Reborn in Football to Build Top Clubs from English League Two

12: Tactics on the eve of a cup matchThe euphoria of a 4-0 thrashing of their arch-rivals had the entire city of Hartlepool buzzing.

In the pubs, fans repeatedly chanted Vardy’s name, celebrating this long-awaited victory; in the newspapers, the Hartlepool Mail dedicated its entire sports section to praising this epic Derby triumph, equating Vardy’s name with ”miracle” and ”hope.”

However, in the midst of this sea of joy, the atmosphere in the club chairman’s office remained as calm as deep water.

Lin Feng’s gaze had long since moved past the exhilarating victory; his thoughts and vision were focused on the next challenge—the League Cup first-round away match against Rochdale in two days.

Hartlepool United, this dilapidated ship, had only just begun to sail away from the stranded beach.

The funding gap and the construction of the Phoenix Training Center weighed on his mind like invisible burdens.

But every step of victory would buy him more time and trust.

”Boss,” Old John Mcdonald pushed open the door, his face still flushed with unwaning excitement.

The way he looked at Lin Feng had completely changed.

If before it was obedience tinged with doubt, then after witnessing the crushing victory in the A19 Derby firsthand, his eyes now held only profound admiration, even a hint of worship.

He felt like a novice apprentice facing an unfathomable tactical master.

”John, sit,” Lin Feng pointed to the sofa opposite, gesturing for him to sit down. He noticed Old John’s posture and understood; this was exactly what he had hoped for.

Old John almost scurried over, respectfully sat down, and leaned slightly forward.

He licked his dry lips: ”Boss, your tactics... they’re simply brilliant! I’ve coached for half my life and never seen football played like this! That kid Vardy, just as you said, is the sharpest knife! He tore through Darlington’s defense, it was incredible!” He paused, his tone very humble,

”The next match is the League Cup, against Rochdale, and they’re a tough nut to crack, good at defensive counter-attacks. How... how should I set up? I’d like to hear your thoughts.” Old John felt his football philosophy being overturned, being reshaped, and he eagerly wanted to draw more ’heavenly’ wisdom from Lin Feng.

Lin Feng knew that Old John, this final puzzle piece, had been completely won over.

His brain worked rapidly, and the data and tactical models for Rochdale from the World-Class Club Development Platform instantly became clear.

From the team’s usual formations to the characteristics of key players, from defensive habits to attacking routes, everything was laid out before him like a transparent chessboard.

”Rochdale, a typical League Two team, defends very deep, with good midfield interception ability, and they particularly rely on their core midfielder and two fast wingers for counter-attacks,” Lin Feng said without consulting any material, as if he had played a friendly match against Rochdale just yesterday and knew every detail of his opponent.

He stood up, walked to the small whiteboard in the office, picked up a pen, and drew a simplified football pitch.

He simply drew two circles in the area representing Rochdale’s defense, then pointed to the outside of the two circles and said: ”You see, to maintain compactness and density within the penalty area, their wide defense will inevitably expose gaps. This is like ’empty space’ in Go; it looks safe, but it’s actually where we can place our pieces, it’s the weakest area of their defense.”

Lin Feng’s pen drew two sharp diagonal lines into the ”empty space,” piercing deep into their territory.

”We don’t need to fight them hand-to-hand in the penalty area, to go head-to-head. What we need to do is tear open their defense through quick wide penetrations and sudden through balls from the midfielders. Vardy’s speed is still our trump card; we need to let him assault their defense, create one-on-one opportunities for him.”

Old John listened intently, completely absorbed. He felt that Lin Feng’s tactical analysis transcended football itself, becoming an art, a philosophy.

The Go ’empty space,’ the ’torn open’ defense—these metaphors enlightened him; he had never understood the essence of tactics so clearly.

He felt he was not facing a twenty-six-year-old young man, but a football demon who had lived for hundreds of years, a ”magician” who could see all the secrets on the pitch.

He even had an absurd thought: could this boss be the ”chosen one” sent by God to save Hartlepool?