5.3 - Leeds United
3.
Saturday, February 19
On-the-whistle match report from News of the Blues, the leading news and views platform for all things Chester FC.
Author: D.Cox
League on the Backburner as Max's Hatchlings Serve Up an Egg
Chester FC lined up with an average age of just 23 as they slumped to a narrow defeat against Blackburn Rovers at the Deva stadium. The sun was out - and so were most of Chester's starters. Max Best made NINE changes from the win over Swansea, which shows how much emphasis he is giving the upcoming FA Cup match against Leeds United, and which is sure to draw the ire of the EFL for fielding a weakened team.
The starting eleven had part of an experienced spine, with Ian Swan in goal, Magnus Evergreen as a centre back, and Colin Beckton as the lone striker. In his pre-match comments to the media, Best claimed that 26-year-old Andrew Harrison counts as experienced, but he is no more experienced than 22-year-old Calabash Barkley, who played as the right midfielder.
The youthful team defended stoutly and played some good football at times, but there was never much doubt about the outcome. In fact, after noting the starting eleven I'm going to skip straight to the highlights of the presser, since it was more entertaining than the match itself (which to be fair, wasn't bad).
Chester 0 Blackburn Rovers 1
Shots: Chester 6, Blackburn 12
Yellow cards: Chester 4, Blackburn 4
Chester's 4-1-4-1:
Ian Swan.
Helge Hagen, Cole Adams, Magnus Evergreen, Nasa.
Vincent Addo.
Wallace Wells, Dan Badford, Andrew Harrison, Bark.
Colin Beckton.
Highlights from the presser:
Bethany Alban: Where's Sandra Lane?
Max: She has a bad back.
Me: Max, a rare home defeat, but you don't seem too devastated by the result.
Max: I'm upset and sad and many other words of that ilk. Ilk? Did I really just say ilk? We're still 5th but there are three teams within 5 points of us now so if we're not careful we could slip out of the playoff places. I'm distraught.
Me: You've spoken about wanting to make this stadium a fortress, but today it was more like a bouncy castle. Do you regret making so many changes?
Max: More like a bouncy castle? How long have you been saving that one, Coxy? Do I regret...? No, because all those changes were enforced. I literally had no control over any of them. Youngster's still in the concussion protocol. I hope you're not suggesting I should have played him?
Me: No but you rested the entire defence, midfield, and attack, plus we hear Owen Elmham is back to full fitness.
Max: Ian Swan's our starting goalie! He's our goalie and he has been for weeks. Owen Elmham will have a helluva time getting back in this team, let me tell you. You know, it's actually ridiculous. You guys spend years telling me I'm a noob because I rotate goalies and now that the message has finally sunk in, you turn on me. What's the EFL gonna do, fine me for picking one of the most in-form goalkeepers in the league? For listening to the free advice I get from our wonderful media corps? Oh my God, sometimes I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.
Me: What about the defenders?
Max: Fitzroy’s out till April, Christian has a bad back, Peter's in the red zone, Zach has a bad back. That's why Magnus played CB and because of that, Vincent Addo had to play DM.
Me: You could have played DM.
Max: I've got a bad back. Anyway, Vini's a proper DM. Not like me; I don't know where to stand half the time. Vini played in the Europa League league stage! I've never done that. He's miles ahead of me and he's one of the club's biggest-ever signings. Are the EFL gonna fine me for having a bad back and for using a player we paid seven figures for? They probably laugh at us for being poor, what with how much time they spend on superyachts handing down dictats, but a million is a lot to Chester FC.
Me: You have a bad back?
Max: Yeah. I have a doctor's note if you'd like to see it.
Me: I would.
Max: [Rustling of papers.] Here.
Me: It's a shopping list.
Max: Yeah, but it was written by a doctor.
Bethany: We were surprised to see such a weak team given you have beef with Danny Prince. If you played right wing you would have been up against him and would have been able to exact revenge for him getting sent off against Glasgow Celtic.
Max: That just proves my point! This was the strongest team I had available!
Bethany: What's the medical condition of Pascal, Wibbers, Gabby, Cheb, Lewis, Joel?
Max: Bad back, bad back, stubbed toe, leprosy, bad back, shingles, mumps, sniffles, but not in that order.
Me: You played Cole Adams as a centre back. He looked okay there, to be fair, but he's a left back by trade.
Max: He has played CB before. Mostly as one of three CBs but I have complete confidence in Cole anywhere on the pitch. He's in the same boat as Helge and Nasa. They're players who are improving nicely, who are starting to look really good, but have slightly missed out in recent weeks because I've been trying a different formation. This bad-back virus thing that's going round came at a great time for them to get some minutes and to remind me what they can do.
Me: You played Wallace Wells at left midfield and he struggled, it's fair to say. It was a surprise to see him start given that we have sold him to Chelsea.
Max: What are you saying? That when we pre-agree a sale we should just bin the player off? That's not how we do things around here. I promised Wallace I'd look after him and take care of his development and while he's here he'll get what he needs if it's in my power to gift. If the EFL fine me for using Wallace in the match, they're basically saying that Chelsea are a bunch of idiots who don't know a top player when they see one. Did he struggle? A tiny bit, but that's part of the learning curve. Same with Roddy Jones when he came on. Same with Chas Fungrieve.
Me: I suppose the silver lining for Chester fans is that now you can concentrate on Leeds.
Max: Leeds? What do you mean? [Pause.] Oh, the cup! Shit, I forgot about that. [He groans.] Such was my laser-focus on the league, I completely forgot about the cup. Leeds, did you say? Leeds United? I should probably watch some footage of them playing, right? And that's next Saturday?
Me: It's on Tuesday.
Max: So soon! Wow. I mean, I hope our bad back crisis eases by then because that could be a good match if everyone's fit.
Bethany: What formation do you think you'll play against Leeds?
Max: I don't know. I haven't really thought about it because I've been so focused on Bad-back-burn. I don't know much about Leeds or how they play but I know they have an American winger who cost 30 million quid. That's a lot, isn't it? I wonder what it's like to buy such premium players. Oh, and another thing I know about Leeds - I heard that their manager loves 4-3-3 so he'll probably want to revert to that but every man and his dog has been telling him that 3-5-2 would suit his squad better and when they play 3-5-2 they are soooo much better, but when he gets a few good results and his job feels safe, he reverts to his personal favourite even though it's clearly wrong given the players at his disposal. So, yeah, I'll be interested to see if he does what's best for his players and his club or if he's gonna be self-indulgent. I mean, if he's gonna stick to his principles. Either way, I don't see that we have much chance, really. I think I heard that Leeds are playing someone near the bottom of the Premier League next weekend?
Bethany: They'll play Everton, Max.
