Reborn in Football to Build Top Clubs from English League Two

119: The ”truth” of victory and the ”loneliness” behind the scenesThe echoes of laughter still lingered in the player’s tunnel, but Sophie Green didn’t rush towards the locker room like the other reporters.

She stood quietly at the other end of the tunnel, waiting for the figure who always left last.

Lin Feng walked down from the VIP box, his face devoid of the joy a victor should possess.

His expression was unusually calm, as if the just-concluded match wasn’t a crucial game, but a routine business meeting.

Sophie went up to him, her voice recorder already prepared.

”Mr. Lin.”

Her voice was exceptionally clear in the empty tunnel.

Lin Feng stopped, turned, and looked at her. There was no excitement of victory in his deep eyes, but rather a hint of fatigue.

”Sophie, not off work yet?”

His tone was gentle, but Sophie noticed that he leaned back slightly, a subconscious defensive posture.

”I’d like to ask you a question.”

Sophie looked directly into his eyes.

”A question that might be a bit personal.”

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow, signaling her to continue.

”You just led the team to an important victory, defeating Swansea City, known as the ’Wales Barcelona’. All of Hartlepool is cheering for you. But...”

Sophie paused, organizing her words.

”I want to know, what does victory truly taste like to you?”

This question made Lin Feng freeze for a moment.

Lin Feng was silent for a few seconds, seemingly re-evaluating the reporter in front of him. He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, ”That’s not a question a sports reporter would ask.”

Lin Feng pondered for a moment, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

”Do you think a chess player, at the moment of checkmating an opponent, feels joy, or the tranquility of having completed a work?”

This counter-question stunned Sophie.

She had expected a standard answer about the excitement and sense of accomplishment of victory. But Lin Feng gave her another question instead.

”I...”

Sophie tried to answer, but found herself lost in thought.

Lin Feng looked at her confused expression and continued, ”Victory is just the result; what I enjoy more is the process of the layout.

Watching every piece move to the correct position at the correct time, that sense of control fascinates me more than victory itself.”

His voice was soft, yet it made Sophie feel an inexplicable dryness in her mouth, and the presence of the voice recorder felt superfluous.

It was the first time she had experienced this man’s way of thinking so intimately. He wasn’t enjoying victory; he was enjoying the process of creating victory.

”Just like today’s match.”

Lin Feng gestured towards the stadium behind him.

”Martínez is an excellent coach, and his team is also outstanding.

But when I saw their tactical deployment in the first half, I knew that unleashing Gylfi’s individual ability in the second half would completely break the balance.”

”This feeling of a prediction becoming reality satisfies me more than hearing the cheers after a goal.”

Sophie’s notebook recorded these words, but her attention was completely drawn to Lin Feng’s gaze.

There was a contradictory light in those eyes, like a volcano beneath the deep sea, cold and calm on the surface, but with magma surging deep within.

”If you really want to understand my ’true feelings’.”

Lin Feng looked at her, extending an invitation.

”Come to the Phoenix Training Center tomorrow morning. I’ll show you how a chess game is conceived before it even begins.”

This invitation came so suddenly that Sophie could hardly believe her ears.

Lin Feng never allowed the media deep insight into his work process; this was a fact known throughout English football.

”Are you sure?”

She asked cautiously.

Lin Feng nodded.

”But only the non-core parts. I want to show you how what the outside world considers ’magic’ is actually composed of countless hours of analysis and deduction.”

The next morning, Sophie arrived at the Phoenix Training Center as arranged.

The autumn sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the tactical analysis room, casting dappled light on the white tactics board.

Lin Feng stood in front of a large display screen, which showed densely packed data charts.

Old John and Richard Arnold sat at the conference table, listening intently to Lin Feng’s analysis.

”Oldham Athletic.”

Lin Feng pointed to the team formation diagram on the screen.