Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
When Forest equalized the score, Mourinho sat unmoving on his seat without any expression while the broadcast television gave him a close-up. Mourinho knew that there was going to be a camera turning his way to join in the fuss, so he kept his facial expression unchanged, not giving the TV station or commentators anything to talk about.
Even so, John Motson and Lineker, watching the scene from the broadcasting seats, could not stop laughing.
Tang En’s celebration at the sidelines was highly exaggerated. Mourinho, who was nearby, simply treated him like he was invisible, looking straight ahead without giving him a glance.
More than ten minutes ago, the two were in the exact same situation but with reversed roles.
Because of that, the scene seemed irrepressibly funny no matter how one looked at it.
With the restart of the match, both parties resumed some sort of balance. A stalemate in the field. Neither side was able to break through; in fact, neither side was willing to try and break through. They were only left with a few minutes before halftime. Neither intended to waste their energy on these last few minutes. Compared to their usual matches, this was much tougher.
Neither of the two managers said anything about making use of the last moments in the first half to go at their opponents. Tang En, who had celebrated the goal, continued standing by the sidelines while Mourinho stayed on the manager’s seat, not getting up.
The match time proceeded to its 45th minute, and the referee blew the ending whistle for its first half.
“1:1! It’s a very fair score. In the first half, both teams had their chances and took them. The performances of all the players were excellent. This matches our predictions from before the match. It is indeed turning out to be an exciting and intense match.”
“John, I think we can regard this as a rule. As long it’s Mourinho and Tony Twain’s teams clashing, it’s hard for it not to be this exhilarating.”
※※※
The members of Forest swarmed into the locker room. Ribéry started shouting, “Clothes off! Clothes off!”
With half the match past, it was a common occurrence for players to take off their sweat-sodden jerseys and change into their spare, fresh ones; but Ribéry’s purpose for shouting was certainly not that.
“Singlet, singlet… Wes, marker.”
Ribéry took the marker from Morgan and bent over the players’ bench, writing a line of words on the singlets, starting with his own.
The others gathered behind him, watching as he wrote on every one of their singlets.
Anelka made no motion to stop them, even when he saw them writing and drawing on his.
Their captain, George Wood, handed over a white singlet when it came to his turn, stumping Ribéry momentarily.
“George? I thought you didn’t ever wear this?”
“If I don’t wear it, where will you write?” Wood asked with furrowed brows.
Ribéry chuckled. “What a pity. We planned to write on your stomach.”
Laughter rippled through the locker room.
Tang En was met with that scene as he pushed the door open and entered the locker room. The players were all huddled in a circle. George Wood was standing in the middle while Ribéry was half sprawled on the floor. Everyone other than George Wood, including Albertini and Anelka who rarely laughed, was chuckling in delight.
“What’s going on?” Tang En was interested too.
Hearing his words, the group turned to look at him. Ribéry stood up from the ground.
“Boss, this is your fault.”
“My fault?” Tang En was completely confused.
“You knew that the Romani was coming to watch this match, right?” Ribéry asked.
“Yeah, but I wanted to give you guys a surprise, so I only told you before the match.”
“Look,” Ribéry said, opening his hands up. “We’re utterly unprepared. If you had told us a day earlier, we wouldn’t need to be writing on our singlets right now…”
The crowd parted, and Tang En finally saw what they were busy with. Their white singlets all had “Recover soon, we’re waiting for you, Freddy!” written on them with a marker.
He rubbed his nose, feeling a little abashed.
“If I could have lifted up my jersey up like this when I scored earlier!” Ribéry said, making the motion of flipping up his jersey, “Freddy would have seen it! Alas…”
“Eh… it’s not like we won’t be scoring in the second half. At that point, you can lift it!” Tang En said, also following-up with the motion to flip up his shirt.
“He’s just above us, and he’ll still be there in the second half. He won’t be leaving before the match ends.” Tang En pointed at the ceiling. “So, until the whistle signals the end of the match, you will all have the chance to let him see the words.”
Everyone agreed with Tang En and nodded.
