Godfather Of Champions 593 A Messenger from Hell

Things were far from good.

It would be nothing to Twain if they had just conceded a goal. He had experienced many games in which they trailed behind in the beginning, not to mention it had only been twelve minutes. There was still a lot of time to recover.

But if the team's overall performance was out of character, he would have a headache for a while.

Hell's home ground truly lived up to its name.

He decided to stand up and be on the sidelines to give the players confidence and encouragement to calm them down. If he were to still sit in the technical area with his legs crossed, then it would not be the opponent who felt off, but his own players.

He leaned forward and moved outside.

Having just left the shelter of the technical area, Twain caught a glimpse of a dark shadow from the corner of his eye that flew from behind him and fell to the ground. He instinctively looked down and found a lighter.

Before he could look up, a second piece and a third object fell. This time, it was a coin and... a cell phone!

Twain was in shock. Not because the fans threw junk down, but there were actually fans crazy enough to throw their phones away! I used to think that throwing a pig's head was appalling enough. What these fellows threw... Twain took a look and discovered that it was an Apple iPhone and with a red case... Maybe it was flung down by a pretty fan.

Twain leaned over to pick up the phone. He wanted to remove the case and take out the SIM card from the phone, but he obviously could not lower his head to study the object. It would be noticed if he took any longer. Therefore, he just threw the phone back to the technical area. He made a gesture to keep the phone to a confused-looking Dunn. Then, he just disregarded the dense rain of objects that fell from behind him.

Did he need to make adjustments?

No, there was no need to adjust anything. Any psychological problems could not be adjusted on such a noisy sideline.

Twain stood there, hoping to bring confidence and calm to the players on the field to settle them. He wanted to let them see him as soon as they turned their heads, knowing that he, as the manager, was always with his team.

There was more and more junk landing at his feet. They were mainly coins of various denomination and a variety of lighters, in addition to mineral water bottles and bottle caps.

Nonetheless, Twain continued to stand on the sidelines. He neither looked back at the Turkish fans who threw the things nor complained to the fourth official. He hoped that his action would make it clear to his players that complaining about the other team's fanaticism might be a good excuse for them to use after they lost the game, but it should not affect them.

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Beşiktaş took advantage of the situation, hoping to score another goal to completely crush the Forest team.

In the roars of the Turkish fans, the Forest team played in a sorry state, exhausted from running around. Even when they put their full force in defense, holes still appeared. They could not organize any attacks.

Beşiktaş's offensive features were playing short passes, concentrating their forces in the middle and front field. Their defenders liked to rush forward, and their striker's range of play was wide enough to rip apart his opponent's defenses and create scoring opportunities for his teammates who plugged in from behind. As a result, Beşiktaş was not a team that depended on the striker to score but relied on the entire team. They tended to put in five to six players in front of the box to create scoring opportunities.

Because they dared to put their players on the attack and press in boldly, coupled with the atmosphere, there was a feeling that Beşiktaş' attacks were endless, had more developments, imposing momentum, and energy. They believed the Forest team players also thought so. They were overwhelmed by Beşiktaş' multi-point offensive strategy, and were being led from left to right, and then to the middle. Nothing could be done except to run back and forth to lift the siege. What about their offense? They should pray that they would not continue to concede goals!

After he watched for about five minutes, Twain's brows had tightened until he could not knit his brows any more and he turned all the energy into an angry roar. "George! What are you running around for? Organize the defense for me! Don't run with the ball! Are you all dizzy from the f**king boos?!"

No wonder Twain was so angry. Nottingham Forest was most proud of their defense, especially the overall defense. Once the Forest team's overall defense had entered the zone, it was like a dangerous jungle shrouded in layers of fog. Any opponent that came in would lose all sense of direction, and fall into a quagmire that they could not extricate themselves from. When the overall team formation was well-maintained and able to advance and retreat orderly, the Forest team's defensive formation would not become a mess, no matter how the opponent dispatched, thereby minimizing the flaws.

