117. Pre-Season -3
More ordinary than I thought.
"Good game."
"...Good game."
That was my impression after facing the face of a true genius from thirty centimeters away and even shaking his hand.
More ordinary than I thought... he's just a person, that's all.
This is the story of Bruno Fernandes.
Right before the match started, when we exchanged handshakes, the only thing that caught my eye was his big teeth.
To the point that I felt if I had met him on the street, I would have passed by without a second thought—he was just an ordinary person.
I suppose even geniuses are just people in the end.
Just as I was having these random sentiments, unbefitting of someone about to play a match, a piercing whistle struck my ears.
Beeeeeeep-!
With the absurd thought that English whistles somehow sound different, I slowly ran forward.
The match had finally begun.
Our formation was the same as last season: 4-3-3.
My role was also the same as ever—center of the front line, but with instructions to move freely without being tied to my position.
In response, the opponent faced us with a typical 4-2-3-1.
Thump-!
Thump-!
After briefly scanning the overall formation of the opponent players slowly circulating the ball, my gaze soon returned to searching for Bruno Fernandes.
According to formation, he was positioned in the center of the second attacking line, but while the ball was circulating in the back, he was dropping down along the left half-space.
Had he been instructed to adjust his movements according to the situation, similar to me?
...Hmm.
I somehow felt amused, as if I were forcibly looking for common ground with him.
Thump-!
Thump-!
Anyway, the opponent seemed to be in no rush, slowly circulating the ball and observing us.
Before the match, I had heard from the coach that Premier League teams have a very fast tempo in game management and a very quick transition speed between attack and defense.
For all that talk... the opponent merely walked slowly, found their positions, and lightly passed the ball in place.
At a glance, they looked no different from Serie A teams.
However...
"..."
Strangely, I felt a difference.
It was clearly an ordinary buildup process no different from Serie A teams, yet something felt subtly different.
At this, I busily looked around, trying to grasp the opponent players' movements.
I expanded my vision from my surroundings to the entire pitch, trying to read what was making me feel this difference.
And soon I realized.
Aside from a few players, everyone had taken positions higher than where they were originally supposed to be.
For example... formation-wise the opponent was using a back four, but right now three defenders were forming a line.
The right fullback had pushed forward like a midfielder, while two center-backs and the left fullback Luke Shaw stood side by side like a back three.
And in front of them, Bruno Fernandes stood like a central midfielder, while the remaining midfielders had pushed high and crossed over into our half.
The gap created by this... was being filled by the advanced right fullback.
With this, there ended up being a lot of opponent players in our half.
Simply put, they left only the bare minimum in the back and pushed everyone else up.
Then... if we pushed up with a high press from here, what would happen?
Could they overcome the press with that number of players and advance?
"Stick tight!"
"Pushing up! Tighten the gaps!"
Just as my thoughts reached that point, Romero on the right began moving first.
It was the moment the ball went to Luke Shaw.
Tap-tap-tap-!
At this, all my teammates and I advanced and began pushing the line upward.
A press done alone is meaningless, so when one person steps forward, everyone has to move together.
As if our bodies were all connected by strings, we advanced toward the opponent's half as one.
In response, the opponent presented the answer to the question I had just pondered.
Tragically enough, the method that rendered my puzzlement pointless was, in the end, individual ability.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Romero came clattering toward (I'm sorry, but I couldn't find a more appropriate expression than this) Luke Shaw, but Shaw didn't even fluster and shielded the ball...
With a sharp turn that shook off the press in an instant, he created space.
Thump-!
And connected forward.
The one receiving that pass was Bruno Fernandes.
Even though there were two players including me around him, his figure turning instantly after receiving the ball exuded confidence.
Tap-!
I pressed up close to him.
From the left by me, and from the right by Bonaventura, we blocked his path forward.
Truthfully, if this were a league match, I might have told Bonaventura to drop back.
In a way that only blocked the route forward so the ball couldn't advance.
Neither Bonaventura nor I are players specialized in defense, so that would have been better.
