Chapter 296: Chapter 93: Derby Victory! Ma’el’s Precious Gift! Lifelong Inspiration!

"Was it an amazing goal?"

The little boy couldn’t see it, even though his parents had already described it to him once, he still asked the old man in a wheelchair, wanting to hear again about the decisive goal from Ma’el.

"Yes."

The old man in the wheelchair was very patient, taking the boy from his parents and holding him on his lap.

Amidst the crowd’s cheers, this was a very quiet and harmonious scene, an old man and a young boy leaning on each other, experiencing the joy football brought them.

"Ma’el dribbles... He’s moving very quickly, with long strides!"

The old man mimicked the commentator’s tone, smiling with his eyes closed as he savored the goal for the boy, "Oh...! He’s going past, Cahill can’t catch him, no one can keep up with his pace."

The little boy’s body trembled slightly, having to rely solely on his imagination, but this also helped him better immerse himself in the field.

No one knew what his world of football was like, but it must be quite wonderful?

"Facing Frederick’s charge, this goalkeeper made Arsenal suffer in both halves... a shot! It’s in!

"Wonderful goal...!!"

"Haha..." The old man leaned back and laughed, holding the boy, who quickly joined in with laughter, the old and the young leaning on each other, swaying together.

"Wenger slipped on the ground, it seemed like he wanted to lie down himself, Van Persie picked up Walcott, Arteta slid on his knees even though he didn’t score!

"Ramsey knelt on one knee, unable to believe his own eyes, look, Ma’el is showing off his physique, making countless girls in the United Kingdom blush!"

"Hehe..." The little boy laughed again, clapping his hands in delight.

His parents stood next to him, watching this scene with happiness and emotion, then looked towards Ma’el on the field, the player who brought them joy and light.

...

Ma’el continued to make several celebratory moves, the heat in the field making it hard for him to suppress his emotions.

At this moment, he couldn’t help but think of the abstract representative Anthony, remembering his one-goal-three-celebration.

"Haha..." He also showed a bit of a smile, but he understood that such a decisive goal truly deserved multiple celebrations.

As he ran back with his teammates, he saw the fourth official on the sideline ready to raise the stoppage time board, counting this way, their celebration had already taken over two minutes.

"Get out!"

"Little brat!"

"You’re just a piece of shit!"

The stands echoed with faint insults, as many Tottenham fans leaned forward angrily, trying to verbally abuse him.

Ma’el smiled, raising his right index finger to his lips, making a silencing gesture.

He suddenly stood still, joining his hands in front, bringing out his "Goodnight" celebration he’d used twice before.

Sleep tight!

"Wow...!" The Tottenham fan section burst again with a wave of noise, with many extreme fans trying to rush the field, blocked by security on the stands.

Ma’el just laughed at them, still heading to his position unfazed.

It’s not that he was being harsh, but if someone scored a beautiful goal and couldn’t even respond to previous insults, they’d really be living a dull life.

"Damn it!"

On the sideline, Tottenham’s manager Redknapp’s face turned red, his emotions were collapsing. After seeing Ma’el’s gesture, he approached the fourth official, "What kind of gesture is that? He’s provoking our fans, provoking me!

"Did you see that? He already got a card for taking off his shirt, give him another one and send him off!"

On the other side, Wenger had gotten up from the ground, and upon seeing someone demanding a card for Ma’el, he immediately went up and confronted Redknapp.

He was significantly taller than Redknapp, as the two stood together, reminiscent of the time he stood with Mourinho during a conflict.

Like then, he seriously extended both hands, pushing towards Redknapp’s chest, even his tie flapped up.

"Back off!"

"You’re minding too much!"

"This is my business!"

Redknapp reached his hands out to push back, but given the height and weight difference, he really had no chance of winning.

In the end, he stepped back repeatedly, awkward yet unable to escape, luckily an assistant coach saw his predicament and pulled him away.

"Hey~!"

Being pulled away, Redknapp felt a bit safer... he swung his right arm in discontent once more, "That’s a yellow card celebration, without a doubt!"

"Go away!" Wenger taunted with a wave, shaking his head, "Is this all you can do?"

Redknapp wanted to retort that Wenger was the same before, but his attention was quickly drawn to the fourth official raising the stoppage time board—2 minutes of stoppage time for the second half.

His eyes widened again, really wanting to charge at the fourth official’s face, how could there only be 2 minutes?

"Move!"

He tried again to break free from the assistant coach’s hold, but the latter refused to let go, afraid Redknapp would just lose again and further embarrass himself.

"Hey!" Just substituted Tottenham forward Adebayor rushed over now, representing Redknapp, to express his dissatisfaction to the fourth official.

His face full of urgency, he knew, even though Ma’el didn’t really taunt him with the celebration, once the game ended, Ma’el would definitely come over.

At this moment, 2 minutes of stoppage time was essentially his countdown to doom.

How could he be satisfied?

...

"Beep! Beep! Beep---!"