Max: Oh, that's interesting. Sort of a relegation six-pointer, isn't it? So with survival in the Premier League on the line, do you think he'll bin off the cup and rest some of his key players? Because let's face it, beating us won't save his job but beating Everton might. It doesn't matter much because even his squad players are mint and they have great attitudes and their manager really trusts them. I can't wait to see if he caves to the pressure and does 3-5-2. Personally, I don't see anything wrong in abandoning my footballing principles when the pressure gets too much. I know that I can cope with the pressure, which is why when I cave to the pressure I'm not actually caving, I'm just being open to new ideas.
Bethany: Max, can you answer one question without being weird? Did you field a weakened team tonight, yes or no?
Max: Our first-choice goalie. An Irish international, a Welsh international, a Jamaican international. Guys who will soon play for Norway, Brazil, and Ghana. Three players who have played in European competition this season. A guy who has been signed by Chelsea for big money, the most natural goalscorer of his generation, multiple Youth Cup winners. On paper, that's far superior to Blackburn's eleven. If you don't like the team I named today you don't understand football, and if the EFL comes at me again I'll win the playoff final just so I can ruin their little procedures again. I'll bring my own trophy platform and hold up fan-made trophies again. No photos for the VIPs, no glitz and glamour for anyone but the Chester fans. I'm the manager of Chester and I pick the team. No-one else. That's my answer, control S, save, control P, print, control B, buh-bye.
[Max flounces.]
Me: Beth, fuck sake! I had ten more questions!
Bethany: Sorry, Coxy.
***
Monday, February 21
"Okay," I said, glancing around the Sin Bin. "Everyone here?"
"Think so," said Sandra, eyeing the coaching and medical staff.
"Yes," said Christian Fierce, “Even the stragglers.” He glared in the direction of Vincent Addo, who was looking bleary-eyed.
I awarded my co-manager and my captain a single thumb-up each, made sure my laptop was connected to the big screen, and slowly paced around. "I'm going to talk about Leeds United for about ten minutes. It's a little-known management technique known as a presentation, so-called because it's a present from me to you. It's a gift. The gift of victory. So sit the fuck up, Vini."
Vincent Addo's eyes bulged and he sat straight. He thought there was no chance he would play against Leeds so he hadn't expected to be singled out for slouching.
I eyed him. "The word test derives from the word testicles. We're playing a Premier League team. Have you got the balls to take this test, mate?"
"Yes!"
"Their wage budget is more than ten times ours. This is going to be an examination of our ability, our character, our resilience, our fitness, our everything. You say you've got the balls, Vini, but have you got the brains? It’s obvious to everyone that you're unlikely to play, but it'd only take two injuries to change that, wouldn't it? So I need you to listen as though you were a guaranteed starter."
"Yes, boss."
"And if Leeds get relegated, we'll play them twice next season and much of what I'm about to say will still be relevant. Put this in your notebook and you can refer to it in the future. Pascal?"
Pascal held up a notebook and showed Vini the pages and pages of notes he had made.
I pointed to the book. "And that's just phone numbers Pascal picked up on the way here."
Vini chuckled. "I'm awake, boss. I'm listening."
"Sometimes it's good to show you're listening," I said. "Sometimes it's good to show you give a shit. This is the biggest game of our season. On Tuesday night we could be in the FA Cup Quarter Final. If we get a decent draw, we could play in the Semi Final. This season!" I put my hands on my head. "The Semi Final! Of the FA Cup! Chester FC!"
I paced around, trying to banish images of Wembley stadium awash with colour, waving flags, scarves, excited kids. That shit got addictive, messed up your processes. You had to focus on the process, not the outcome, though it was easier said than done.
"Most of you know what it means. If you don't, you'll feel it in the next day and a half. There's a bit of a strange vibe around town - I think the Chester fans can't believe that we're fifth in the league and if we are, we're certainly not going to get a cup run. It'll be one or the other, right? That's how football fans think. They're pessimists but they get more optimistic the closer we get to kick off. You'll feel it, lads. Let the excitement into your heart because we're gonna need the fans for this. This is a shared adventure."
I looked from left to right - everyone was paying attention.
"I'm looking forward to this one. I don't have to place this match into any kind of wider training plan or financial struggle, and I don't have to think three steps ahead in terms of squad rotation. It's not like when we were going for league titles and I had to balance how much we cared about cups versus getting three points to keep up with Bradford, or any of that shit. It's one match, and that match is a high-stakes knockout that I can just attack hard and enjoy. I've told Briggy, Brooke, MD, and everyone that I'm not available for discussions about stadiums or transfers or sponsorships. The Leeds match is my entire world until the final whistle is blown. If you don't want to play against Leeds United, come and talk to me about your next pay rise or getting a day off next week or something like that because that will show me that you've got other things on your mind. All I want to hear from you is Leeds. If I hear you in the media talking about the Quarter Final, I'll think your head isn't screwed on right because if it was screwed on right you would only be thinking about Leeds."
I pinched my nose, because I had got carried away.
"Right, lads, I've gone off too early on that part of the rant."
Livia said, "Presentation, Max."
I smiled. "That's what I meant. Before we go to Leeds Leeds only Leeds mode, we do have to talk briefly about the Blackburn game."
The weekend had been a story of rotation. Much of it was unwanted - there was some kind of virus going round that only affected the specific players I wanted to rest. The virus seemed to give players like Christian Fierce uncontrollable back spasms that were undetectable as soon as anyone was in the same room as him.
Most strange.
Our starting eleven against Blackburn had an average CA of 114.5, which was pretty amazing considering how badly we had been hit by the mystery virus. There was still a big gap between someone like Wibbers and someone like Nasa, but everyone was motoring along the personal development superhighway.
And if the EFL fined us for changing the team so massively, so what? If we beat Leeds we could draw Tottenham away in the next round and get a million quid. Even if the EFL lost its mind and gave us a points deduction, that would also only make me laugh. Saving me from an accidental promotion? Thanks, guys! Let me buy you a beer! Chester had never been in the FA Cup Quarter Final but if we played our cards right, we could be there on Tuesday night.
Meanwhile, the much-rotated women's team, with Angel playing the whole 90 to give Kit a rest, battered Crystal Palace. Three points for them, and I finished the weekend with 2,300 XP added to my stash.
Come on, you Seals!
"I'm really happy with how you played on Saturday. Swanny, you kept us in with a shot. Defenders, you looked solid most of the time. Special shout out to Magnus; you showed great leadership out there. Vini, considering that in a classroom setting you're as fidgety as a six-year-old-boy, you played with impressive maturity. 8 out of 10, our man of the match! Midfield four, you battled and scrapped and made things hard for the oppo. Can you do more with the ball? That's the next level. Colin, we couldn't create enough good chances for you but you had them worried and because of you, they couldn't push as high as their manager wanted. Basically, that was the all-round performance I wanted. I know the lads who played were gutted at the end but days like those pay off next year. Last year's work pays off tomorrow night. Does everyone get what I'm saying?"
