《The Coaching System》 Chapter 1 - 1: The Moment of Truth Ethan Carter stood on the touchline, his breath visible in the cold German night air. Rain poured from the sky, soaking his suit, but he hardly noticed. His mind was locked on one thing and one thing only¡ªthe scoreboard. 85:42 FC Kaiserslautern ¨C 1 Schwarzburg Leipzig ¨C 0 Five minutes left. Five minutes away from breaking the curse. The noise in the stadium was deafening. The Schwarzburg Leipzig fans, frustrated and furious, roared from the stands. They couldn''t believe it. They were the league champions, unbeaten in their last 21 matches. And yet, here they were, trailing to the worst team in the Bundesliga. And at the heart of this disaster was a man who should have been the easiest manager to defeat. Ethan Carter. The Cursed Manager.\\ For ten years, Ethan Carter had never won a single match. Every club he managed¡ªdisaster. Every tactical decision¡ªridiculed. Every lineup choice¡ªquestioned. His name was a joke in the football world. The media called him a fraud, a failure, a man who had no business in professional football. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And yet¡­ here he was. Five minutes away from his first-ever victory. The rain fell harder, dripping down his face, but he stood still, his eyes locked on the pitch. The Schwarzburg players pushed forward aggressively, throwing everything into attack. Their coach had just subbed in two fresh attackers, going all-out to avoid this humiliation. Ethan could feel the pressure tightening around him. Five minutes. One mistake, and it was over. His assistant Markus Reinhardt grabbed his arm. "We need to park the bus, boss." His voice was frantic, desperate. "Throw in another defender. Hold the line." The logical move. The safe move. The move any manager would make. But Ethan shook his head. "No." Instead, he turned to the bench. His gaze landed on an unknown forward, a kid barely out of the academy¡ªLukas Richter. Unproven. Inexperienced. But fast. Ethan called his name. "Lukas. Get ready." The assistant manager''s eyes widened. "Are you insane?! They''re pushing forward, and you want to put in a striker?!" Ethan didn''t explain. He couldn''t explain. It was a gut feeling. A moment where everything just clicked. Lukas Richter ran onto the pitch, replacing a tired midfielder. The fans booed, confused. The commentators questioned his sanity. "What is Carter doing?!" "Five minutes left, and he''s making an attacking sub?" "This is why he''s never won a game. Madness." Ethan didn''t care. He had seen something. Schwarzburg Leipzig was so focused on attacking, they had left themselves vulnerable. And in the 89th minute, that mistake cost them. Schwarzburg sent a desperate long ball into the box. Their star striker, Bruno Kessler, leapt for the header. Ethan held his breath. The ball deflected off the crossbar. Kaiserslautern''s defender, Bergmann, cleared it long. And there¡ªat the halfway line, completely unmarked¡ªwas Lukas Richter. The fresh-legged substitute sprinted like his life depended on it. The Schwarzburg defenders realized too late. They had committed too many men forward. Richter stormed into the box, only the goalkeeper ahead of him. Ethan''s pulse hammered as the stadium held its breath. One-on-one. The moment that would decide everything. Richter took a touch. The goalkeeper rushed forward. Then¡ªa simple chip. The ball floated over the diving keeper. Time seemed to freeze. Ethan''s breath caught. The ball drifted... dropped¡­ And then¡ª\\ The net rippled. 2-0. Game over. The referee looked at his watch. One last desperate attack from Schwarzburg. A cross. Cleared. Then¡ª Peeeeep! Full-time. Ethan didn''t react. He couldn''t. The noise around him became distant and muted, like he was underwater. The players screamed in celebration. The fans erupted in pure joy. His assistant grabbed him by the shoulders, shouting in his face, but Ethan couldn''t even register what he was saying. The stadium roared his name. ETHAN CARTER! ETHAN CARTER! He had won. After ten years of failure, humiliation, and endless ridicule¡ª He had finally won. The curse was broken. The emotions hit him all at once¡ªa tidal wave crashing over him. His knees buckled. His hands shook. And then¡ª A sharp pain pierced his chest. Ethan Carter''s vision blurred. He stumbled. In his ears, his heartbeat raced. Something was wrong. His breath hitched. The world tilted. The last thing he saw before everything went black¡ª The scoreboard flashes the final score. Kaiserslautern 2 ¨C Schwarzburg Leipzig 0. Victory. And then¡ª Darkness. Chapter 2 - 2: Victory & Rebirth A sharp pain tore through Ethan Carter''s chest. His breath hitched. The scene around him blurred, and the thundering noise of the crowd faded into a distant, muted sound. His eyesight wandered, and the stadium lights appeared too bright, the rain too cold against his skin. His knees buckled. His legs gave out beneath him. Someone was shouting his name. His assistant, Markus Reinhardt, grabbed his arm, shaking him violently. "Ethan! What''s wrong?! Ethan¡ªmedics! Get the medics!" Ethan wanted to answer. To say something. To tell Markus to calm down, that it was just exhaustion, that he would be fine. But he couldn''t speak. The discomfort in his chest became excruciating as it contracted. He felt his heart being crushed by an iron hand. The cheers from the stands¡ªthe sound of his name being chanted for the first time in his career¡ªbegan to fade. His body slumped forward, hitting the cold, wet grass. The rain continued to fall, soaking through his suit, chilling his skin. Ethan tried to move, tried to fight against the suffocating darkness pulling him under. But it was useless. He could hear the frantic shouts of the medical staff rushing onto the pitch, feel hands pressing against his chest, trying to restart his failing heart. The last thing he saw before everything went black¡ª The scoreboard flashing the final result. Kaiserslautern 2 ¨C Schwarzburg Leipzig 0. Victory. And then¡ª Nothing. . . . . A sharp inhale. A desperate gasp for air. Ethan jerked awake, his body trembling, his lungs burning as though he had been drowning. His hands clawed at his chest, expecting to feel pain¡ªexpecting to feel something. But there was nothing. No rain. No cold grass. No stadium lights. Only the dim glow of an old desk lamp, casting flickering shadows against the walls of a small, cluttered office. His heart pounded in confusion. His breathing was uneven, his fingers still shaking as they pressed against his chest. He was¡­ alive? No. Something was wrong. His body¡ªit felt different. His breathing slowed as he looked down at his hands. They weren''t his hands. They were thinner. The