Looking at the current situation, the Forest team's defensive formation was completely messed up by the opponent's multi-point attack strategy. George Wood had a good stamina. He ran from left to right and sprinted up and down. But defense was not a one-man job. The Forest team's defense had always been an integral defense. He alone could not replace the other nine players no matter how good he was.

The Beşiktaş manager was also inspired by that goal. He instructed Delgado to make Wood run without playing as the actual offense core. He just feinted a few times to make space for his teammates to attack.

Therefore, Twain wanted to get his players to pull together the defensive line again.

However, he had just raised the volume of his voice before he was drowned out by the home fans' deafening boos.

Relying on his perverse stamina, George Wood stubbornly gave chase to a ball that did not belong to the Forest team. Although he did not stop and rushed out of the sidelines, he managed to use the sole of his foot to kick the football back in that instant.

Following that, the Forest team launched a fast attack. They finally struck Beşiktaş' box. Van Nistelrooy's shot deviated under the close marking of the opposing defender, Gökhan Zan.

When the football brushed the post to fly out, the hissing at İnönü stadium lessened slightly. A number of Beşiktaş fans held their breath due to this shocking moment and forgot to boo the opponent.

It was the quietest moment in the stadium since the start of the game.

"Twenty-seven minutes have passed since the game started and Nottingham Forest picked up their first shot... That's pathetic. Any team who is visiting Turkey will feel the pain and I believe Tony Twain has felt it. His team has no chance in face of the strong home team and fans. This was the second time they reached the opposing thirty-meter zone in the entire game and their first shot on the goal, compared to Beşiktaş' seven shots and four proper aims." The commentator smacked his lips. Such a wide disparity in the statistics did not fully reflect the extent of Beşiktaş' advantage in the game.

Twain found that his shouted words had no effect in such a noisy environment because the players on the field could not hear them at all. It would be useless even if he shouted until his voice became hoarse, nor could he go find a megaphone to shout through.

"This motherf**king home ground!" Twain swore, but he soon returned to calm. He could only take advantage of when the football went out of bounds, both sides had a foul or when the game was paused to pull aside the Forest players nearest to him and quickly give instructions so that they could relay to their other teammates.

The method was a bit laborious, but it was also considered a normal means. While watching a football game, one could often see managers pulling their players on the sidelines for a quick talk, while the players nodded and drank water. They would head back to the field after a few mouthfuls of water. Sometimes it was an adjustment for a single player, and at other times it was for the entire team, such as now.

By getting the players nearer to the sidelines to act as messengers, Twain finally told his thoughts to everyone on the field.

After Nottingham Forest managed to withstand Beşiktaş' frantic offensive at the goal, the situation gradually stabilized. As the score had not changed any further, it showed that they did not play as poorly and pathetically as everyone thought.

They trailed by one goal. There was still a chance to turn things around.

The Forest team's defensive system was re-established under the combined efforts of Edwin van der Sar and George Wood, as well as Ayala.

The rest of the game became boring.

Nottingham Forest solidified their defense. If they did not have a very good chance to fight back, they would not press on. They would defend to the death. Their target was to not concede another goal.

Beşiktaş single-mindedly wanted to score again. The defenders and midfielders took turns plugging in. Their frequent attacks made the action livelier, but if someone were to calm down and look closely, they would find that most of their offense ended in front of the box, either ended, or ruined by the Forest team's defense. There was little chance of penetrating the Forest team's penalty area and threatening Edwin van der Sar.

What did that imply?

It suggested that Beşiktaş' strength was not as obvious as the statistics predicted. The feverish home advantage overstated it. So, in that case, there were still plenty of opportunities in this game.

Twain calmed down and returned to the technical area. The raining lighters and coins gradually stopped.

Twain did not forget to pick up a few Turkish coins and lighters from the ground. He fiddled with them in his hands.

Kerslake thought it was strange and asked, "what did you pick up these things for, Tony?"

