The Greatest of all Time-Novel

Coach Johansen was all smiles as he watched the Rosenborg players celebrating the goal. His heart was still palpitating from the memory of how Zachary had handled himself right before scoring. With a few deft touches, the young midfielder had created something out of nothing, jumping over a sliding tackle and then executing a Marseille turn before chipping the ball into the back of the net. His control, movements, and vision had all been flawless and immaculate in those few moments.

Moreover, Zachary had made his actions look so simple to the point of giving the illusion that anyone could perform them. However, as a professional, Coach Johansen was sure that not many pro players active in the world could have handled themselves better than Zachary during such a crucial moment of the match. It was only thanks to the boy's high game intelligence, coupled with solid skills honed over thousands of practice sessions, that he managed to perform at such a level. The young midfielder was that impressive.

*FWEEEEEEE*

The referee blew the halftime whistle shortly after, bringing the proceedings on the field of play to a brief pause. Without dilly-dallying, the players of both teams rushed towards the tunnel for the halftime break.

"Let's head to the dressing room," Coach Johansen said to his team of coaching assistants. "We still have to prep the players for the second half." He added before turning around and leading the way towards the tunnel entrance.

His footsteps felt lighter since he was in a good mood. The ending of the first half had really relieved him of all the tension that had been accumulating within him ever since he'd stepped into the Ullevaal Stadion for the final. There had been some ups and downs, sure, but his players had managed to recover right before the halftime whistle. They'd bagged an equalizer and brought proceedings back to level terms in the 45th minute, causing his mood to lift.

Be that as it may, he was well aware that the match was far from over. There were still 45 minutes left to play before the conclusion of the proceedings. Should his players mess up and concede again, they would find themselves hard-pressed to win the game and go home with the trophy at the end of the day. Thus, he knew he needed to do his utmost to motivate them and straighten their attitude during the halftime break. He had to do his best to smother out any possibility of a field player committing a mistake when the trophy was in sight. It was his time to do his part as the head coach.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" The coach said in a commanding tone right after he'd stepped into the dressing room. "We only have 15 minutes to the commencement of the second half. So, let's utilize the time wisely."

The players were quick to respond on hearing Coach Johansen's voice. They paused all their chattering as quickly as possible and settled down on benches around the dressing room. In only a matter of seconds, they'd transformed from a group of rowdy athletes to the semblance of a class of A-graded students in a top academic institution.

Coach Johansen nodded to himself after witnessing their disciplined actions. "Let me start by saying that that was a good first half despite the score," he said with the intent to break the ice in the dressing room. "All of you were phenomenal both in defense and attack. You also executed the game plan quite perfectly, and that's why we've continued dictating the tempo throughout the entire first half."

The coach took a few steps forward before continuing in a somber tone. "But there are a few issues here and there that we need to address before we head into the second half. For instance, we shouldn't have conceded that goal on the counterattack if everyone on the team had played their roles perfectly. I can assure you that if six of our field players had reacted immediately and fallen back to defend, we would have prevented Molde from scoring. But we let our guard for just a moment, and because of that — we're still at square one during the halftime break."

"I'm not here to carry out a postmortem or cry over spilled milk," the coach continued. "But I have to warn you that we can't repeat the same mistake. We can't let our guard down during the second half, not even for a couple of seconds. We've got to remain focused for every minute of the gameplay and ensure that we don't commit basic mistakes that might push us into a dire situation. As long as we avoid being lax on the field of play, I'm sure we'll win this game and become champions today. Are we together, guys?"

"Yes, coach," the players roared out, more or less in unison.

Coach Johansen nodded, smiling. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Avoiding mistakes aside, I want us to be more daring and clinical while attacking. Forwards and midfielders! I want you to keep making goal attempts whenever you get the opportunity. When you have a clear visual, unleash a shot, and maybe you'll score. If there's an obstacle stopping you from shooting, pass to one of your teammates and then move forward. I want us to sustain our momentum and constantly oppress Molde's defense from the very first minute of the first half until the final whistle. That's the only way we'll win the final and become champions today afternoon. Are we together, guys?"

"Yes, coach."

"Good," Coach Johansen said, glancing at his watch. "It's almost time. So, all of you should prepare quickly before returning to the pitch. Those who would like to go to the washrooms should go. Those who need to see the medics should see them. I don't want any of you to have excuses for losing focus during the second half. Are we together?"

"Yes, coach."

"Okay, then." Coach Johansen said, nodding. "I wish you all the best of luck during the second half. And may we become champions today. For we're ROSENBORGGG!!!" He ended his speech with a cheer.