fingers were longer, bonier, the skin slightly rough. His once broad, athletic frame felt weaker, like he had been trapped in a body that hadn''t exercised in years. The pulse of Ethan jumped. In a desperate attempt to comprehend what was happening, his thoughts raced. This wasn''t his body. And this wasn''t Germany. The air smelled of old leather, dust, and cheap coffee. The walls were lined with filing cabinets, stacked papers, and old team photos. A sudden movement caught his eye. On the wooden desk in front of him sat a newspaper, slightly crumpled and yellowed. The bold headline made his stomach drop. "ETHAN CARTER DEAD ¨C TRAGIC COLLAPSE AFTER HISTORIC WIN!" His body went completely still. What? His hands, still trembling, grabbed the newspaper, his eyes frantically scanning the text. "Bundesliga manager Ethan Carter, aged 41, tragically collapsed on the pitch after securing his first-ever win with FC Kaiserslautern. The football world mourns his passing." He felt sick. He was reading about his own death. His fingers pressed into the paper, squeezing it so hard that it almost tore. It had to be a joke. A dream. A hallucination. But it wasn''t. This was real. His breathing grew ragged as he lowered the newspaper, his gaze locking onto something else on the desk. A small nameplate. Jake Wilson ¨C Head Coach, Bradford City (Fifth-Tier League, England) His entire body froze. Jake Wilson? Who the hell was Jake Wilson? Before he could even begin to process, a soft ding echoed in the room. A glowing blue screen materialized before his eyes. [Ding! The Coaching System Has Activated.] Ethan''s breath hitched. His body stiffened as his gaze locked onto the floating screen. The text was clear, crisp, and impossible to ignore. [Welcome, Jake Wilson. Your mission is to rise from the bottom and become the greatest manager in football history.] [Analyzing Current Team: Bradford City (Fifth-Tier League, England)] [Tactical Insights Unlocked.] Ethan¡ªor rather, Jake Wilson¡ªfelt a chill crawl down his spine. He swallowed hard. His mind was screaming, demanding answers, but deep inside, a single terrifying realization settled in. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He had died. And now¡ª He was somebody else. Chapter 3 - 3: Squad Assessment & Harsh Truths The air was crisp and biting, the morning fog still clinging to the edges of the pitch as Jake Wilson¡ªor rather, Ethan Carter in his body¡ªstepped onto the training ground for the first time. He pulled his coat tighter around him, his breath visible in the cold as he walked toward the group of players huddled near the center circle. Their body language was enough to tell him exactly what they thought of him. Arms crossed. Expressionless faces. Zero respect. It wasn''t surprising. Bradford City was a club on the verge of relegation, a team used to being ignored. And now, their new head coach was some no-name lower-league manager who had never accomplished anything in his career. Jake could hear the whispers even before he reached them. "Another one, huh?" "How long do you think this guy lasts?" "Relegation''s confirmed already, mate." His jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Let them talk. That would change soon enough. A sharp voice cut through the murmurs. "Alright, let''s get this over with." Jake turned to see a short, balding man in a thick winter coat approaching. Henry Lowe, the club chairman. His expression was flat, unimpressed. He didn''t bother with introductions. "Your job is simple," Lowe said, stopping inches from him. "Keep us in the league. If we go down, you''re done." Straight to the point. No small talk, no encouragement. Just cold, brutal reality. Jake met his gaze evenly. "Understood." Lowe studied him for a second longer, then let out a snort. "Good. Because we''re not expecting miracles. Just survival." He turned and walked off without another word, leaving Jake standing there, staring at a squad that already looked like they had written him off. Jake exhaled, adjusting the collar of his jacket. Fine. He would play along for now. But they had no idea who they were dealing with. As Jake moved toward the squad, his vision suddenly flickered. A blue screen materialized in front of his eyes. [Ding! The Coaching System Has Activated.] [Analyzing Current Squad ¨C Bradford City (5th-Tier League, England)] [Compiling Data¡­] Jake''s pulse quickened. Then, in an instant, an entire breakdown of his team appeared before him. SQUAD VERDICT: 3 players worth keeping. 7 players are dead weight and need to be replaced. 1 shocking recommendation: Sell the team''s captain and star player next season. Jake''s eyes widened. Sell the captain? A notification flashed. [James Holbrook ¨C Team Captain] [Current Ability: 68 | Potential Growth: 68] Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. [Verdict: Peak reached. High wages. Sell next season.] Jake''s stomach twisted. Holbrook wasn''t just the captain¡ªhe was the best player in the squad. A 28-year-old central midfielder, the only guy who had shown glimpses of quality in this team. And yet, the system wanted him gone. He skimmed through the report, his heart pounding. Top 3 Players Worth Keeping: David Reece (20, RW) ¨C Explosive pace, high potential. Nathan Barnes (23, CB) ¨C Good defensive instincts, needs leadership. Scott Williams (25, CM) ¨C Lacks confidence but strong technical ability. 7 Players Marked as Dead Weight: Aging fullbacks who can''t keep up with the pace. Strikers with poor finishing. A goalkeeper with weak reflexes. And then, at the bottom¡ªHolbrook''s name. Jake couldn''t believe it. Holbrook was the only reason Bradford hadn''t been embarrassed every week. How could the system recommend selling him? His hands clenched into fists. Why? [Reason: Cannot improve further. High salary draining club funds. Better reinvestment options available.] Jake took a shaky breath. It made sense. In football, long-term success wasn''t about holding onto fan favorites. It was about building a system, a squad that would grow and dominate. Still, he knew what this meant. If he followed this decision, he would be making enemies. Holbrook was the heart of this team. Selling him wouldn''t just cause tension in the locker room¡ªit could turn the entire squad against him. But then again¡­ Wasn''t this exactly what he had failed to do in his past life? The old Ethan Carter had been too cautious, too afraid to make big calls. He had always been hesitant to change the core of his teams. And it had gotten him nowhere. Not this time. He exhaled slowly. The decision was made. Next season, Holbrook was gone. "Coach?" Jake blinked, snapping out of his trance. Standing in front of him was Paul Roberts, the assistant manager. A