Chapter 644: Blasting Through Kanté!
"France doesn't seem slow to start today, does it? They're playing pretty well in the first half."
The fans watching live and at home were surprised by France's performance, which didn't match the pre-match reports they had read from various sources.
"Maybe it's because their previous opponents were too weak and didn't pose a threat, so they started slowly. But now they're up against Spain, so they have to take it seriously!"
This explanation was widely accepted, as it was clear that the intensity of the game was high.
Facing Spain, a team known for dominating the first half, France couldn't afford their usual slow start. If they had, they might not have had a chance to recover later in the game.
France's performance earned widespread approval, while Spain's side seemed underwhelming in comparison.
"More than half of the first half is gone, and Spain hasn't scored yet?"
"It's almost 30 minutes in, and if Spain doesn't score soon, things could get dangerous for them."
Some Spanish fans were growing anxious, frustrated that Spain had yet to break through. France had played impressively in the first half, and the longer the game went on, the more dangerous the second half could become for Spain.
It wasn't just the fans who were feeling uneasy; even the players on the field and the coaching staff on the sidelines were starting to grow impatient.
In the 33rd minute of the first half, Isco, eager to push forward, lost the ball, nearly leading to a critical mistake.
"Stay calm, keep your focus—we have plenty of time!"
Lin Quan noticed the growing tension among his teammates and quickly tried to reassure them. But this was only a temporary fix. The best way to calm the team down was to score.
Lin Quan glanced back at Kanté, who was panting heavily, hands resting on his knees, and felt a sense of assurance. It was almost time.
"Kanté's stamina is draining much faster than expected!"
On the French bench, Deschamps and his assistant coach had also noticed Kanté's exhaustion.
With only 33 minutes played, Kanté, known for his endless running, was already drenched in sweat and breathing hard. It was clear that Lin Quan had been pushing him hard.
"Yes, Lin's been very active recently. Kanté's had to work hard to keep him in check."
Deschamps nodded. "But it's worth it. If we can hold them off until the second half, when we pick up our momentum, the pressure from Spain's attack won't be as intense."
In Deschamps' view, the trade-off was worth it: using up Kanté's energy to neutralize Spain's key player, Lin Quan, and prevent them from scoring in the first half. However, Deschamps was slightly disappointed that France hadn't created enough danger in attack to relieve the pressure on their defense.
If France had been able to create more threatening attacks, Spain might have been more cautious, which would have lessened the strain on the French defense.
Deschamps' eyes shifted between Mbappé and Griezmann.
If the first half relied on Kanté and the defenders, the second half would depend on the attackers.
Mbappé's speed and explosiveness would be the key to France's counterattacks, while Griezmann's passing and playmaking would be the brains of the team's offense.
As long as these two were in form, France's attack would be unstoppable.
But based on their first-half performance, Mbappé had been closely marked by Spain. He was constantly shadowed by at least one Spanish defender, and sometimes even more.
Spain clearly knew Mbappé's tendencies and never gave him room to accelerate. Every time he received the ball, they immediately pressured him, either cutting off the pass to him or closing him down as soon as he had the ball, preventing him from building up speed.
Even the slightest delay allowed Spain's other defenders to get into position, and Mbappé lost his chance to make a solo run.
Sigh, if only Mbappé had Lin Quan's dribbling and technical skills!
Imagine combining Mbappé's speed with Lin Quan's technical mastery—what a terrifying player that would be!
Just as Deschamps was lost in thought, a loud gasp erupted from the crowd.
Jolted back to reality by the noise, Deschamps quickly looked at the field and saw Spain launching another attack on France's goal.
As before, it was Lin Quan leading the charge. But this time, he had dropped deep, almost to the central midfield area.
Both Giroud and Griezmann wasted no time in pressing him.
Lin Quan dribbled to the right, choosing to bypass Giroud's side.
At 192 cm tall, Giroud was nowhere near as agile or quick on his feet as Lin Quan, who was small and fast. Despite Giroud's best efforts, even attempting to foul Lin, he couldn't stop him from getting past.
Giroud stared in disbelief at his empty hand. He had reached out to grab Lin Quan, trying to stop his run, but Lin was too quick, slipping away like a slippery eel.
Giroud shook his head, somewhat mocking himself.
Getting beaten by Lin Quan isn't exactly embarrassing, he thought. Even top defenders can't stop him, so what chance does a striker like me have?
Behind Giroud was Kanté. As Lin passed Giroud, Kanté had no choice but to step up and confront him.
Defending against Lin Quan was Kanté's responsibility, and he wasn't going to shy away from it.
But after just a few steps, Kanté realized something was wrong.
Oh no, he's still accelerating—he's too fast!
Kanté immediately felt the danger.
He had often trained with Lin Quan at their club, and though he'd been beaten more times than he could count, there had been moments when he managed to stop him.
However, there was one situation in which Kanté knew he could never stop Lin—when Lin had reached full speed.
Everyone knew Lin Quan had incredibly quick feet. While most players could only take two steps per second at full speed, Lin could take four.
When he wasn't at full speed, a defender might still have a chance to catch him, as long as they could match his pace and prevent him from getting past. This was how Kanté had managed to contain Lin for most of the first half—he used his endless running to keep pace, covering up for his mistakes when necessary.
But this strategy came at a cost: Kanté's stamina had drained rapidly, which explained why, despite the match being only halfway through the first half, he was already soaked in sweat as if he'd been playing the whole game.
