Chapter 58: A True Center! [First Update, Seeking Subscriptions]
"David Luiz was nutmegged!! Good God, he is so reckless!"
"He actually got past Li Mo!"
"David Luiz is in bad luck now. He might appear in Li Mo's dribbling highlight reels for years to come..."
The commentators all agreed that David Luiz was exceptionally unlucky.
To actually be dribbled past by Li Mo.
And in the humiliating fashion of a nutmeg!!
On the television broadcast:
As David Luiz frantically snapped his legs together and turned his head to look at Li Mo, who was already speeding away from him, his expression was filled with absolute terror.
At this very moment.
Li Mo had already driven the ball right into the penalty area!!
This unexpected piece of skill had torn a massive gap in Chelsea's defensive line.
Li Mo was currently storming through that very gap.
Just as he was preparing to pull the trigger and shoot.
He sensed danger.
Terry was rushing in!
If there was anyone who had been prepared for the seemingly impossible prospect of "David Luiz getting dribbled past by Li Mo,"
it was undoubtedly John Terry, who knew his defensive partner all too well.
You could string together a ninety-minute highlight reel solely of David Luiz being beaten by various forwards.
Even though Li Mo didn't particularly look like someone with great dribbling ability.
Who asked David Luiz to be the one defending him?
The guy seemed cursed with a permanent buff stating: "Any striker can dribble past David Luiz at least once."
Therefore, Terry, who had anticipated this, was the first to react.
His countermeasure was simple and straightforward.
Charge forward rapidly, slide in, and kick the ball away just as Li Mo prepared to shoot, thereby defusing the crisis.
He had definitely studied Li Mo.
He noticed that once Li Mo entered the box, his first instinct was almost always to get a shot away as quickly as possible—primarily because Li Mo severely lacked on-the-ball proficiency.
His ball feel was mediocre, and his dribbling and shielding techniques both had flaws.
Hence why he always chose to shoot at the earliest opportunity—though Li Mo's finishing ability was undoubtedly top-tier.
Because of this.
Terry was entirely convinced that Li Mo would immediately look to shoot upon entering the area, allowing his sliding tackle to perfectly block Li Mo's shooting lane.
Unless Li Mo was exceptionally lucky—for instance, his shot deflecting off Terry's body and straight into the top corner.
Barring such a low-probability event.
This defensive play would be deemed a success—Terry was bailing Luiz out once again.
Just as Terry had anticipated.
After beating David Luiz.
Li Mo was indeed adjusting his stride to prepare for a shot—it was a deeply ingrained habit, and habits like that cannot be changed overnight.
However, he had also spotted Terry hurtling in with a sliding tackle the very split second it happened.
The time left for him to make a decision was roughly half a second.
Shoot directly?
Or...
Almost instinctively.
Li Mo chose to nudge the ball aside with a subtle touch, then took a long stride past...
Terry's foot swept across.
In the anticipated scenario, Li Mo's shot never materialized.
He had actually opted to push the ball past his opponent with a drag!!
The consequences of a misjudgment are severe.
Having thrown his entire body forward, Terry had no way of pulling his leg back—let alone the veteran Terry of the present.
Even a Terry seven or eight years younger couldn't have stopped that momentum.
Consequently.
When Terry's foot made contact with the instep of Li Mo's foot...
Terry's heart skipped a beat.
Li Mo failed to complete his stride because his stepping foot collided directly with the tip of Terry's lunging boot.
The moment he lost his balance and crashed to the turf.
He heard the collective gasp echoing from Stamford Bridge.
"PENALTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
On the touchline.
Wenger pointed toward the penalty area and roared.
"Dive!!"
In the stands.
Chelsea fans shrieked in horror.
All the pressure now fell squarely upon the referee, Atkinson!
At the exact moment of contact, Atkinson already had his whistle pressed firmly between his lips.
As Li Mo hit the ground.
The whistle shrilly pierced the air.
Then...
Atkinson pointed directly to the penalty spot.
"Terry brings down Li Mo inside the box! Chelsea are in trouble! As expected! A penalty! The referee points to the spot! He's walking over to Terry! What color card is it going to be? Oh, oh, oh! Relief for Terry, I imagine, as the referee only shows him a yellow card!"
Inside the penalty area.
The referee held the yellow card aloft.
Terry remained seated on the grass, a look of helpless resignation on his face.
Conversely, several Arsenal players were furiously protesting.
"Red card! That has to be a red card!"
"He was the last defender, sir!!"
"Red! It should be red!!"
Multiple Arsenal players shouted at the top of their lungs.
At that exact moment.
Chelsea's players also snapped out of their shock.
Several rushed over to surround the official.
"That's way too harsh! There's no way that's a penalty!"
"Was there even contact? There was zero contact!!"
"Dive! That guy took a dive!!"
David Luiz was particularly emotional.
He pointed straight at Li Mo and yelled at the top of his lungs.
Terry had only been forced to commit a foul in the box because he had to clean up Luiz's mess.
