Godfather Of Champions

Chapter 94: Let Me Play Part 2

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Tang En did not know what they were saying on Arsenal's side. He only took a quick glance and found that Wenger did not replace Brady to exercise his managerial authority. Instead he just stood to a side with his arms folded across his chest and watched the young Arsenal youth team players gathered around to hear Brady talk. So, he turned his attention back to his team.

"I don't think you need me to say anything more, do you? Do you all know what I like?"

"Victory!" Morgan growled, and his teammates immediately loudly agreed.

"Very good! Arsenal is not weak, but we are also very strong. It has rained every day for a while now, and I have not asked you to train indoors. When you were soaking wet from the rain and rolling on the muddy ground, battered and exhausted, and could only swallow your misery and only complain in your hearts, did you ever think that maybe we should let our opponents have a taste of that feeling?"

Although the players were shaking their heads, the excited looks on their faces were obvious.

"That's right! The Arsenal boys didn't think of it either! Go and give them a surprise, lads!"

"Forest! Forest! Victory!" The players roared together in a huddle and ran out to the field.

Wenger's attention was caught by the shouts coming from the Forest team. He turned to look at them but met Twain's gaze as he happened to be observing him at the same time.

When Wenger found that Twain was looking at him, he turned his gaze back. But Tang En was still staring at the Frenchman as if he wanted to see through him.

Arsène Wenger... We'll have a direct fight someday.

After the start of the match, the Arsenal youth team found it difficult to adapt to the terrible field condition. Many of their usually successful coordinated plays became misses because of the field.

The force of their passing diminished. The football would roll several times before it stopped in the mud. If they used too much force to kick it forward, it might directly fly out of the line. If they ran too quickly, they could not brake in time, and if they ran too slowly, they then simply could not receive the ball.

After half an hour, the score was still 0:0. The score had not changed, but their clean yellow Arsenal jerseys for the away match had almost turned black.

At the 32nd minute, the Forest team players seemed to have a little problem with their physical strength. The pace of their attack slowed down, and they began to pass the ball back and forth in the backfield. At this point, the increasingly impatient Arsenal players rushed over the halfway line like a swarm of bees, hoping to score a goal before the end of the first half. They had not expected to be trapped in a quagmire with their opponents.

Wenger raised his eyebrows at the sight of his players' show of impatience. But he did not make a sound to alert Brady who was standing on the sidelines and directing the match by shouting and yelling.

When Senderos pushed past the center circle after they could not be held back any longer, the only Arsenal player left, other than the goalkeeper, Craig Holloway, was only one center back, Franklin Simek, with a wide expanse of empty space all around him.

Wes Morgan intercepted Arsenal's Czech midfielder Papadopulos' pass and then drove the ball straight forward. For the many young Arsenal players, they were blindsided and had to scramble to kick the ball out of penalty area to crack their opponents' offensive. But who was in front of them? The Forest players were almost all huddled up in the backfield, playing defense.

They thought it was good that there was really no one from the Forest team on that side. But they did not know that the Forest team had a fast striker—Spencer Weir-Daley!

This single-handed tactic of having the full back driving the ball and doing a long pass to the striker was a drill that Tang En often ran during training. But because Weir-Daley was almost useless except that he ran fast, the success rate was not high. This did not change Tang En's mind, and he insisted on this tactic. Even if it only succeeded once out of a hundred times, as long as he scored this one time at the most critical moment!

Like now...

Weir-Daley quickly ran past Senderos' side, and he seemed completely unaffected by the muddy ground. Senderos was so shocked that he wanted to turn around and chase after the Forest player who was so fast he could not see his jersey number, but he was struck in the face by a blob of upturned mud.

The ball was still in the air and Weir-Daley had already run past the midfield. He was approaching the opponent's 30-meter zone.

John and the others on the sidelines cheered loudly and cheered Weir-Daley on.

"Run, Lad! You can do it!"

The Arsenal full back, Simek, had just started to come up to stop the ball when his feet slipped out from under him. Then he looked up in despair at Weir-Daley sweeping past him from the side.

"Keep running!!"

Weir-Daley, who had received the ball, had only one player left in front of him now—the goalkeeper, Holloway. His opponent already behind him, the rest was simple. Amidst the loud cries from the crowd on the sidelines, Weir-Daley easily moved past Holloway, who had lost his center of gravity, and shot the ball into the empty goal!

The ball was in! The ball was in!

The Nottingham Forest youth team led in the third round of the FA Youth Cup against the mighty Arsenal youth team by 1:0!

John and the rest were so excited on the sidelines that they jostled the mesh wire fence making a rattling sound. It looked as if they were going to push down the mesh wire fence and rush onto the field to join the Forest team to celebrate the goal.

"Well done, lads!" The assistant manager Kerslake stood up to congratulate the players who had run back to the technical area, and Twain applauded behind him. Things were much easier now with one goal. Now that they had the advantage, if Arsenal wanted to win in this away match, it was not going to be that easy!

On the other side, Brady shook his fists angrily and then yelled, "That damn Tony Twain!"

Wenger stood with arms around his chest behind him, and he still did not say a word. But his gaze had now shifted from the field to the sidelines, and his attention had turned from the young Arsenal players to Tony Twain.

He knew how to use the weather and field conditions to lay the foundation for their tactics. If the weather was not favorable to them, he artificially created the conditions which were conducive to them. He made full use of every winning factor that could be used. This youth team manager was not simple.

Ten minutes later, the first half of the match ended. The visiting team, Arsenal youth, was behind the Nottingham Forest youth team by a goal for the time being.

