71 The Footsteps of English Premier League Part 2 (1/2)

Chapter 71: The Footsteps of English Premier League Part 2

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

At the Sheffield United substitutes bench, Warnock walked back and said to a substitute player sitting on the bench, ”Are you ready? You're going out to play.”

”Yes, boss.” The man stood up and took off his jacket, exposing the alternating red and white of the Sheffield United home jersey; the name on the back read Jack Lester.

He came down from the substitutes' bench, stood on the sidelines, and waited for the fourth official to bring him onto the field.

Tang En felt strange seeing a player that he had once coached standing on the sideline in his opponent's jersey, playing against him. The two men stood no more than two meters apart. He frequently glanced at Lester, who was standing on the sidelines, but Lester did not seem to see him. He just stared at the field.

Tang En looked at Lester, and then at Warnock again. What did that old man have in mind with bringing on a striker?

”Hey, Jack.” Twain decided to take the initiative to talk to Lester. They had not had a chance to say hello before the game. It should be fine to have a little chat now, and try to figure out what the opposing manager was planning.

Lester looked back at Twain and smiled. ”Sir, I didn't expect to meet you under these circumstances.”

”Yeah, I didn't expect to either. Hey, Jack, why is Neil bringing you on? You already have two forwards, and their performances aren't bad.”

”Obviously, it's so I can beat your team, sir.” Lester winked, ”As you said before, one has to be worthy of every penny one earns.”

Tang En rubbed his head. He had not expected to be tripped up by his own words. ”Yes, you're right. We are rivals now… damn opponents!” He lightly swore the last bit as he walked back to his seat.

Jack Lester was brought on to replace Peschisolido, who had scored a goal. He did well, even though he was thirty-two years old. Although he had scored a goal, Warnock clearly did not consider him enough of a threat to Dawson to stay on the field. He needed someone who knew more about the Forest team's defense system to charge and attack. And that person was Jack Lester.

For Sheffield United's substitution, Twain made no adjustments. He sat quietly and watched the game. The situation had not shown any signs of worsening, and he was not required to do anything.

But the dark clouds in his mind were gathering more and more, and pressure was building up in his chest.

”Michael Brown! 2:3! Sheffield United scored in the 68th minute!” Motson screamed. Next to him Mark Lawrenson was dancing for joy.

Motson's voice rang out again just three minutes later. ”Steve Kabba! It's incredible, Sheffield United equalized the score! Nottingham Forest has suffered a heavy blow!”

Lawrenson saw that he had hope of keeping his beard, so he was in the mood to give a point-by-point commentary on the Forest team conceding.

”Scimeca's ability is limited. A defensive midfielder fundamentally cannot withstand Sheffield United's offense at all. It had looked like they were playing 5-3-2 formation after Warnock brought off Michael Tonge, but in fact, the formation was 3-5-2 during their attack. The two full backs on the wings pressed on to become midfielders. The intense pressure of five midfielders was not something that Scimeca could bear alone. Once the midfield defensive barrier was lost, Michael Dawson's defensive line was directly confronted with wave after wave of offense, and was unable to stop it. Twain ignored Michael Brown, and now he has paid the price!”

Twain looked at the Sheffield United players, cheering and celebrating the goal. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. In less than ten minutes, the situation on the field had changed so much. What was going on? He was afraid of falling into Warnock's trap, and had tried every possible means to avoid it; but in the end he was still trapped, and was sinking deeper and farther.

He glanced at Warnock and found that the other man was looking at him too. As the two men looked at each other, Warnock shrugged with a smile and turned away without another glance at him.

Tang En felt a burst of fury explode in his chest.

I was tricked! Duped by this damned old man!

Starting with the steady performance of losing two goals in the first half, the old man had been pretending all along, including a half-time handshake. It was all an act, to make him think that Warnock was plotting something and make him paranoid, and then force him to walk into another trap he had set.

He brought off Michael Tonge to trick him into replacing Bopp, thus cutting down one defensive midfielder and reducing the defensive pressure on their midfield. He knew that Twain did not attach too much importance to Michael Brown, who appeared to be a defensive midfielder, so he used him to organize offense. One of those two goals one was personally scored by Brown, and he had instigated the other one. He was the real core of Sheffield United for this match! Tonge was just a decoy!

Tang En was furious! He had always enjoyed the thrill of using manipulative tactics against his opponents, but never thought he would play into someone else's hands. As much as he loathed to do so, Tang En had to admit he was young and inexperienced compared to the 54-year-old Neil Warnock. The difference between the two of them was twenty years of experience.

Twain's bad luck did not seem to be over, and he was doomed to exhaust all the luck from his previous winning streak in this crucial game. The Forest team fell into a panic after Sheffield United equalized the score. Their main right back, John Thompson, twisted his ankle during a desperate fight with Steve Kabba, and was unable to continue in the game.

”Son of a b**ch!” When he saw the team doctor, Fleming, shake his head towards him, Twain swore in frustration. He turned to look at the bench; one of the five substitutes had been used, with four left.

Eventually, Twain's gaze rested on a young-looking kid.

”James, go warm- damn it, there's no time for you to warm up. You have to go play for me now!” He grabbed the kid from the bench and pushed him to the sidelines. ”Just do what you did during training!”

Apart from that, he really did not know how to brief the 17-year-old on what he should pay attention to for his debut on the field. James Biggins was a right back, who was only arranged by Twain to make up the numbers in the substitutes' bench for the game. He had not anticipated that he would receive his first chance to represent the First Team.

Seeing the kid trembling as he ran onto the field, Tang En did not have very high expectations of him; he was helpless too.

One had to wonder if young James Biggins ever had a dream like this:

When the team was in danger, as an unknown player sitting on the substitutes' bench watching the game, he was suddenly called up by the manager, who patted him on the shoulder and said to him, ”James, our team is depending on you! Go out there and wipe out those bastards! Win this game!”

The assistant manager and other teammates also nodded and echoed, ”Yes, yes! You're the only person who can fix this for us, James! You're a genius, you can do it!”

Then, with his head held high and chest puffed out, he set foot on the field and led the team in a comeback to victory under the opponents' disdainful gaze, and finally made all the opponents kneel in front of him, begging for mercy, and surrender...

But the truth was, this type of situation could turn a talented hero famous in one match, but it could also be a blow to a young man who was still full of hope for the future. This kind of pressure was not something that ordinary people could withstand.

James Biggins was well aware of the current situation. The team had gone from leading with a huge advantage, to their opponents catching up. The morale of the team was badly hit when the main player was injured and forced out of the game. But he did not know what he was going to do. What was he supposed to do?