The players responded by roaring out Rosenborg chants in preparation for their return to the field. They all seemed eager to unleash carnage on team Molde during the second half.

**** ****

"Do you still believe we'll win?" Emily asked, trying her best to make herself heard over the din in the stadium. She understood that football was unpredictable. Throughout history, weaker teams, including Greece and Senegal, had at one time overcome football giants in crucial competitions. She was worried that Molde would pull off the same thing and defeat Rosenborg just by relying on their team spirit.

"You don't need to worry," Kristin, who was seated beside her, replied, frowning. "Have you forgotten that Zachary is among the Rosenborg attackers? As long as he remains in good shape for the rest of the match, we'll surely score another two or three goals. You've got to believe in him since he's your client."

"You're right," Emily said, a soft smile outlining her face. "I guess I'm just nervous since this is a very crucial match for Zachary. I want him to perform and dazzle everyone present today."

"Why is it a very crucial match?" Kristin pressed, creasing her brows.

"I can't say at the moment," Emily replied, smiling mysteriously. "But if everything goes well, you'll know by the end of the week."

"Why all the secrecy?" Kristin grumbled but turned her attention back towards the pitch. She could already see the players of both teams coming out of the tunnel for the second half.

**** ****

The game restarted, and the Rosenborg players resumed their relentless attacks on team Molde from the first minute of the second half. For the umpteenth time that afternoon, Coach Ole Gunnar Solskjaer was at the end of his wits as he followed the game from the sidelines. He could tell that Rosenborg was a much stronger side in all aspects of the modern game when compared to his team.

The overall framework of Rosenborg's attacking system was well-organized and pleasing to the eyes — a testament to the tactical prowess of Coach Johansen. The whole team moved together like a pack of wolves, both on the attack and defense. Additionally, their positioning at every moment of the game was textbook perfect, with players covering each other to prevent Molde from launching another counterattack. As a result, his players had failed to mount any meaningful attacks on Rosenborg's goal, even as the game approached the 60th minute.

"What to do?"

Coach Ole could see no hope for his team to win the final if the status-quo remained unchanged. It was only a matter of time before Rosenborg scored again if he left things the way they were. So, he made a prompt decision to bolster his defense by introducing a couple of defenders into the game there and then. That would make it harder for Rosenborg to score another goal and possibly push the game to the penalty shootout.

However, just as he was about to instruct his assistants to prep the substitutes, he stopped suddenly. That was because Zachary Bemba, Rosenborg's 18-year-old midfielder, had just made another run along the touchline on the left flank and was quickly spearing into Molde's half at breakneck speed.

The prodigy was as agile as a slippery snake in the jungle, weaving through the ranks of Molde players like they were a bunch of nobodies. Before the Molde players could array themselves into a proper defensive shape, he had already started cutting into the pitch from the left flank like a whirlwind.

Coach Ole was really frustrated. "What the f*ck are you guys doing?" He roared out loud as he ran towards the boundary of the technical area. "Hurry up and stop him before he makes it to our box? Do you need me to teach you the basics of defending during a final of a major competition?"

His words seemed to have woken up the Molde defenders from a long period of slumber. Without further ado, most of them rushed towards Zachary like a pack of predators that had just spotted their favorite prey.

Coach Ole could only shake his head in dismay after noticing the actions of his players. Most of them had rushed towards Zachary and left a big gap behind on the opposite flank. The defense was tilting to one side, meaning that the other Rosenborg attackers could exploit the opening on the right. Coach Ole could only pray and hope that the Rosenborg players wouldn't notice the defensive mistake. Otherwise, his team would be in big trouble.

However, the goddess of luck seemed hell-bent on making a joke out of team Molde that afternoon. What the coach was most afraid of transpired the very next instant. Zachary Bemba skipped past yet another Molde defender with a deft couple of touches before looking up and unleashing a teasing cross into space behind the defense.

"Damn!"

Coach Ole could only manage a curse as he watched Nicki Nielsen, Rosenborg's center-forward, pounce on Zachary's pinpoint cross around the edge of the 18-yard box. Before the confused Molde defenders could register what was transpiring, the center-forward chested the ball towards the green and then unleashed a carpet-shot towards the inside of the right post. And, before Coach Ole could even blink, the ball was already nestled in the back of the net.

What a nightmare!!

In the 62nd minute, Rosenborg had managed to score again and take the lead for the first time that afternoon. The score was Rosenborg Ballklub 2 and Molde Fotballklubb 1. Coach Ole could only place his hands on the back of his head as he watched the opponents celebrate the goal close to the corner flag.

**** ****