God Of football-Chapter 292: We Can Do It Too
The match had settled into a fierce rhythm—fast, technical, and intense.
Every movement felt like it carried weight, every pass loaded with the possibility of something special.
Yet, for all the quality on display, the ball refused to hit the back of the net.
Inside bars, living rooms, and fan parks across the world, the tension was thick.
"This is great football, but a goal would be nice." A fan in the stands said. "We are playing well but I’m still nervous since just a single goal could be dangerous at this point of the tournament".
His friend, sitting beside glanced up at him. "Feels like one is coming, though. Spain look sharp, but Germany aren’t sitting back either."
They weren’t wrong.
Spain and Germany were locked in a battle of wits and intensity, neither willing to give an inch.
Back on the pitch, Pedri, constantly scanning, spotted the gap and zipped a pass to Izan.
The teenager received it near the halfway line, one touch to set himself, the next flicking it over Andrich’s incoming challenge.
Tyler: "Izan, so smooth under pressure! And here comes Spain again!"
Yamal peeled wide on the right, waiting for the pass but he didn’t get it.
Izan had already spotted Nico Williams in full flight on the opposite flank. With a precise diagonal switch, he sent the ball floating toward him.
Williams brought it down effortlessly, his first touch killing the ball’s momentum, his second touch knocking it past Kimmich, and before the latter could turn, Nico had bolted away.
"Brilliant pass from Izan and a lovely control to match. Now Nico with the ball, what can Spain do here."
The German defense backpedaled frantically, Rüdiger shifting across to close the space.
But Williams had already squared up to Raum, shuffling left, then right—then bursting past him.
His sudden Acela sent him towards the byline. Glancing up to see his number, Nico Williams slowed down before he whipped a cross in.
The German defense scrambled to clear it and thankfully Schlotterbeck got there first, stretching a leg to deflect the ball away.
Tyler: "Brilliant defending from Schlotterbeck! That was dangerous!"
The ball rolled out to the edge of the box and now Rodri was there.
One touch, then a strike—
Blocked!
Germany weren’t out of trouble yet.
The rebound fell to Yamal, who didn’t hesitate. He chopped past Andrich, shifting the ball onto his left foot, then let fly—
"Yamal!!!!" the commentator roared but Neuer punched it away!
The stadium gasped as the German captain launched himself to his right, pushing the ball out of the danger zone with a strong hand.
Fàbregas: "Neuer with a huge save! But Spain are knocking on the door!"
Spain recycled possession quickly.
Laporte found Pedri, who shifted the ball to Izan, now hovering just outside the penalty area.
Izan feinted to shoot and Kroos bit. Then with a subtle touch, he slid the ball through Kroos’ legs and kept moving.
The German crowd held its breath as Izan lined up a curling shot—
But Kimmich arrived at the last second, stretching out a boot to deflect it wide!
Tyler: "Just inches away! Kimmich denies what could’ve been a special goal from
Izan!"
...
Back in the bar in Berlin, Lukas clapped his hands together.
"Damn. That was close."
Sebastian exhaled.
"Germany need to wake up. Spain look like scoring every time they attack."
And the German players must have heard him.
Because suddenly, they turned the tide.
Germany struck back with their own attack, moving like a machine.
Musiala, always electric, wriggled free in midfield, skipping past Pedri with a silky touch.
His balance was absurd—Rodri tried to push him off, but Musiala rode the challenge, somehow staying on his feet.
He played it to Wirtz, who instantly flicked it to Havertz.
One touch, back to Wirtz.
Germany were speeding forward now, their movements fluid, precise.
Tyler: "This is what Germany can do! One-touch football at its finest!"
Wirtz threaded it through to Raum, who had bombed forward on the left.
Raum took a breath, scanned the box—and then delivered a cross with deadly intent.
It was perfect.
Curving, dipping, just the right amount of speed.
Spain’s defense reacted too late.
And Havertz moved first.
Ghosting between Laporte and Le Normand, he met the ball with a delicate, glancing header—
Unai Simon stretched to the fullest but couldn’t get to the ball.
The net rippled.
"TOOOOOOORRRRR!!, the Stuttgart Arena roared as the German fans sprung to life.
Tyler: GOOOOAAAALLL. WONDERFUL WELL WELL-WORKED GOAL. KAI HAVERTZ PUTS GERMANY AHEAD. 39 MINUTES AND ITS GERMANY 1 SPAIN, NIL"
Nagelsmann roared on the touchline, pumping his arms while the German players swarmed Havertz, slapping his back, ruffling his hair.
