"Cristiano Ronaldo's pass was brilliant, and Kai's finish was even better! The Lisbon Twins have gone absolutely crazy at their home ground today!"
"Oh! Kai chooses not to celebrate as well. He simply raises one hand high and waves to the fans in the stands."
"Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!"
The chants rolled down from the stands.
At that moment, some Sporting Lisbon fans even thought—why not just let Moreirense go through to the final?
It actually felt… kind of nice.
After all, compared to Sporting CP—with nearly 20 league titles, 15 Portuguese Cups, a Super Cup, and even a European Cup Winners' Cup—Moreirense had never won a single major trophy in their history.
They needed this chance more.
And honestly, if their own loan players helped them win it? That would be poetic.
Of course, only a small portion of fans—mostly die-hard supporters of the academy—thought like that.
The majority quickly snapped back to reality. After applauding Kai, they began singing the club anthem, urging the first team to get serious and crush this so-called "second team."
"Cut him off! Cut everything off! I said don't let him get the ball in dangerous areas!" Materazzi was losing his shit on the sidelines, yelling so hard that half of it probably sounded like Italian curses no one understood.
After that, Sporting Lisbon tightened up immediately.
Double-teams. Aggressive marking.
As soon as Kai stepped forward, Delfim would abandon his zone and stick to him like glue.
Moreirense lacked creativity in midfield, and their striker's technique wasn't exactly world-class. Without Kai, even if they reached the middle, they posed little threat.
That was exactly why Delfim dared to roam so freely.
—
73rd minute.
Hugo Viana—one of Lisbon's brightest talents—finally exploded.
If Moreirense couldn't capitalize in midfield, could Viana?
Of course he could.
He was Portugal's most gifted attacking midfielder.
(Yeah, the club marketing called him a left winger for hype, but everyone knew his real position.)
Viana used the chaos created by Ricardo Quaresma on the wing, dribbled past two players in the center, and delivered a perfect, spoon-fed pass.
A "nanny-level" assist.
And in front of goal stood Mário Jardel—completely unmarked.
You already know what happens next.
Control.
Turn.
Volley.
Boom.
Three–three.
Jardel bags a brace and drags Sporting Lisbon level.
Now… they were finally serious.
"I have to say, Sporting Lisbon are insanely blessed! Quaresma, Viana, Cristiano Ronaldo, Kai—any team would kill for just one of them, but Sporting has them all!"
"This might not be their strongest era, but it's definitely the golden age of their academy!"
"And now, it looks like Sporting Lisbon are ready to finish this game."
"They gave Moreirense enough time to shine. That was generous."
—
From that point on, the match turned brutal.
That earlier "friendly" vibe? Gone.
Completely shattered.
Every challenge got harder.
Every movement more aggressive.
74th minute.
Quaresma tried another dribble.
Serafim, who had been chasing him all game, was clearly out of gas. After getting beaten, he simply hacked him down.
Whistle.
Yellow card.
Triguera immediately subbed Serafim off for Altino.
Altino was slower—but at this stage, Quaresma wasn't as explosive as before either. And Altino's experience could compensate for the speed gap.
—
77th minute.
After Ronaldo failed to break through on the left, he spotted Alex in space on the opposite side.
Boom!
A long diagonal ball.
Alex nearly cried with joy.
Holy shit, Ronaldo can switch play now too?!
Alex feinted, then smashed in a cross.
Left-back George cleared it out for a corner.
Corner kick.
Kai stepped up.
He raised his right hand—three fingers.
Inside the box, bodies collided and jostled.
Boom!
The corner came in.
Chaos.
Someone got a touch—but instead of heading toward goal, the ball flew out of the penalty area.
Alex collected it. Emerson moved to support.
Meanwhile, after taking the corner, Kai was immediately glued to by Barbosa—like fucking duct tape.
Kai slipped into the penalty area, using the crowd to shake him off.
But surrounded by giants, his vision was completely blocked.
So this is what it feels like to be buried in a crowd… damn.
Boom!
Outside the box, Emerson saw no pressure and sent in a 45-degree cross.
Now, here's the difference:
A low cross carries natural power—you just redirect it.
But a 45-degree ball? You've gotta generate all the force yourself. Like a damn rhino tossing its head.
This one was weak.
Mário Jardel and Fonte both jumped—interfering with each other.
The ball glanced off them and dropped awkwardly.
Ronaldo stepped in.
Chest control.
Prepare to shoot—
But Viana slammed into him from behind.
Ronaldo only got half the motion off.
And the ball…
Dropped right in front of Kai.
One meter away.
Kai had just dodged that clash like he was escaping Godzilla vs King Kong in a skyscraper—and suddenly, the ball was there.
What the hell… is this real?
No time to think.
Behind him—Peter Schmeichel and the goal.
Around him—defenders everywhere.
No space.
No time.
No chance to control.
So—
Kai jumped.
The ball bounced under his legs.
Mid-air, he flicked his right foot backward—
A flying scorpion kick!
Schmeichel was already bending down, ready to collect the ball.
Then—
Touch.
The ball changed direction.
Accelerated.
Into the net.
Schmeichel froze.
"…What the hell?"
"Is that even allowed?"
"Is his coach seriously not going to scream at him for that shit?"
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