But Cavani's quick exit was largely due to Alves vying for Neymar.
Because Cavani was in line with Alves, and Neymar, who was uninvolved, was elevated to a higher level.
A similar situation appeared with Morici and Ancelotti.
If Morici wanted this free kick, he couldn't beat Ancelotti.
But if Morici wanted it for someone, then Ancelotti would fall short, getting dragged to Morici's level, lower than the person behind Morici.
And the glance Morici gave Lu Yang was to ask him if he had confidence in this shot.
If you do, then take it. I'll offend the whole world!
If not, then I'll give it to Ancelotti, because we're indeed less qualified than these veterans.
In the end, Morici understood the reasoning.
But everything depended on Brother Lu's decision.
"Oh! Morici wants to contest this free kick with Ancelotti. Perhaps he thinks he can score and become the hero of the Italy team. But he is too selfish and has disrupted the harmonious atmosphere of the team!"
"Who does he think he is? Why should he take the shot?"
"He's just a newcomer, selected for the national team for the first time and already losing respect for the Prince Zebra. It's too much!"
"These youngsters who don't know their place, they think they're remarkable after just one assist?"
"Ha! This is the Croatian! Don't forget, I've never supported immigrant players!"
"The only ones who can save the Italy team are Italians, Croatians get lost!"
"It's always like this! Lu Yang raises the flag at the European Youth Championship, Morici wants a free kick in the European Cup playoffs, can't they settle down?"
"The key is that Lu Yang can score! Morici can't do anything but puts on airs!"
"I really want to slap Morici away, he's so annoying!"
"Self-righteous San Remo player, if Italy doesn't qualify, it's all Morici's fault!"
The fans were buzzing, and no one supported Morici because his actions had no justification!
And Lu Yang, who had been standing aside, finally stepped up after taking a deep breath.
At this moment, the entire world turned its attention to Lu Yang.
There was anger in Ancelotti's eyes.
The rest of the Italian players looked with uncertainty and suspicion.
Including the reproach in Morici's eyes.
Lu Yang saw it all.
Lu Yang knew that once he nodded, Morici would go against the entire Italy National Team and the Italian fans for him.
But that wasn't necessary.
If he had to go against the world, he would do it himself.
He wouldn't let someone else take the fall or bear the pressure for him.
Because he knew he could withstand it, but Morici might not.
If 1.85 meters can't hold up the sky, do you leave it to 1.74 meters?
There's no such logic!
"I'll take it!" Lu Yang said, patting Morici on the shoulder.
This seemed directed at Morici but was actually meant for Ancelotti!
Although he added a "please" word, the tone was firm!
"Hey, Lu, Ancelotti is the national team's first free-kick taker," Finger stepped in, having a good personal relationship with Ancelotti from their earlier goal collaborations.
This move lifted up Ancelotti's status.
"It's not that I want to try just because I scored two goals today, I am sure of it! And Ancelotti is off today..." Lu Yang spoke, his tone gentle but content sharp.
The meaning was clear.
Today's Ancelotti is not fit to take this free kick, he can't make it!
Ancelotti was enraged, it was like a tiger descending from the mountain being mocked by dogs! Have the youngsters today become so arrogant?
Ancelotti questioned, "So, are you sure you can make this shot?"
This was a heated question.
Even with a penalty, no one can guarantee a goal.
Scoring is a matter of probability and a kind of mysticism.
But Lu Yang nodded, "Yes, I guarantee it!"
Ancelotti was speechless, stepping away and going to the left outside the penalty box, ready to fight for the potential second ball or rebound.
And Morici handed the football to Lu Yang.
Other players like Audi, Praxedes, Bernulin, Finger, and Perrotta exchanged glances, not knowing what to say, so they went to their positions to prepare for the final attack.
Even goalkeeper Audi stood by the wall, ready to contest for the second ball.
"I don't know why, but his eyes put me at ease," Praxedes said, taking deep breaths, unusually nervous.
"I trust him!" Bernulin, being his teammate, affirmed.
"Wish him good luck!" Finger also hoped Italy could advance to the European Cup.
"His elevator ball is quite powerful," Perrotta remarked, having seen Lu Yang's free kick attacks.
But the elevator ball isn't very stable...
When struck successfully, it's powerful, but unsuccessful attempts waste opportunities.
And this position is too far, making it hard to control an elevator ball.
Although Lu Yang had scored an over 40-meter S-shaped free kick, everyone knew that such a kick can't be replicated, not even by Lu Yang himself!
The atmosphere in the entire venue tensed up at this moment.
Lu Yang placed the ball and started to step back.
Many noticed that something was different this time with Lu Yang.
Zidane: "He didn't step back straight, but stood at the back left of the football... This is the posture for a curved shot, not an elevator shot! Does he have the technique for a curved free-kick?"
Jelando: "Most of Lu Yang's free kicks are elevator balls, and even in his shots, the curvature isn't outstanding!"
Izalelt: "At this range, a curved free kick lacks power, and speed, making it difficult to score!"
Gutierrez: "He can only aim for sharp angles! Hitting the upper left or right side of the goal might avoid being blocked. Otherwise, even if it bypasses the wall, the goalkeeper can easily save it!"
Mancini: "It's impossible! He chose the wrong technique!"
Enriquez: "At least I can't do it; I can't make a free kick from this position with a curved shot!"
Talista: "Though his choice of technique is different, his eyes are the same. The last time he scored the decider against me, his eyes were filled with an extreme desire for victory!"
Andrés: "He's a smart player; many of his choices are made with some assurance."
With a crunching sound!
In Lu Yang's mind, a red card shattered.
Moment Card, David Beckham, October 6, 2001!
The shadow of Beckham drifted away, but the legend remained.
He was cherished, and also cast aside; pursued, and also exiled.
He regained respect after falling and won more respect in respect!
When he left, he had no departure!
His name is David Beckham, a man who always pulls the world's strings.
This time, he is a charming player!
To Lu Yang, this is a different type of free kick, belonging to a different kind of jersey, but still the Manchester United No. 7!
Lu Yang took off running.
His hands spread wide, his whole body contorted and tilted, almost at a zero-degree angle to the football.
The inside of his foot contacted the ball!
The football spun away like a top being launched.
And his left foot even seemed twisted.
But as the ball flew, it traced a massive arc.
A curvature so immense, it had never been seen before.
Easily sailing over the wall, the football's curve grew even bigger.
It seemed to shoot straight toward the upper right corner of the goal.
The Swedish goalkeeper prepared to block it.
But the ball suddenly veered toward the upper left corner of the goal.
The Swedish goalkeeper sighed, fortunate he remained balanced.
He dove, thinking he could seize that cicada and the entire summer!
But the football's arc was so despairing.
Like a curved blade, slicing through the sky, slipping past the goalkeeper's grip.
It precisely entered the upper left corner of the goal, leaving no extra space!
Super curvature free kick!
Goal scored!
Italy leads Sweden with a big score of three to two!
Game-winning shot!
The Curved Moon Blade made its debut, like a fleeting glimpse!
Blue melancholy Italy transforms into a dragon with Lu Yang!