They seemed content enough. They had mostly shrugged off the loss; the squad's average Morale had bounced back to pre-Blackburn levels.
"Okay, so, it's not that we just forget the Blackburn match. Your coaches are going through it and will discuss it in your individual player meetings, same as always. In fact, slight detour, I want to hire someone to go through match videos and clip them up for us to save our coaches a bit of time. It needs to be someone who understands football and knows what I care about and what I don't, so if you know anyone, you're allowed to discuss that with me, even before the Leeds match."
Wibbers said, "What about Tyson?"
Tyson had been in the youth team when I arrived at Chester and he had been a cocky little shit, but he had decided to fall into step with the rest of the team and he had played a key role in us winning the Youth Cup. "Tyson? Isn't he at university or something? And playing for Warrington with Lucas Friend and Benny. Right?"
"Yep," said Wibbers. "I go to see them sometimes. Level's not great but they're having a good time. Tyson could work a few hours a week, get some pocket money, finish his studies. He's clever and he knows the way you think about football. He's perfect."
"Huh. Okay, I'll call him. Thanks, bro. Okay, when I tap the table, we talk about Leeds and only Leeds. Got that?"
I held my finger up, waited for objections, and when none came, I inverted my finger and brought it slowly to the table, which I pressed before miming an explosion.
I tapped my laptop and went to the first slide, which simply showed four bulletpointed names:
- Volker Stein
- Mylo Treffens
- Wesley Lippincott
- Nat Connor-Thomas
I tapped. The next slide had the title Volker Stein. Taking up the left-hand side of the screen was a formation graphic.
"Volker was a slow player so as a manager he loves speed. He's crazy about speed and stamina, which makes me think he didn't have much in the way of natural fitness himself. His preferred formation is 4-3-3, which works great when he's in the Championship, a competition he has won three times. What happens after those wins? Suddenly he goes from having the best squad in the Champ to the worst in the Prem, but he's so stubborn he won't change his team's shape.
"I think he'll do 4-3-3 against us."
Youngster waved his hand. "Is that why you have been speaking to the media? There are things you keep mentioning. The formations. You keep using the word 'cave', as in bending to someone else's will."
Zach said, "You keep going on about Lippincott's transfer fee even though other players cost more."
I nodded. "You want me to explain what I'm doing in the media? I can do that, I suppose, but none of it leaves this room. Youngster, if I hear Meghan talking about any of this stuff, you're going in the bin."
Youngster's eyes widened. "What if Vini tells her and I get the blame? One less DM for him to compete with. Because everyone knows he cannot take my place in the team by fair means."
"Bruh," said Vini, annoyed, which caused Youngster to cackle.
I raised both index fingers. "No more talking, otherwise this will take hours."
Youngster said, "It certainly will take hours if there is no more talking, Mr. Best."
I glared at him. "I'm allowed to talk! Dean, Livia, can you check his blood? I want to know if there's a chemical reason why he's so happy." I turned back to the screen. "Most of you can probably guess what's coming on the right of this graphic."
"3-5-2," said Vini, who had flipped from being the class layabout to the teacher's pet.
"Yeah," I said, summoning the graphic. "Stein loves 4-3-3 but the fans and media have been pressuring him to try 3-5-2 and as soon as he did, bosh, they played amazingly well. The funny thing is, Stein only did it because he had three impossible matches coming up. Man City, Chelsea, Liverpool. He thought that by changing formation he could blame the inevitable losses on the fans and media. I mean, that's an optimistic way of looking at the situation, but what's really funny is that with the new formation they nearly beat City, they beat Chelsea, and they got a point against Liverpool. 3-5-2 absolutely works for that squad. How annoying must that be? Football fans and the media aren't qualified to give advice to a manager who is good enough to win the Championship three times, but it turns out they're right and he's wrong."
I remembered I had promised to explain my media strategy.
"I would prefer Leeds to do 4-3-3 against us, which is why I have not very subtly been using words like 'giving in to pressure' and 'caving', and it's why I went on Boggy's podcast and said that if I were Volker Stein I would play 3-5-2 in this scenario because if the team won, it would be a victory for the fans and it would show that the man on the street could do the job just as well as me. I said something like, Stein should do it for the fans. All bullshit, of course, but I'm just trying to plant the idea that if he picks 3-5-2 and Leeds win, it won't really be a win for the manager."
Cheb said, "Is that how you think?"
"Me?"
"Football managers. You'd rather lose doing it your way than win doing it someone else's way?"
I shrugged. "Kind of. It's not a good job, really, being a manager. It's stressful, the hours are long, the players piss you off. The only reason to do it is the feeling of control you get twice a week on a match day. If you don't have that, it's a nothing job. Okay so you get the idea. I'm trying to mess with his head and make him feel even more stubborn so that he reverts to his favoured formation."
I clicked to show an 'average position' graphic, which was similar to the formation graphic but showed where players actually spent most of their time. In practice, not in theory.
"This is Stein's 4-3-3 in the Championship, the one he used against teams like us. The front three are spread wide, see, but check the full backs."
"So high," said Pascal.
"They bomb forward," I said. "At their best, Leeds flood forward and get bodies into the box at speed. 4-3-3 becomes 2-5-3 which becomes 2-3-5 in the space of a few seconds."
"Why do you want this?" said Christian Fierce.
Pascal turned. "For the counters."
I gave the German some fingerguns. "For the counters. They leave massive gaps in their back line so I want to start us in a 4-2-4. Pascal left, Wibbers right, or vice versa. Colin and Gabby in the middle. From the kickoff, Leeds will throw the kitchen sink at us and we'll hit them back just as hard. We could be 2-0 down or 2-0 up after ten minutes. Fun, right? Some general thoughts about the Leeds squad before I get into individuals.
"Leeds have looked a bit of a mess every time they have gone to the Prem but they have actually been fairly consistent in the types of managers they have hired and there is some consistency in their squad-building. It's a very fast and athletic team. They can run, they've got endless stamina, they work hard. In physical terms, this is a world-class team. If football was scored like athletics, they'd top the table.
"The problem they've got is when it comes to kicking the little round things that litter the pitch. I'm not saying they're shit, they're not, but twenty times a match they get into amazing positions and then someone does something dozy. Volker Stein likes his players to play out from the back, which is genius if you're asking Peter Bauer to do it but not so much if you're asking a guy who should be playing rugby.