Looking at the players who looked down and were in low spirits since they returned from the field, Wenger suddenly asked Brady who was busy comforting them, "Liam, did you bring any spare sneakers this time? The ones with the long spikes."

Brady understood, and he nodded, "Yes, I did. I'll have them all change into those now." Then he turned to the young players and said, "Change into the shoes with the long spikes and show those little rascals how powerful we are in the second half!"

Suddenly, there was the sound of shoe spikes clashing everywhere. Wenger nodded lightly, as long as the team adapted to this slippery muddy ground, he believed that with the team's overall strength, they could still overcome the Forest team.

As he was thinking about it, he turned his head again toward the Forest team manager. He wanted to see what Tony Twain was doing.

"You've done a great job!" Tang En was loudly praising his players. "When we were running freely on this field, our opponents were frantically trying to keep up with us. Continue to play like this in the second half, increase our tackles on their players with the ball, so that they will keep missing, and then miss again!"

"Yessss!!"

When he heard the cheers coming from the Forest team, Wenger called Fàbregas aside and alone.

"Cesc, how do you think you played in the first half?"

Cesc Fàbregas shook his head honestly, "Not very well, sir."

"And the reason was?"

"Well, I don't want to find an excuse, but the field condition is terrible. I've never played on such a lousy field. The ball can't be dribbled at all." Fàbregas pointed to the field behind him, which was indeed terrible as if it had just been plowed up by a tractor.

Wenger expressed his understanding, "You're right in saying that. The field condition really does restrict your play. But I think, after the first half, you should have already adapted to this field?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want more passes, chest-high balls, reduce the contact between the ball and the ground as much as possible. Less dribbling for the break throughs." Wenger patted Cesc Fàbregas on the shoulder. "Remember Cesc. You are the midfield, the core of the team, the brain. Use more of this here to play." He pointed to his own temple. "If the situation is not fine, then you change to another method to cope with it. During a match, the manager can't call you at any time or anywhere to instruct you on the next step. You have to be the second manager on the field."

Fàbregas firmly nodded. "I understand, sir. I know what to do!" He returned to his teammates and looked at the Forest team resolutely because he now had a clear purpose.

Soon after the second half, Tang En felt something was wrong. Cesc Fàbregas, who was trapped in the quagmire in the first half, was revitalized. He was the core of Arsenal's midfield, and his resurgence meant Arsenal was on the rebound.

The young Spanish midfielder oversaw the midfield and managed it. From time to time, Clichy, the French center back would interject from behind him to help break the Forest team defense line. Michael Papadopulos would receive Fàbregas' pass in the front and then use his skills to break away from the defenders and seek opportunities to score. Senderos, after being censured by Brady at halftime, rarely rushed up to the front in the second half, unless there was a good position for a free kick or a corner kick. Other times he was holding the ground in the backfield and Weir-Daley did not have a chance again.

Arsenal was like a machine. Fàbregas was the core controller of this machine, and the others were operating around him. When he was running normal, the team would run normal. If he was not normal, this team would be in danger.

In the first half, even though this Spanish machine controller was apparently a little short-circuited by the muddy water, he resumed operation again in the second half.

Twenty minutes later, if the Forest team had not been lucky, their goal would have been breached at least three times. Once, Papadopulos' powerful long shot had almost entered the goal. The Forest goalkeeper, John Lukic, threw himself to block the ball, and the ball slowly rolled toward the goal line. But just in front of the white line, Wes Morgan managed to rush up in time and kick it out!

"Ah!" A loud sigh broke out from the Arsenal technical area, and the Forest team's side breathed a sigh of relief.

"We can't keep going like this," Kerslake said to Twain. "That Spanish boy is too good! His passing is fantastic! He finds our strategic point almost every time."

Tang En squeezed his chin and murmured, "Yes, yes, you're right, David. He's indeed very good. He's very powerful. But do we have someone now who can defend against him?"

Kerslake was rendered speechless by Twain's question. That's right, does the team have anyone who can defend against this best player of the UEFA European Under-17 Championship?

The two coaches stared at Fàbregas, who was very active on the field. They had run out of ideas. Sitting at the outermost edge of the substitutes' bench, George Wood did not care what was happening on the field. He had been fidgeting for almost 65 minutes and honestly could not just sit there and learn anything from his teammates on the field. He sprang to his feet and walked up to Twain, blocking his view.

"George?" Tang En looked up at Wood.

"Let me play." Wood got straight to the point without any nonsense.

"Now? This is not a good time." Tang En was right. Fàbregas' playing exceeded his expectations in this match. He was originally going to let Wood play in this match, but now that he saw Fàbregas' second half performance, he promptly changed his mind. "In line with the principle of protecting young players..."

"Let me play!" Wood repeated his request.

"Tell me your reason." Normally, George Wood listened to Twain, and he had only been difficult a handful of times, like his unyielding attitude at the moment.

Wood hesitated for a second, then pointed to a remote corner outside the field and said, "My mother is here, and I want her to watch me play in a match."

The astonished Tang En looked in the direction that Wood's finger pointed, and saw Sophia, who was hiding in a corner that was not easily noticed and away from the place where John and the other fanatics were, standing behind the mesh wire fence to watch the game.

"How did she come here?"

Wood was unwilling to explain the matter, so he repeated, "Let me play."

Tang En looked at Wood's resolute expression in his eyes, thought about it, and nodded. "Well, go warm up, you only have three minutes, and then come back to me."