Honestly, it’s a stretch to call it a weakness, but if forced to pick one,
I suppose Man City’s weakness is that they employ tactics vulnerable to counterattacks.
The close spacing between players for short passes.
A high line overall.
And the fact that even the defenders actively join the attack to secure numerical superiority.
Thanks to such tactics, the pressure felt when defending against their attack is suffocating to say the least.
Still, it’s true that there are gaps worth exploiting on the counter.
However, if there is one problem… their ball possession and passing play are so outstanding that situations worth attempting a counterattack rarely arise.
In other words, once such a situation presents itself, doesn’t that mean I can be a bit more confident?
*Tap-tap—!*
In the center of the pitch, an area slightly below the halfway line.
*Swish—!*
While cushioning the fiercely driven ball as gently as possible and killing its momentum,
“…!”
I open all my senses wide, taking in every bit of information pouring in from all directions without missing a single grain.
The sound of footsteps from behind.
My field of vision ahead and around me.
And even an indescribable sixth sense beyond the five senses.
I accept information using every sense, and based on that data I unfold a picture of the situation on the pitch in my mind at this very moment.
And through that map, I plot a route for how to continue the next play to reach the opponent’s goal the fastest.
Once that process is complete, it is time to turn that mental image into reality through my body.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
When the distance to the defender rushing from behind has closed to about three strides…
*Tap-tap—!*
I shift my weight to the right, then quickly spin to the left using the recoil.
And before a physical contest can occur,
*Whoooosh—!*
I stab a low, fast lofted through pass toward the space behind on the right.
A pass aimed at Romero, who hadn’t shown himself once today.
Well, it’s certainly not out of pity.
It’s because the opponent had briefly let their guard down, or perhaps because the defense on that side was lax.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
After releasing the pass, I dash forward.
Simultaneously scanning ahead to find the optimal penetration route…
I suddenly find myself clenching my molars tight.
“…!”
No matter how good a team’s defense is, it’s normal for them to show some disorder during a counterattack.
Moreover, the timing and trajectory of the pass I sent to the right seemed right, so gaps should have been visible throughout the defense.
But I can’t see any.
Because in that brief moment, the wide-open gaps are instantly filled as the defenders fall back and form their shape.
Like machines.
That movement looks as if they had lured me into sending the pass there… and I can’t help but suspect that might actually be the case.
It’s a method we use too—defending by deliberately guiding the passing lane.
For a team of Man City’s caliber, it must be the most fundamental of basics.
…That was exactly why it had been so hard to be daring.
Somehow, it feels like all my thoughts are being read.
Beyond being read, it feels like they are seeing one move ahead.
How can I gamble against an opponent who can see all the cards I hold?
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
But I don’t have a choice.
What I mustn’t mistake is that I’m not in a position where I can refuse just because I don’t want to.
Because if we play it safe, we’ll lose.
The opponent is forcing us to gamble, and even if it’s like eating mustard while crying, it’s a situation where we have to do just that.
So for now, I run without stopping, thinking of getting inside the box.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
In a situation like this, normally… when Romero received the pass and had the ball, I would have moved to get close and provide support.
Penetration into the box… I likely wouldn’t have even considered it.
But now, I have resolved to challenge boldly.
Because only then can I create even a little unpredictability.
Still, I’ve played quite a few matches, and through those matches—while banging my head—I learned one thing.
Predictions through calculations are, as the word says, merely predictions.
Those predictions can change by the second, the calculations could have been wrong from the start, and a correct calculation can become a wrong one with just a single step’s difference.
Thinking you can calculate everything is truly arrogant, and you might pay dearly for it.
Soccer is a sport swarming with variables.
Put simply, they say the ball is round.
Believing in those words, I sprint into the box to add one more variable.
If the opponent has calculated and responded even to this… then we’ll just lose.
How do you beat that?
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
The moment I pass the box line and step my first foot on the grass inside the box,
I look at the backs of the defenders’ heads and realize that they, too, are only human.
Although it was almost inhuman how close to a straight line their formation was even while hurriedly dropping back, it seemed they couldn’t suppress their instinctive gazes.
Every defender’s gaze was directed toward Romero.
Thanks to that, I raise my hand toward Romero without facing any marking.
“…!”
“…!”
And the moment my eyes meet his, Romero does everything he can in a desperate effort to get the cross off.
Since one defender was stuck to him, he needed to twist his body to create the angle for the cross.
Because of that, while time was briefly delayed,
for an instant, I feel the flow of the nearby air turn chilling.
The moment I briefly wonder what is giving me this foreboding feeling,
I realize it’s because the space around me is too empty.
*Tap-tap—!*
At the same time, I try to stop and twist my body, but the mistimed moment is irreversible.
Romero, having already resolved to send the cross in, had unfortunately chosen this exact moment to create that angle.
*Swish—!*
The cross sent without delay pierces the right side of the box and comes in.
Of all things, it couldn’t be more accurate.
A wonderful cross that looked like it would go in if I just tapped it with my foot.
But… I can’t receive it.
*Swoosh—*
The ball passes right in front of my foot, and I simply watch it go, letting it pass.
If I touched it… it would definitely have been offside.
That’s why I had no choice but to just watch.
“…!”
However, while turning my gaze to follow the passing ball,
I spot someone at the end of that turned gaze and immediately tense up and spring forward.
The Man City defenders standing around had all raised one hand, but—
if my judgment is correct…
Saponara, who is currently running toward the loose ball over there, was not offside.
*Swish—!*
Saponara redirects the flowing ball back this way.