"That's another thing that Stein compromises on when the going gets tough - when he's near the sack, he lets his players boot the ball long. I don't mind if he does that against us because we've had that ever since non-league, but I would prefer them to try to pass the ball around their own penalty box. We're not the best pressers in world football but with Pascal and myself on the case, we'd intercept at least twice, I reckon. Couple of tap-ins? Free goals? Don't mind if I do. I would even think about putting Youngster in attack for that phase of play. Three interception machines against untechnical players who have been instructed to pass the ball around their own goal? That's a recipe for disaster but I doubt we'll get the chance to show it.
"Okay so Volker Stein in summary. He's the most successful English second-tier manager of all time, as far as I can tell. That tells its own story - why does he keep finding himself at this level? Maybe it's simply because he's the 21st best manager working in England. No shame in that, I don't think. We've caught him at a strange moment in his career, in which he seemed destined to be sacked any day now but he has scored some very positive results in the last ten days and the morale of the players and fans has swung a little higher. Is this the start of something special for him and the club, or will he revert to type and have another implosion? It's hard to plan tactically, as I've outlined, but it's easy to gauge the emotional temperature of Leeds United. If we go 2-0 up tomorrow, it's gonna be panic stations all round because the Leeds fans are noisy and they will let him know how they feel. Heh."
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Owen Elmham said, "Max, do you like him?"
"Do I like Volker Stein? Yeah, I do. His teams play great football, they smash opponents and get smashed, which is fun as a fan, right? I like that he's self-aware. Like, after a match he'll say oh we were too emotional, too passionate, that's why we lost our shape. Which is, like, correct, but the common denominator is you, Volker! Why can't he get his players to be colder and more ruthless? Because he's not cold and ruthless and I like that. My team is ice-cold and so ruthless it's almost sinister, which makes me wonder if I'm a bad person."
I was about to click onto the next slide, but pointed at the screen.
"Volker Stein. He's good, I'm better."
I tapped a key. The next slide said, Mylo Treffens.
"Centre back. He thinks he's Peter Bauer. Let's take a look and see if he's right."
I tapped and a series of videos played. They showed Treffens taking the ball and running forward with it, or sprinting out of position to support a team mate. He played like a little kid in school who had been told to play in defence because all the cooler kids were in attack. In some clips, his moves paid off, but in most, they didn't. The footage went back to the start of the first clip, but someone from Seal Studios had added some visual effects. The clips would pause and a thousand arrows would point to the space that Treffens was vacating. A few seconds later, when the oppo were tearing through that gap, the footage would pause and a thousand question marks would appear, and when the angle changed to show Treffens desperately racing back in a vain attempt to get into position, one single, massive exclamation point hovered over his head.
"Wibbers," I said.
"I get it," he said. "Look for the space."
"Yeeeeah," I said, slowly, to indicate there was more. "How about you create this space? Provoke it?"
"How?"
"When you run at Treffens and you slip, he's gonna think, lol! Away I go!"
"Slip?" said Wibbers, disgusted.
I stepped closer to him. "Oh, you refuse to show weakness under any circumstances, even if it wins us the game? You're so alpha you won't even fall on your arse for the greater good?"
Pascal said, "I'll do it!"
Wibbers pushed his knuckles into his temples. "I'll do it! I didn't know you were saying it as a trick."
Gabby said, "I do this if Wibbers is too pride. I do it for the team." He fistbumped Luisa, who was next to him. "Team," said Gabby, nodding seriously.
"Argh," said Wibbers, as he mashed his head some more.
"That's sorted then," I declared, stepping back towards the table. "We encourage Treffens to make the mistakes that are ingrained into his personality - unless we have, like, too much dignity or something."
There were snickers from various parts of the room, and I could just picture Wibbers's face. I tapped to bring up the Wesley Lippincott slide.
"Next. Lippincott. He's from New Jersey, which I've heard is better in every respect than Texas. Any thoughts, anyone?"
Zach sighed and said, "You're supposed to annoy the oppo, not us."
That got a big laugh. I said, "This guy Lippincott really winds up the Leeds fans. That's why I always mention his price tag even though other guys cost more. They signed him for decent money, he played shit, they got relegated, and Lippy said, wow, fellas, that sucks, I'm off to Germany for a year. If you get promoted, I'll come back!"
"What?" said Helge. "That can't be true."
I shrugged. "That's how the Leeds fans see it. I'm thinking of showing some clips of Leeds players on the big screen before the match, and some of the scenes will show Lippy playing for the club in Germany he went to instead of rolling up his sleeves and helping Leeds bounce back. Anyway, that's my job. Your job is to know how he plays and believe me, he's mad. He's got one of the craziest data sets in the history of the sport. When it comes to Work Rate and Stamina, he's like the lovechild of Tom Westwood and Andrew Harrison. I mean, the guy's non-stop. Wibbers, do you remember I wanted to train you as a purely offensive player?"
He sighed. "I'm offensive, I know. Haha."
"Come on, guy, don't sulk. Everyone, here's a heat map of how I would want Wibbers to play."
I tapped and showed a graph that had blobs of heat in areas where a player got the ball and generated threat. This one was clearly 'aspirational' (i.e. fake) because it was so perfectly symmetrical, but it showed patches to the left and right of the penalty area, plus a bigger one in front.
"All the positions you'd love Wibbers to get the ball, right? Now here's his actual touch map from this season."
The 'touch map' was a similar graphic to the heat map, but presented the info by showing a little circle in every location a player touched the ball. Wibbers's touches were almost all where I wanted them to be - in the opposition's half, as close to goal as possible, in places where he could do damage. Wibbers sat up and grinned.
I waved my hand at the screen behind me while giving him strong eye contact. "This is top, mate. You are my dream attacking player - fact. You actually share a lot of qualities with Lippincott and if you had taken a different career path you could easily have ended up playing like him. Running around, trying to get involved in absolutely everything, dropping deep thinking you're making a difference, all that stuff. Let's take a look at Lippincott's touch map this season."
I showed it - the entire room burst out laughing.
The guy was active across the entire pitch, and while there was a thicker band of touches in the attacking midfield zone, there were a crazy number in the defensive zones, including centre back.
"The Leeds fans who like Lippincott, and there are plenty, like him for this reason. They say things like: Water covers 70% of the earth. The rest is covered by Lippincott."
That got a good reception. Although the guy's touch map was insane, it showed a guy who was constantly working hard.
"The guy has Work Rate 200," I said, shaking my head. "In a way, it's the best possible character reference, right? He does anything and everything if he thinks it helps the team, but that's just it - he doesn't think. There's no thought behind this. This is action for its own sake. He's an extreme example but most of the Leeds players are like this. Act first, think later. That's why we've got a chance at beating them. We can do 90 percent of what they can do physically but 600 percent of what they can do mentally."