"I thought I might as well pick up some free souvenirs from the Turkey trip." Twain showed the few Lira of coins in his hands. "And this is an official souvenir of the Beşiktaş club..." He picked up another metal lighter with the Beşiktaş emblem on its surface.

Kerslake could not help smiling wryly when saw. "We are behind and you're still in the mood to collect souvenirs..." His voice trailed off, because he saw Dunn hand a red iPhone to Twain. "Is this a souvenir as well?"

Twain took it and nodded at Kerslake. "Sort of."

Kerslake looked back at grandstand behind him. "Why didn't anyone throw a gold watch and a diamond ring?"

"Don't even dream of it, David." Twain smiled and punched Kerslake. Then he pointed to the field. "We're behind, but I'm not worried at all right now. Because Beşiktaş is just a paper tiger. All reactionaries are just paper tigers. There is nothing to be afraid of. But now it's too noisy here, a lot of things can't be said. I'll tell them all about my plans in the locker room at halftime."

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Amid the deafening cheers from the Turkish fans, the referee's halftime whistle was almost drowned out. Everyone knew the first half of the game was over based on his hand signal. With their one-goal advantage, the home team contentedly walked off the field with puffed-up chests as they accepted the cheers of their supporters.

The Nottingham Forest players ran quickly to the tunnels with their heads down to avoid the debris that could be thrown from the stands at any time while they thought about going back early to get farther away from the hell. Twain was the last to enter the tunnel. He stood on the sidelines, subjected to the drizzle of debris. He watched everyone return to the locker room before he got up to leave. At the mouth of the tunnel, he ran into the opposing manager, Sağlam.

Twain did not understand a word of the stream of Turkish that the other man babbled to him, but he remained polite with a smile on his face. Sağlam turned around and walked into the tunnel. Twain followed. He did not really have to understand Turkish to roughly comprehend what he said.

He was familiar with it from the expression of his face as he often had that expression on his face.

It was understandable that he strutted on his own home ground with so many people shouting and cheering that his team was on a roll.

However, there was an old Chinese saying, "he who laughs last, laughs the best." The gentleman clearly did not know.

With forty-five minutes to go, it was still undetermined who would win or lose.

Twain's guess was pretty close. After he bumped into Twain, Sağlam suddenly thought of the insult he received at the press conference the day before the game. Furthermore, with his team in the lead, he decided to mock Twain. He did not expect Twain to understand Turkish. He purely wanted to vent.

Didn't you play the big shot and put on airs, Englishman? Who's ahead now? Our Beşiktaş!

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The door of the locker room opened. The noise outside rushed in and immediately disappeared after as the door was closed.

The players were startled by the change in the sound. They looked up at the man standing at the door. It was their pillar and the true spiritual leader of this team, Tony Twain.

The expression on this man's face was not friendly.

"You greatly disappoint me. The atmosphere of the City Ground stadium is famous for being crazy in England. Don't tell me that Nottingham Forest, who has toughened in this kind of atmosphere, can be so vulnerable?" Twain's opening remarks were simple and straightforward, jumping directly to the subject. "Look at your performances in the first half, it's not much different from dog sh*t. The only difference is dog sh*t doesn't run around."

Twain could be merciless when he wanted to scold people, whether he was scolding reporters, opponents, or his own men. He was so sharp and unkind that it caused people to feel a dull pain in the bones. Therefore, the only way to not be scolded was to always be on his good side.

"Your performance slightly improved in the last ten minutes. But that's not enough. If you want to get out of this damn place with three points, your little bit of performance is far from enough." Twain wagged his right index finger and suddenly raised his voice. "You have to play better! I stood on the sidelines and look what those Turkish bastards threw at me." He pulled out the coins and lighters from his pockets and showed them to the players. If he had let it hit the back of his head, he would have surely been bruised and bleeding. "But I stood there, completely ignoring such provocations and demonstrations! What's the big deal! If you can win the game, even if those idiots take the stadium stands and hurl them down, I'm not going to f**king hide! You must show such courage! The enemy wants us to be afraid and raise our hands in surrender so that they can overcome us effortlessly and humiliate us. But it exposes their weaknesses at the same time. The Beşiktaş players are not as good as their performance. You find them difficult to deal with because of the illusion the cheers of the fans brought!"