However, if Lin Quan reached full speed, there would be no stopping him. Defending against him became a one-shot deal—whether the defender tried to block him or not, Lin would slip past with just one move.
It all made sense now. Lin had dropped deep earlier to receive the ball so he could reach full speed before encountering Kanté.
Kanté understood this all too well, but by now, it was too late. He had no other options left—his only choice was to commit a foul.
In the stands and on the sidelines, neither the fans nor the coaches realized the trouble Kanté was in. On the contrary, seeing Kanté step up to challenge Lin, everyone became excited.
"That's it! Shut him down just like before, Kanté!"
"With Kanté on him, this is a done deal!"
"Spain just doesn't get it, do they? They've tried this move a million times, and it hasn't worked once. Why don't they just give up?"
French fans were full of confidence, mocking Spain for their perceived futility. After more than 30 minutes of play, they felt invincible, convinced that Spain's attack wasn't as dangerous as everyone had hyped it up to be.
If they could stop Spain's attack for the first 30 minutes, they could surely stop it again.
However, as Lin Quan and Kanté drew closer to each other, the coaches and players nearby began to see the truth—this time, Kanté wasn't going to stop Lin.
"Oh no, Kanté's going to be beaten!" Deschamps' face turned pale. Lin Quan was too fast. If Kanté couldn't precisely time his tackle, Lin would breeze past him effortlessly.
Could Kanté make the perfect tackle?
Deschamps didn't think so. Kanté had rarely succeeded before, even when Lin was moving slower. Now that Lin was at full speed, the chances of success were slim.
Deschamps' gaze quickly shifted past Kanté to the French backline, focusing on their center-back, Umtiti.
Umtiti had already begun moving forward to cover for Kanté. Seeing this, Deschamps felt a bit of relief.
No wonder Barcelona values him so highly. Umtiti's positioning shows he's worth every penny of that 50 million euros.
But Umtiti himself wasn't as confident as his coach.
With a look of fear in his eyes, Umtiti watched helplessly as Kanté, like a wooden figure, was easily beaten by Lin Quan. Lin used no flashy tricks—just a simple outside touch to push the ball past before speeding away.
It was simple, but effective.
As Lin stormed towards him, Umtiti gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the confrontation.
But then, just as Lin was about to make his move, he suddenly fell to the ground.
Beep!
A short whistle pierced the air as the referee, with a stern expression, sprinted towards the spot, reaching for his pocket.
Someone had fouled.
Umtiti instinctively knew it wasn't him. As his gaze shifted from the fallen Lin Quan to the figure still in a sliding tackle position—Kanté—he understood. It was his teammate who had committed the foul.
Kanté had lost his defensive position and resorted to a dangerous, back-footed slide tackle, a move that was explicitly forbidden on the pitch. Tackling from behind and hitting the opponent instead of the ball almost always earned a card, and if the foul was serious, it could even result in a red card.
Seeing the referee reach for his pocket, the French players tensed up.
They all knew Kanté would be booked—it was just a matter of which color card he would receive.
A yellow card would be acceptable, but if it was red, it would be a disaster for France. With only the first half played, losing a man early would make it nearly impossible for France to win.
Kanté quickly realized his mistake and immediately went to Lin Quan to apologize, admitting his fault.
He had acted impulsively, making a reflexive decision in the heat of the moment.
Even as he made the tackle, he had regretted it, pulling back his leg in the last second to avoid injuring Lin. In the end, he had only tripped him rather than kicking him directly.
Lin Quan had felt this too. He didn't exaggerate the fall or roll around on the ground, clutching his leg like some players might.
Instead, he brushed off the dirt and grass from his socks, quickly standing up and even jumping a little to show the referee and the crowd that he wasn't injured.
Lin's sportsmanship helped Kanté tremendously. The referee ended up giving Kanté just a yellow card as a warning, sparing him a harsher punishment.
This left Kanté and the French team breathing a sigh of relief. It wasn't a red card, and they could still fight on.
"Sigh, why didn't Lin milk that a bit? If it were Busquets who got fouled, the opponent would be lucky not to be sent off immediately!"
Some Spanish fans shook their heads in frustration, thinking Lin was too honest.
"What a missed opportunity! If he had acted a little, France would be down to 10 men."
With over 60 minutes left to play, having an 11-vs-10 advantage would have practically handed Spain the World Cup. Yet, Lin Quan didn't take advantage.
Sigh, they didn't know whether to criticize him or praise him.
"Come on, you've known Lin long enough. He's never been one to dive or fake injuries. This isn't the first time, so why are you surprised?"
"Yeah, but this is the World Cup final! The outcome of this match determines the winner of the World Cup and Spain's potential three-peat. Couldn't he just bend his morals a little for that?"
"Brother, we love Lin not just because he's a great player, but also because of his character. Remember that time when he got a wrongly awarded penalty, and instead of taking advantage, he purposely missed it? In today's football world, where diving and faking injuries are common, Lin's integrity is rare and precious."
"Exactly. Some people will do anything to win, but others, no matter how high the stakes, have their principles and won't change—even for the World Cup trophy."
After seeing the referee's decision, the French fans were finally able to relax, and soon, applause broke out across the stadium.
Among the applauding fans were many French supporters wearing blue jerseys. Even in a World Cup final, where the highest stakes were on the line, Lin Quan's sportsmanship had earned the respect of rival fans.
(End of Chapter)