I closed my eyes and tried to visualise playing football against the Energiser Bunny.
"We're gonna have to think about this, and maybe the coaches will come up with something actionable, but I think it might be a simple case of working the ball from Owen to the CBs, going wide, and kiting him all the way to midfield before switching the play. If we want to attack down the left, for example, we start patient, let Lippy chase us all the way to the right, hit the big diag. If Leeds turn the ball over, he'll be way out of position and that will give us a few extra seconds to rebuild our defensive shape. Good. One more."
I brought up a slide called Nat Connor-Thomas.
"Okay, you all know him. NCT. Former England international, used to be a decent goalscorer. Injuries have messed him up but he's experienced and he's definitely their smartest player. He will draw fouls and relieve any pressure they are under. Zach, Christian, we have to be super smart with this guy. If you fall into his trap, he'll destroy us, so I want you to dial the aggression all the way down when you're up against him. He's gonna hold the ball up and he's gonna bring midfielders into play and they're going to drive at us, but that's better than giving away a free kick 30 yards from goal. Why? Because when it's a set piece, we're playing against Leeds's set pieces coach, who is a man with a functioning brain. If we let Lippy and Treffens play, they'll make bad decisions, they'll make mistakes, and we'll hit them on transitions. NCT is the key, if he plays. You need to play super smart against him, even if that means you have to let him feel like the alpha male. What do you think, Wibbers? Can I trust these guys to leave their main character energy in the dressing room?"
Wibbers replied by giving me the middle finger.
Sandra said, "Do you really think NCT will play? He's no spring chicken and Stein will want him starting against Everton at the weekend. Three games in a week?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "It's really hard to analyse, this one. Does Volker Stein care about the FA Cup? I think he cares about keeping his job more than he cares about the cup, so his priority will be the Everton match, but at the same time it does him no favours to be knocked out by little old Chester." I scrunched my eyes closed, wishing I had a better read on Stein's personality. "My guess is that NCT won't start, but that the other two will. We have to be ready whatever happens, because if they are on the bench and we get ahead in the match, they will play. I'm pretty sure about that. They have a Japanese player who's great at long-range shots but he's injured, and half the backups are shitheads, according to the Leeds forums and podcasts, so I'm fairly confident that if we play our best, we'll get to the point where we see something like Leeds's best eleven on the pitch."
I made to tap the laptop, but paused.
"I'm going to show you what the team sheet would be if I had to hand it in right now. This could change pretty dramatically, so if your name is here but isn't on the final draft, suck it up. This is the big one. If someone convinces me that we should play Relationism from start to finish, I'll do it. I just want to win and don't care who has the idea or who gets the credit. But this is what I've got so far. Remember, I think Leeds will start with blitzing full backs, and if we play well, they will finish the game with something like their best team."
I showed a hand-drawn 4-2-4 with eleven names.
In goal was Owen Elmham, who had recovered a couple of points of the CA he had lost because of his injury. He was now CA 138.
Then it was Cole Adams (CA 128) at left back, Christian (120), and Zach (131). For the right back, I had gone with Magnus (127), but I could imagine a world where I preferred the defensive solidity provided by Nasa (106) or the height of Helge Hagen (116). Leeds weren't amazingly threatening from set pieces, but like all the top teams, they had their moments.
The two central midfielders were Youngster (134) and Vincent Addo (104). When he saw his name, Vini's eyes popped open, and Youngster grabbed him and gave him a shake. Nasa turned and offered Vini a fist bump, which was classy because if I moved Magnus into Vini's position, Nasa would benefit.
I had Pascal (129) as the left winger, Wibbers (134) on the right, with Colin (129) and Gabby (132) as the strikers.
The whole formation, of course, had been worked out in reverse, starting from the end of the match, because I would use Bench Boost.
"This should see us to half time," I said, "but be prepared for early changes because it's obviously super risky, what I'm doing here. We can slip to a straight 4-4-2 if we need more solidity, but we can't defend for, like, twenty minutes at a time. Vini, if we need to make an early change, you're first on the chopping block. I know you won't take it personally because you're so team-focused."
"I am?" he said. Youngster elbowed him. Vini said, "I'm such a team player I dream of being subbed out early because my manager chose the wrong line-up," he said.
"Jesus," said Christian, "kid's got a death wish."
Pascal said, "Vini, you can see it's written in pencil, yes?"
I knocked on the table. "Vini's allowed to rinse me as long as he works his fucking arse off tomorrow night. This will be unlike anything you've ever played against, mate. You will be mentally frazzled. I had it against Newcastle's reserves a few years ago and the whole experience blew my socks off. I thought I was good until that night."
Sandra said, "Wasn't that when you scored from 60 yards?"
"Yeah but everything else I did was shit." That got a big laugh. "What?"
Livia said, "Are we going to see you against Leeds?"
"Yes," I said. "The plan is to use our subs to morph from 4-2-4 into our default 3-4-2-1. We'll get Lewis and Cheb on asap." Bench Boosted. "Peter and Joel will get on." Boosted. "And I'll make an appearance. So that's Cole, Vini, Youngster, Magnus, and Colin who won't play the full 90. You guys can put extra effort in. Honestly, you'll need to."
Last time I had watched them, Leeds United's best eleven had been CA 146.
Our starting eleven in the 4-2-4 shape would be CA 127.8.
The closers, if everything went to plan, would be CA 132.5, but with five players boosted.
"The tactics, our technical quality, and better morale will get us close to their levels," I said. "But what will tip us over the edge into being favourites to win will be if we can energise the crowd. Play well, show how much you care, and when we need them, ask for support. We're 5th in the fucking Championship - they will give what we ask for. All right, that's enough talk. Time for action."
***
We spent the rest of our time doing tactical training. Our starting eleven played 4-2-4 against our squad players, who started in a 2-5-3 (to replicate the very attacking nature of Volker Stein's 4-3-3). I played for 'Leeds', sometimes playing the role of NCT - falling to the floor any time Zach so much as touched me and awarding myself a free kick - sometimes playing as Lippincott, or as Treffens.
In a break, while I was sitting on the grass, mentally going through the matchups of our players versus what I knew about Leeds, Sandra came over and said, "It's been a while since we focused on one match this hard. I like it. What do you think our chances are, really?"
"Um... thirty percent?"
Her eyebrows rose. "That high?"
"Yeah. The situation almost couldn't be better for us. We're incredibly motivated while Leeds aren't really thinking about the cup. We barely have any injuries and we were able to rest players on the weekend. Playing against Leeds is going to be a nightmare in terms of how relentless they are, but tactically it's quite good for us because they leave space and we have players who thrive in space. Yeah, thirty percent."