Li Mo was sitting on the ground, and upon hearing those words, he instantly lost his temper.
"You think I dove? I dove your mother's..."
He screamed back at David Luiz.
"Didn't you? Admit it, you bloody diver! Damn you!"
Having been nutmegged, a furious David Luiz strode aggressively toward Li Mo.
Clearly looking to settle the score.
This action, however, immediately incensed the Arsenal players.
The first to step up was Santi Cazorla, whose height barely reached David Luiz's chest.
"Hey, don't start anything."
Cazorla shoved David Luiz.
He didn't budge an inch.
Fortunately.
Giroud was right there beside him.
"Mate, if you want trouble, come deal with me!"
Giroud squared his shoulders, pressing his forehead directly against David Luiz's in a classic face-off.
Other players quickly joined the fray.
A confrontation rapidly escalated.
Even the coaching staff and substitutes from both sides rushed onto the pitch to get involved.
The referee blew his whistle frantically, desperately trying to quell the melee.
Stamford Bridge erupted with a chorus of deafening boos.
For a moment, absolute chaos reigned on the pitch.
In the end, the referee brandished a flurry of yellow cards to suppress the confrontation: Arsenal assistant manager Steve Bould and Chelsea manager Roberto Di Matteo were both booked; Theo Walcott, overly excited on the bench, crossed the technical boundary line and received a yellow; while Giroud, Cazorla, and Ramires were cautioned from the field of play.
The primary instigators, Li Mo and David Luiz, were also shown yellow cards.
This outcome left Di Matteo incandescent with rage.
Leaving aside the penalty itself.
Chelsea took a massive hit purely in terms of bookings.
Ramires, tasked with heavy defensive midfield duties, alongside both central defenders, were now all carrying yellow cards.
And what about Arsenal?
The players receiving cautions were center-forward Giroud, Li Mo, and attacking midfielder Cazorla.
Every single Chelsea player booked was a defensive asset.
For the remainder of the match, their defensive actions would be severely handcuffed.
How could Di Matteo not be furious?
Once the dust settled.
Arteta, serving as the team's primary penalty taker, stepped up to the spot—this was, remarkably, Arsenal's very first penalty kick awarded in the Premier League this season.
Facing Petr Čech in goal, Arteta calmly slotted the ball home.
Yet, the television broadcast barely replayed the goal itself.
Instead, it repeatedly replayed the sequence of Li Mo nutmegging David Luiz, shifting the ball past him, and drawing Terry's foul to win the penalty.
"Word has it that Li Mo lacks dribbling ability? Where on earth did that rumor come from?"
Sina Sports commentator Zhang Jun couldn't help but voice his sarcasm.
While Wenger clenched his fists in celebration of the goal.
His mind was rewiring, replaying Li Mo's earlier masterpiece past David Luiz over and over again.
Was it pure luck?
Perhaps...
No, that wasn't luck!
Wenger recalled the earlier phase of the match when Li Mo, having been stifled by Terry's tight marking during his off-the-ball runs, had consciously chosen to drop deep to receive the ball.
Wenger realized... perhaps this was entirely intentional on Li Mo's part!
He must have gained confidence in his close-control ability, which was why he actively demanded balls played to his feet.
Wenger began rubbing his hands together.
It was his habitual gesture whenever a wave of excitement washed over him!
"He's becoming more and more versatile!"
Wenger repeated those exact words to Steve Bould once again.
He had lost count of how many times he had uttered that phrase...
Yet every single time he said it.
It served as fresh proof of Li Mo's astonishing evolution.
Bould was utterly at a loss for words.
"Yes, yes, he's becoming more and more well-rounded,"
Bould murmured dazedly.
He had never witnessed a player develop at such a terrifying pace—sure, players around the age of twenty typically improve quickly.
But to progress at this surreal velocity?
He was certain he had never seen it before.
Never, ever!!
The sheer speed of Li Mo's development no longer brought Bould and the coaching staff pleasant surprises.
It bordered on sheer fright.
Equally terrified was Di Matteo on the touchline.
With his arms crossed tightly over his chest, brow deeply furrowed, and body leaning slightly backward.
He had maintained this exact posture for nearly a full minute.
Even Čech's failure to save the penalty had failed to shake him in the slightest.
He certainly wasn't striking a pose to look cool.
He simply couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened.
What is going on here?
Are you playing me for a fool?!
Di Matteo was certain he had thoroughly analyzed Li Mo's match tapes prior to the game.
His video analysts had reviewed them back and forth multiple times.
Arriving at a very straightforward conclusion: Li Mo possessed decent finishing, some ability to score from outside the box, and immense physical strength, but his primary attacking mechanism relied entirely on off-the-ball movement—in other words, he possessed virtually no on-the-ball play.
Over the course of a match, the total time the ball spent at Li Mo's feet would not exceed one minute!
A player of that profile.
And yet you're telling me that after receiving a through-ball with his back to goal, he executes a delicate touch with his instep, spins past a defender with a nutmeg, nearly dances past Terry as well, and ultimately wins a penalty!
