The Greatest Manager of All time

After Erin finished listening to Mo Yuan explain everything again while lying in Lynn's arms, she asked in surprise, "That's it?"

Mo Yuan nodded solemnly. "Yeah. For now, that's all we know."

Erin said helplessly, "With just a name, and the fact that he's Black, what am I supposed to know? You don't even know whether the name is real. There's only so much I can do. You have to understand, Britain has far too many gangs, big and small. Besides local gangs, there are immigrant gangs, foreign gangs, and it might not even be a gang at all. It could just be some shady company working the margins."

Mo Yuan had nothing to say.

Lynn nodded. "You're right. We don't have much information on our side, but this still has to be dealt with. So we need a plan."

Erin closed her eyes and leaned against Lynn's shoulder.

Lynn waited for a while but did not hear her speak, so he shifted his shoulder and asked, "Hey, you didn't fall asleep, did you?"

Erin lightly punched his chest and complained, "I'm thinking."

"Your brain usually works fast. Do you need this long?"

"All right. Since you two aren't going to work with them, here's my question. Why didn't Mo Yuan refuse Martin Nally?"

Mo Yuan smiled bitterly and sighed. "I was a little scared at the time too. Sure, it was just me and Martin Nally in the room, but who knows if he had people in the next room? I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, refused, and tried to leave, I might not make it out."

Lynn followed up, "And if Mo Yuan refused, Martin Nally might have tried to bribe someone else at Swansea. Swansea are too hot right now. A lot of people think Swansea winning a match is basically guaranteed. If we suddenly suffer an upset, the profit would be enormous. They only need Swansea to lose one match to make a fortune. Driven by that kind of money, would they really give up just because Mo Yuan refused?"

Erin thought it over and felt both of them had a point.

She sat up straight, swinging her legs slightly as she said, "Then do this. Lynn, doesn't your family have a good relationship with the mayor? Get the mayor to contact the police. Have the police treat this as a major case. The amount involved is already sitting in the suitcase. Six hundred thousand pounds isn't a small number. Then wait for the other side to walk into the trap themselves. Since you won't cooperate, they'll definitely come looking for Mo Yuan after the match. Of course, if Swansea lose normally..."

"Impossible! Blackpool can't beat us no matter what!"

Lynn cut Erin off, his tone firm and absolute.

Lose normally to Blackpool at home?

What kind of joke was that?

Erin rolled her eyes at Lynn and continued, "Fine. Swansea win. Then the other side will definitely come after Mo Yuan to settle accounts. At that point, the police hiding in the dark can at least arrest Martin Nally. After that, things become easier. The Taylor family can use more information channels to find out who Martin Nally is working for in Britain. The best-case scenario is that they're just a speculative betting company. If they fall, they won't retaliate."

"And the bad-case scenario?"

Lynn had to ask.

Erin fell silent for a moment before saying seriously, "The other side has a powerful background. The justice system can only bring a few scapegoats to justice, and their retaliation may come in ways nobody expects. But I believe that if the Taylor family steps in, at least inside Wales, they won't dare act recklessly. Once we're in England's territory, though, it's harder to say."

Lynn slapped his forehead and sighed. "We might as well go mix with street gangs."

Seeing Lynn's troubled expression, Erin laughed instead. She reached out with both hands, pinched his face, leaned close, and said, "Actually, the matter is very simple. You just need to know enough people with background and power. In this era, nobody wants to start a war lightly."

With his mouth slightly distorted by her pinching, Lynn said, "Isn't that why I'm hugging your thigh?"

As he spoke, his hand really did slide onto Erin's smooth, springy thigh.

Mo Yuan shouted from the side, "Can you two at least wait until I leave before getting all clingy?"

Lynn and Erin turned toward Mo Yuan at the same time and said in unison, "No."

In truth, Lynn did not take this matter too seriously. No matter how arrogant a criminal syndicate was, he did not believe they could do anything to a football club, especially in Britain. This was not Italy, the homeland of the mafia.

The final matchday of the regular league season was approaching.

Blackpool manager Simon Grayson publicly gave a speech to boost his team's morale.

"We must take victory from the Liberty Stadium. Otherwise, we'll most likely miss out on the promotion play-offs!"