man in his early 50s, his greying hair and deep-set eyes made him look like he''d seen every disaster possible. And he was looking at Jake like he had just seen one more. "You alright?" Roberts asked, crossing his arms. "You look like you''ve seen a ghost." Jake hesitated. The system, the squad report, the brutal reality of what he needed to do¡ªit was all overwhelming. But he swallowed it down. "I''m fine." Roberts didn''t seem convinced. "You sure? Because we''ve got three days until the next match, and you''re standing here like you don''t know what to do." Jake straightened. He did know what to do. He had a team to rebuild. A relegation battle to survive. And a legacy to create. The doubts, the disbelief from the players, the skepticism from the staff¡ªnone of it mattered. By the time he was done, they would believe. Jake adjusted his collar, turned to the squad, and took his first step forward. Chapter 4 - 4: The First Match: A Test of Character Three days passed in a blur. Jake barely slept. Between analyzing the squad, reviewing tactics, and trying to wrap his head around the system''s data, he was running on nothing but caffeine and pure determination. And now, here he was. Standing in the cramped, worn-out locker room of an outdated stadium, facing eleven players who didn''t believe in him. The air was thick with indifference. The players'' faces expressed everything from quiet dislike to boredom as they sunk back on the benches with their arms folded. Jake wasn''t an idiot. He knew exactly what they were thinking. He''s a nobody. He won''t last. Why listen to him? Fine. Let them doubt him. For now. He glanced at the small, outdated tactics board behind him, then back at his players. The assistant manager, Paul Roberts, stood off to the side, arms folded, watching. No more wasting time. Jake clapped his hands together, snapping the players'' attention toward him. "Alright. Listen up." Some of them looked at him. Others didn''t bother. A smirk tugged at the lips of James Holbrook, the captain. The man Jake knew he had to sell next season. He was testing him. Jake didn''t take the bait. "I know what you''re thinking," he continued, voice firm. "New manager, new tactics. Same old bullshit. You think you''ve seen this before." No one denied it. "But here''s the truth. We''re four points away from safety. You''ve got eight games to prove you belong in this league. Eight games to keep your careers alive. Because if this club goes down, a lot of you won''t have contracts next season." Now, they were listening. Jake turned to the tactics board, drawing a quick formation. "We''re switching to a compact 4-4-2. Banks of four, low defensive line. We don''t have the legs to press high, so we sit back, absorb pressure, and counter." He tapped the forward positions. "Nathan Barnes, Scott Williams¡ªyou two stay narrow, hit them on the break." Barnes, the young center-back, nodded, clearly interested. Williams, however, just shrugged. Jake turned back to the room. "We are not here to play pretty football. We are here to survive. Stick to the plan, and we win. Ignore it, and we lose. Simple as that." Silence. Then, Holbrook scoffed. "What''s the point? We''re just going to let them attack us." Arms crossed, he said. "Playing like cowards?" A few of the players muttered in agreement. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake met Holbrook''s gaze, unblinking. "You can play however the hell you want," he said. "But if you ignore my tactics, I''ll pull you off by halftime." The room went dead silent. Holbrook''s smirk faded slightly. Good. Before anyone could argue further, a staff member poked his head inside the room. "Coach, we''re ready for you." Jake gave one final look at his players. "Prove me wrong," he said simply, then turned toward the tunnel. The roar of the small but passionate Eastleigh Town fans filled the night air as Jake stepped onto the touchline. The stadium was small, old, barely holding 5,000 people. A far cry from the Bundesliga. Jake took a deep breath, centering himself. This was his reality now. He watched as his players took their positions on the field. The referee blew his whistle, and the match kicked off. For the first ten minutes, everything looked steady. Bradford sat deep, keeping their defensive shape. They absorbed pressure and waited for a counter. Then, the cracks started to show. The midfield was too slow to react, allowing Eastleigh''s players to pass through them effortlessly. Holbrook, instead of following instructions, kept pushing forward, leaving a gap in midfield. The opposition took advantage immediately. A slick one-two pass. A cross into the box. GOAL. 1-0 to Eastleigh. Jake gritted his teeth. From the bench, Paul Roberts sighed. "That was too easy." Jake didn''t respond. He already knew what the problem was. Holbrook had abandoned his position. Jake turned toward the field. "HOLBROOK! STAY BACK!" he shouted. The captain barely acknowledged him. Jake clenched his fists. The game restarted, but the same patterns repeated. Bradford refused to sit deep, refused to defend properly. Another gap. Another pass through midfield. 2-0. By halftime, it was 3-0. Bradford were completely outplayed. The locker room at halftime was deathly silent. The players sat on the benches, heads down, avoiding Jake''s gaze. Even Holbrook, for all his arrogance, looked shaken. Jake exhaled slowly, then stepped forward. "Do you know why we''re losing?" he asked, voice calm. Nobody answered. He looked directly at Holbrook. "You ignored my tactics." The captain bristled. "We were trying to win!" Jake snorted. "You weren''t trying to win. You were trying to play hero. And now we''re three goals down." Holbrook opened his mouth to argue¡ªbut couldn''t. Jake leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. "You can hate me all you want. But if you don''t start listening, we''ll be relegated in two weeks. And when that happens, none of you will have a job next season." Silence. Jake straightened and turned to his assistant. "No changes," he said. "Send them back out. Let them fix their own mess." Roberts raised an eyebrow but nodded. Although the second half was slightly better, the damage had already been done. Final score: 3-0 loss. The fans booed loudly as Bradford walked off the pitch. Jake didn''t react. He knew what was coming next. Back in his office, Paul Roberts stood in front of him, arms crossed. "Rough start," the assistant said. Jake leaned back in his chair. "They don''t trust me yet. But that''ll change." Paul studied him for a long moment. "You''re different from the other managers we''ve had." Jake smirked. "Good. That means I''ll last longer." Paul shook his head. "Or it means you''ll be