When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 20: His response came from eighteen-year-old Roy (Please read on!)
"Max!!!"

The match ended in the 39th minute.

The Mexicans formed a solid wall in midfield, repeatedly thwarting Auxerre's attacks.

He used his knee to push Cissé away before he could accelerate, and with a flick of his instep, the ball skimmed along the grass towards the center circle.

Auxerre committed a large number of players to this attack, leaving their midfield area somewhat vulnerable.

Roy, who had retreated, was waiting there.

Finnish midfielder Temu-Tainho tried to mark him closely, but Roy kept making flexible runs and prevented him from closing in.

Deschamps stood on the sidelines, his expression solemn, but joy was already evident in his eyes.

Meanwhile, assistant coach Petit suddenly loosened his tie and yelled at Deschamps, "Here we go again! Here we go again! You've been practicing counter-attacking tactics all this time!"

Deschamps pursed his lips; that's the kind of action and words a head coach should take.

"Catch the ball! The Rockets are starting from center court! 10! 9! 8!"

Roy received the ball with his back to goal, and Tainho quickly followed, while another midfielder, Mathis, approached from another direction.

He turned and dribbled with his right foot, facing two Auxerre midfielders directly.

The two looked at each other, then decided to attack from the front and the back.

Roy flicked the ball with his left foot, and the instant it passed between Tainho's legs, he overtook him from the outside, like tearing a piece of paper.

Mathis moves laterally to intercept.

Roy feinted to the right with a drop of his shoulder, and Mathis followed up. Roy then suddenly flicked the ball with his heel to change direction, throwing Mathis's center of gravity more than a meter away.

"Roy gets the ball. Oh my god! He humiliated two Auxerre midfielders in three seconds! Now he's going to continue his advance!"

Pulso first moved to the right wing, and Giuly suddenly changed direction and cut inside, his studs shattering the turf. The sudden positional change threw Auxerre's penalty area defense into disarray.

Roy controlled the ball in front of the penalty area, feigned a cut inside, and flicked it with the outside of his right foot.

"The Fox" appeared in the chaotic penalty area with its strong and agile body, squeezing past a defender while the ball was drawn to Giuly like a magnet.

Giuly pushed with his right foot, and the ball returned to Roy's sprint path, bouncing like a precisely calculated billiard ball.

Rothen, standing on the left flank, raised his hands, abandoning his attempt to make a run, and grinned, shaking his head: "These two are crazy."

Roy burst into the penalty area, spun around inside, and then dribbled the ball to the wing.

He drove straight into the right side of the goal, near the baseline.

Auxerre goalkeeper Fabian Kuhl faced the deadly strides head-on.

"C'EST MAGNIFIIIIQUE!" (That's amazing!)
Even from a near-zero angle, Fabian still believed Roy would shoot directly.

He had seen Roy's goal against Lyon.

Even with Roy's existing goal videos, there isn't enough footage to make a long highlight reel.

No one will look down on him anymore.

His most dangerous goal is always the next one.

Fabian lunged forward to block the shot, but the goalkeeper's body could block almost 90% of the shooting range.

"Buuuuuuut!!! Bang!"

This is a sound effect inherited from the French Ligue 1.

To create a lively atmosphere, Thierry Rolland suddenly made the harsh "bang" sound of a veteran commentator slamming his microphone.

Fabian fell to the ground after missing his target, his glove grabbing at nothing.

Roy's left-footed cutback pass was just fast enough to bypass the heel of Auxerre midfielder Andy Feyer, who was chasing back.

Pulso made a short, sharp swing with his left foot and deftly flicked the ball into the net.

A wave of red and white scarves swept across the south stand.

Andy Feyer slumped in the penalty area, staring blankly at the goal, as if his soul had been ripped out.

Pulso rushed over and hugged Roy, almost tearing his jersey to shreds.

Squillaci was too far away to come over and celebrate. During dead ball time, he ran to the sidelines to drink water. He pointed at Roy from afar and said to his old assistant coach Petit with a smile, "This kid's value just increased by two million!"

"If it hasn't gone up, it must be a targeted attack by the Germans!"

Jean-Pettit smiled, his white eyebrows twitching.

"I love you to death, kid!"

Pulso spat out, "This time I wasn't offside!"

"An ambitious striker won't be offside!"

The strong Slavic body odor hits you right in the head.

"Because I'll pass the ball to you from the baseline, you just need to shoot!"

Roy coughed as he served the chicken soup 2.0.

"Damn it! Praise God!"

He licked his front teeth; it was his killing signal.

Cissé stood with his back to Bernardi at the edge of the penalty area, his right arm muscles taut like a fully drawn bow.

"Cisse!!! He blasted the ball through the goal! Flavio couldn't have saved it even if he broke his fingers!"

The impact force tore a cone-shaped bulge into the net.

Fifty-fifth minute.

Flavio, who had been holding back his anger for the entire match, finally unleashed his fury with a powerful long-range shot from the edge of the box, shattering Flavio's clean sheet record.

"I guess I'm just unlucky!" Flavio muttered.