That was indeed the situation. Hull City, ranked eighth in the league, were only one point behind Blackpool. If Blackpool failed to win and Hull City defeated their opponent in the final round, Hull would replace Blackpool in the play-off zone.

By the eve of the Third Division's final round, the league picture had basically become clear.

Swansea were champions. Brighton were runners-up. Chesterfield led fourth-placed Cardiff City by three points and had essentially locked up the third direct promotion spot.

Fourth, fifth, and sixth were Cardiff City, Hartlepool United, and Leyton Orient. Of those three, Cardiff theoretically still had a chance to swap places with Chesterfield if they won by a huge score and Chesterfield lost heavily, but the probability was extremely low. Almost impossible.

Those three teams were basically considered confirmed promotion play-off contenders.

The final play-off spot would be born between Blackpool and Hull City.

Swansea's first meeting with Blackpool in the first half of the season had not been pleasant.

Swansea had won, but the football hooligan trouble that broke out afterward left serious emotional scars on Swansea's supporters.

Although Blackpool were also victims of the hooligan incident, Swansea fans only wanted to pour their revengeful anger onto Blackpool—not with their fists, but by having the players crush Blackpool on the pitch.

On May 8, the Liberty Stadium was more packed than ever. Inside the stadium, not a single seat was empty. Outside, many fans gathered in the plaza to watch the live broadcast of the match on the big screen.

This was Swansea's final match of the season. After the simple trophy ceremony, the celebration party organized by Swansea's supporters' groups would also be held at the Liberty Stadium.

Because of that, both inside and outside the stadium, the scene was a magnificent sea of people.

When Blackpool's players arrived at the Liberty Stadium, they were genuinely startled by the sight in front of them.

They had never imagined Swansea would be this lively.

It made them feel deeply uneasy.

Seeing the dense crowds of Swansea fans outside the stadium and filling the stands, cheering passionately, waving flags, creating an explosive atmosphere, the pressure on Blackpool's players became as heavy as a mountain.

Before the match, Lynn said only one sentence in the dressing room.

"This is the last game of the season. Play it properly. Let me have a relaxed and happy summer after working for an entire season. Whoever ruins my mood before my holiday, I'll make sure his summer isn't pleasant either."

Cromwell, as captain, also spoke seriously to his teammates.

"After the match, we'll lift the trophy, then celebrate our championship and promotion with the fans. None of us wants to receive the trophy as losers, right? That would make the fans a little unhappy too, wouldn't it? They're this passionate, so let's play the final match properly, then celebrate, and then enjoy a relaxed, happy holiday!"

His teammates shouted one after another, "Good!"

Lynn appeared inside the stadium and looked around.

In the stands, the fans were either wearing Swansea kits or the T-shirts that had recently become popular—the plain white shirts printed on the front with "I Love Swansea."

Lynn muttered, "Looks like Mo Yuan was right. We let someone else make all this money."

From the moment Blackpool manager Simon Grayson stepped into the Liberty Stadium, his head had been buzzing.

The atmosphere in this stadium was something unheard of at Third Division level!

At first, he had hoped Swansea would show mercy. Better yet, he hoped their entire team would be relaxed and careless. But now that he had personally stepped into the Liberty Stadium, he immediately felt that the match environment was extremely unfavorable for Blackpool.

When the starting players of Swansea and Blackpool walked onto the pitch, Blackpool's players were already dazed. Amid the deafening cheers of the home fans, they felt as if the world was spinning around them.

They were already tense because of the pressure of fighting for a promotion play-off place, and now, combined with Swansea's terrifying home atmosphere, Blackpool performed below their usual level right from the start.

The players made mistake after mistake. Neither attack nor defense worked properly.

Swansea opened the door to victory in the eighth minute.

Pedretti successfully counter-pressed in midfield and passed the ball to Cromwell. Cromwell quickly launched a fast attack, sending a diagonal ball out wide to Grosso. The Italian immediately whipped in a forty-five-degree cross from the flank. Villa darted to the near post inside the box and headed the ball into the net!

After winning the ball back, Swansea struck with a lightning attack!

The Liberty Stadium shook with noise. Blackpool's players were thrown into chaos.

They were already under enormous pressure, and Villa's goal tugged lightly at that strained mental string.

It snapped.