the fastest one to fail." Jake didn''t respond. Because in front of him, the system had just unlocked a new function. [Ding! New Feature Unlocked ¨C Live Tactical Adjustments] [Modify formations and player roles in real time.] Jake''s smirk widened. Let''s see who fails first. Chapter 5 - 5: The System Unlocks Tactical Adjustments The only sound coming from the Bradford City training field was the distant hum of the janitor''s vacuum cleaner in the hallway; the stadium lights had long since been turned off, and the spectators had left. Jake sat alone in his office, staring at the match report in front of him. Possession: 39% Shots on Target: 2 Pass Accuracy: 74% Final Score: 0-3 Loss It didn''t take a genius to analyze the performance. They had been awful. Sloppy passing, zero defensive structure, and worst of all¡ªa complete refusal to follow his tactics. Jake clenched his jaw, tossing the report onto his desk. He had expected resistance. No team trusts a new manager on day one. But this? They hadn''t even tried. A loss like that would''ve crushed any manager''s confidence. But Jake wasn''t just any manager. He wasn''t here to survive. He was here to win. And that''s when the system activated. [Ding! New Feature Unlocked ¨C Live Tactical Adjustments] [Modify formations and player roles in real time.] Jake''s breath hitched. The glowing blue screen flickered in front of him, displaying a new interface. At first glance, it looked like a tactical board, similar to what football managers used in their pre-match discussions. [Live Tactical Adjustments ¨C Function Unlocked] [Feature Explanation: Allows real-time modifications to player roles, positions, and formations mid-match.] [Live Analysis: Detects in-game weaknesses and suggests optimal adjustments.] Jake sat forward, eyes scanning the details. This wasn''t just an assistant¡ªthis was an in-game coaching tool. With this, he could change tactics on the fly instead of waiting for halftime or substitutions. He could see where the gaps were, who was struggling, and what needed fixing immediately. Jake exhaled slowly. This was it. The advantage he needed. But an advantage meant nothing if his players still refused to follow his instructions. And that? That was a different battle altogether. The next morning, Jake stood in the center of the locker room, facing a squad that looked just as disinterested as before. Some of them sat with their arms crossed, Holbrook included. Others slumped against the benches, waiting for him to start talking. Paul Roberts leaned against the doorway, watching silently. Jake didn''t waste time. "Last night, I rewatched the match three times." His voice was calm but firm. A few players rolled their eyes. "You want to know why we lost?" Jake continued. "Because some of you decided my tactics weren''t worth following." That got their attention. Holbrook let out a small scoff, shaking his head. Jake turned to him. "You have something to say, Captain?" Holbrook leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah. You''re blaming us, but what about you?" He gestured around the room. "Maybe your tactics just don''t work." A few murmurs of agreement followed. Jake didn''t react. "You think I don''t know what I''m doing?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. Holbrook shrugged. "You''re new here. We don''t know anything about you. But we do know our own strengths. Sitting deep and countering like cowards? That''s not Bradford''s style." Jake nodded slowly. "Right. So you ignored my tactics, played your way, and what happened?" Holbrook''s jaw clenched. "Three-nil," Jake said flatly. "Your style got you embarrassed." Silence. Holbrook''s fists tightened, but he had no comeback. Jake took a step forward. "You don''t respect me yet. I get that. But I''m telling you now¡ªmy way is the only way we survive this season." He let that sink in before speaking again. "You''re all professionals. You want to play attacking football? Then earn the right. First, you defend. First, you learn discipline. Until then, we play how I say." No one spoke. Jake scanned the room, then sighed. "Training starts in ten minutes. Don''t be late." He turned and walked out, leaving them to think about his words. The players slowly filtered onto the pitch, still dragging their feet. Jake watched them carefully, his hands in his coat pockets. He knew what they were doing. They wanted to test him. See if he''d give in, lose confidence, crack under pressure. That wasn''t going to happen. The system''s tactical insights were already breaking down weaknesses. Holbrook? Too slow in transition. Barnes? Hesitant in one-on-one duels. Reece? Explosive pace, but poor decision-making. Jake had all the data he needed. He clapped his hands together. "Alright. We''re starting with defensive drills." Groans. Jake ignored them. For the next two hours, he drilled them on positioning, tracking runners, cutting passing lanes. Holbrook, annoyed at being forced into a deeper role, kept pushing forward during drills. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake saw it instantly. Using Live Tactical Adjustments, he shifted Holbrook''s role mid-drill, forcing him into a deep-lying playmaker position. Holbrook gritted his teeth, realizing he was being dragged deeper by the system''s enforced movement. The look he shot at Jake was pure frustration. Jake just smirked. "Follow instructions next time," he said simply. For the first time, Holbrook looked at him with something other than contempt. Maybe¡­ just a little bit of respect. By the end of training, the mood had shifted. Players were exhausted, but focused. They had started the day testing Jake. Now, they realized he wasn''t going to break. As they walked off, Paul Roberts approached, arms crossed. "Not bad," the assistant said. "You pushed them harder than the last guy." Jake smirked. "And?" Roberts shrugged. "And¡­ they actually listened, by the end." He paused, then added, "Holbrook still doesn''t trust you, though." Jake glanced toward the captain, who was heading toward the locker room without a word. "I don''t need him to trust me," Jake said. "I need him to follow orders. And he will." Roberts let out a small chuckle. "You sure about that?" Jake checked his system screen, where Holbrook''s positional discipline had increased by 5%. "Yeah," Jake said, adjusting his collar. "I''m sure." Chapter 6 - 6: Introducing a New Playstyle Morning practice was ready to start, and Jake Wilson stood at the edge of the pitch, arms crossed, watching his players walk onto the field. It had been three days since the 3-0 defeat against Eastleigh Town, and while there had been some progress, it was insufficient. The problem remained the same: the players did