Chapter 221: Xia Qi the Tough Guy — Italy on the Brink of Despair
"Salvatore Sirigu's save was incredible!"
"That sortie was decisive — had he hesitated even a little, Glen Johnson would have had his chance."
"To start ahead of Gianluigi Buffon shows he's got some real ability."
Praise from commentators, coaches and fans for Salvatore Sirigu did not make the Italian players happy.
What upset them was: the tactic of full-backs pushing forward was their specialty — the English were swinging a great axe right in front of their own goal, and that very display almost cost them dearly. It felt like outright robbery.
Anger flaring in their hearts combined with Sirigu's heroics drove the Italians to explode with unprecedented energy after the kickoff. Steven Gerrard's throw-in was quickly intercepted by Italy, and they launched a fierce assault toward England's goal.
But the England team led by Xia Qi didn't play into Italy's hands — "you attack, we defend" — instead they countered like a hunting dog turning on prey, charging forward and clamping onto the throat with no respite.
Xia Qi: Want to fight back? No way!
The match immediately turned into high intensity, high tempo, high-quality combat.
"Theo, your left side."
"Wayne, push up…"
"Glen, drop back…"
With the commanding presence of a brilliant tactician, a single sentence from Xia Qi made his teammates understand exactly what he meant. The entire team responded to his directions like an extension of his limbs.
Andrea Pirlo felt helpless — Xia Qi had calculated his every move. How was he supposed to play?
As the game went on, Pirlo grew more alarmed. Xia Qi peeled off the teammates protecting Pirlo like layers of an onion.
When Pirlo finally realized he was surrounded by no one, Xia Qi was already in front of him, raising his hand for the ball.
Gerrard passed to Xia Qi; he took it and drove at Pirlo. Xia Qi's initial dribble wasn't explosive; Pirlo inhaled deeply, bent slightly at the waist, eyes glued to Xia Qi's every movement. He had to mark Xia Qi one-on-one — it was vital for team morale, which was also why Xia Qi wanted to challenge him directly.
As the two neared,
Xia Qi suddenly pushed the ball forward to "his three-seconds-later self" with a fierce touch, then exploded forward with both legs — no tricks, pure leg power, a straight-up physical surge.
Wasn't that just bullying an old man?
Boos rose across the Arena da Amazônia stands.
Pirlo was stunned and spun to chase, but even at full stretch he couldn't catch Xia Qi.
Xia Qi breezed past Pirlo and reached the edge of Italy's penalty area. England's front three were in their roles: Theo Walcott dragged wide to provide cover for Xia Qi, not posing much direct threat; Raheem Sterling was at the far post, a distracting threat; Wayne Rooney sat central in the box with Giorgio Chiellini marking him. A normal cross wasn't feasible.
On the pitch, following the principle that whoever has the ball is the biggest threat, the other Italian defenders prioritized stopping Xia Qi.
In the blink of an eye, two staggered defensive lines formed in front of Xia Qi. Suddenly, whether he wanted to shoot or dribble he was in extreme difficulty.
Pass?
He had no choice but to back-heel it, because within his visual scope no English teammate or exploitable space was available.
As for his supposed supporting man Walcott, he was lost in Italy's concrete defensive structure and useless to Xia Qi.
On the touchline, Italy coach Cesare Prandelli laughed; confident in the defensive shell he'd crafted, he believed Xia Qi was surrounded and had no option but to "commit suicide" (turn over possession).
Prandelli's assessment wasn't entirely wrong: the encirclement around Xia Qi was tightening, turning into a noose, choking the life out of him — only surrendering the ball seemed left.
But Xia Qi found a way out amid the heavy marking. He struck the ball hard with the outside of his boot about two-thirds along its length.
The ball flew up and traced an outside-spin arc through the air, bypassing the Italian defenders in front of him and bending toward the spot around the penalty spot.
Chiellini leapt to head it away, but he mistimed it. Xia Qi's pass deceived him into believing he could reach it.