Lynn knew that players at this level were not especially strong under pressure. If Blackpool were facing an ordinary opponent, that might have been one thing. Unfortunately, they were facing Swansea. Worse, they had already lost to Swansea at home earlier in the season. Add in the pressure of securing a promotion play-off place and the terrifying atmosphere at the Liberty Stadium, and with all those factors stacked on top of each other, Blackpool were unable to settle from the start. Once they conceded, their collapse was only natural.

Although Simon Grayson came to the touchline and shouted, hoping his players could calm down and focus enough to play normally, Blackpool's players only seemed to forget how to play football even more.

One mistake followed another.

Their attacks were disorganized, and their defense was full of holes.

Swansea, by contrast, dealt with them calmly and soon scored a second goal.

Ibrahimović carried the ball alone up front, dribbled past two defenders, and fired from a tight angle inside the box. The shot struck the post and bounced back out. Grosso met the rebound from outside the area and swept it back toward goal. The goalkeeper was too slow to react, and the ball rolled into the net!

Only twenty minutes had passed, and Swansea were already two goals ahead.

Simon Grayson was furious. He raged on the touchline, unable to understand his team's performance.

This might have been the worst Blackpool had played all season, yet this was their most important match of the season!

By the end of the first half, Blackpool were three goals down.

James Cook's direct free-kick shattered Blackpool's pursuit of a promotion play-off place.

In the other match, Hull City were also leading Southend 2–0 at home. In the live table, Hull City had already overtaken Blackpool and climbed to seventh!

After the first half ended, Lynn returned to the dressing room for a few minutes, then came back out. Sitting on the bench, he looked unusually relaxed.

His team had already set multiple Third Division records.

The longest winning streak.

The most wins.

The scoring record.

The consecutive scoring record.

The home winning/unbeaten record.

The away winning/unbeaten record.

Of course, these records did not carry much weight, because they were only from the Third Division.

But the Swans' supporters had more than enough to use those numbers to praise Lynn to the skies.

Simon Grayson did not stay long in the dressing room either. He chose another way to motivate his players, giving them a severe dressing-down before leaving them to wake themselves up.

Clearly, Simon Grayson did not believe there was a problem with the team's tactics. The first issue was that the team's overall performance had completely gone wrong.

He had not expected the Liberty Stadium to have such an unbelievable, terrifying home atmosphere. It would not be an exaggeration to say the Liberty Stadium was practically the hell of the Third Division.

Even walking through that sharply black-and-white players' tunnel was enough to put psychological pressure on every visitor.

Blackpool's performance improved somewhat in the second half, but not enough to reverse the ferocious energy Swansea's players unleashed in the final match of the season.

By the sixty-fifth minute, Lynn stood up and walked to the touchline, hands in his pockets, calmly overseeing the battle.

Twenty minutes had passed, and Swansea had not scored a fourth goal. He was not unhappy. He was simply reminding the players:

Hey, you can do better.

Seeing Lynn standing on the touchline, the fans became even more excited. His image on the sideline had already taken deep root in their hearts, and the players could not ignore it either.

Lynn observed every player on the pitch. Over this year, the main squad had made tremendous progress.

Ibrahimović, whose footwork had become smoother and more refined, now possessed powerful penalty-area impact.

Villa, clever with his movement and capable of both dribbling and shooting, had become a terrifying killer.

The once-buried Grosso was now on the right track, performing consistently on the flank.

The young captain Cromwell already carried the bearing of a general. Perhaps one day, he would be able to compete with England's Gerrard and Lampard.

Pedretti was gradually becoming capable of standing alone on the road toward becoming Makélélé.

James Cook's precision delivery already carried the style of a Welsh Beckham.

Gabbidon worked hard without complaint, a reliable workhorse.

Brunel's aerial dominance was growing more imposing by the day.

Friedrich commanded the defensive line with composure, a true pillar at the back.

Tobias Rau could attack and defend, dazzlingly impressive.

Glendall was plain and unflashy, yet he remained a reliable final barrier!

Lynn raised his chin slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on the pitch.

He had lied in the dressing room.

He did not need a holiday at all.

He wanted to keep fighting.

Charge into the Second Division.

Fight without stopping.

All the way to the summit!

In the final match of the 2000–2001 English Third Division season, Swansea smashed Blackpool 7–0 at home, kicking Blackpool out of the promotion play-off zone!

Villa's fifty goals across the season caused an earthquake-level shock throughout English football!