not totally respect him. Some of them followed his instructions begrudgingly. Others ignored them outright, thinking he was just another lower-league manager who''d be gone in a few weeks. Jake let them think whatever they wanted. Soon, reality would hit them. As the last player jogged onto the pitch, Jake clapped his hands, drawing their attention. "Alright, listen up." His voice was calm, but firm. "We''re making changes." A few of them exchanged glances, and Jake could see the skepticism already. Good. Let them doubt. It''ll make the lesson hurt more. "We''re done playing passive football." Jake gestured toward the tactics board, where a new formation was drawn. "Starting today, we transition to a high-pressing 4-2-3-1. Two holding midfielders, wingers cutting inside, fullbacks overlapping." There was a beat of silence before a few players scoffed. "You want us to press?" one of the defenders, Callum Price, said with a smirk. "Coach, no offense, but we don''t exactly have prime Barcelona here." A few chuckles rippled through the squad. Jake ignored them. "I don''t need you to be Barcelona," he said coolly. "I need you to stop acting like statues every time we lose possession." Silence. He turned toward the captain, James Holbrook, who had his arms crossed, watching like a spectator rather than a leader. "Holbrook, you''re playing as a deep-lying playmaker. Your job is to dictate tempo, control transitions, and feed the wingers." Holbrook raised an eyebrow. "You mean sit deep and do all the dirty work?" "I mean do your job as a midfielder," Jake said bluntly. "Unless you''d rather keep losing 3-0 every week." The players shifted uncomfortably. Some looked away, others avoided eye contact. Jake exhaled. "I understand that you''re accustomed to kicking the ball up the field and crossing your fingers. We are in the lower half of the table because of this. Today is the last day of that." More silence. Then, one of the strikers, Ben Holden, snorted. "We don''t have the legs for a high press. We''ll be gassed by halftime." Jake''s lips curled into a smirk. "Then you''d better start running." The next hour was hell for the players. Jake drilled them relentlessly. Pressing drills. Counter-pressing transitions. Defensive shape maintenance. Every time someone slacked off, he restarted the drill. Players muttered curses under their breath. They were used to soft training sessions¡ªthis was military-level intensity. Callum Price, the cocky defender, was the first to crack. "Coach, this is pointless!" he shouted after missing a run. "We''re not built for this!" Jake met his glare. "Then adapt or sit on the bench." The other players fell silent. They weren''t used to this. Previous managers had begged them to play a certain way. Jake wasn''t begging. He was telling them how it was going to be. Price gritted his teeth and reluctantly got back in position. Holbrook was the next to resist. During a possession drill, he kept drifting too far forward, ignoring Jake''s instructions to stay deep. After the third time, Jake blew his whistle and called over his assistant, Paul Roberts. "Switch Holbrook out." Holbrook''s head snapped up. "What?" Jake''s expression was unreadable. "You heard me. Barnes, take his spot." The squad went completely still. No one benched the team captain. Holbrook stormed over, his jaw clenched. "You''re taking me off in training?" S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake shrugged. "You''re not following instructions." "I''m the captain." "Then act like one." It appeared for a moment that Holbrook would argue. His nose flared and his fists clenched, but then he noticed how the other players were observing him. If he refused to leave, it would look weak. He let out a sharp breath, then ripped off his training bib and tossed it onto the grass. "Fine," he muttered, storming toward the sideline. Jake watched him go, then turned back to the others. "Anyone else want to do things their own way?" Silence. The last part of the session was a full-pitch scrimmage. For the first time, the players actually tried. The pressing wasn''t perfect, but they moved as a unit. They didn''t just sit back and let the opposition dictate play. Holbrook silently observed from the sidelines. The players were worn out by the end of the practice. Some fell to their knees, palms on their thighs, gasping for air. Jake made his way to the middle of the players. "You''re all tired, aren''t you?" No one answered, still catching their breath. Jake let a slow smirk spread across his face. "Good. That means you''re learning." Paul Roberts leaned in, muttering. "You really think they''ll buy into this?" Jake glanced toward Holbrook, who was still sitting on the bench, deep in thought. "They don''t have a choice," Jake murmured back. As the players headed inside, Holbrook stayed behind. Jake walked over, standing beside him. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Holbrook let out a small chuckle. "You''re not like the last guy." Jake smirked. "Is that a compliment?" Holbrook shrugged. "I don''t know yet." Jake studied him. "I benched you because I need a leader. Not a rogue midfielder trying to play hero." Holbrook looked away. Jake turned to leave but paused. "You want to keep the armband? Prove to me you deserve it." Holbrook didn''t respond. But he didn''t argue either. As Jake walked away, he checked his system screen. [James Holbrook ¨C Trust Level: +5] Jake smiled. It was a small step. But a step nonetheless. Chapter 7 - 7: The First Tactical Victory The stadium was small, only housing about 4,000 people, yet the mood was tense. Bradford City''s second match under Jake Wilson was about to begin, and the atmosphere was different than the previous one. The fans weren''t angry yet, but they weren''t confident either. The humiliation against Eastleigh had set expectations dangerously low. Nobody expected Bradford to win today. Not the crowd, not the commentators, not even the players. With his hands in his pockets, Jake stood on the touchline, looking around the field. The opposition, Chesterfield FC, were also near the bottom of the table. Another struggling club fighting for survival. A must-win game for both sides. The perfect opportunity. The first half was a disaster. Jake had set the team up in the high-pressing 4-2-3-1 he introduced in training. For fifteen minutes, they pressed hard, forcing Chesterfield into mistakes. They won possession quickly, launched attacks¡ªbut couldn''t finish. Then, reality hit them. Bradford''s players weren''t used to pressing for long periods. After twenty minutes, they lost all of their stamina. By the 40th, they couldn''t keep up at all. Chesterfield saw the weakness and pounced. The first half''s final five minutes were devastating. Bradford was unable to maintain possession after being forced back into their own half. Without Nathan Barnes'' last-ditch goal-line clearing, they would have conceded before halftime. The referee blew the whistle. 