Football singularity

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[SECOND HALF – KICKOFF | Stadion Widzewa Łódź | Time: 45:00 | England 1 – 1 Germany]

The whistle pierced through the electric hum of the stadium, and the second half was underway. The floodlights cast silver beams across the pitch, and both teams emerged from the tunnel with new energy, sharpened by the words exchanged in their locker rooms. Germany looked more compact in their structure now—Wirtz starting a little deeper, and both wingers higher, stretching the field to open up more attacking angles.

England was still in their 4-3-3 formation, but it was narrower with both Saka and Sancho starting at the sides of the centre circle instead of out wide. (Peeeep,) Mason Greenwood kicked things off following the referee's whistle with a short but sweet pass back to Jude in midfield.

"Welcome to the viewers who are just tuning in to this under-20 World Cup final, between Germany and England, the score is level at 1:1, and the second half promises to be action-packed as these two teams chase a gold medal." Paul Gartner's voice resounded throughout the livestream broadcast as the 3 Lions moved the ball around their ranks.

Jude Bellingham and Declan Rice had their work cut out for them as the German attacking quartet shot forward, resembling hungry wolves in their chase. Ben Chilwell received a sloppy pass from Declen, who panicked under a combined charge from Wirtz and Jamie, forcing the English left back to hastily step up and control the ball.

"What a hospital ball from Declean, but Chilwell remains composed and spins out of trouble with a nimble roulette." Eddie Hall exclaimed just as the left-back came to stop from his spin, a yard away from Jamie Leweling. Not holding don't the ball, he calmly played it out to Mount, who had just stepped into a pocket of space just ahead of the halfway line.

Mount barely had the ball under his control when he felt Niklas Tauer's robust body on his back, pressing high and hard. The Chelsea midfielder tried to roll away, but Tauer stayed glued to him like a shadow. A slight tug on his jersey out of the sight of the referee, a quick toe poke and the ball was loose. Before Mount could even steady himself, Tauer pounced on the ball, shifting it over to Stiller.

The German holding midfielder wanted to pass the ball forward, but the shape of the front four was disjointed from their chase. So instead of risking a pass, he nimbly turned back with the ball glued at his feet, bodying Declan back. Retaining possession, he deftly knocked the ball back to Bella-Kotchap, who received it with the calm of a seasoned pro.

Now it was Germany's turn to control a spell of possession, and they did so expertly with their passing game. Using their wingbacks and full-backs' movements up and down the flank, they continued to stretch the English side. Wirtz continued popping up in pockets of space created by their movements, playing one or two-touch passes to connect with his teammates.

However, it was the two holding midfielders, consisting of Niklas Tauer and Angelo Stiller, who controlled the flow of the German side. Stiller controlled the pace, and Tauer acted as an enforcer using his physicality to carve out space. They managed to steadily work the ball up the field, pressuring their opponents into the final third.

[52]

In the 52nd minute, they managed to carve out a chance when Tauer nodded the ball to the left side after an aerial duel with Mount. Rakim appeared in front of Reece James, chesting the ball down in the next moment as he used his back to hold him off. A shimmy of the shoulder and a feint outward was all he needed to get his marker to bite before spinning inwards.

Like a sports car, he accelerated from 0-100 in less than a second towards the box. Reece James gave chase, but Rakim was already two steps ahead, his burst too sudden, too violent. The crowd rose in a wave as the German winger surged toward the top corner of the box, cutting in on his right foot.

Teden Mengi sprinted to close down the angle from the central position, but it was already too late. Rakim had already opened his body, his right foot wrapped around the ball with power and let it fly. The strike sizzled through the night air—low, hard, and curling toward the bottom far post.

Dean Henderson saw it late but reacted with brilliant instinct, hurling himself horizontally like a man possessed. With fingertips extended, he pushed the ball wide at full stretch. The shot had the pace and venom to beat most keepers, but Henderson did just enough to keep it away from his goal.

"WHAT A SAVE!" Eddie Hall roared into his mic. "Dean Henderson, again, denying Rakim Rex—this time with a world-class save! That looked destined for the net!"

The German fans clutched their heads, groaning in disbelief. Rakim stood near the edge of the box, hands on hips, lips pursed in frustration as he shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up, Rex, just try again," Lenn said from the side as he patted his shoulder. "Though kinda scary how he managed to reach it, let alone save that shot from his angle."

"Yeah, it must be the hair; ever since I got rid of my dreads, I lost my superpowers." Rakim retorted with a light smile.

"If almost breaking that right back's ankles means you have lost your powers, I need to get me some of that," Lenn retorted before jogging to the penalty spot to get ready for the corner.

Rakim joined suit, taking a spot at the edge of the box, ready to make a run to the area at the back post. "You're not getting away this time," Reece said from his side, placing a hand on his hip to keep him close.

"You think you can keep up this time?" Rakim asked him as a light smile appeared on his face, the whole time his gaze never left Jaimie, who was setting up for the corner kick. "Though, should you worry about that guy over there, he looks like he is ready to run through someone to score,"

Following his gaze, Reece's eyes landed on the tall Niklas Tauer, who could be seen pacing back and forth around the penalty spot like a mad bull. Mount and Bellingham tried to keep him under control, but he wasn't having any of that. At the slightest attempt from either defender to hold him, he would loudly exclaim at the referee in broken English.

"(Fweet) Keep your hands to yourselves," The referee exclaimed before signalling for the corner kick to be taken. Just as Reece looked over at the rowdy trio, Rakim silently moved back towards the edge of the 18-yard box.

"Reece, pay attention," One of the English defenders exclaimed, but it was already too late. Jamie was already making his run-up to the ball, and by the time he was just a yard from the winger, Rakim also began to move.

He sent James a light smile before taking two quick side steps to the left, before accelerating to the area around the back post. Leweling's left boot swept through the ball with a vicious whip. It started out toward the penalty spot, then bent late, arrowing to the back‑post corridor just as Rakim arrived in full stride.

He took a step with his left leg, his muscles coiling like a spring before he catapulted forward and up into the air. Teden Mengi had jumped up from his position as he did his best to hold back Lenn. Rakim's momentum was too strong, allowing him to rise two heads above him.

He met the ball with his forehead as his neck was craned backwards to still catch it. Thunk!—A meaty crack resounded as the ball left his head and rocketed through the floodlit air toward the upper‑left angle. Dean Henderson back‑pedalled, limbs splayed, but the header carried too much venom.

With a dull rustle of nylon, the ball ripped into the top corner, shook the net, and cannoned back out again behind the goal line. The fourth official's watch vibrated; the referee stabbed both arms toward the halfway line. "Goooooaaaaaalllll!!!" Gasoline was immediately poured on the German supporters, and the ball impacting the back of the net was the exact spark they needed.

"Rakim Rex is once again the man of the hour." Paul Gartner's magnetic voice resounded as Rakim sprinted to the corner flag, performing his signature Griddy celebration.

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To Be Continued...