Save 30. The Returned Bad Boy
The players made their way through the tunnel toward the pitch.
Everton's home ground.
Goodison Park.
To them, Leeds—who had only just returned to the Premier League—was nothing but an uninvited guest.
And the only thing an uninvited guest would bring was three points.
The home fans gathered here today likewise had no doubt that their team would beat Leeds United black and blue.
"Here are the starting lineups for both teams."
"Let's start with Everton."
Everton brought out a 4-5-1 formation.
It couldn't simply be dismissed as a defensive tactic; the quality of the players was too good for that.
The back four consisted of Leighton Baines, John Stones, Phil Jagielka, and Seamus Coleman.
The wingers on both flanks were Steven Pienaar and Aiden McGeady.
In midfield came Gareth Barry, James McCarthy, and Steven Naismith.
Up front, the rookie striker Romelu Lukaku stood as the lone striker.
"This is the lineup Everton fans look at whenever they're feeling down."
"Haha. With a lineup like this, they're definitely Champions League contenders."
In contrast, Leeds brought out a 4-2-3-1 formation with two defensive midfielders. Compared to Everton, their squad looked relatively shabby.
It was passable enough in the Championship.
But this was the Premier League.
To take a somewhat extreme example:
A striker fighting relegation in the Premier League would be the best striker in the Championship.
The difference was quite large.
Therefore, Leeds had high expectations for their existing core members.
Ross McCormack, who had tormented the Championship.
And the goalkeeper Sin Uison, who hadn't conceded a single goal in the Championship since his debut.
Along with some promising youngsters who had just come in on loan, these were the reliable players for today's match.
"The match is underway."
Beep!
At the whistle, the players of both teams began to move.
It was Everton who seized the momentum from the start. They were at home, and their opponents were Leeds, playing their first match back in the Premier League. They intended to crush their spirit right from the beginning.
Leeds, on the other hand, showed a passive approach, dropping back as people had predicted.
The 4-2-3-1 formation.
A tactic utilizing two defensive midfielders.
They would have to see from now on what this tactic would look like against Everton's attack.
"As Everton attacks, Leighton Baines pushes forward."
"That's excellent positioning."
What Leeds particularly needed to watch out for were the two fullbacks.
Leighton Baines and Seamus Coleman were fullbacks highly rated in the Premier League.
While Everton pressured Leeds,
Baines moved into the open space.
"Baines!"
Just then, a quality pass from the center sliced out to the flank, and Baines, receiving it, swung in a cross immediately.
"Baines with the cross!"
The left fullback Baines was a player with an exceptional kick. A cross befitting that reputation curved toward the penalty area.
"Block that!"
Sin Uison shouted, seeing Lukaku charging toward the ball.
The sheer bulk of the man sprinting toward the cross was incredibly intimidating.
"Where do you think you're going, fucker!"
At those words, Maili snapped his head around, spotted Lukaku, and chased after him. He was incredibly fast and explosive.
Lukaku and Maili contested the header.
Unexpectedly,
it was Maili who comfortably won it.
"He still has room to grow, but Lukaku isn't taking advantage of his physicality at all."
Lukaku was a player who, despite his size, wasn't good at heading.
He even avoided physical contact despite having an enormous physique.
The fans watching him do this every time simply couldn't understand it.
Afterward, Leeds tried to counterattack but were blocked at every turn, unable to build any momentum. Even when they tried to play as usual, the level of the Premier League was far higher than they had imagined.
"What a shot from McCormack!"
"Leeds is starting to create chances now."
However, as the match progressed,
the Leeds players gradually began adapting to the match.
McCormack, having tried a shot from distance, clicked his tongue in regret.
'Not good enough.'
Watching this, someone was burning with impatience.
Everton's manager, Roberto Martinez.
He bit his lower lip as he watched Leeds regain their momentum.
'I thought we'd crush them completely, but these are well-trained players.'
Capello hadn't been disciplining the players so harshly during the preseason for nothing. The ragtag bunch was showing strict, military-like discipline.
"Heh heh."
Capello, on the Leeds bench, smiled faintly at the sight.
There was no way he didn't know the players were cursing him behind his back.
The coaches, or the players he'd planted in the locker room, all told him.
But if the results reaped from it were outstanding, he could take all the cursing in the world.
'As long as we don't concede, it doesn't matter.'
The football philosophy Capello pursued was pragmatism. He might be cursed for being boring, but he was a manager who produced results.
A situation where they were being pushed back like now?
As long as they didn't concede, they could be pushed back as much as necessary.
But Everton shouldn't take that price lightly.
'Now!'
Now, with both Everton fullbacks pushed high to join the attack.
Now was precisely the time for Leeds to launch their counter.
Sin Uison floated a pass toward the center.
"What a pass from Sin Uison!"
"Oh, Leeds is starting their attack!"
One of the defensive midfielders lightly knocked it down with a header, and the other defensive midfielder next to him connected with a short pass to the attacking midfielder.
This was one of the most practiced drills on the training ground during the preseason.
"McCormack!"
Leeds' attacking midfielder threaded a low through-ball.
This, too,
was a pattern they had drilled until they were sick of it on the training ground.
"Fuck, nice pass, you bastard!"