Fàbregas: "What a goal! That was a textbook German attack—quick, incisive, and executed to perfection!"
The Spanish players were stunned.
De la Fuente stood frozen for a moment, then clapped his hands.
"Vamos. Responde."
And Spain did.
Barely sixty seconds after restart, they came roaring back.
Pedri played it short to Rodri, who immediately switched it to Yamal.
The teenager didn’t hesitate.
He controlled, turned, and sprinted forward.
Germany still thinking about their goal were caught scrambling to organize themselves.
Andrich rushed in hoping to buy some time but Yamal flicked it past him before coming one one-on-one with Wirtz.
The Bayer Leverkusen man lunged at Yamal but the teenager skipped away. Seeing more bodies approach, Yamal slowed down before looking for his teammates.
And after settling on one, he threaded a pass to Izan, right at the edge of the box.
Tyler: "Izan, back to goal—what can he do here?"
As soon as Izan got the ball, three German players collapsed toward him.
Izan didn’t flinch.
Ding,
[ Trickster and Incisive traits activated.]
[Activating Union LV 1]
With an outrageous flick of his left foot, Izan sent the ball slicing through the press—
Straight to Dani Olmo.
Fàbregas: "OH, WHAT A PASS!"
Olmo, already anticipating the move, latched onto it and burst into the box.
Neuer rushed out but Olmo stayed ice-cold.
He opened up his body—and then slotted the ball towards the bottom left corner.
Neuer dived but could only watch as the ball rolled smoothly into the net.
"GOOOOOOLLLLLLLAAAAAAASSSOOOO"
Tyler: ". WHAT EVEN WAS THAT PASS. SPAIN RESPONDS IMMEDIATELY! IZAN WITH THE PASS, DANI OLMO WITH THE EQUALIZER!"
Fàbregas: "That is an unreal assist from Izan! The vision, the execution—it’s world-class!"
Olmo pointed straight at Izan in celebration, grinning. The teenager barely reacted, just smirking as his teammates piled onto Olmo.
Nagelsmann, furious from conceding, threw his hands up in frustration.
Germany had led for barely a minute.
Now, it was all square again.
"The match is now electric, with both teams fully unleashed."
Germany, still stinging from Spain’s rapid equalizer, immediately tried to reclaim their lead.
Musiala, their brightest spark since the start of the match, picked the ball up in midfield and turned sharply, evading Pedri’s challenge.
Tyler: "Jamal Musiala—just gliding through midfield like a ghost!"
Rodri stepped in, this time making contact, but the ball had already been shifted wide to Kimmich.
The Bayern man surged forward before curling a teasing cross into the box.
Havertz was there again, rising between Laporte and Le Normand—
But this time, Unai Simón was ready.
The Spanish keeper leaped high, catching the ball cleanly before immediately rolling it out to Laporte.
Spain wasted no time.
Laporte to Rodri. Rodri to Pedri. Pedri to Izan.
The transition was seamless, almost mechanical in its precision.
Izan, always aware, let the ball run across his body before stabbing it forward with his left foot, threading it between the lines to Olmo.
Fàbregas: "Spain are playing through Germany like a hot knife through butter!"
Olmo turned and spotted Yamal already making his run.
The teenager, fearless, burst forward, sprinting past Raum. The German fullback grabbed at his shirt, desperate to slow him down, but Yamal shrugged him off with a powerful stride.
Tyler: "Here comes Yamal again! He’s been a menace all night!"
Yamal approached the box, scanning the situation.
Williams was darting to the back post. Izan hovered near the penalty spot. Olmo ghosted in late.
Yamal faked a shot, drawing in Andrich, before slipping the ball sideways—
Straight to Izan.
One touch to control.
Another to shift the ball away from Rüdiger’s desperate lunge.
The goal was there.
The entire stadium held its breath—
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And then—
Fàbregas: "No! Not yet! Schlotterbeck with a last-ditch block!"
The German defender had thrown himself in the way, deflecting Izan’s effort wide.
Spain, undeterred, rushed to take the corner.
The ball was whipped in, curling menacingly toward the near post-—
Rodri jumped—
Header—
Blocked!
Another scramble, bodies crashing together in the box—
It fell to Nico Williams!
A half-volley—
Deflected!
The ball ricocheted out of the box, but Spain refused to let it go.
Izan, stationed outside the area, controlled the loose ball on his chest.
One last moment.
One last attack.
He took a breath—
And struck it.
Low.
Tyler: "AND Izan—"
