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CHAPTER 53 — THE SECOND HALF SHOWDOWN
The snow had thickened, coating the stadium in a blanket of white. Every blade of synthetic turf shimmered under the lights, slick and cold. Kweku adjusted his gloves, the chill biting through his thin academy jersey. The first half had gone well — 1–0 in their favour — but he knew the danger wasn't over.
Coach Devereux shouted final instructions from the sideline. "Stay compact! Anticipate transitions! Trust your triangles!"
Kweku took a deep breath. His mind replayed the first half: the passes, the intercepts, the moments he controlled the flow. He tightened his focus.
This is where the game is won or lost.
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The whistle signalled the restart. Montpelier came out swinging, their formation pressing high. Two attackers closed on Kweku immediately as he received the ball from Louis.
"Mensah under pressure! Spins… evades… keeps possession!"
He dropped a shoulder, pivoted, and slotted a short pass to Ndiaye. The movement created a small pocket of space. Kweku advanced, surveying the field. Snowflakes clung to his eyelashes, his breath forming clouds as he ran.
The opposition forced a corner. The stadium held its collective breath.
"Dangerous chance! The cross—headed clear by Marseille's defence!"
Kweku sprinted back to midfield, catching his breath but already planning the next sequence.
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Kweku settled and took control. He dropped deeper, acting as the pivot between defence and attack. Every touch was precise: one-touch passes, subtle flicks, and angled deliveries that opened gaps in the opponent's pressing lines.
"Mensah dictating play, controlling tempo — the young Ghanaian is orchestrating Marseille's rhythm beautifully!"
A fast one-two with Louis freed Ndiaye on the flank. The winger surged toward the box, defenders scrambling. Kweku watched, eyes calculating.
He delivered a perfectly weighted through-ball into Ndiaye's stride. Ndiaye cut inside, shot low — blocked! The rebound fell toward Fofana, who shot again — tipped over the bar!
The fans gasped, applause mixing with groans.
Kweku exhaled sharply, pushing forward again. "We keep pressing. Don't stop."
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The opponents weren't finished. Minute 65 — a long ball over the top. Their striker broke free. Reynaud rushed out. Shot — saved by the keeper's fingertips!
"What a save! Marseille narrowly escapes a disaster!"
Kweku sprinted back to organise the midfield, gesturing to teammates. Snowflakes swirled around him, cold biting through his skin, but his focus never wavered. He intercepted a pass near midfield, spun around two challengers, and accelerated into the space opening up in front of him.
"Mensah again! Through the lines, slicing the opposition apart!"
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Around the 70th minute, Kweku had the ball near the centre circle. Two defenders pressed. He feinted left, rolled right, and split the line with a perfectly timed pass. Louis, running on the right wing, received it in stride, advancing quickly.
Kweku continued his run, drawing another defender. Ndiaye timed his diagonal perfectly, slipping behind the defensive line.
"Mensah with vision! Threading a needle of a pass — Ndiaye is through!"
Ndiaye faced the keeper. He feinted left, went right — goal! 2–0 Marseille.
The stadium exploded. Players rushed to Kweku first, patting his back and shouting. Kweku's smile was small but proud — he had facilitated the goal, the team effort as critical as the finish itself.
Coach Devereux shouted from the sideline, pumping his fists. "Excellent vision! Excellent control! Keep the pressure!"
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Montpelier refused to fold, sensing that they'd lose, they threw everything into an all-out attack. They pressed, sending crosses, forcing corner after corner. Kweku dropped back, sliding in to cut passing lanes, intercepting loose touches. Every decision mattered. Every movement is precise.
"Mensah is everywhere! Anticipating, distributing, controlling! What a performance!"
A final counter saw the opposing striker break free in the 85th minute. Kweku sprinted back, covering ground with perfect timing. He slid in for a clean tackle, winning the ball back, and immediately passed to Louis to reset the attack.
The crowd roared. Snow continued falling, but the stadium's energy burned hotter than any sun.
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The referee blew the whistle — full time. Marseille 2, opponents 0. Players collapsed to the ground, some laughing, some shouting. Kweku shook off exhaustion, shoulders still tense, heart still pounding.
Coach Devereux approached him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Exceptional second half. You dictated the game, controlled tempo, and never let the opposition breathe. That's leadership, Mensah."
Louis clapped him on the back. "Team effort, bro. But yes… You made us fly today."
Kweku smiled faintly, chest rising and falling, snowflakes melting on his skin. He looked at his teammates — tired, exhilarated, bonded by shared struggle.
Later, back in the dorm, Kweku dialled his mother.
"Hi, mama," he said, voice still carrying the adrenaline.
"My boy! Another win?" she asked, excited.
"Yes… two goals from team play, but I helped orchestrate the midfield," Kweku said, chuckling. "We worked together. The snow didn't help, but we did it."
"I'm proud of you," she said softly. "Always remember — it's not about individual glory, but how you lift others. You're learning that well."
Kweku nodded, letting the warmth of her voice anchor him. Snow fell outside, quiet and peaceful now, but inside, he felt a fire burning brighter than ever. The academy, the school, the challenges — they weren't obstacles. They were the path.
And Kweku Mensah was ready to walk it.
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A/N : This is the second month since this story began and we've come so far. 45k views, 50 plus collections and about 35 power stones. This is the last chapter of the year (maybe), thank you all. Merry Christmas and a happy new year in advance.