McCormack sprinted toward the beautifully weighted pass. At the same time, Everton's center back Phil Jagielka could be seen giving orders to John Stones.
Even seeing that, he didn't slow down, but rather increased his speed.
To shake off the defenders?
Well, more than that.
"McCormack! McCormack!"
"He's charging toward the ball!"
"Shooooooot!"
It was to strike a more powerful shot.
Bang!
The shot struck from slightly far out flew in a straight line.
Stones, startled as he rushed to close down, threw his body at it, but too late.
The shot flew past John Stones, and even Phil Jagielka was too late to deal with it, heading straight for the corner of the goal.
Everton's goalkeeper Tim Howard was a veteran who had played in the Premier League for a long time. He was also a guardian deity who had steadfastly guarded the team's backline without showing any noticeable decline.
"Oh, shit."
Even Howard
could only blankly watch the ball whizz past.
Swish!
The sound of the net rippling was as painful as a whip cracking against him.
"Unbelievable! What a goal! Ross McCormaaaaack scores a thunderbolt of an opening goal!"
"The Championship top scorer records his first Premier League goal!"
"Uuaaaah!"
McCormack screamed and ran after confirming the goal had gone in.
His first goal.
His first Premier League goal!
The first goal of his entire career in the EPL!
"Hey, are you crying?"
"This bastard's crying!"
"Who's crying, you bastards!"
Someone teased him upon seeing his reddened eyes. But they soon embraced McCormack and congratulated him.
"Whoa."
Watching from afar, Sin Uison let out a quiet gasp of admiration. It was a brilliant goal.
"Phew!"
Just then, Maili, who was in front of him, let out a sigh of relief. It seemed an attacker wasn't included among the targets he was keeping an eye on.
Tilting his head at the sight, Sin Uison asked.
"Aren't you going over?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, over there."
Where Sin Uison was pointing was where McCormack was. Midfielders and defenders alike were joining the celebration. Only Maili and Sin Uison had not gone.
"It's just a waste of energy."
"Is that so?"
"Then why aren't you going?"
"I'm the goalkeeper, after all."
It was rare to see a goalkeeper go all the way over for a celebration. Having understood what he meant, Maili nodded his head.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah."
The two roughly nodded their heads.
[Sigh.]
'Why the sigh.'
[Actually, don't the two of you work well together?]
'No way.'
Sin Uison denied those words.
Anyway, the players of both teams returned,
and the match resumed.
The score was 1-0.
Surprisingly, it was Leeds who had taken the lead.
"Lukaku receives the ball."
"Lukaku driving in from the left flank."
Lukaku preferred to drift out to the flanks even as a lone striker. He often ran down the line like that before smashing in a goal.
Which meant
he was not a good matchup for Maili.
Because Maili was a hunting dog.
Once he bit, he never let go.
That kind of tenacious hunting dog.
"Maili blocks Lukaku!"
"Lukaku is losing face today!"
Maili stuck tight to Lukaku, who was sprinting down the flank, and rubbed bodies with him. Unlike Lukaku, he was a defender who enjoyed physical contact. This is what it meant to be a bad matchup.
When Maili left his position, one of the two defensive midfielders dropped into that spot.
This was exactly why Manager Capello insisted on using two defensive midfielders.
A defense without gaps.
For Everton, who used a lone striker tactic, it was an extremely difficult defensive wall to break down.
"Lukaku eventually passes back."
The ball, having gone through the center once, headed toward Everton's right winger, McGeady.
He was a player renowned for his individual skill, if nothing else.
That McGeady pulled off a flashy turn, getting past the Leeds fullback. He was a player who typically lost his weaker foot after that point, and Everton's manager knew this well. That was why McGeady wasn't allowed to hold onto the ball for too long.
"McGeady's pass!"
"Back to Lukaku!"
A low, driven pass went to Lukaku. Leeds' defensive midfielder swept it away, and Barry collected the ball as it made its way back into the center.
Barry sent it out to Pienaar on the flank.
Pienaar was a winger who showed strength in dribbling.
However, the decline in his abilities due to injuries and aging was unavoidable.
Today, Leeds' right fullback was keeping him at bay without much difficulty.
That's when Sin Uison's instincts warned him of danger.
What is it? What is this unease?
Sin Uison looked around to find the source of the foreboding.
And then,
he spotted Baines moving up, trailing behind Pienaar.
"Hey, get over there quick!"
"Huh? Why me?"
Maili frowned at Sin Uison's words. It was a tone that said, 'Who the hell are you to order me around?'
"Quickly!"
"Why are you snapping, fucker!"
Because Sin Uison shouted like that, Maili grumbled but followed the instructions. He went where Sin Uison pointed, and at that exact moment, Pienaar handed the ball off to Baines.
"Huh?"
Maili's face was bewildered,
but he soon realized what he had to do.
He positioned himself in front of Baines to block the passing lane, preventing him from putting in a cross.
"Excellent positioning from Maili! He successfully wins the ball!"
"That was very well done!"
The commentators praised Maili's defensive positioning. To anyone unaware of the circumstances, it would have looked as though he had read Baines' movement and covered in advance.
"..."
Only the man himself,
stood with his eyes wide, staring at Sin Uison.