"Almost makes me think we would do all right in the Premier League."
"We have a thirty percent chance to win one game that Leeds aren't all that bothered about. If this was the Prem, they would be 100% motivated." I gave Sandra a long, hard look. If I didn't activate Bench Boost and Triple Captain we would probably get slapped about by Leeds and that would suck but it would remind people that while we were close to Leeds on the football pyramid, there was an insanely vast chasm between us. It hadn't really occurred to me that there would be a downside to beating Leeds, but here was one: we would store up complacency.
"You're right," said Sandra, and I was convinced she was going to say something that betrayed how she was really thinking (that we could already survive in the top division), but that didn't happen. "Do you think when we're scrabbling for points in the Prem, we'll bin off the cup?"
"Only if there's no choice," I said. "Our second string should be good enough to give almost anyone a game. Those lads we used against Blackburn, in a year they'll be fucking mint. I think we'll sail to the quarters most years, and from there, anything can happen."
I took a swig from a bottle of water and closed my eyes. There was chat all around me. Murmured encouragement from Luisa to the Brazilians, high-level tactical ideas passing between Pascal and Peter in their native German, Owen Elmham telling Zach and Christian stories about previous times he had faced NCT and Leeds.
I got to my feet and got goosebumps. We had a top goalie, a mean defence, a couple of interception machines, and a couple of clever bastards up front.
"Sandra, pack them up and send them home. We're ready."
***
Tuesday, February 22
Men's FA Cup Fifth Round: Chester versus Leeds United
As much as possible, I tried to keep Tuesday normal. Okay, I took a couple more calls from journalists than I normally would, but basically I did what I always did on match days.
It was only when the light started to fade that I got nervous. I was in our canteen getting a papaya smoothie when the Deva's floodlights turned on, and the buzz around Bumpers Bank started to seep into me. The under 12s came to train after school, like they always did, but half a dozen of them were carrying tin foil FA Cups - they would train and then their dads would take them to the match.
My stomach churned; I tried to focus on mundane things.
We had won £130,000 for winning in the Fourth Round. That would double to £260,000 if we overcame Leeds, plus we would get another match against a big team which meant more money from selling tickets. After we paid the players their bonus, we would still have more than enough cash to add three more youth team pitches. The drone video had been great but it had made me wonder why I was holding off on expanding that part of Bumpers. The pitches were all marked out and ready to go, and wouldn't be expensive at all. We would lay two awesome 43 by 33 metre pitches suitable for under 8s football (or individual training) at a cost of 25k each, and another pitch at under 16s length (97 by 61 metres), at a more considerable cost of 75 grand.
I smiled to myself. The financial aspect of winning cup matches was nice, but not the way it used to be. In the past, cup runs paid for a lot of cool stuff. Now they were just a cherry on top of an already rich cake.
Dylan was bodyguarding me until I went into the stadium. "Are you nervous?" I said.
He looked at me like I had ten heads. "Me? I'm not the one playing, Max."
"If the Leeds fans kick off, they'll batter you. One Leeds fan could take three Welshmen. That's what they say on their forums, anyway."
"Is it now?" He softened his back when he realised I was winding him up. "You're on Leeds forums, are you? Looking for an escape route? Oh! Is that why you've been giving Volker Stein digs about him being a chicken? After his job, are you?"
"Nah, he can keep it. Here, check this out." I took out my phone and read aloud from some screenshots. "Even this Best guy says 3-5-2 is right for us. If Stein does 4-3-3 tonight I'm going to spontaneously combust." I tipped my head back and cackled for a while, then swiped to the next screengrab. "Max Best says he hopes NCT will play against Chester because he wants to see the only player who goes into 50-50 challenges knowing he will get 100% of the free kicks. He's fucking putting pressure on the referee!" I cackled some more. "Might not work on the ref but that guy's blood is going to turn to piss when he sees his star striker falling over and not getting any free kicks."
"You're in good form."
"I'm dead nervous. In a way there's nothing riding on this except, like, pride, but we're close enough to Leeds that we could actually turn them over. I feel like I've been saving up for a new pair of jeans - and a plastic bag - for four years but the shop's closed and I've got my face pressed against the glass, waiting for someone to open up."
Dylan frowned. "Why is that image so familiar?"
"So much work to get to this point and we're so close." I leaned forward and laughed. "But when I visualise what's gonna happen I just see a blur of white shirts running everywhere, sprinting non-stop."
"They’ll wear their away kit, won't they?"
"Oh!" I said, clicking my fingers. "That's a good point. I should picture them in that yellow kit with the blue details. It's pretty nice." I closed my eyes and put a finger to my temple. "Yep, still a blur. Heh. It's such a challenge, Dylan. It's a test. We need to be on it and we need to be sharp. This is a test of how far we've come, how well our coaches are doing, how well I can adapt. We've put all our eggs in the 4-3-3 basket and if Stein turns up with 3-5-2 I'm fucked. Heh. Gonna be humiliated on worldwide TV. But you know what stresses me even more? What if he does 4-3-3? Then we have no excuse. We have to play fast and hard and be perfect for 90 minutes. Shit, look at my palms. They're sweaty!" I showed him before wiping them on my shit black hoodie. "I don't get it. Why am I so hyped when I don't need the money?"
Dylan had been listening with his eyes darting all over the place, but he thought he knew the answer to the last question. "There was a school where parents were picking their kids up late. The teachers had to hang around until the last kid was picked up, right, so the school started fining parents who were late. Can you guess what happened?"
"The parents switched to a cheeky 3-4-3 with CBs pushing into DM, overloading midfield?"
"Er, no. It made the problem worse."
"Wait, what?"
"If you say to a busy parent, come late and it'll cost ten quid, quite often they'll say, yeah, I'll pay, worth it. Before, they were thinking about the poor teacher standing around like a chump and they tried hard to get there, most parents, but when you say that teacher's time is worth ten quid, you change the interaction. It's just another bill, isn't it? Like paying ten quid a month to get rid of adverts on Netflix."
"Who find a way to add them back in," I said. "But that's an interesting story. I think I can see how it would go like that." Something struck me. "That story had nothing to do with what we were saying. Were you trying to take my mind off things?"
"No, Max. It's the same sort of thing, isn't it? When Chester were poor, you were motivated by money but now that you've got more money you're just as motivated. Why? Because it's not about the money. It's the glory."
"And vanquishing my enemies," I said.
"Right," he said, nodding. "Because you're a Man United fan and Leeds are your Wrexham."
"No," I said, amazed at how the guy worked Wrexham into every conversation we ever had. "Leeds are owned by a billionaire. They're the enemy, Dylan. Remember?"
"A billionaire brought Wrexham to where it is now."