In reality the ball climbed a bit higher than Chiellini had imagined — AI-like calculation outperformed human expectation.
That little bit of height put it just out of Chiellini's reach.
Chiellini had been out-calculated;
Italy's last defensive line collapsed.
Amid gasps from Italian fans and cheers from England supporters, the skipped ball began to fall and Wayne Rooney met it near the penalty spot!
"Roo…ney!!!" Huang Jianxiang's voice stretched out in an excited, cracked shout.
Rooney ran onto the ball and hammered his right foot through it, bending his body like a bow — he aimed for the far top corner!
Boom!
The dipping ball was struck cleanly with the instep and arced like a rainbow into the far corner.
Faced with Rooney's thunderous, dipping strike — and its leaf-like swerve — even Sirigu's leap couldn't reach it. The rainbow went past his fingertips.
Sirigu watched the ball, hoping for a last-second post intervention, but instead the ball hit the junction of post and crossbar and dropped into the net...
"Ahhh… a spectacular worldie!" Huang Jianxiang screamed in excitement again.
"Rooney! Wayne Rooney! A second goal! England lead Italy by two!"
The Arena da Amazônia erupted completely. All England fans went wild with ecstatic joy!
They were like a blaze ignited, overflowing with passion and emotion.
In the stands, those in England shirts jumped, hugged, shouted, some even wept with excitement. Their faces shone with uncontrollable joy — every expression proclaimed their love and thrill for the goal.
Cheering, shouting, singing combined into a deafening wave that seemed to lift the stadium roof.
At that moment they were immensely happy, savoring the passion and joy football delivers.
Conversely, Italian fans were crushed by the two-goal deficit. A heavy despair descended over them.
In the stands, Italian supporters bowed heads in silence, bit lips, eyes full of helplessness — faces etched with loss and pain.
Sighs, laments and sobs layered into a heartbreaking chorus across the stadium.
They prayed silently that their team could muster a comeback.
When the ball hit the corner,
Rooney celebrated like a released beast, arms wide, running madly with pride and excitement.
His eyes shone with steadfast confidence as if announcing his prowess to the world.
Rooney's strike was beautiful; though Xia Qi's assist was equally brilliant — especially the bit of calculation to fool crafty Giorgio Chiellini — Rooney's instant struck volley was a high-difficulty finish and even eluded Sirigu's nearly superhuman fingers. That alone testified to the quality of Rooney's strike.
Xia Qi's pass, however perfect, would have been useless if the teammate couldn't convert it — so at that moment Rooney was the undisputed star.
Even Huang Jianxiang, for once, could not ignore Rooney's brilliance and briefly stopped framing Xia Qi as the main actor.
After the excitement, Rooney sprinted back and Xia Qi enveloped him in a bear hug.
"Kid, I love you — you're way cuter than Cristiano Ronaldo."
Other teammates surged in and embraced them both, celebrating the thrilling moment.
England fans in the stands went manic, chanting Rooney and Xia Qi's names in waves.
On the sideline, England coach Roy Hodgson felt complex emotions.
He smiled at the brilliance of Xia Qi and Rooney, but then his mind turned to tactics — he knew this was just the start; Italy would mount a desperate counterattack.
While England players celebrated wildly, Italian players cursed under their breath to vent frustration. Historically England and Italy had met 26 times, with 10 draws and 8 wins apiece — evenly matched — normally a penalty shootout would be a fair end. How could they be two goals down just over twenty minutes in?
Rooney scoring a brace — he wasn't like this two years ago in the Euro quarterfinals! How could he be getting stronger with age? Wasn't he supposedly past his peak?
A strange scene appeared on the stadium big screen: the replay from Xia Qi's breakthrough to Rooney's finish was shown in full clarity.
"How did Xia Qi pass the ball from such heavy marking?"
"Captain, why did you misjudge the header? That ball wasn't that high."