"They can't even get in our box. Other than their long shot, their attacks were destroyed by us because such an attack is too weak! What's there to be afraid of! Why are they so rampant? It's not because our defense isn't doing well enough. In fact, it can't actually be any better. It's because our offense is weaker than theirs!" Twain began to draw the formations of both teams on the tactical board. He drew straight lines from the circles representing the Beşiktaş defenders to the front. "Their defenders are very fond of pressing in to get involved in the offense, whether they're the full-back or center-back. And they don't have wingers. Once the two side midfielders get inside our three defensive zones, they break through into the box by cutting inside from the flanks or passing the ball to the middle. That way, it pushes our defense back into the middle and creates enough space for their two full-backs to plug in and assist."

"But, at the same time?" Twain used a marker to circle around Beşiktaş' half of the field and then dotted it with force. "Their space here... is empty! Large swathes of no-man's land with countless defensive holes. As long as our offense can get over there, that's our damn golden opportunity! But it was such a shame that I barely saw any decent offensive in the first half that could take advantage of this empty area." Twain threw the marker and clapped his hands. "You only thought about how to defend against the opponent's offense, but you did not think about how to make use of their offense to help our defense. The best defense is a good offense. You're getting tired of hearing that, aren't you? It's something that regular fans keep saying, but do you know the true meaning? As long as we fire up our offense and launch one or two threatening attacks, we can make them back off and greatly reduce pressure on the back field. Our offense will press ahead and have the guts to put in the force. That's 'the best defense is a good offense!'"

"If you want to shut up the 20,000 idiots out there, step up your offense in the second half. You must be firm and do everything you can to get the football to the front, whether it's a pass or a personal breakthrough. In addition, in the face of such enormous pressure, I want everyone to keep their heads clear. I do not want to see unnecessary mistakes." Twain glanced at Lennon. If the kid had not been a hothead in the first half, how would the Forest team have been caught off guard by their opponents?

If it were a score of 0:0, it would have been Beşiktaş trotting off the field dejectedly, not Nottingham Forest.

Lennon knew that Twain had to have been talking about him, so he bowed his head.

"Why did we use the 4-1-4-1 formation? Why did I line up two attacking midfielders in the middle, instead of two defensive midfielders to play 4-2-3-1? While this is a defensive counterattack, the real key is not 'defense' but 'counterattack.' We were suppressed in the first half so we could only play defense. We must counterattack in the second half! I can't believe you guys are not infuriated after being crushed like that. Do you want to see the Turks say 'The European champion is crushed under our feet' after the game? I don't f**king want to!"

Twain brandished his hands and then looked at the watch. "There are still a few minutes. Take a break. You can listen to soothing light music, think of your warm home, your beautiful wives and girlfriends to ease your hearts." He waved his arm and drew a circle in the air, as if the players' emotions could be soothed with it. "Hey... Are you really scared? Do you need any psychological intervention?" He asked and glared. "Oh... can't be? We're not playing football in Iraq!"

His exaggerated expression and the great contrast in his words before and after triggered a burst of laughter from the people in the locker room.

"No one's scared, boss!"

Twain nodded and continued, "Good that you're not scared... Anyway, if you feel a little soft in your legs when you get back on the field and hear the deafening boos, you just think about how if we lose this game, there will countless people waiting to tear our corpses apart and no one will sympathize with us. They will only laugh and ridicule us with gusto. And we won't even have the right to refute it! Because we're the losers! Losers have no rights!"

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When the Forest players returned to the field, the banner that read "Welcome to Hell" was still there, but no one looked at it anymore.

The Nottingham Forest players suddenly remembered one thing, which they had forgotten in the first half because the game was too intense.

If this was really hell, then their boss was a the devil.

Chapter end