"Billionaires started the war where you got blowed up." He didn't reply, so I got up and placed my hand on his shoulder. "You're right about one thing - tonight's not about money." I fell into a boxing stance and threw a few punches. "It's about testicles."
***
About 80 minutes before kick off, Sandra and I filled in the team sheet. No-one had come up with a better plan than the one I had outlined in our Monday morning meeting, and now it was locked in.
She took the paper to the referee's room and came back a few minutes later. She sat down with an enigmatic smile and said, "3-5-2."
"Fuck," I said, slumping, head on the table. The curse would give me the confirmation an hour before kickoff, which was just over a quarter of an hour away. I sat up. "Wait. You're joking."
"Not joking. Stein's assistant was in just before me and the ref's a bit of a gossip. Anyway, in hindsight, is it that surprising? Aiden says if she was Volker Stein she'd do 3-5-2 just to piss you off because you were campaigning so hard for 4-3-3. Aiden doesn't have a coaching badge but she knows how to be suitably irritated by Max Best."
I put my hands on my head and intertwined my hands so that I could rub my eyebrows with my thumbs. "How fucked are we? We're pretty fucked, yeah?"
Sandra smiled in a way that meant we are very fucked, but she tilted her head. "I mean, 4-2-4 can become 4-4-2. Pascal and Wibbers will shore up the flanks while still giving us threat on transitions, and you were saying yourself how elite teams don't often play against a front two. They've grown up playing against lone strikers with wingers who cut inside and shoot. They've played against tons of strikers like Gabby, but it's possible these centre backs have never played against anyone like Colin Beckton. Old-school second striker, isn't he? So our shape's good, we will get breaks, we will cause problems."
"Did you see how strong Stein has gone?"
She shook her head. "I didn't see the line up, just heard the formation. We'll know soon."
"Yeah. Let's pay attention to the warm ups, too. See if we can glean any extra info." I tried to relax but a sudden burst of frustration made me clench my fists. "Shit! We only had a few hours to train for this and we wasted it. God, that's... urgh!"
"It was 50-50, Max. I was sure you were right."
"This is why football managers send their mates to hide in bushes to watch the oppo train."
Sandra smiled. "That was Leeds, right?"
"Yeah."
"You should have put that in your video."
Of course I should! I clenched again. "Fffffffff-"
***
An hour before the match, Sandra's tip from the ref was confirmed. Leeds were sticking to the 3-5-2 that had served them well. That was grim, but there was some good news.
First, Leeds were resting their starting goalie and giving minutes to their French backup, Zézé. He had been first choice in the past but a string of high-profile errors had led to him being dropped and no other club in the world wanted to sign him.
Er, fine, yeah. Put him in goal!
The second piece of good news was that, of the three players I had picked out as being key, only Treffens was starting. Lippincott and NCT, the former England striker, were on the bench.
NCT didn't warm up very hard, as if he didn't think little old Chester had any chance against Leeds, and thus he would get the night off.
I have to admit...
It pissed me off.
***
As we strode out onto the pitch, Joe Anka played Love Me Again by John Newman. The Chester fans went nuts. The Leeds fans liked it too - it was a banger - but some of their ardour had been dampened by our pre-match mental disintegration video. As well as the clips of Wesley Lippincott holding up the scarf of another club - fleeing a sinking ship like an actual rat - we had clips of Leeds losing in FA Cup matches through the ages interspersed with social media posts about their current squad of players.
MOSLEY DETERMINED TO LEAVE LEEDS THIS SUMMER
SPARKY SPARKS CONTROVERSY WITH CRYPTIC WANT-AWAY POST
THORNTON AND STEIN ON COLLISION COURSE
Heh. Well, I thought it was all hilarious, anyway.
I smashed Bench Boost and Triple Captain and stood in the corner of the technical area, away from the Leeds characters, who didn't seem to like me much. Why? That little video? It was just a prank, bro!
The match kicked off and the humour was knocked out of me. It seemed as though all of Leeds's outfield players fell into a sprint and just kept running.
We were under the cosh almost right away as Leeds, roared on by 4,000 of their fans, attacked us from all angles. The first time I saw five guys sprinting towards Cole Adams, I changed our team instructions to defensive, told my defenders to kick long, and hit Seal It Up to give us fifteen minutes of better defensive positioning.
Five horrible minutes passed, during which I questioned all my life choices. Maybe I would be happier if I had a shit haircut? Was I setting beauty standards I couldn't maintain?
Leeds burst down the right and sent in a cross. My heart sank as I saw how many yellow shirts were storming into our box, but Owen Elmham scooted out and plucked the ball from the air. He took four powerful steps and hurled the ball to the halfway line, to the right. Wibbers controlled it, cut inside onto his left foot, and hit a crossfield pass to Pascal. Pascal zoomed ahead - where was the defence? Oh, that's right, in our penalty area - but he was held up by a defender.
Pascal moved the ball from its spot in front of his right foot, dragged it backwards, then flicked the ball straight ahead to no-one at all. Wait - Colin had anticipated it. He sprinted but he was so right-footed he had to take the ball even further away from goal.
Leeds players were storming back at the rate of a mile a minute.
There was no time for elegance, so Colin fell backwards as he twisted his body, clipping the ball into the middle of the penalty area, where Gabby was loitering. The Brazilian jumped for the header but was knocked out of the way by a defender.
The Deva erupted. Surely a penalty!
I watched as the referee's fingers twitched. He was thinking about it!
The ball flew over Gabby's head, and I was amazed to see that there was no defensive cover on that side, either. Wibbers was storming into the box, and with a rush of clarity I realised he was going to get to the ball before anyone else.
Zézé, the goalie, rushed out and when he got close enough, threw his arms and legs wide, trying to cover as many angles as poss. Wibbers set himself and lined up a half-volley, but surprised me by hitting the ball downwards. He bounced it about a foot away from himself and watched as it arced over the befuddled goalie and into the net.
One fucking nil!
I ran around like a headless chicken. Everyone did.
After ten seconds of mania, I grabbed Sandra. "What do I do? What do we do?"
"Nothing!"
"I hate that plan!"
"Do you have a better one?"
"No!"
I paced around with my hands on my head. What the hell had just happened?
The match restarted and Leeds played on as though nothing had changed. They sprinted left, right, and centre and got overloads aplenty, but apart from a few tame long shots, nothing came of multiple great situations.
The more time passed without them overwhelming us, the more I was able to zoom out to see the bigger picture, and also to zoom into the squad players that Leeds were using.
- Leeds's normal average CA was 146 but they had started with 142 tonight. Still way more than ours, but there were three teams in the Championship who were better than Leeds. How was the Leeds squad so weak given how much they were spending?
