Coaching career started as a college team coach
Chapter 439
"Handball!" Martinez shouted. He was the second closest Wolves player to Florian Thauvin, but as a goalkeeper, he saw it clearly!
"Handball!!!"
"Hey! This ball is handball!!!"
Jota, who was guarding the far post next to him, also saw the process of the goal. Although the action was very fast, he saw it clearly! Because he was less than three meters away from the ball.
But the referee William Callum pointed his right hand at the center circle, indicating that the goal was valid!
"Hey!"
Florian Thauvin and his teammates had already run out to celebrate, and the Wolves players surrounded the referee, "This ball is handball!"
The Scottish referee William Callum understood English. There was a hint of hesitation in his eyes, but he finally shook his head firmly.
"It was scored because it touched his hand. Didn't you see it?!" Jota blushed and was about to stick to William Callum's face!
Jota looked at the referee who looked like a wooden man in front of him, and angrily cursed, "Are your eyes..."
The referee William Callum widened his eyes, and one hand reached for the pocket of red and yellow cards on his chest! At this time, a pair of hands grabbed him out of the crowd.
Jota looked back and saw Rodri's serious face.
"Calm down, it's only the 15th minute!"
"But..." Jota wanted to say something, but Rodri pointed to the captain's armband on his sleeve and squeezed into the crowd. Ruben Dias came over and patted Jota on the shoulder, then dragged him to the periphery of the crowd.
The referee was dispersing the crowd, and he realized that there were too many people around him, "Disperse, disperse."
After Rodri dragged De Paul, who was a little out of control, away, he protected the referee out of the crowd. But his face was not good either, and he first pointed to his captain's armband.
"I am the captain of the team. According to the rules, I can communicate with you about your penalty."
"Yes." William Callum took a deep breath and said.
"The ball just now was clearly hit from No. 26's head to his arm before it flew into the goal. This is definitely a handball!" Rodri said sternly.
The referee shook his head, "I didn't see it, the linesman didn't see it, there is no clear evidence."
Rodri's facial muscles trembled when he heard this. He clenched his fists and said word by word, "You should know that this is the semi-final of the Europa League. You know the importance of a goal to this game."
William Callum blushed, "Of course I know, there is nothing wrong with this penalty, now you step back!"
The referee pointed at Rodri and issued an order to expel him. Rodri stared at the Scotsman in front of him in disbelief, pointed at his nose, and muttered something in his mouth, but in the end, he shook his head and left.
Florian Thauvin also saw all this. He just lowered his head and walked quickly past the crowd that had not yet dispersed.
Seeing this, Payet, who had assisted him, confirmed that no one around could hear them talking, and then covered his mouth and asked Florian Thauvin's ear, "Is this ball a handball?"
Payet noticed that Florian Thauvin's brow trembled.
"Don't worry about it, it's a goal anyway."
Payet understood what Thauvin meant.
The Marseille fans cheering on the sidelines didn't care about so much, it was a goal anyway! Their cheers made the Wolves fans who only occupied half of the short side stands seem at a loss. There were even some sundries such as drink cups and paper balls thrown towards them!
But they were far away from the direction of the goal. Some people thought it might be a handball, but they couldn't see it clearly!
Maybe the referee couldn't see it clearly, the players couldn't see it clearly, and the fans couldn't see it clearly, but now the advanced broadcasting technology can see it clearly! Dozens of cameras of different sizes monitor everything that happens on the field from different positions and angles.
The details of the goal just now were captured by the jib next to the goal.
When Florian bent over to head the ball, his arm unconsciously stretched out to keep his balance. The football was rubbed by his head towards the goal, but before it landed, it really hit his hand!
His arm shrank in pain, and the ball also hit the sideline!
"This ball is controversial!" Commentator Zhan Jun widened his eyes. He couldn't believe what was happening in front of him. This was a misjudgment!
"This ball is very controversial. Florian Thauvin was very likely to have handballed before scoring. According to the rules, if the goal was caused by handball, not only should the goal be ruled invalid, but the Wolves should also be given a free kick."
"But the referee didn't seem to have the intention to change the judgment..."
"If this goal really happened andIt eventually affected the outcome of the game, so..." Zhan Jun took a deep breath, he didn't want to say anything more. After a pause, he just said, "I just hope that the Wolves players and Coach Wei can overcome all this..."
Zhan Jun is a commentator. After all, he must adhere to a neutral position and cannot lean towards any party. His words are also more polite. In the final analysis, it is all "controversy".
But where is the "controversy"? The ball clearly hit his arm! Compared with Zhan Jun's gritted teeth, the slow-motion replay is particularly ironic at this moment.
Chinese fans don't care about these!
"Fuck!" Han Yang cursed loudly, "Is it so black? !"
His group also exploded. His friends in the law school seemed to be unable to believe that this was really happening in front of them. Zhao Pingping, a straightforward Henan native, had already sent a voice message to curse the referee's relatives!
"Why, even in a game like the Europa League, there will be black whistles? ! ”
Even Yang Qi, who was usually quite reserved, stood up from the sofa at this moment, and kicked the pillow that fell on the ground in front of him in anger.
“This…”
He didn’t say any swear words, but his roommate was more surprised than him. Yang Qi couldn’t understand what he was saying in German.
But it must not be a good thing.
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