A fleeting thought crossed Di Matteo's mind: could it be that this kid actually possessed great on-the-ball skills all along?
And had simply waited until this specific match to unleash them?
Di Matteo shook his head vigorously.
Chasing that absurd notion out of his mind.
Finally, he snapped into action.
Clapping his hands loudly, Di Matteo bellowed instructions to rally his players.
The match had only just begun!
Conceding a goal was nothing to mope about!
What they needed to do now was equalize as swiftly as possible.
Although Di Matteo hoped Chelsea would mount an immediate response on home soil.
Psychologically, the concession of the goal had momentarily tilted the momentum in Arsenal's favor.
Simultaneously.
Li Mo's newfound dynamism cast a lingering shadow of dread over Chelsea's backline.
At any moment, he could sniff out an opening to break through and seal the match.
He was also actively linking up play in the final third; based on his recent touches, everyone realized that Li Mo genuinely possessed on-the-ball capability now.
This forced Chelsea's defenders to exercise extreme caution.
The defensive logic required to stop a forward who thrives purely on off-the-ball movement is entirely different from defending someone comfortable with the ball at their feet.
But when a striker excelled at both off-the-ball running and on-the-ball mastery...
That constituted an absolute nightmare for any defensive line in existence.
Besides, it was only the first half; Li Mo's energy tank was nowhere near empty.
Consequently.
For a prolonged stretch, Arsenal's attacks flourished brilliantly.
Chelsea were forced onto the back foot, relying strictly on counter-attacks.
This state of play improved slightly toward the latter stages of the first half.
However, as the second half commenced.
Refreshed after the interval, Li Mo and Arsenal's offensive machinery surged once more.
As the second half wore on, Terry began to feel the mounting pressure closing in on him.
At thirty-two years of age, Terry's physical peak had not yet passed.
Yet the pressure he faced wasn't merely about stamina.
It emanated from the young man standing right before him.
The longer the match went on, the more apprehensive he felt.
This young Arsenal forward...
Possessed razor-sharp instincts, an uncanny knack for capitalizing on opportunities, combined with the rare traits of being physically robust, rapid, explosive in the air, and reasonably proficient in aerial duels.
On top of all that, he could actually trap and control the ball at his feet.
He might not rely on flashy dribbling tricks.
Yet it was painfully evident.
His fundamentals were exceptionally sound.
Every movement was devoid of empty showmanship, stripped down entirely to the most utilitarian and effective on-the-ball technique.
A forward of this caliber.
Was exceptionally difficult to contain.
Especially since his partner, David Luiz, now seemed visibly rattled by the kid, committing a series of compounding errors.
This placed an even heavier burden squarely on Terry's shoulders.
Thus, throughout this period.
The television screens frequently broadcasted duels between Li Mo and Terry.
Li Mo was well aware of the reality.
The Terry he was matching up against right now was one of the absolute finest central defenders in the entire Premier League!
This realization only served to heighten his exhilaration.
To overcome a player of Terry's stature.
He had to deploy every single trick in his repertoire.
He quickly discovered that trying to beat Terry one-on-one with his current level of close control was no easy feat.
Terry's positional sense was exceptionally astute—the man was an absolute footballing wizard.
Whenever Li Mo attempted to dart into space for a layoff, the veteran was invariably stationed in the critical lane.
Whenever he tried to knock the ball past him with sheer pace, the defender was already prepared.
Li Mo realized that breaking down a truly world-class central defender was profoundly difficult.
Yet, despite suffering several failed attempts, Li Mo remained undeterred.
He had been rested midweek, and if Arsenal failed to extend their lead and seal the victory, Wenger was unlikely to substitute him off—Li Mo's accumulated match experience was paying off, and his stamina was steadily improving.
He was fully capable of sustaining high-intensity output for a full ninety minutes now.
Before he knew it, the match ticked into the eightieth minute.
Arsenal had yet to make any substitutions; their attacking momentum remained strong, and holding a slender lead, Wenger saw no urgent need to change things.
Di Matteo, on the other hand, had already begun shuffling his pack.
Frank Lampard replaced Ramires, shifting Mikel into a lone holding midfield role, effectively altering Chelsea's formation from a 4-2-3-1 to a 4-1-4-1.
Following this tactical shift.
Di Matteo suddenly found himself regretting letting Didier Drogba leave at the start of the season.
Because right now, the only orthodox central striker available to the team was Fernando Torres.
As for the remaining two forwards, Daniel Sturridge and Patrick Bamford, both were far too young, and neither possessed distinct central-striker characteristics—both players showed a persistent tendency to drift wide to bully opposition fullbacks instead.
A true center-forward...
Di Matteo glanced over at Li Mo.
A proper number nine should be just like that fellow.
Even when confronted by someone of Terry's caliber.
Even when multiple tactical approaches had failed to unlock the defense.
He relentlessly kept battling against the opposition's toughest defender.
Rather than fleeing out wide to pick on fullbacks at the slightest sign of resistance.
What kind of center-forward does that make?