- As a group they had amazing Pace, Stamina, and Work Rate, but poor Decisions and Technique. Not how I would want to build a squad, but I could understand it to some extent. It was far easier to know a player's top speed than to judge his decision-making. If you wanted a repeatable methodology when it came to signing players, you would focus on physical stats.
- There were five players on the pitch who had barely featured in the Premier League. Their Morale was low, their Form was bad, and even their fitness was questionable. There was a message on their player profiles saying that while they were at 100% Condition they were 'lacking match fitness'. That meant they didn't have enough minutes in their legs to hit peak performance.
- There was a decent amount of bitchiness and unhappiness in the player profiles. Zézé's profile said, 'Feels he doesn't have the support of his manager' and 'Feels he doesn't have the backing of the fans'. Mosley's said, 'Feels he has been misquoted by the media'. A few players disliked squad-mates. Nothing earth-shattering, but when you added it all up, it wasn’t trivial.
We had spent a fair chunk of time talking about Treffens and his habit of trying to make things happen by taking the ball far up the pitch. I had presented it to my squad as a great opportunity for us to launch a counter-attack, but I hadn't ever seen Treffens do it in a 3-5-2 scenario. I hadn't prepared myself or the team for him striding forward in a 3-5-2. So when we rebuffed another Leeds attack and the ball went to Treffens and he strode forward with it, I actually felt a frisson of panic. He was going to open us like a tin of beans!
"Shit shit shit," I chanted as the guy's first touch led him away from Colin, towards the wide open space of our midfield. There were 15 yards until the next opponent, Youngster, who would drop back into the DM slot when Treffens dribbled at him. We were giving up so much territory so easily!
Gabby sensed that danger and sprinted towards the ball carrier. Helping the team out. Good job, Gabby!
But he slipped and fell on his arse. I swear that Treffens saw it from the corner of his eye and sped up. He raced ahead, dribbling, feeling every eye in the stadium on him. I glanced left, where Volker Stein was frantically waving. Get back! Get back!
I gasped. Gabby had slipped on purpose! How had I not seen that right away? Didn't he realise Leeds were playing a different formation from the one I had been talking about? Had I messed up by not clarifying?
"Shit shit shit."
Youngster dropped as Treffens approached, but then suddenly rushed ahead, slid into a tackle, and while both players were on the ground, Vini appeared and swept the ball to Pascal. Pascal scampered ahead, and there was a ludicrous moment where Colin and Gabby both made the same diagonal run, and Leeds's two remaining defenders followed them, leaving Wibbers absolutely free on the right. Crazy defending! Leeds didn't play against twin strikers enough to get their spacing right in such a scenario.
Wibbers tore up the ground like a charging bull.
Pascal played the pass.
It wasn't perfect - slightly too slow, slightly at the wrong angle - but Wibbers didn't change stride. Didn't shoot, didn't pass, didn't seem to do anything, just kept running until he raised his arms, head back, grinning massively. In real time, I wasn't even sure which foot he had used, but somehow the ball had popped up from his boot, arcing over Zézé and into the back of the net while the keeper stood still, with his arms wide, frozen in time by whatever spell Wibbers had cast on the ball.
Zézé had been made to look hapless but if he were my player, I wouldn't have blamed him for either goal. The Leeds fans had an interesting style of supporting their team - Zézé was already getting dog's abuse from them before the ball even nestled into the back of the net. It’s not often you hear fans booing their own players in the first half of a match, but it was music to my ears.
While our fabulous four-ward line leaped into each other's arms and the benches behind me went almost as bonkers as the stands, I ascended into a higher state of consciousness.
Time slowed and the incredible noise that surrounded me diminished.
I looked at Wibbers. The cheeky fuck hadn't even taken a touch. He just chipped the goalie like he was flicking away some pocket fluff. Who taught him that? No-one. You can't learn that kind of thing.
I saw myself on the big screen, the only Chester fan or employee who wasn't dancing around, wasn't celebrating with abandon. I'd got a lot of things wrong in the preparations for this match, but I'd got a lot right, too. Fight fire with fire, pace with pace. No-one could go from defence to attack faster than us, but we had needed an on-pitch brain to translate my ideas into the reality of the moment.
I looked at Pascal. The entire world kept writing him off but he kept proving them wrong. He was ripping a Premier League team to shreds.
I turned to my left, where Volker Stein was staring at the pitch in horror. Why didn't he trust 3-5-2? Because his dipshit centre back liked to go walkies and the formation didn't leave enough bodies in the rest defence. Treffens had kept his discipline against the three megaclubs, but against lowly Chester he saw no reason to play in such a boring way.
Who would be punished for his selfishness and ill-discipline? Not him - he had a long-term contract on big money. The guy who got the blame would be his manager. It didn't seem fair on Stein, but in a way it was just another example of the Emiliano story. Stein should have binned Treffens off the first time the prick went rogue.
The noise of the stadium came back and I realised my body was going wild. High pulse, sweaty palms. It was trying to tell me something. I looked left and right, assuming danger was approaching.
Joe Anka's voice came out over the public address system, confirming that Wibbers had scored the goal and confirming the score.
We were 2-0 up against Leeds United.
I glanced at the match clock.
14 minutes had gone.
The hairs on my neck went haywire. "Oh, shit."
"What?" said Sandra. "What?"
"We've gone too early. Doom!"
"Don't talk shit," she said, but she spun to her left - Volker Stein had summoned three of his substitutes. "Oh, shit," said Sandra. "Lippincott, NCT, and his first-choice left back. He's going for it."
A shiver ran down my spine. I'd hoped this moment would come halfway through the second half. Could we compete against a Premier League team who would play flat-out for 75 minutes? Could we? Maybe we could!
When the Leeds fans saw that three early subs were coming, they roared so loud it shook the soil. It was the craziest thing but just for a second, it felt like they were two-nil up. "Oh," I said, amazed that I was being big-dogged in my own home, in my fortress. Amazement turned to elation. These are the games you want to play in. These are the memories you want to create. "Oh, yeah. Yeah!" I ran along the touchline, waving my arms at the Chester fans. "Let's fucking hear you!" I screamed.
The home supporters responded with a feral AAAAARGHHHHHHH!
I paced towards the away dugout and threw my arms wide, aggressively. "Let's fucking go!" I screamed. "Bring it! Tommy Testicles, right here!"
The home fans saw my outburst and screamed Chester! Chester!
The away end went Leeds! Leeds! Leeds!
In the chaos, the ref blew his whistle and the match restarted, somehow at an even higher tempo than before.
Sandra shook her head. "Imagine not liking football."
My co-manager and I nodded at each other, and as if we had rehearsed it, rolled our sleeves up. This shit was about to get spicy.