Chiellini tasted bitterness: a tiny margin, but for great players the slightest millimeter is the difference.
Huang Jianxiang at this moment stopped focusing solely on Rooney and explained Xia Qi's role to the viewers — the second assist was the secret behind Rooney's shine tonight.
Online, Xia Qi received praise:
[Xia Qi, the ultimate provider.]
[Xia — maker of World Cup Golden Boots.]
[The rhythm master who makes Pirlo sweat.]
[Xia is really strong.]
After England's players returned to their half, play resumed.
Mario Balotelli played to Andrea Pirlo, who laid it to Antonio Candreva; Candreva returned it to Claudio Marchisio.
After a few give-and-goes among Italy's midfield trio, the ball progressed to about thirty meters from England's goal.
It finally reached Balotelli's feet.
Jordan Henderson didn't step up with Gerrard to double; instead he cut the link between Balotelli and Marchisio.
Gerrard took responsibility for marking Balotelli.
At the instant Gerrard closed in, Balotelli pushed the ball forward between Gerrard's legs and darted past.
At the same time Balotelli brushed by Gerrard.
A nutmeg and a clean take!
The whole sequence was tidy; Balotelli had improved over his two Arsenal seasons.
Balotelli, having beaten Gerrard, dragged Gary Cahill toward the left side of the box.
Facing Cahill's bull-like defending, Balotelli played a reverse triangle. At that moment, the base of the triangle — whether Marchisio or Candreva — was being marked.
So who was Balotelli's target man?
On the sideline, Hodgson grew tense — the unknown breeds fear.
In the area where the ball would drop, a blue lightning bolt flashed into view.
Gabriel Paletta!
Italy's left-back!
So very Italian!
This was one of Italy's main scoring methods.
Joe Hart lowered his center of gravity, ready to parry.
From his angle, Balotelli's run had dragged Cahill aside to create a gap, and Paletta was sprinting into it.
It was a clever tactical combination.
In front of Paletta, only the goalkeeper remained — no defender.
Balotelli's pass was precise.
No matter how you looked at it, England seemed doomed to suffer a lethal blow!
…
On the Arena da Amazônia pitch,
Italian fans finally let out suppressed cheers while England fans covered their eyes.
Paletta began to decelerate, planting his feet to strike his right leg...
But many Italian fans screamed — hearing opponents scream, England fans lowered their hands from their faces.
They saw a familiar figure slide in front of Paletta and take the ball.
Holy shit!
It was Xia Qi!
England fans flew out of their seats, pumping fists and shouting: "Xia…!"
Tens of thousands of Italian fans exhaled in unison…
"Fuck! That kid's everywhere! Where's Marco Verratti? Why isn't he marking? Fuck!"
"Fuck!"
"Fuck!"
Then everyone screamed —
Paletta couldn't check his swing and the impact came.
Boom!
A dull sound passed through the close-mic audio into everyone's ears.
People winced for Xia Qi; a few female fans even cried.
But Xia Qi rolled up and got to his feet as if nothing had happened, then chased the ball.
Paletta stood stunned. He knew how heavy his strike had been and looked at Xia Qi as if at a monster.
Italy's attackers shivered as they finally understood the gap between themselves and Xia Qi.
In that instant, no one blamed being two goals down anymore — against such an opponent, falling behind wasn't shameful.
Comments around the stadium:
"Holy crap! Godzilla!"
"That was Paletta's thunderbolt — how did it do nothing to Xia Qi's waist? I heard the sound!"
"Xia's waist is tough. I love his waist — how do I become his girlfriend?"
"Love it! Love it! I adore hardmen like this! Football above all!"
"Chinese kung fu? Iron Palm?"
On the sideline, coach Cesare Prandelli shouted in alarm: "Defend! Defend! Defend!"
While Italian players marveled at Xia Qi's toughness, Xia Qi chased down the ball,
and instantly the game flipped to England on the attack.
Italian players frantically retreated.
(END CHAPTER)
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