Football singularity-Chapter 380 Surpass Messi At The Buffet Table

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Rakim smirked as he performed the sombrero, the ball soaring over Leonardo’s head as if time slowed. The crowd erupted in gasps and cheers, the chain-link fence trembling with the energy of spectators slamming their hands against it. Followed by the loud rhythmic sound of Family ties blasting through the speakers, adding more energy to the atmosphere.

None of this mattered to Leonardo though as he animatedly turned, his face red with frustration, only to see Rakim casually catch the ball on his chest. He didn’t sprint forward and instead performed a lofted rebona pass forward into the path of Carlo. The pass was picture-perfect sailing just past the last defender dropping into his path.

Not hesitating he took his shot on the bounce before he could enter the semicircle marking the box. A muffled thud rang out as he sent the ball rocketing forward slicing through the air like a bullet, aimed for the top corner. The goalkeeper could only leap into the air in a star jump as he tried to mark the angle of the Handball goal.

The metallic clang of the ball smacked the crossbar before it nestled itself into the back of the net. The crowd exploded, a chaotic symphony of cheers, whistles, and shouted praise for Carlo’s strike. Carlo himself proceeded to run towards a corner where a guy holding a camera was and got sturdy followed by the rest of his teammates matching his vibe.

Soaking in the adulation of the crowd they celebrated with genuine smiles. "Not bad for a banker, eh?" Carlo quipped, winking at Rakim as they exchanged a quick fist bump on their way back to their half.

Rakim jogged back to his half with a smirk, nodding at Carlo’s celebration. The crowd was still buzzing, the energy infectious as the music transitioned to another beat-heavy track. "Banker or not," Rakim said, "you’re doing alright, but let’s turn it up a notch."

Leonardo grabbed the ball, his expression dark as he set it down for the restart. "Don’t get cocky, Monkey Boy," he spat, but Rakim only laughed, adjusting his Amari Jeans as he took a low stance, ready for the challenge.

The game resumed with Leonardo’s team tapping the ball to their left winger. The guy, tall and wiry, tried to sprint past Philippe with a quick step-over, but Philippe stuck out a leg and intercepted cleanly, sending the ball rolling to Rakim on the right wing.

Rakim controlled the ball with his instep, his movements fluid, almost hypnotic as he turned on his axis directly skipping past an opponent. He let the next defender close in as he dribbled forward, a short, stocky teen with a shaved head. As the boy lunged, Rakim pulled off a swift Akka 3000—rolling the ball with one foot before snapping it around the defender’s outstretched leg with the other. The crowd was left stupefied not expecting the new guy to know one of their familiar moves.

They had acknowledged his playing ability after the first goal but only now did they realize he might be a baller. They couldn’t believe it and most waited to see if he could recover the ball as they watched the defender stumble, desperately trying to recover. However, Rakim simply danced by the guy so nimbly that by the time the opposing player turned he had already taken control of the ball.

But Rakim wasn’t done. With two more players closing in, he flicked the ball toward the wall of the court. It ricocheted back to him, perfectly angled to bypass one of the defenders, leaving him flat-footed. The second defender tried to body him off the ball, but Rakim used his low centre of gravity to spin away, flicking the ball through the narrowest gap between the defender’s legs.

"Nutmeg!" someone shouted, and the spectators hollered, banging on the fence like wild animals.

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With the path clear, Rakim charged down the sideline, but Leonardo wasn’t about to let him go uncontested. He sprinted across the court, his stocky frame closing in fast. Anticipating the challenge, Rakim turned his body to shield the ball, keeping his movements tight. As Leonardo reached out to shove him, Rakim leaned into the contact, using the momentum to execute a 360 Roulette, spinning off the defender and leaving him grasping at thin air.

"Too smooth!" a voice yelled from the crowd, followed by laughter.

Now at the edge of the semicircle, Rakim faced the goalkeeper, who was nervously shuffling on his line. Instead of shooting, Rakim leaned back and faked a strike, freezing the keeper in place. In the same motion, he scooped the ball upward and off the wall behind the goal, letting it bounce once before spinning back into play.

