Chapter 217: Adjustments Part 2
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
“Forest team did beautifully.” Taylor, on the viewing platform, praised the home team, who had managed to retain their lead in the first half. “Of course, I’m not referring to their style of football, or the one-point lead they have. In truth, Arsenal’s defensive line has been problematic for the last two rounds, allowing their opponents to score. However, the control Forest has over the pace of the match is telling…”
“…Of a chance to overtake Arsenal!” Gray shouted, without any fear of offending Arsenal’s supporters.
Although Tang En could not hear the praises being sung of him by the two commentators, he could see that Forest had the advantage from the situation on the field. The resounding cheers from the spectators’ stand for Forest team did not stop for a single moment. Even assistant manager David Kerslake, who sat next to him, could not stop smiling as he watched the match. He had not expected results like this, being able to lead by a point and completely restrict their opponents.
But Tang En only frowned joylessly. From time to time, the lens of the camera panned to his face. With that expression, he was sure to mislead anyone who had just switched on their televisions to think that Forest had fallen behind.
With Forest’s current abilities against an opponent like Arsenal, having a one-point lead was not enough to stop Tang En from worrying.
1:0. In Tang En’s opinion, that was the most unstable score possible.
Soon, the main referee blew the whistle signalling the end of the first half amidst the cheers of Forest’s fans. The players from Arsenal hung their heads as they quickly made their way towards the players’ corridor. It was not that they were unhappy with the score. Rather, they were upset that they had remained at a disadvantage throughout the entire first half; that they had been beaten into helplessness by a newly promoted team and been unable to render any effective offense in return. Although they lead the league in their technical ability, a combination of rough fouling, forceful pressing with disregard for stamina, numerous little tricks, and a splash of bias from the referee had forced them into a corner.
Returning to the locker room, Arsenal’s players were panting roughly. They looked even more tired than Forest’s players, who had been running non-stop for the entire first half.
Of course, Wenger did not consider that a sign of a physical issue. He stood in the locker room and scanned his audience. No matter what, the players could not lose their morale.
The Frenchman started speaking. “I thought that the most important match was the previous round of the league.”
He spoke with an even, unhurried tone at a normal volume. It was almost as if he was speaking about something that had nothing to do with himself.
“Do you still remember how painfully we were whacked by Middlesbrough on our home ground? In three minutes, we lost two straight goals and let our opponents overtake us with a score of 1:3. At that point, everyone thought we were goners; that the pressure of trying to level with an undefeated record was too much for us. But what was the final score? 5:3.”
Wenger stretched out his hands, indicating five on his left and three on his right.
“After that match, I thought that you guys had already figured out how to deal with this record thing. We may be Forest’s opponents, but their manager, Tony Twain, said something very true: ‘Records were made to be broken.’ Put your hearts into the match, and don’t think about anything that comes after.”
At that point, Wenger looked at Fàbregas. The Spanish boy was still trying to catch his breath, his head down. It seemed like he was thoroughly pestered by George Wood in the first half.
Wenger asked, “Cesc, what do you think of Number 13?”
In response to the manager’s question, Fàbregas looked up, his breath suddenly becoming steady. He shook his head. “It’s no problem. I can deal with it.”
Wenger smiled and made no move to strike at the youth’s pride. But that was in spite of what he could see; Fàbregas was not performing well in the face of George Wood. Wood surpassed him physically. Perhaps if it was Patrick Vieira playing, the situation would be different. His experience, technique, and fitness would all allow them to regain control of the midfield. Unfortunately, Vieira had gotten injured before the start of the season.
“Good. In the second half, make sure you reduce your time in possession of the ball.”
Fàbregas nodded. It was a first for Fàbregas to be met with such a setback twice in a row against a no-name player like George Wood.
Wenger knew what Fàbregas must be thinking, but said nothing. Instead, he turned to the Captain, Henry, to discuss their successes and failures in the first half. With one watching from the manager’s seat, and the other experiencing the match in the field, both of them had to put their heads together to discuss their thoughts.
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On the other side, the atmosphere in Forest’s locker room was not as exultant as one would expect. Tang En’s brows, which were still tightly furrowed, were noticed by the players coming in. His expression made them unsure if they had done badly in some way, and all of them to quieted down.
Fortunately, Tang En quickly answered their unspoken question. “Do you know why I’m still frowning? You guys did very well, and I should commend you. But I hope you realize that the match still has 45 minutes left. A one-point lead is not much insurance, and after the goal in the first half, we spent put way too much effort into defense. In the next half, we need to make some changes…”
He pointed to the tactical board, which was already drawn up with the formation of both teams.
“Ribéry and Ashley Young. When we’re in possession, I want the two of you to cut inwards and allow Baines and Chimbonda to come up into the wings to pull on the full backs from Arsenal. When you have an opportunity, try to cut in from the sides of the penalty area.”
Tang En drew an arrow as he explained, “Demi, your mission is to send the ball to the same area in their defensive line. If the opponents start taking notice of your position, send the ball straight to the mid path.”
Albertini nodded in affirmation as he looked at the crisscrossing arrows and lines on the tactical board. He felt good about his condition in the match; it should be no problem for him to send out such a ball.
Tang En then looked at Wood and said, “George. When we are attacking, your main priority is to protect Demi. You know what to do, right?”
Wood nodded.
“Excellent. Everyone knows what their target is. Don’t slack! Our opponents are not of a League One team. I hope we can all celebrate a victory together when the match is over!”
Tang En clapped his hands and held up his fist.
“Let those who looked down on us go to hell!”
