Chapter 232: Going Toe-to-Toe Part 2
Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Crouch was the tallest point on the field for Forest. Since Tang En was prepared to launch a counter-attack at any moment after a corner kick, Crouch did not usually have to return to the penalty area to defend them. Now that Piqué was not around, however, Tang En could only get Crouch, who was still not too good with headers, to guest-play as Center Back.
Center Back Terry, who was team Captain, encouraged his teammates with a raised fist as he ran towards the penalty area. “Guys! They have the same numbers as us now. This is a perfect chance, don’t waste it!”
Albertini too raised his voice to bolster his teammates. It was too bad that he was only improving slowly in English and could not speak in long sentences. He could only shout a few simple phrases and words, “Defend! Pay attention to your opponents! Suppress them!”
Among the crowd of players, George Wood kept a close eye on the black man with a head of braided hair. Since Piqué was not here, Wood naturally assumed Drogba was the target he needed to mark during this corner kick. Since their entrance into the Premier League, in the six matches that they had played, Wood felt that he had barely had any competition in the aspect of his physical capabilities. It was only in this match that Drogba made him feel some strain. Wood understood that he did not have good technique. He never competed technically with his opponents, but heavily prized the physical game with them. He felt that that was a crucial factor in how he had become a core player for Forest.
Now that Wood had met with an opponent who managed to make him feel strained, he did not feel dejection or fear. Rather, it made him a little excited. In the depths of his heart, he felt a rising fervor for truly going at it; a thirst to have a showdown with this man. Earlier, it was mainly Piqué defending Drogba while he assisted. Also, with Drogba as a Forward, his position clashed directly with Piqué, who played Center Back. Wood had had no good opportunity then.
Since Piqué was not around, his opportunity was here.
He leaned forward heavily. Drogba, feeling someone behind him, twisted back, catching Wood’s chest with his elbow. If Wood had been an experienced player, he would have gone with it and dropped to the ground in pretense. But Wood did not care about that. He took Drogba’s action as a reply to his challenge and butted forward again without relenting.
When Drogba felt the pressure steeply increase instead of decrease, he knew that his opponent was onto him. He then threw his shoulder back, hoping to squeeze Wood out of his own position.
Wood did not pull with his hands but went sideways in an attempt to get to Drogba’s front and box him out to stop him from jumping to receive the ball. However, in a physical fight, Wood could not get an edge and Drogba stayed firmly in front of him without budging.
Their entanglement quickly aroused the attention of the referee, and he whistled to stop Joe Cole from taking the corner shot. He ran to the front of the goalpost and pointed at Drogba and Wood, signaling with his hands for them to separate.
“Watch yourselves!” Poll sternly warned the two.
Drogba raised his hands in innocence, implying that it was Wood who had come rushing at him. Meanwhile, George Wood was glaring at him without paying heed to Poll. Of course, the two separated, about two fingers’ widths apart.
After warning them, Poll retreated out of the penalty area and signaled for Joe Cole to take his kick.
As soon as Poll left, Drogba and Wood got into each other’s space again. Their actions just looked less intense than before, with the two quietly putting their backs into it.
At the whistle, Joe Cole took a run and sent out a quick, level ball, flying straight to the corner near the goal where Drogba was!
Both of them jumped at nearly the same time, but as Drogba jumped, he leaned back slightly and pressed down on George Wood, who was unprepared. With Drogba pressing down on him, Wood could not use his strength or jump high, not to mention trying to contest for the header against his opponent.
With the ball in front of his forehead and no interference, Drogba flung his head to hit the ball into the goal!
This time, the goalpost was not on Darren Ward’s side, and the ball barrelled into the net!
“It’s GOOOAL! Beautiful! Chelsea’s relentless efforts are being rewarded! Just four minutes before entering injury stoppage time in the first half, they scored an equalizer! Drogba is terrifying! He stood at a complete advantage in his fight with George Wood himself! What a beast!”
After scoring, Drogba had no interest in looking back at the losers. He opened his arms wide and ran towards the corner flag, hugging Joe Cole, who had assisted in his attack. Behind them were a flock of Chelsea’s players.
In the misty drizzle, Chelsea’s fans on the away stands frantically waved their fists in celebration. From a penalty kick right at the beginning with a red card that took down a player, to the evened score now, they could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
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“Bloody hell!” Tang En, enraged by the loss of the ball, swung his foot in a kick, accidentally sending a bottle of mineral water near his legs flying.