However, today is not a league match but a pre-season match.
Knowing there were risks, I still stepped forward intending to try pressing.
Honestly, part of me wanted to see it.
How the ace of a prestigious club gets out of a situation like this.
If it were me, I would probably choose a quick pass here. Because space was opening up in our backline.
But if he's a true genius, wouldn't he read one step further than me?
What could it be?
Even though it wasn't the moment for such thoughts, I rushed in with full anticipation.
Thwack-!
My gaze turned to the ball quickly passing between us.
The ball rolled toward a small pocket of space, and soon reached the feet of an opponent player.
In other words, it was a pass.
A quick stabbed pass before physical pressure could be applied.
...Hmm.
Some inexplicable disappointment welled up.
I had expected a more unpredictable and brilliant answer.
It was exactly what I had thought, so I felt deflated.
"Drop the line!"
"Get back!"
Anyway, his pass was quite threatening and close to the correct answer.
We had to hurriedly fall back and rebuild our defensive line, and I too ran down.
Well, the situation itself only had one correct answer right now.
It was inevitable that his answer and mine had to be the same.
*
The time allowed to me today was only 45 minutes.
After all, it was my first overseas away match, and our second pre-season match.
They said they couldn't give me more playing time than that.
Perhaps because of that.
Every passing minute and second felt precious.
Before I knew it, over 20 minutes had passed.
The first 10 minutes or so flowed like a feeling-out process, and after 10 minutes the tempo quickened and it felt like the real match had begun.
During that time, I hadn't even had many chances to touch the ball.
First, the opponent had high possession, so the time we had the ball itself was short.
Even when we won the ball through goal-line clearances or defensive success, we couldn't easily overcome the opponent's strong high press, so the ball couldn't reach us.
The level of that high press was certainly high.
Of course, I don't mean to look down on our league, nor am I qualified to do so.
But if we only look at the intensity of the press... and the energy level, I don't remember meeting a team that executed a press of this caliber in the league.
So my teammates must also be struggling against the press.
If today's match is a pre-season match, it means they'll play at an even faster tempo in the official season...
I wonder what kind of place the Premier League is, where they have to play matches like that every week.
Thump-!
Anyway, since the match was flowing like that, I was given a lot of time to observe the opponent's play.
Naturally, I devoted most of that time to Bruno Fernandes.
How he moved without the ball, what decisions he made with the ball, and how he used his teammates.
Even though I shouldn't as someone facing him, I watched hoping he would show me a play I hadn't imagined.
I had hoped he would give me some inspiration—that there might be a method like that too.
However, hmm.
Maybe because it was still pre-season, I hadn't felt that way yet.
Instead... I even found myself tilting my head in confusion.
Well... I guess he's going easy since it's pre-season.
Because it's pre-season.
If that weren't the case, there's no way he couldn't see the path I'm seeing.
"We need to quicken the pass timing! It keeps getting cut!"
"Let's make quicker decisions! Our communication has dropped too much!"
Anyway, since there isn't much time left, I can't just watch anymore.
I have to show something to Jiu, who is watching, and I also feel like showing something to the crowd filling this huge stadium.
The Serie A Player of the Year can't just stay quiet like this.
"Try to take it slow!"
The opponent's shot went wide of the goal, and our attack was about to begin with a goal kick.
Since aerial duels offered us no chance of victory, we had been taking the goal kicks short from earlier.
Again, the defenders spread wide to the left and right, while the midfielders waited in low positions, creating passing lanes.
In response, the opponent didn't back down either, waiting up front for the goal kick.
Having finished grasping the overall picture like that, I was already running toward a low position.
Tap-tap-tap-!
My teammates who noticed my movement exchanged glances, and I could see them shifting their positions little by little.
The central midfielders pushed a bit higher, and the fullbacks also advanced to adjust their positions.
Then, as I dropped all the way deep, the goalkeeper who had been hesitating to take the kick finally dealt with the goal kick.
Thump-!
With the goal kick taken as a short pass, the opponent forwards charged as if they had been waiting.
