Morecambe locker room.
Juninho D'Alessandro had just finished his halftime team talk when a familiar voice rang out.
Duan Xuan and his crew stepped into the locker room again, filming as they entered.
The players were seated, quietly recovering their breath from the dominant first half. The atmosphere was calm and focused.
"Great football! Brilliant work!" Duan Xuan couldn't contain his excitement as he approached Juninho with a grin. "Director Juninho, your team is on fire. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you got promoted to League Two this season. Maybe even League One next year!"
Juninho smiled, eyes calm and confident. "That's not our ceiling. Our goal is the Premier League—top four, Champions League, and to compete for the title with the best in Europe."
Duan Xuan laughed, brushing off the statement with an amused shake of his head. He thought Juninho was just dreaming big—as any young coach might.
But somewhere deep inside, Duan Xuan couldn't help but wonder… could Morecambe really pull it off?
For most clubs, reaching the Champions League isn't a two- or three-year project. It takes decades of consistent growth—player development, financial investments, infrastructure, management… the works.
And for a club like Morecambe, buried in the lower tiers for years? If Juninho could bring them to League One or even the Premier League one day, it would already be an astonishing achievement.
Champions League? Well… dreams are free.
As the break went on, Duan Xuan took time to interview players who had scored or assisted in the first half. Each one, without fail, expressed unwavering admiration and trust in their young coach.
The footage would be edited and compiled back in China—certain to leave an impression on anyone who watched it.
The presence of the cameras even lightened the mood. The players relaxed, joked, and celebrated, their halftime break passing quickly.
Fifteen minutes later.
Morecambe's starters returned to the pitch, ready for the second half.
BEEP!
The referee blew his whistle as soon as both teams were in position.
Ibrahimović, leading the front line, tapped the kickoff backward to Ronaldinho, who immediately orchestrated Morecambe's midfield like a maestro. His precise movement tore through Lincoln City's midfield again.
The second half settled into a steady rhythm.
Juninho didn't make any substitutions during the break. He couldn't shake the memory of that fateful 2005 Champions League final—when Liverpool had stunned AC Milan after being 3–0 down.
A 3–0 lead wasn't safe. Not until the final whistle.
Juninho wanted to go further in the League Cup. There was no room for complacency.
53rd minute.
Veteran winger Beech, once a League One regular, received a pass on the flank. He cut inside confidently and, from just outside the penalty box, struck a slightly rushed shot.
The ball deflected off a Lincoln City defender and slowed down just enough for the goalkeeper to scoop it up.
As Beech jogged back with a smile, a few teammates chuckled and clapped for the aging winger. The team spirit was high.
62nd minute.
Morecambe pressed forward again. A sharp through ball found Ibrahimović at the edge of the box. Using his strength, he shielded the ball from a defender and tapped it back toward Ronaldinho.
Ronaldinho surged forward, performed a few dazzling stepovers, and then unleashed a curling shot toward the far post!
The ball had excellent technique—but just missed, grazing the outside of the post.
The Brazilian covered his face in frustration before trotting back into position.
At the goal line, Lincoln City's exhausted goalkeeper picked up the ball, only to find none of his teammates were offering support.
Some stood with hands on hips. Others hunched over, gasping for air.
The goalkeeper was stunned. Who am I even passing to...?
But it wasn't a lack of professionalism. It was pure exhaustion.
Morecambe had nearly 70% possession in the match. The side without the ball always runs more—constantly chasing, tracking, reacting.
By the 60th minute, Lincoln City's players were running on fumes. That they lasted this long under pressure was already impressive.
Boom!
The goalkeeper hoofed the ball long, hoping to slow down Morecambe's relentless pressure.
But it was only a brief pause. The attack resumed almost immediately.
Lincoln City's coach began preparing substitutions—two defenders and a midfielder—but deep down, he knew it wouldn't matter.
Fresh legs alone couldn't carry a whole team that had already collapsed physically.
And just as the new players were warming up…
On the field, Ibrahimović—who had been quietly biding his time—suddenly came to life.
He received the ball just outside the box.
Instead of laying it off or holding it up, he faked to the right, his body shifting dramatically.
The Lincoln City defender, slow to react due to fatigue, was completely fooled by the feint.
Ibrahimović swiveled, shifted left, and burst into open space.
His right foot came down like a hammer.
BOOM!!
The ball launched off the ground like a missile—no swerve, no float, just raw speed.
It rose in a straight line, screaming toward the upper left corner of the net!
The goalkeeper couldn't even dive in time. The shot was simply too fast.
THWACK!
The ball slammed into the net.
Ibrahimović had scored again—this time, with a thunderous long-range strike.
Another brutal reminder to Lincoln City of just how far Morecambe had come.
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