Carlo, perfectly positioned near the far post, volleyed the ball mid-air with his weaker foot. The ball struck the back of the net cleanly, and the celebration was instant. "Goal!" the commentator-like voice from the peanut gallery shouted as Carlo once again began his celebration with another dance.

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[10 minutes Later]

A shocking scene unfolded on the court and the viewers could hardly believe what they were seeing. Leo and his Turin stars were gasping for breath trying their best to chase after the ball, but the new guy wouldn’t let them even get a whiff of it. The only time they regained possession of the ball was to restart the match after conceding.

"Could that guy really be Rakim?" One of the viewers asked his friends around him as they watched Carlo score his 9th goal of the match. The guy somehow found the ball at his feet or near him whenever he was free in front of the goal, it was honestly spooky.

"Not you too, didn’t you read the BBC say he died with the rest of the team. I agree that this guy is a baller and that they look pretty similar but isn’t that normal for their kind?" Another lad commented from the side not willing to believe that a professional footballer was just as good in street football as those who have dedicated a few good years to the sport.

"haha Bro that’s too far, you’re giving him the same respect Lukaku receives." someone else commented with a light smirk not understanding why his friend was showing such A-grade sportsmanship to a random black player.

"Haha, you’re right but isn’t that what the cops in America say when they shoot one of them by mistake." The second guy commented with a smirk as he watched Leo initiate what would be his last attack.

The guy now moved with more determination not because he wanted to win but simply to salvage his pride. The guy he had started this with didn’t even take him seriously and the humiliation he felt at this moment was beyond what he had ever experienced.

So, he wasted no time charging forward with the ball at his feet. Passing it to his teammates didn’t even pop into his mind. Leonardo stormed forward, his jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed with frustration. The ball stayed glued to his feet as he weaved past two of Rakim’s teammates, using raw technique and strength.

His teammates shouted for a pass, but Leonardo ignored them, focused solely on facing Rakim one-on-one. Rakim stepped forward, a calm smile playing on his lips. He crouched low, ready for the challenge, as the crowd roared in anticipation. Leonardo launched into a hard feint to the right, but Rakim didn’t bite. Instead, he waited, reading Leonardo’s movements like an open book.

As Leonardo lunged left, Rakim reacted instantly, stabbing the ball away with a precise tackle. The ball ricocheted toward the wall, and in one fluid motion, Rakim sprinted after it, catching it before it could bounce back fully.

With a deft touch, he flicked the ball upward against the wall, letting it rebound over a defender rushing to block him. The defender stopped short, bewildered, as Rakim caught the ball with a pirouette, spinning away from the pressure with the grace of a dancer.

The spectators were losing their minds, pounding on the chain-link fence so hard it seemed like it might collapse. Now free on the sideline, Rakim saw another defender closing in. He slowed, baiting the opponent into a tackle, and when the player lunged, Rakim deftly lifted the ball over his sliding body, catching it on his other foot.

Leonardo, now angrier than ever, came barreling toward Rakim again. This time, Rakim backed toward the wall, trapping the ball against it with the sole of his foot. Leonardo hesitated, confused, as Rakim pressed his back to the wall and performed a cheeky flip-flap to push the ball past him. Using the wall for leverage, Rakim pushed off and darted around Leonardo, reclaiming possession before the stunned defender could even turn.

Reaching the edge of the semicircle, Rakim slowed again, his head up as he surveyed the court. The goalkeeper stood frozen, unsure whether to rush out or stay back. Rakim feigned another shot, drawing the keeper off his line, then casually dinked the ball against the wall beside the goal. The ball rebounded across the box, where Carlo, once again perfectly positioned, volleyed it into the net with a thunderous strike.

"That’s ten!" someone shouted, counting Carlo’s goals. Rakim didn’t celebrate long as he dabbed his teammates goodbye before heading to the exit

Crossing paths with little Anton he gave the boy a light smirk as he once again donned his cap and shades. "You know you’re right the little Piggy is a once-in-a-centry telnet, he’ll probably surpass Messi at the buffet table.

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To Be Continued...