0-0. First Half. The players trudged into the locker room, heads down. Jake followed, his mind already working. Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was heavy. Players slumped against the benches, dripping with sweat. Holbrook threw his water bottle against the wall. "This isn''t working!" No one disagreed. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake stepped in, closing the door behind him. Silence fell. He let it hang for a moment before speaking. "We''re abandoning the press." The players looked up in shock. "What?" Holden wiped sweat from his brow. "But you made us train for this all week!" "And?" Jake raised an eyebrow. "Did it work?" Silence. "We don''t have the legs for a high press." He walked over to the tactics board, wiping it clean. "So we change." A blue screen flickered in his vision. [Ding! System Analysis Complete.] [Recommended Formation: 4-4-2 Compact Counter-Attack] Jake''s eyes narrowed. It made sense. Instead of pressing, they would sit deep, absorb pressure, and hit Chesterfield on the break. He grabbed the marker and redrew the formation. "We switch to a 4-4-2. Two banks of four. We sit deeper, stay compact, and counter with speed." Some of the players exchanged looks. "You want us to park the bus?" Price asked. "No." Jake turned to David Reece, their fastest winger. "I want you to break the bus." Reece straightened slightly. "When we win possession, we attack immediately," Jake continued. "We stop wasting energy pressing and start using it for quick transitions. Direct, fast, aggressive." The tension in the room shifted. Jake saw the players thinking. It wasn''t what they trained for. But it made sense. "We''re not trying to play beautiful football today," Jake said, stepping back. "We''re trying to win." No one argued. "Get back out there." The second half started. Bradford dropped deeper, forming two defensive lines. Chesterfield maintained possession but couldn''t break through. Then, in the 63rd minute, the moment arrived. Holbrook intercepted a sloppy pass in midfield and immediately launched a ball over the top. Reece took off like a bullet. The Chesterfield defenders were caught off guard, expecting a slow buildup. Reece stormed into the box, one-on-one with the keeper¡ª A low shot into the bottom corner. GOAL. 1-0, Bradford. The away fans erupted. Jake clenched his fist, but didn''t celebrate yet. For the next twenty minutes, Chesterfield piled on the pressure. They sent cross after cross into the box. Bradford held firm. Barnes and Price headed everything away. Williams blocked passing lanes. The referee checked his watch. 91:45 Jake stood still, watching. 92:30 Chesterfield launched one final attack. A cross, a header¡ª Straight into the keeper''s hands. The whistle blew. Full-time. Bradford City 1 ¨C Chesterfield 0. Jake exhaled slowly. His first win. The locker room was a strange mix of emotions. Some players were celebrating. Others were silent. Jake could feel it. They had won¡ªbut the players still weren''t sure about him. Holbrook sat on the bench, arms crossed. He looked at Jake, his expression unreadable. Jake met his gaze and simply nodded. Holbrook didn''t say anything. But this time, he nodded back. But a step nonetheless. Chapter 8 - 8: The Star Player Conflict Begins There was silence in the locker room. Usually, after a victory, there would be laughter, excitement, and relief. But this wasn''t that. Following Bradford City''s recent 1-0 win over Chesterfield, the first under Jake Wilson, there was an anxious mood in the dressing room. There were still several players drinking water, wiping sweat from their faces, and catching their breath. Others sat silently, their thoughts elsewhere. And then there was James Holbrook. Holbrook sat at the opposite end of the room, elbows on knees, staring at the floor. His jaw was tight. His fists clenched. He was angry. Jake had seen this reaction a hundred times before. A player who thought he deserved more. A player who thought he was above the team. And like always, it was the captain. Jake pretended not to notice at first. He didn''t need to start this fight. If Holbrook wanted to say something, he would. And sure enough, Holbrook spoke first. "We barely won." His voice cut through the silence. Jake didn''t respond. Holbrook slowly lifted his head, his eyes locking onto Jake. "We barely won," he repeated, louder this time. "And you benched me." S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The tension in the room increased. Some players exchanged looks, with some appearing uneasy and others anticipating Jake''s next move. Jake exhaled slowly, adjusting the sleeves of his coat. Here we go. "Yeah," he said simply. Holbrook scoffed. "That''s it? ''Yeah''?" Jake met his gaze, calm and steady. "We won, didn''t we?" Holbrook''s jaw twitched. "You think that was a win?" He shook his head. "We spent the entire second half sitting deep like cowards. We got lucky." Jake''s lips twitched. "Lucky?" Holbrook leaned forward. "You benched me, and we barely scraped by. So tell me¡ªwhat''s your plan? Huh? Are we just gonna sit back and pray every game?" Jake could see it in Holbrook''s eyes. This wasn''t just frustration about the match. This was about power. Holbrook had been the captain for years. He was used to having influence, being the voice of the team. Now, there was a new manager¡ªa man he didn''t trust, a man who had benched him in training, changed the tactics, and won without him. Holbrook wanted answers. Jake gave him none. Instead, he stepped forward, his voice cool. "You done?" Holbrook narrowed his eyes. "What?" "Are you done?" Jake repeated. Holbrook''s fists clenched. "You''re not answering my question." Jake tilted his head slightly. "You think I owe you an answer?" Holbrook''s nostrils flared. "I''m the captain." Jake smirked. "Then start acting like one." The room went still. Holbrook looked ready to explode, but Jake kept going. "We won today because we played the way we needed to. Not because of luck, and sure as hell not because of you." Holbrook''s breath hitched. Jake''s face was still unreadable. "I don''t care if you dislike my approaches and I do not care if you believe you know better. What I care about is winning." Holbrook stood up. "And you think we''ll keep winning like this?" Jake didn''t blink. "I know we will." The silence stretched. The other players didn''t move. Nobody wanted to get involved. This was between the captain and the manager. Holbrook