Predicting the path of that press wasn't difficult, so I moved to a position where I could receive the pass, as I had thought of in advance.
Thump-!
Immediately after, the ball came over.
While the ball was rolling, I checked my surroundings and saw opponent players converging from three directions.
Suddenly, I grew curious—if Bruno Fernandes were in this situation, what decision would he make?
Who knows.
It's something I can't know.
Therefore, I thought of the best decision I could make, in my own way.
Thump-!
And the moment I received the ball, I moved my feet to put that into action.
Tap-tap-tap-!
While turning my body, which had been opened to the left, to face forward, I trapped the ball.
Pressure was coming from the left, right, and front.
The closest was the front.
It was only natural.
Because the center is a place where breakthroughs can never be allowed, they had no choice but to apply the strongest press to force the ball to the sides.
However, that also meant this was the side we had to attack.
It's the attacker's duty to break through where the defense stands strongest.
Because if they are blocking strongly, it means they absolutely cannot let that side be breached.
Tap-tap-tap-!
I stared straight at the charging opponent.
And when the distance closed to within about three steps, I placed my right foot on the ball and then tilted my upper body to the left.
At this, I could see the charging opponent's balance tip to the left.
Pow-!
Pushing the ball to the right, I kicked off with my left leg that had been bearing weight, dodging the opponent's leg and breaking through.
I thought he would stop after coming at me moderately, but since he kept charging to the end, I was briefly surprised.
I began dribbling the ball toward the open space I saw before me.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Did he think he could steal it?
Well, from the opponent's perspective, it was certainly a jackpot position if they stole it.
But still, come on.
Charging in like that meant nothing other than him underestimating me.
I didn't feel entirely good about it.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Anyway, I ran as fast as I could and reached near the halfway line.
Then, after scanning the opponent's defensive line, I quickly delivered a pass to Romero driving down the right.
Thwack-!
I strongly pushed it with my instep so that the ball could cut across between the center-back and fullback.
If this were a pitch with slightly longer grass, I would have played it aerially, but here this was possible.
This is quite fun in its own way.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Even after sending the pass, I didn't stop and ran forward.
Compared to the opponent defenders hurriedly dropping back, there were many teammates pushing up toward the box.
Romero was using his speed to carry the ball deep into the right side.
While running, I checked my teammates' movements and then decided where I should go.
Near the right corner of the box—a position where I could receive a cutback—was where I chose.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Just as I neared the position I had in mind.
Romero, who had been carrying the ball up while being chased by Luke Shaw, glanced toward the center as if exhausted.
And his eyes met mine.
Thump-!
The ball bounced toward me.
It was a hurried pass that wasn't easy to receive, but once it reached my feet, the rest was up to me.
Thud-!
I trapped the pass coming from the right with the inside of my left foot.
At the same time, an opponent center-back blocked the path ahead.
It was Harry Maguire, whom I had marked with an asterisk on the scouting report.
Since I had been told to attempt a 1v1 unconditionally if I encountered this player, I would do exactly that.
Tap-!
While keeping the ball trapped, I feinted as if cutting to the left, twitching my body and swinging my foot.
Then Maguire's huge body tilted to the left, and perhaps because he was so big, he looked incredibly slow.
Therefore, I had plenty of room to cut back inside to the right.
Tap-tap-tap-!
I dragged the ball with my left foot and drove into the right side of the box.
During this, I heard a clattering sound from behind, but I had no nerves to spare for that and only looked at the ball.
It was time to shoot.
BAAAANG-!
I struck the shot powerfully with the instep of my right foot.
Struck from the right side of the goal, that shot stayed low and soared toward the opposite post.
Swoooooosh-
I saw the goalkeeper—whose shot-stopping ability was said to be world-class in the league—dive toward that shot.
But no matter how good his shot-stopping ability was, it was only natural not to be able to block a shot taken from this close.
Swish-!!
The ball curled into the side net, making the goal mesh bulge.
At that moment, I had to feel a strange sensation.
What is this.
This inexplicable sense of futility...