when he'd unleashed that shot towards the goal. He was only trying to score when he'd caught the Molde defensive midfielder in the middle.

Even though Magnus was an opponent, he couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted as he knew first-hand what an injury meant for a professional football player. That was thanks to the experience he'd accumulated as an injury-prone player during his previous life.

Be that as it may, he also understood that football was the sort of game that came with the usually unavoidable risk of injury. When he gave it his all to win, whether when shooting, tackling, or even faking a foul, he would end up hurting another player at one point. That case was no different. So, he forced himself to push the negative thoughts to the back of his mind—and focused on Jonas Svensson, the Rosenborg defensive midfielder, who was about to take the corner.

Together with the rest of his teammates, he'd gone through several repetitions of practicing various corner drills over the previous week. They'd even rehearsed the hand signals for each kind of corner kick in preparation for the Molde game. So, when Zachary saw Jonas Svensson raise an arm as the signal preceding the corner, he instantly became aware of what type of corner was incoming.

Without any dilly-dallying, he immediately feigned going left before going right—and then pushed through the crowded group of players in the box to welcome the corner. He managed to lose Jo Inge Berget, the player marking him for the day, before jumping to meet the incoming corner ball close to the far post.

But just as he angled his body to plant a header towards the goal, he felt a tug on his shirt, and his upward momentum instantly diminished—almost to zero. He tried to shrug off the player holding his shirt by flailing his arms around, but all his efforts were fruitless. The person holding his shirt didn't relent in the slightest and kept dragging him back towards the ground.

So, he watched helplessly as the ball flashed by him, missing his head by mere centimeters. He could only quiver with indignation, sighing at the missed chance, as his body descended and landed back on the green. Had it not been for that tug, he would have, without a doubt, connected with the corner kick and made an attempt at goal.

Eyes blazing with fury, he locked his intense gaze on Jo Inge Berget, the Molde midfielder that'd just pulled his shirt to deny him from connecting with the ball. To his astonishment, the player had the gull to smile or smirk at him instead of mouthing an apology. It seemed he was trying to provoke Zachary on purpose by gloating over the foul. To make matters worse, the referee didn't notice the foul and just blew the whistle, motioning for the Molde goalkeeper to take the goal kick.

But since Zachary had had a good game since the start of the match, he was still in a jolly mood and didn't let the Molde midfielder's antics spark his rage. So, he sighed, shaking his head slightly before shoving Jo Inge out of the way and moving towards the referee.

"Ref," he intoned once he intercepted the referee close to the center circle. "There was a tug on my shirt by that Jo Inge when I was jumping to head the ball. That was why I missed the ball. Surely, that should have been a foul."

The referee smiled. "I'm watching," he said, without halting his movement across the pitch. "So, don't worry and focus on the game. Just leave the refereeing to me, young man."

Zachary sighed with resignation as he halted in the center circle and turned around to prepare to receive Molde's goal kick. At that moment, he so wished that FIFA would introduce the video assistant referees (VARs) sooner. Had a VAR been present, he was one hundred percent sure he would have won a penalty after the onfield check. Even Jo Inge, the player that'd pulled his shirt, would have received a yellow or red card after the review.

But as much as he wished for the quick introduction of the VARs, he knew well that they would only come into being in 2017—according to his previous life's memories. That was unless he did nothing to quicken the process of their inception. He forced the thought to the back of his mind before returning his entire focus to the match.

Örjan Nyland, the Molde goalkeeper, took the goal kick after wasting a few seconds. He kicked the ball with all his power, delivering it high over the midfield—into the defensive third of Rosenborg.

Mike Jensen, one of Rosenborg's defensive midfielders, was ready for the ball. He tracked after it just as it started its descent. He got to it first and outjumped Daniel Chima Chukwu, Molde's center forward, to head it back towards the center of the field.

In an instant, Zachary estimated that the ball would land near him, probably a meter away, with his A-graded spatial awareness.

Like the wind, he took a step to the side and superimposed himself on its course in mere seconds before any other player could react.

While keeping his eyes locked on the ball, he then pushed off the ground, intending to jump high and bring it under control with his chest. But just as he'd started rising, he felt another tug on his shirt.

The person pulling his shirt was so relentless and shameless that he managed to cut short his leap, making him miss the ball by mere inches. Moreover, it was the same player, Jo Inge Berget, that'd just fouled him for the second time. And yet, the referee had similarly not blown his whistle that time around.

Zachary tried his best to keep his frustration in check as he raised his arms in a silent complaint.

But the referee just ignored him and waved for play to continue, without even trying to listen to his grievances. Zachary could feel a wave of intense anger pulsing through his veins and threatening to spill out of his entire being.

But he was well aware that the match had just begun—and better yet, his team was still in the lead. So, he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down before chasing after the ball, which was already back in possession of one of the Molde defenders. He couldn't let his anger blind him to the point of making him incur a yellow card caution, or even a red, due to an argument.

"You are stronger than I expected," Jo Inge Berget said, grinning after he'd matched his step as they jogged across the pitch towards the ball. "But mark my words: since I'm staying with you throughout the entire duration of the match, you won't get another chance to do anything remarkable in this game. I'm sure about that."

"Oh," Zachary said, his gaze never leaving the direction of the ball. "Then let's wait and see. Hope you don't regret your words." He added before increasing his speed and leaving the midfielder behind. He'd already decided to fight his opponents using the ball instead of verbal insults or punches. So, he remained deaf to Jo Inge's provocations.

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