The game began with a flurry of activity from both sides. Owing to the occasion, both teams played like they were on a frenzy, borrowing the passion from the stands and using it to get an extra push of aggressiveness on the pitch.
The ball became some sort of a hot potato, switching hands— or feet— every other moment, to a point where the gritty, physical midfield battles became the only thing to talk about in the first ten minutes.
Sure, the commentators always will have something to talk about, just like when they talked about several Championship teams' interest in signing Blaise Atkinson based on just his development league play alone. Now, they're talking about the nifty midfield trio of Potts, Hastings, and Prosser. Their deepening talk about the trio's synergy was cut off by an opening from the hosts after a quarter of an hour had passed.
Trent Hastings found a crease, and sent a forward ball in space. George Williams did his best to try and get a boot in, but he was beaten by a Rotherham defender, who in turn cleared it just in the nick of time.
Damian Potts battled for the loose clearance. He had no idea what to do with the ball at this moment, because all he wanted to do right now was to regain control of the loose ball. He jumped, while keeping track of the person right next to him at the corner of his field of vision, wearing the white Rotherham away kits. The tussle came to a battle of smarts, as the two fought with fluid foot movements and a lot of physicality.
The entire small fight didn't even last more than three seconds, as the cleared ball was headed down by Potts, who gained the upper hand off of his better positioning.
"Potts heads down the clearance! This might be a second chance for the Sheffield offense!"
"Every instance I see a glimpse of his once elite athleticism again, I feel like I'm ten years younger." The oldest of three commentators, Ian, sighed.
Potts shook off his marker, and dispatched the ball to someone he saw barely inching away from his marker, the youngster Alain Prosser.
The ball was abysmal though, as the pass was a little heavy after the release. Not to be deterred by that though was Prosser, whose elite level of skill for this division showed up huge on occasions like this.
A silky smooth first touch with his left foot gave him absolute control over the ball. His second touch was already a few yards closer to the penalty box. He jumped a sliding tackler after he sent the ball on its way closer again.
With blistering pace and skill, he rampaged through the middle of the Rotherham formation, giving everyone a reminder on why he is a prized prospect at the cusp of stardom.
He saw the small window of opportunity on a timed George Williams run, and floated a ball that had no pace but a lot of spin in it close to the goalkeeper. The pass was sublime, as it bounced once, catching the keeper off balance, and was drilled by Williams on the next moment.
The home crowd roared at the magnificent finish. The sea of red and white in the stands dominated the futile whistling of the minority. The stands trembled at the thousands of people jumping in chorus yelling and singing Sheffield's songs and chants.
"Goal! What a filthy sequence of events for Sheffield Blades!" Ian Hawk cheered. "A goal against the run of play!"
That was absolutely stunning from Alain Prosser right there. He did most of the work!" Second analyst commentator Martin Jones clapped. "Showing us the skill on that run and pass that made Stamford Bridge fall in love."
"How about the shot though? It was taken in stride and on cue!" The first analyst Eddie Thompson was focused on that last shot instead. "Williams must be atoning for that performance last time out!"
Blaise clasped hands with the teammates sitting either side of him on the bench. From just that single play of Alain Prosser, he saw glimpses of what could be a world beating playmaker he could be in the future, just like the heights he reached in his past life.
He can't hide his excitement at how this teenage version of Alain Prosser would pan out in the end. Blaise can't calm his surge of emotions, knowing that he has a second chance to finally surpass these monsters of his past on his way to the top of the football world.
After the restart, the two teams returned to their exciting stalemate.
They fought tooth and nail to have a crack at a chance to start up their offense. Sheffield got the upper hand on most of the exchanges until the first half ended, though.
Sheffield's first half scrappy dominance earned the plaudits of the three men commentating the match. The passing was way better than their away opponents, and the pressure and magnitude of the match seemed to not have affected them much, except for the three yellow cards in quick succession at the end of the half.
The home side returned from their half time break in high spirits, welcomed by the singing, and screaming crowd back to the pitch.
"Oh, regarding the situation with Sheffield attacking midfielder Abdou Traore, he's been subbed out as you can see." Ian Hawk narrated on his traditional monotone. "Physios said he has some leg tightness, so he's been pulled out in favor of…"
As his voice trailed off, the three men looked at the person at the tail end of the line.
"Oh! Look at who's in there!" The camera panned to the person at the end of the line, giving the people tuned in to the game a great look at the player subbed in.
The substitute had brown hair and brown eyes, a face that won't be out of place in a modelling agency, and a toned body profile. If one was only a casual watcher of football, they would think that this guy is wasting his life on the rectangular pitch.
Blaise's mind can't contain the ecstasy he's feeling, so he promised himself that he'll unleash everything in the field to share it with his whole team. For him, this game is his real starting point. The point where everything will be compared to down the line.
This is his grand return to the stage.
The time to put on a show starts now.