Godfather Of Champions

Cash subbed in for Gareth Williams who had used up so much stamina from the seesaw battle with Wimbledon and would not be as efficient if he stayed on the field.

Walker watched Twain sub Cash in and was puzzled. “Tony, I thought you said you do not care for possession and spectacular scenes.”

“Des, no tactic is absolute and no manager would refuse to make changes to them. If he did, he would not be a capable manager. I have said that I do not need unnecessary possession, but the problem now is that we don’t even have basic possession. That is why I sent Cash in, to gain more possession. Zero possession is definitely not going to win, and ‘useless possession’ does not mean to abandon possession completely, but to abandon the extra and redundant possession. Do you understand now?”

Walker hesitated and then nodded. “I think I more or less understand.”

Tang En sighed and was thinking that this was the reason why he had become head manager directly, and why some people had to work hard their entire lives to be an assistant manager. “Des, you have to remember what tactics are for. They are just ways of winning the match. If one fails to work, there is always another one. Just like how we change clothes daily. Maybe one day I will no longer use the useless possession theory and change back to the tactic that focuses on possession.”

“Ah! I got it. It means no matter what the process is, you are just looking at the winning result. As long as you can win, it does not matter which tactic you use.”

Tang En glanced at him. “You finally got it, Des.”

Cash soon created a chance for Johnson to shoot, but sadly, the header was too high. This was followed by loud cheering from the viewing platform, which was mostly for Cash.

The players of Wimbledon tackled the ball frequently while defending, using enormous actions. Perhaps they just wanted to show off their vigor. But this kind of defense was Cash’s favorite.

Tackling frequently meant more empty space behind. Defending with big actions took more time, which meant more weaknesses for Cash to find points to break through.

“Cash! He broke through again! Nicely done!”

After a few more rounds of this, Wimbledon started to put more defense on the right where Cash was. Tang En asked Cash and Reid to cross change their positions once Wimbledon tackled Cash. Cash would go wherever Wimbledon had weaker defense, which included breaking through from the central midfield.

His purpose was to mess up Wimbledon’s defense and make it so that their players could not stick to any of Forest’s players. Cash was still full energy, and it was relatively easy for him to run all over the field.

Wimbledon’s manager felt something needed to be done after a few threats had been imposed by Forest on their goalmouth. To adjust, Murdoch substituted his last player, though unwillingly. Before that, he had already substituted two attacking players, which had created the crazy gang vibe. Now he had to take one out, and in the end he substituted in a tall defending midfielder for Morgan, who had used up his stamina. He hoped that his adjustment could thwart Twain’s attempt to control the midfield.

Tang En knew what Murdoch was thinking when he saw his adjustment. As time went by, it would be ideal for Wimbledon to get one more goal. Especially since they had been down by two at the start and then made a comeback to even the score. One more goal in the end would make it the ultimate win for them.

Tang En was not satisfied with this situation on home ground. Furthermore, after being two goals ahead and then giving up two goals, they could not allow Wimbledon to have another goal. Did such a generous team exist in the world?

He had last the board in his hand, and there were only three players on the substitutes’ bench. They were reserved striker Craig Westcarr, reserved backfield Christian Edwards, and reserved goalkeeper Barry Roche.

Tang En was not confident about Westcarr’s abilities, and he might not help with attacking if he were substituted in. The remaining two were defending players. Goalkeeper Ward had done well today, so there was no need to replace him. What can a substitute center back do?

He turned back and saw Edwards doing warm-ups. He was quite tall…speaking of tallness, Tang En suddenly recalled the match with West Ham when Dawson got a header into the goalmouth that not counted by the stupid referee.

Why can’t this be done?

As a result, he decided to use the last substitute board. He let Edwards sub for Dawson as center back, but did not take the captain off the field. Instead, the exhausted Harewood was subbed out, and Dawson was asked to be the striker.

When Edwards heard about this allocation, he almost thought he heard it incorrectly. Tang En explained it to him clearly and asked him to tell it to Dawson exactly—tell him to compete for a header and try to shoot it in. If not, Dawson could pass to other players.

Edwards told Dawson what Tang En said after he was fielded, and Dawson looked at the side in shock. In turn, Tang En gave him a “go ahead” gesture.

Harewood started to apologize to Twain. “Sorry, Boss.”

Tang En felt strange. “Why are you saying sorry, Marlon?”

“I did not get more goals…”

Tang En smiled. “You already have two. How many more do you want? You have given your best. Please stop thinking so much.”

After Harewood left, Tang En did not go back to the manager’s seats. Instead, he was standing at the side, with his arms folded, watching the match. He always believed that by doing this, he was able to give some confidence and determination to the players. A manager that always sat in the manager’s seats was never a good one.

The time passed by quickly. There was still no change in the score.

“Without the more goals, this match could end on a boring note,” Motson complained.

What he said was true. By how the match was played, it was not very exciting for neutral fans to watch. Most people would switch to another channel if they saw a match like this. However, it was a different story for the fans of the two teams. They didn’t care about which team played better or which showed off better skills. They cared about which team would win in the end.

Just like their fans, Tang En did not bother with whether his team played well. He only cared whether the team could win this match.

Just another five more minutes before the match reached injury stoppage time. Until then, except for substitutions for both teams, there had been no interruptions. Normally, the injury stoppage time would only be three minutes.

One goal needed to be achieved in eight minutes.

The arrival of Dawson at the front caused some confusion for Wimbledon, and sadly they did not grasp the situation. Dawson was not a striker. He did not know shooting besides heading, and both his passing and dribbling were only so-so. Tang En’s decision was rather risky. If they won in the end, then it would be appreciated. However, if they lost… Tang En might be accused of abusing tactics and misusing the allocation.

