Chapter Three: Number Ten for the Bottom Club

The cross was terrible. It sailed over everyone toward the edge of the box, where Lin happened to be waiting. [Eight seconds.] He could shoot. But Reyer's anticipation told him all three defenders would charge him, and the goalkeeper's balance had already shifted left. Lin raised his leg in a false strike and used his ankle to lift the ball gently right. Sami, unmarked, hit a volley. Two-one. The final whistle and the system's termination tone sounded almost together. Teammates buried Lin beneath them on the grass, and 213 people made the noise of twenty thousand. His right knee trembled with pain, but for the first time in seven years he could smell grass and sweat mixed with victory.