And I simply give the ball a light tap.
*Swish—!*
Changing only its direction toward the goal frame and pushing it in.
The goalkeeper had tried to get into position, but from such close range, missing would have been the strange thing.
*Thrum—!*
Thanks to that, the goal net shakes…
“Uwaaah!”
I heard Saponara let out a strange cry, but thinking it wasn’t time to celebrate yet, I turn my head and look back and forth between the linesman and the referee.
If the linesman raises his flag, or the referee points this way and blows his whistle, it means offside.
Conversely, if the flag doesn’t go up and the referee points to the halfway line, it’s a goal.
“…”
That brief moment waiting for the decision feels like dozens of minutes.
*Beeeeep—!*
The referee blew his whistle, pointing to the halfway line.
*
[“What is going on! In the 37th minute of the first half! The opening goal comes for Fiorentina!”]
[“The flow was somewhat strange. Man City had countless chances but couldn’t score. But even I didn’t expect Fiorentina to score first.”]
[“Incredible! The 17-year-old boy who shocked Italy has now shocked the Etihad Stadium!”]
At the goal no one had expected, the commentators’ voices rise as if bursting through the speakers.
[“Now, was that a defensive mistake just then?”]
[“Uh, at first it looked like an offside. Here. If you look from here… first, the position at this moment is indeed offside.”]
[“He’s definitely ahead.”]
[“But the problem is that he left the ball alone. According to the rules, even if you’re in an offside position, if it’s judged that you didn’t interfere with play, it’s not an offside.”]
[“It’s a bit ambiguous, but I think the action of not making any movement as the ball passed—thereby showing he wouldn’t interfere—was crucial to the decision.”]
Slow-motion replay of the goal scene.
In the brief moment the cross came in, I Jian is shown checking his surroundings slightly before simply watching the ball go by.
[“That means he judged himself to be in an offside position in that fleeting instant.”]
[“Exactly. This can be seen as tremendous football sense. Also, you could say it’s incredible spatial awareness.”]
[“The subsequent play was fast too. While all the defenders were just raising their hands, I Jian charges toward the goal.”]
[“Ah, of course, Saponara, who followed the ball to the end, also made an excellent play.”]
[“On this field, no—this stadium, the 17-year-old boy’s instinct was the most accurate and fastest.”]
The sight of only I Jian and Saponara continuing play while everyone else was stopped was one that angered Man City fans, but
in reality, that too is a result-oriented observation; in that very moment, everyone in the stadium had judged it offside.
There was little to be said.
[“Uh, in this situation, Manager Guardiola is smiling. Is it a dumbfounded laugh?”]
[“Yes. It looks like a smile meaning things aren’t going according to plan. He declared he wouldn’t let his guard down, but I don’t think he expected to concede the opening goal.”]
Guardiola’s image, laughing while stroking his face with both hands, is caught on the screen.
Did a hollow laugh burst out at a completely unexpected situation?
That was partly true.
But half right and half wrong.
It was indeed a hollow laugh, but not something entirely unexpected.
Of course, he hadn’t expected to concede the opening goal and be dragged along.
Guardiola had expected to the extent that he might get pricked by an awl once.
Fiorentina was a team like an awl.
Not a team with evenly spread stats forming a hexagon, but a team with one part jutting out abnormally, forming a pointed shape.
Therefore, Fiorentina was a team that was unstable yet threatening.
The feeling of a team that could lose to anyone, but could also beat anyone.
That jutting-out part was so sharp that he could predict he couldn’t crush them without getting pricked at least once.
But even so, the reason a hollow laugh burst out was purely because of the goal scene.
The movement of receiving the ball in the middle and turning.
And the ensuing speed of judgment and accuracy of the pass.
The boldness of penetrating into the box to score.
And most of all, the composure to turn offside to his advantage in an instant, and the perfect judgment that made it possible.
All of that was fully on display in a single scene, so he couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh bordering on admiration.
The moment he saw that scene, someone suddenly came to mind.
If you ask whether it was David Silva, whom he had kept hovering like a hologram beside I Jian all this time, it was not.
Not Silva, but a player of a higher class than even that great Silva… if so, there would be only a few, making it easy to identify.
But for that to be the play of a mere 17-year-old.
Who could swallow that without bursting into a hollow laugh?
“…”
But soon, that smile is wiped from his face.
Instead, a voice full of anger begins to boom across the pitch.
At that voice, the Man City players nod, relay the content to each other, and even exchange opinions and discuss.
Before the match began, no matter how much Guardiola told them to approach it with the mentality of a challenger,
most took it to mean they shouldn’t let their guard down; hardly anyone took it to heart.
But with the situation turning out this way, the players couldn’t help but think differently.
Guardiola’s words during training—that the 17-year-old brat was better than them, which they had thought were just for motivation—now felt different.
[“Now, the match resumes. Man City will need a quick equalizer, and Fiorentina may find the game easier to manage. Because there will be more counterattack opportunities.”]
[“That’s right. But we must clearly keep in mind that the opposite could also happen. Scoring the opening goal is a great feat, but there’s still too much time left. The remaining 45 minutes of the second half and the 90 minutes of the second leg. There is plenty of time for Man City to get their act together.”]
This isn’t to say Man City didn’t play seriously during the first half.
But Man City after conceding was definitely going to be more frightening.
Rather than poking a sleeping lion’s whiskers… shall we say we scratched the lion’s face?
Isn’t it obvious which lion is scarier?
[“Yes, the first half ends like this. We will return for the second half.”]
The match continued into the second half.
< Awl -4 > End