Cisse didn't show off his tattoos again, but he still rushed to the sideline, bared his teeth and growled at the camera, pointing his right hand to the sky as if declaring war on the gods.

The one who responded to him was eighteen-year-old Roy.

In the 63rd minute, the score was 3-1.

Marquez slid in from near the center circle, intercepting the ball from the Auxerre midfielder, and didn't even adjust his footing after getting up.

"Calling for air support! Calling for air support!"

He curled a 30-meter high arc with the outside of his right foot, and the ball flew towards the left sideline as if it were precisely guided, landing right in Roy's sprint path.

Roy is positioned with his back to the defender near the left side of the penalty area.

Suddenly twisting his waist and turning halfway, he gently pushed the ball with the instep of his right foot, sending it about a meter in front of him.

The Auxerre right-back has already rushed up.

But Roy's first touch determined the direction of his breakthrough, giving the opponent no chance to get close.

Roy touched the ball forward with his left foot.

His explosive power allowed him to stride half a meter longer than the defender, leaving Andy Feyer two body lengths behind in just three steps.

Andy Feyer tried desperately to catch up, but Roy's pace was ridiculously fast, and his speed with the ball was even faster than the opponent's off-the-ball sprint.

Facing the covering center-back, Roy cut inside with his right foot, the ball going through the opponent's legs as he overtook him from the outside. Auxerre center-back Jean-Sébastien Jaurès completely lost his balance and stumbled into his teammate.

Another center-back had already closed in, but Roy suddenly pulled the ball away with his left foot, sending it rolling past the outside of the opponent's supporting foot. At the same time, he took a quick step and circled around the defender from the opposite direction, completely shaking off the defense.

"Unbelievable! Roy tore through the defense with pure speed and skill! This isn't just a breakthrough, it's a declaration!"

Slowing down slightly near the penalty spot, Auxerre goalkeeper Fabian rushed out to block the near post.

Roy powerfully struck the lower middle part of the ball with the instep of his right foot.

Fabian sprang up in a panic and made a second save.

The ball first hit the edge of the penalty area, then bounced up, spinning sharply as it flew towards the far right corner of the goal.

Auxerre goalkeeper Fabian had already lunged towards the far corner, but could only watch helplessly as the ball flew half a meter from his fingertips into the net.

"Roy—!!! He destroyed the defense like a hurricane! This kid is not even 20 years old, but he plays like a god descending to earth!"

The North Stand erupted in a tsunami of cheers.

"A hat trick!!! A hat trick!!! Roy is making history!!! It looks like Monaco has found their new king!!!"

Roy's performance in the past few games has also been outstanding.

But never before has such a direct display of talent been presented. On the football field, nothing is more visceral than a single player creating four goals.

If so, it would be creating five balls all by himself.

If I had to put a time limit on this feat, I would say nine minutes.

The center-back, Raoul, who had been knocked down, sat on the ground with his hands on his head and a blank look in his eyes, as if he had just experienced a robbery.

Local radio stations in Auxerre broadcast cries of despair that bordered on groans:
“We’ve been humiliated. This kid just reminded us that it’s 2003, not 1993. This is the world of young people!”

Pulso rushed over and jumped onto his back, almost knocking him down onto the grass. Giuly grinned from the side and said, "What did Auxerre do to you?!"

As Roy stood up, he caught a glimpse of the figure standing on the sidelines out of the corner of his eye.

Deschamps waved to Roy from a distance.

The fourth official next to him held up an LED sign.

[Sabani Nonda (No. 18) replaces Roy (No. 25)]

"If you keep kicking like that, you'll end up lying on the grass."

Juli thought Roy had something to say, so he comforted him.

Thunderous applause erupted behind me, echoing through the buildings of the Stade Louis II.

Roy smiled calmly.

Before leaving, he turned his back to the fans, extended his thumbs, and pointed to the names on his back.

ROI.

The French transliteration of his name means "king".

"I can't imagine this kid going to play football in England someday. Anything else is fine, Italy, Spain, Germany are not an option!"

As Roy slacked off the pitch, Thierry Rolland said emotionally, "He should stay in Ligue 1 forever! He's a born warrior. While other kids are still learning to wield swords, he's already learned to conquer cities!"

"Only our language, and our commentary, are worthy to celebrate his goal!"

"Because the French word for 'goal' is pronounced like the ancient military term for 'breaching the city wall,' which has a touch more of a bloody romance than the English word 'GOAL.'"

How can I talk to him?

His blue-gray eyes deepened as his pupils contracted, and his eyelashes were as thick as raven feathers.

Inside the A1 box at the Stade Louis II, the girl watched with regret as the figure in the red and white jersey walked off the field. After giving Shabani a high-five, she disappeared into the blind spot of the stands.

She stopped watching the game, and her best friend frowned and looked out the window.

"He's just a player, Charlotte. Well, maybe the reporters can talk to him."

A smear of lipstick was left on the glass of the private room, leaving an ambiguous cherry-colored hickey.

"He's more than just a player!"

The girl frowned in displeasure, but then her face lit up with joy.

(End of this chapter)