The football world was just that cruel. The victor is a king, and the defeated is an invader.

Tang En did not want to be the invader. He only wanted to be the king… Who did not want to be the king?

His feet trembled, and he felt a huge pressure threatening to swallow him, waiting to engulf him. He did not show any of this, as he did not want anyone to see his weakness, especially those omnipresent cameras.

Another three minutes had passed. Forest’s fans from the viewing platform were cheering louder and louder, but Wimbledon’s fans were rather silent. Tang En looked at the direction of the viewing platform and saw red arms waving everywhere. The fans have not given up yet, so there was no reason for the Forest team to give up.

“Attack! Attack! I do not want a draw!” Tang En was standing at the side and shouting, “Draw is the same as f*cking losing! Give your all!”

He was not worried that Wimbledon would counterattack, as Eugen Bopp’s performance was too perfect. He had control over the left, the right, and even the midfield, and Wimbledon could not compete with him.

The fourth official was holding the board for stoppage, and it was three minutes, just as Tang En had expected.

Tang En stared at the board in the hands of the fourth official and started biting his lips tightly. The hope was slowing draining from him. If it were a draw, then undoubtedly, it would be a failure. Even with two goals right at the beginning they could not stay ahead… f*cking sh*t!

Tang En turned back and looked at Michael, as he wanted to see his face now. Must be disappointed. He did not win the match with West Ham, and this match would be the same… but what did he see?

“Forest go! Go! Forest! Forest! Forest Go! Go!” Michael and all the other fans were cheering and applauding for Forest. They shouted those words with order and rhythm. Tang En suddenly felt like crying. These were the real, traditional English fans. They were loyal and never ask for anything back. They loved their team more than anything else. Having such fans, what is there to worry about for the future of Forest?

The 90-minute match had reached the end, and injury stoppage time started.

Eugen Bopp tackled and stole the ball away from Wimbledon vigorously, and then passed to Andy Reid. The 20-year-old player had taken charge of the attacking for the match. The newly substituted Norwegian Wimbledon defending midfielder, Trond Andersen, created trouble for Reid. Both were tangled together, and it seemed Forest’s attack was going to be futile again.

The Norwegian kicked fiercely, and there were many times when he kicked directly into Reid’s ankle. Reid would have fallen and rolled on the ground so the opposing team would have gotten cards and he would have gotten a free kick. However, that would not have been helpful at that point. A free kick with a distance from the goalmouth of more than 40 meters was not going to help.

Reid was pissed off by Anderson’s kicks and tried his best to block him. No matter how hard Anderson kicked him, he protected the ball and looked around for other players.

“Cash? Where is he?!”

Cash had seen Reid’s plight, but he could not shout loudly, as that would attract the Wimbledon full back’s attention.

At the same time Bopp had seen the struggle in attacking. Though he was only asked to defend by the head manager, he still decided to help Reid.

“Hey, Andy!” Bopp’s voice came from Reid’s diagonal back. “Pass me the ball!”

Reid could not see his teammates, but he still passed the ball according to the direction of that voice.

With no hesitation, Bopp got the ball and made a long pass immediately to where it should have gone a long time ago—to the right side of the field. Brian Cash rushed over as there was no one stuck to him to defend him, and he stopped the long pass. However, two opposing defenders came over just after Cash stopped the ball.

No one had held any hope for Forest’s attempt to attack this time, except for their fans. Motson spoke in his usual tone and speed for the last three minutes of the match. Who the hell knew whether this was going to be Forest’s last attack?

“Brian Cash, there are two Wimbledon players on him…oh! He went through!”

Again there was loud cheering from the viewing platform. Cash squeezed himself through with the ball. Before him, there was a large empty area!

What to do besides increase his speed now?

Cash kicked the ball forward, not bothering with the opponents behind anymore, as he rushed to the end line.

“Leigertwood tries to defend him, he is very fast, he comes up! Cash… nice!” Motson yelled excitedly.

Cash’s flawless dodge had made Motson, who had been a commentator for 31 years, extremely animated. The Irish guy kicked the ball aside when Leigertwood was about to tackle it. While Leigertwood did not get the ball, Cash jumped up and did a header. After that, he ran after the ball and was almost to the end line.

Tang En watched nervously, and when he saw Cash dodge Leigertwood, he began to repeat one word. “Pass, pass, pass… pass the ball!”

Cash adjusted himself a bit, and as if he had heard Tang En’s shouting, he passed the ball to the front of the goalmouth.

“Cash passes the ball, and Michael Dawson gets it! A header… Johnson…Yes! Yes! Johnson! Gooooal!!!” Motson jumped off his seat with his microphone. “This is a goal at the 90th minute! Last shot! David Johnson! 3:2, Forest!”

The whole City Ground Stadium started to shake when Johnson shot the ball in that had been headed from Dawson. The viewing platform, VIP box, manager’s seats, substitutes’ bench, and even behind the goalmouth… bars outside the stadium, in taxis, in front of the TV… and everywhere, people were jumping around, holding their arms up, and cheering for the victory!

Johnson was surrounded by all his teammates, and even the goalkeeper ran over to celebrate with them. This was their first victory since the 24th league match on the 21st of December last year!

Tan En squatted down with joy and clenched his fist. Then he stood up and looked at the manager’s seats, where Walker hugged Bowyer, and Bowyer’s neat white hair had turned messy. The substituted Jess, Williams, and Harewood jumped down from the substitute’s bench and ran toward their celebrating team. That speed… was not unlike how they had just run on the field.

This was the joy after victory…

“Won! I f*cking won!”

Tang En shouted loudly with extraordinary enjoyment.