Ethan and Laura pushed through the bustling crowd, navigating the sea of excited fans as they made their way to their seats at Stamford Bridge. The energy in the stadium was electric, with supporters from both teams filling the air with chants and cheers.
Marcus had mailed them the match tickets usually given out to players after he received them, eager for his parents to watch his pro debut.
They finally found their seats just in time to see the players filing out of the tunnel, with the match officials at the front of the two lines.
As the players stepped onto the pitch, the commentator's voice, Martin, boomed through the stadium speakers, {Welcome to Stamford Bridge, everyone! I'm Martin Tyler, and with me in the commentary box today is my co-commentator, Alan Smith. Alan, this is a huge day for Fulham, with Morris Anderson's first match in charge, and what a bold decision to start three young players—Marcus Pearson, Harvey Elliott, and Ryan Sessegnon.}
Alan responded thoughtfully, {It's certainly a bold move, Martin. These youngsters have a lot of potential, but starting them in a match like this, against a side like Chelsea, is a huge gamble. It'll be interesting to see how they handle the pressure.}
The players from both teams lined up for the pre-match greetings. Marcus stood in line, his heart pounding, as he exchanged handshakes with the Chelsea players and the officials. The roar of the Stamford Bridge crowd was deafening, but all he could focus on was the feeling of the pitch beneath his feet.
As the handshakes were completed, the players dispersed to their respective positions. Marcus jogged to his spot in the center of midfield, his eyes scanning the field, taking in every detail.
The Fulham fans in the away section were loud and proud, waving their flags and chanting with all their might. Their energy was infectious, giving Marcus an extra boost of confidence. He knew his parents were somewhere in the stands, watching him. He couldn't afford to disappoint them.
As the players settled into their positions, the referee took his place at the center of the pitch, the ball cradled under his arm. He checked his watch and then placed the ball on the center spot. He blew the whistle, and with that, the match was underway. The roar of the crowd swelled, and the players surged forward, each one of them focused on the task at hand.
Marcus received the ball from Mitrovic as Fulham kicked off the game, passing it deep into his own half as he and the Fulham wingers rushed deep into the Chelsea half. Tom Cairney received the ball deep in midfield and played a long forward pass towards the Chelsea penalty area, targeting Mitrovic, who had gone deep into the Chelsea half after kicking off.
Mitrovic jumped, beating Andreas Christensen with his superior strength, and headed the ball toward the ground, onto the path of the approaching Marcus, who had drifted in between the Chelsea midfielders like a ghost.
Marcus saw the approaching ball and controlled it with a deft touch, playing a through pass that sliced through the Chelsea defense, seemingly heading out of play for a goal kick before Harvey Elliott glided out of nowhere from the right wing and trapped the ball with just one touch.
The Chelsea defenders seemed confused, most of them turning their heads towards the throw line where the assistant referee stood, but the referee kept his flag down, which only meant one thing.
The Chelsea defenders panicked, but it was too late as Harvey Elliott was one-on-one with Kepa Arrizabalaga. He smashed the shot, going for all power and no finesse, as the ball whizzed toward the top left corner of the post.
Kepa tried diving toward the ball to make a save, but it was just too fast for him as the ball swirled past him, crashing into the crossbar and dipping into the net.
{Goal! Fulham!}
{The first shot, and the first goal! We're off and running here! That was one wonder strike, wasn't it, Alan?} Martin Tyler asked, his voice booming over the speakers in the stadium, trying to rise above the noise from the away section as the Fulham fans celebrated.
{Yeah, Martin, that was straight from the training ground and executed to perfection here on matchday! The Chelsea players can complain all they want, but it's a goal—and a very good one too—very early on here.} Alan said.
Harvey Elliott raced towards the corner flag, sliding on his knees elegantly as he approached the away section at Stamford Bridge before the rest of the Fulham team huddled on top of him.
The Chelsea players moved towards the referee, complaining and trying to get the goal disallowed for being offside, but the referee wasn't having it and even gave a yellow card to Cesar Azpilicueta, who was the captain.
Coach Anderson joined in the celebrations on the touchline, pumping his fists into the air, but the same couldn't be said about his Italian counterpart, Antonio Conte, who couldn't believe that his team had gone one-nil down in the opening seconds of the game.
He had told his team to make sure they went home with the three points, as they were only a point ahead of Tottenham Hotspur, who were in fourth place. He was very frustrated but soon calmed down as the match had just started, despite being a goal down.
The referee soon blew his whistle, ending the Fulham celebrations as the ball was placed on the center line to resume the match.