“You’re right, Boss.” Ribéry stooped again and wrote the same line on Wood’s singlet. Regardless of if they were on the field or sitting on the substitutes’ bench, everyone had the same line written on their clothes.
Wood stood beside Ribéry, peering down quietly as Ribéry worked through their singlets.
Tang En was more curious about the other aspect of the matter. He asked, “Franck, which one of you came up with this idea?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
Ribéry was busy with the writing and answered Tang En’s question without looking up.
“When I scored the goal, everyone came running over to celebrate. We felt we should show something to Freddy, but we had nothing underneath our jerseys. So, we thought we might as well write one.”
“Good…” Tang En nodded.
“Go busy yourselves, stop standing around.” With a wave of his hand, the players obediently moved back to their lockers and started changing, slipping the singlets over their heads.
While they were doing that, Tang En started talking about their gains and losses over the first half.
“Great job, everyone. Even though the loss of that first goal took me a little by surprise…” Without asking the players to stop what they were doing to listen, Tang En leaned on the front of the tactical board and casually continued. “But, our goal also certainly surprised Mourinho a lot.”
Chuckles filled the locker room.
“Keep playing this way in the second half. But, you two fullbacks…” Tang En said, pointing to Chimbonda and Leighton Baines, “Don’t move in too fast when you’re defending.”
The two nodded. Chimbonda understood that the ball loss was in no small part because of him.
“Other than that, I don’t have much to say. Overall, your performance was excellent. I can’t find any problems even if I scrutinize it with a magnifying glass. Are you guys this thrilled about going up against the number one team in the League? Against a team who’s had a no-loss streak for 10 matches?”
“Yes!”
“That’s right, Boss!”
“Good. Keep this momentum going. In 45 minutes, let’s come back here to celebrate a victory!” Tang En said, pointing to the spot beneath his feet.
※※※
In contrast with Tang En’s light-heartedness, Mourinho’s current expression was extremely stern.
In truth, the situation of a draw now was not bad. However, Mourinho’s expression would probably be somewhat better if Chelsea had been the one to equalize the score at the end. Right now, he had to walk off the field feeling like he was the loser.
The truth was that his team had not performed badly; they were at their usual standards. But, who had asked for his opponent in this match to be Tony Twain? Mourinho was completely unwilling to be at a disadvantage against that man.
Mourinho stood before his players and raised a single finger.
“In reality, Forest’s midfield defense consists of George Wood alone. But, our offense is not pressuring him much. He’s relaxed in the midfield, and we can’t have that! He’s the core of Forest’s defense. I am requesting that everyone pile even more pressure on him. Continue charging at him and creating trouble for him from all positions! Left wing, right wing, center…”
He turned to the tactical board behind him and quickly drew three lines. “When George Wood collapses, it’s not just their rear defense that will collapse; it’s also their offense. Just look what happened when they did not have Wood; they could not even beat Lille!”
“Additionally…” Mourinho suddenly recalled something. “According to what I know, George Wood doesn’t have a good temperament. If you can… find some way to do him in.”
Drogba whistled.
※※※
At the end of halftime, Mourinho held back Lampard, who was walking out.
“When I said to do George Wood in earlier, did you think it was a joke?”
Lampard was stunned, not expecting that a question from Mourinho. He deliberated about how he should answer but finally shook his head.
“No, Boss.”
Mourinho nodded.
“Good. I’m not joking. You know why I pulled you back to speak with you alone, right?”
Lampard nodded. “I know.”
“In this match, you have the most face-to-face interactions with him. You spend the longest with him… How much do you know about Wood?”
“I’ve heard some things about him. Just like you said, Boss. His temper isn’t good.”
Mourinho nodded as Lampard spoke. “Yes. Find a way to provoke him.”
※※※
The second half began. All of Forest’s players wore the singlets with “Recover soon, we are waiting for you, Freddy!” on them, and worked diligently towards getting their second goal.
Because of Tang En’s words, they suddenly had a new aim that was just as important as winning the match.
“He’s just above us, and he’ll still be there in the second half. He won’t be leaving before the match ends. So, until the whistle signals the end of the match, you will all have the chance to let him see the words.”
They must score!