The bottle fell into Chelsea’s technical area with a loud thud and startled José Mourinho who was celebrating the goal. The water spilled and got all over his pants.
Tang En, however, did not see where the bottle had landed. He had immediately turned to walk back to the technical area.
Mourinho thought that Tang En was purposefully provoking him, grew angry. With a kick, he knocked the bottle back to Twain!
Both managers had good footwork; Tang En had kicked it exactly to where José Mourinho stood, and Mourinho also knocked the bottle back to Tang En’s feet. A thud sounded again, and Tang realized with surprise that the bottle he had sent flying had returned to him. He then heard someone yelling at him from behind.
With a turn, he saw José Mourinho’s unhappy face. The man pointed at him and was saying something, but with the stadium so noisy that Tang En could not hear a thing.
Between the blend of cheers from the away fans and jeers from the home team fans, who could possibly understand Mourinho’s weird accent?
So Tang En put his hands to his ears and turned sideways, indicating that he could not hear clearly. Mourinho took this as a clear sign of provocation. Was he pretending to be a mute?
“What’s happening on the sidelines?” The voices of the commentators sounded even more excited and enthusiastic than when Drogba had scored the goal. “It’s José Mourinho and Tony Twain! It looks like something happened between them. Let’s look at the replay… Beautiful! Tony Twain’s twist and volley got the first point for Forest team, but José Mourinho immediately returned with a screw kick! 1:1, the score is even for now. What an exciting match, both on and off the field!”
Just as both managers were about to snatch the limelight from the goal scorers, the fourth official came forward and wedged himself between the two, who looked ready to jump at each other’s throats, warning them. “Gentlemen, please be aware of your own identities. You are the managers of your teams and have to present yourselves as good examples to the players.”
“Of course. I am simply demonstrating to my players how to send the ball into the opponent’s goal,” Tang En said with a slanted grin, shrugging his shoulders carelessly.
“Mr. Twain…”
“Yes, and I was telling my players how to effectively equalize the score. As you can see, my example had the right effect, Sir.” Mourinho shot back, glaring at Tang En as he replied.
“Mr. Mourinho!”
Faced with the two most charismatic managers in the league, the fourth official felt a headache coming on. He had no choice but to bring out his trump card. “I’m warning you again! This is a match. You are the manager. Please be aware of the kind of influence you have with your actions! I hope you will keep your calm and stay reserved. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to allow the referee to invite you into the spectators’ stands.” He pointed into the stands, which were filled with red.
The threat was effective and both of them backed down, at least in appearance. They uncrossed their arms, indicating they would stop.
“Good. I hope the two of you can cooperate with me. Now, please return to your seats.”
Tang En shot a glance at Mourinho and walked away. At the same time, Mourinho also turned back toward the technical area, continuing his celebration of Drogba’s goal with the players on the substitutes’ bench. In his bickering with Tang En, he had not been on the losing end. And his team had just evened the score on the field. Mourinho, with his good mood, wanted to purposely show off his excitement in front of his opponent, Tang En, to anger him.
Immediately after his return to the manager’s seat, Tang En’s face darkened. It was even darker than the sky, which was raining down a drizzle.
“Damn it! Bastard! I knew it… I knew something would happen! We got suppressed by Chelsea for 25 minutes but couldn’t do anything about it!”
“Including the injury stoppage time, there’s still about six minutes before the end of the first half,” Kerslake reported.
“Mmm… Remind the players to keep up with the original pace of the match and not to let this ball affect their performance.” Tang En plopped into the chair. He would just get the assistant coach to do that. Now that he was in a bad mood, he was worried he would affect the players.
“We’ll make adjustments at halftime…”
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While everyone’s attention was captured by the clash between the two managers on the sidelines, George Wood sat on the wet ground and watched Chelsea’s players, who were celebrating.
He had lost in his showdown with Drogba. That feeling… it felt like his heart had become hollow in an instant. All of his team’s hard work had gone down the drain with his failure. Although his face showed nothing, he felt terrible inside, as if he had not completed his mission. He must have also disappointed his mother, who was watching the match at home.
At that moment, a person approached him with a hand out. It was a hand donned with the Captain’s armband.
“Get up. The match isn’t over.”
Wood did not take the hand Albertini had offered, and chose to stand on his own.
“George, wait till you have actually lost the match before getting dejected and unfocused. For now, let’s just keep going.” Albertini patted Wood’s strong shoulders and walked together toward the center circle.
Wood said nothing and nodded.