shook his head. "You''re making a mistake." Jake smiled faintly. "I don''t make mistakes. I make decisions." Holbrook scoffed, grabbing his bag. He didn''t say another word. Just turned and walked out and slammed the door. Jake let out a slow breath, his gaze shifting back to the rest of the team. Some of them still looked uneasy. Others¡­ looked impressed. David Reece, the young winger, was watching him with a thoughtful expression. Nathan Barnes, the defender, gave a small nod of approval. Even Paul Roberts, his assistant manager, looked mildly amused. Jake knew what they were thinking. Holbrook challenged him¡ªand Jake didn''t back down. That mattered. That was the difference between a leader and a pushover. Jake clapped his hands once. "Go home. Rest. We train harder tomorrow." One by one, the players filed out. Paul lingered behind, arms crossed. "Well, that was interesting." Jake smirked. "You think?" Paul chuckled. "You just made an enemy." Jake exhaled, glancing toward the door Holbrook had stormed out of. "No." His eyes narrowed slightly. "I made a decision." And deep down, he already knew¡ªit was only a matter of time before Holbrook was gone. Chapter 9 - 9: The Clash with a Rival Over Edgeley Park, the home field of mid-table Stockport County, who had nothing to play for, the rain continued to fall. For them, this match was just another Saturday. For Bradford City, it was life or death. As the players warmed up, Jake Wilson watched from the touchline, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. Bradford had won one game and lost one game, but they were still only four points above the relegation zone. They couldn''t afford to slip. One bad result, and they''d be right back in danger. And judging by the way Stockport''s coach, Ian Dunbar, was walking toward him, Jake was about to get another reminder that no one took him seriously yet. Dunbar was a broad-shouldered, old-school coach, the kind who believed football was about grit, fight, and long balls into the box. He smirked as he stopped beside Jake, looking him up and down. "You''re the Bradford lad, huh?" Jake didn''t look at him. "Seems like it." Dunbar chuckled. "Fair play to you, mate. But let''s be honest¡ªyou''re just delaying the inevitable, aren''t you?" Jake finally turned his head, expression unreadable. "That so?" "Come on," Dunbar shrugged. "Your lot are going down. Everyone knows it. Doesn''t matter how many lucky wins you scrape together." Jake didn''t respond. Dunbar grinned, taking Jake''s silence as a sign of doubt. "Here''s some advice," Dunbar continued. "Don''t get too fancy. I''ve seen new managers like you before¡ªtrying to reinvent the wheel. Play it simple today. Otherwise, we''ll tear you apart." Jake finally smirked. "Appreciate the advice," he said casually. "But I think I''ll take my chances." Dunbar let out a short laugh. "Your funeral, mate." As the Stockport coach walked off, a blue screen flickered in Jake''s vision. [Ding! Opponent Tactical Analysis Complete.] [Stockport County: Weakness ¨C Struggles against deep defensive blocks.] [Suggested Formation: 5-3-2 Ultra-Defensive Counterattack.] Jake''s smirk widened. Let''s see who tears apart who. The first half was ugly. Bradford lined up in a deep 5-3-2, sitting in two tight defensive lines, refusing to press. Stockport dominated possession, passing the ball around, trying to find a way through. Dunbar''s frustration grew with every failed attack. His team had the ball, but they weren''t creating any clear chances. Whenever they got close to Bradford''s box, Nathan Barnes and Callum Price cleared everything away. By the 30th minute, Stockport started forcing crosses into the box¡ªdesperate long balls, hoping for a mistake. But Bradford''s defense held firm. At halftime, the scoreboard read: Stockport 0 ¨C 0 Bradford. Inside the locker room, the air was tense. Some players looked exhausted from all the defending. Others, like Holbrook, looked frustrated. "We''re just sitting back," Holbrook muttered. "No offense, no rhythm. How do you expect us to win?" Jake didn''t look up from the tactics board. "Patience." Holbrook scoffed. "Patience for what? Another lucky counterattack?" Jake turned and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Patience for when they get desperate." The room fell silent. "We''ve frustrated them for forty-five minutes," Jake continued. "In the second half, they''ll push higher. They''ll send more men forward. And that''s when we strike." A new notification flashed in Jake''s vision. [Ding! Real-Time Tactical Adjustment Available.] [Player Recommendation: Bring on David Reece in the 70th minute for counter-attacks.] Jake nodded to himself. The game plan was set. The second half started exactly as Jake expected. Stockport pushed higher and higher, leaving their defense exposed. Dunbar was getting impatient, waving his arms, demanding more attacking movement. Jake just waited. Then¡ª70th minute. Jake turned to his bench. "Reece. You''re on." The young winger''s eyes lit up. He replaced Ben Holden, shifting the team into a 5-4-1 hybrid, waiting for the perfect moment. Stockport continued attacking, leaving more space behind. Then, in the 85th minute, it happened. A sloppy pass in midfield. Holbrook, for all his attitude, made the crucial interception. One quick pass forward¡ªstraight to Reece. Stockport''s defenders reacted too late. Reece exploded down the wing, sprinting past the last defender, one-on-one with the keeper. He took a deep breath¡ªthen calmly slotted the ball into the bottom corner. GOAL. Stockport 0 ¨C 1 Bradford. The away fans erupted. Jake? He simply smiled. The final whistle blew. Bradford had stolen a 1-0 victory. Dunbar stormed off the pitch, furious. Jake walked over to shake his hand. Dunbar glared at him. "You parked the damn bus." Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake smirked. "I stuck to what I know." Dunbar clenched his jaw. "Lucky amateur." Jake''s smirk grew wider. "Lucky? Or did I have a real game plan?" Dunbar said nothing. Just turned and walked away. Jake watched him go, hands in his pockets. Chapter 10 - 10: Fan Support Starts to Shift Jake arrived at the training ground as the sun was just rising. It had been three days since the 1-0 victory over Stockport, and the energy around the club was little bit different. Two wins in three matches wasn''t easy for him, but for a team that had been at the bottom of the league all season, it felt like hope. Before, every time Jake stepped into the facility, he could feel the weight of doubt pressing down on him. Players side-eyed him, staff whispered behind his back, and the fans barely acknowledged him. Now? People were starting to notice. The ground staff greeted him with small nods instead of ignoring him. The cafeteria workers, who usually looked at him with pity, smiled a little when handing him his coffee. It wasn''t much. But it was a start. Outside the training ground, a few Bradford fans had gathered. Nothing major¡ªjust a handful of supporters in scarves and jackets, chatting by the entrance. Before, when they showed up, it was usually to protest or yell about how the club was finished. This time? They weren''t shouting. Jake walked past them, catching bits of their conversation. "Two wins in three, eh?" "Yeah, but we''re still too close to relegation." "Maybe, but at least we''re fighting now." Jake almost smiled. They weren''t convinced yet¡ªbut they weren''t dismissing him either. He was winning them over. Slowly. Then came the morning headlines. The local newspaper, The Bradford Gazette, had finally acknowledged the progress. "Wilson''s Men on the Rise ¨C Can They Escape Relegation?" Jake skimmed the article. It wasn''t glowing praise, but it recognized that the team looked different under him. More organized. More disciplined. More willing to fight. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. That was the good news. The national media was a different story. "Lucky Wilson? Two Fluke Wins Won''t Save Bradford" ¨C The Daily Football Post "One Counter-Attack Goal Isn''t a Strategy" ¨C Football Weekly "Jake Wilson: Temporary Hope or the Next Sacked Manager?" ¨C The Guardian Sport Jake leaned back in his chair, reading the words without emotion. It didn''t matter. The media wasn''t going to change overnight. And besides¡ªhe wasn''t doing this for them. He tossed the papers aside. There was still work to do. The board meeting that afternoon was different from the last one. A week ago, when he walked into the boardroom, they barely paid attention to him. Now? The chairman, Henry Lowe, actually looked pleased. "Jake," Lowe started, clearing his throat. "Good result against Stockport. That puts us¡­ what? Three points above the drop?" Jake nodded. "Four." Lowe smiled. "Even better." The other directors muttered among themselves. A few nodded in approval. The mood in the room had shifted. A week ago, they were probably already scouting his replacement. Now, they were starting to back him. Lowe folded his hands on the table. "We still have a long way to go, but we like what we''re seeing. Keep this up, and we''ll discuss squad improvements for next season." Jake wasn''t surprised. Football boards only cared about results. If he kept winning, they would support him. If he started losing again, they''d turn on him in a heartbeat. That was just how it worked. The real moment came later that evening. The club''s media officer had scheduled a press conference, and for the first time since Jake took over, the room was full. Before, only a few journalists bothered to show up. Now, there were cameras, microphones, and reporters waiting for him to speak. Jake took his seat at the podium, adjusting the microphone as the questions started. "Jake, that''s two wins in three matches. Do you think Bradford is turning a corner?" Jake''s expression remained unreadable. "We''ve taken steps forward. That''s all." A reporter from The Daily Football Post leaned forward. "Some people say these wins were just luck. How do you respond to that?" Jake smirked slightly. "If we win again, will that be lucky too?" A few reporters chuckled. Then came the biggest question. "You''re still in a relegation fight. What do you say to the fans who are still worried?" Jake''s gaze turned serious. He leaned in slightly, voice firm. "I understand their concern. But let me be clear¡ªI promise we will avoid relegation." Murmurs filled the room. Some reporters scribbled notes, others exchanged glances. This was the first time Jake had publicly guaranteed safety. A bold statement. A dangerous statement¡ªif he failed, it would be thrown back in his face. But he wasn''t afraid. He knew what he was doing. And now? So did everyone else. Chapter 11 - 11: A Setback in the Next Game The atmosphere inside the stadium was electrifying. Notts County¡ªthe league leaders, one of the most dominant team in the division, the promotion favorites¡ªstood on the opposite side of the pitch. if they win today, then its automatic qualification for them. And Jake? Jake had just made the boldest decision of his career. James Holbrook, Bradford''s captain, its so-called star player, the fan-favorite, the face of the team¡ªwas on the bench. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The cameras zoomed in on Holbrook as he sat stone-faced, arms crossed. The commentators noticed immediately. "Well, this is a shocker! Bradford''s manager has dropped James Holbrook for this match!" "He''s their best player, their leader¡ªwhat is Wilson thinking?" The fans in the away section had already started chanting Holbrook''s name. Jake didn''t care. He knew the truth. Holbrook didn''t fit the system. And soon, everyone else would understand that too. Bradford started the match with an aggressive high press, hoping to unsettle Notts County early. For ten minutes, it worked. Bradford won the ball high up the pitch, forced a couple of half-chances, and kept Notts County from finding their rhythm. But then¡ªreality hit. By the 15th minute, the players were struggling to keep up the intensity. By the 25th minute, the gaps started appearing. And by the 30th minute¡ªNotts County punished them. A quick, devastating counterattack tore through Bradford''s midfield. 1-0. Jake clenched his jaw but didn''t react. He tried to adjust, telling his players to slow the tempo¡ªbut the damage was done. Bradford''s pressing game had left them exposed and exhausted. And in the 44th minute¡ªNotts County struck again. Another break. Another goal. 2-0. The halftime whistle blew, and Jake turned toward the tunnel. He didn''t need to say anything. His players already knew. Inside the locker room, the mood was tense. Some players sat with their heads in their hands. Others just stared at the floor. Jake stood in the center of the room, looking at them one by one. "I got it wrong," he said finally. "We''re changing everything." The players looked up. Jake walked over to the tactics board, erasing the high-press formation. "We''re switching to a 4-2-3-1. No more pressing. We keep the ball, stay compact, and play smart. If we score once, we''ll have a chance." David Reece, the young winger, hesitated. "But we''re two goals down. Shouldn''t we attack more?" Jake shook his head. "Not yet. If we go all-out now, they''ll kill us on the counter. We wait, then strike." No arguments this time. The players nodded. They trusted him now. The second half was a different game. Bradford stopped chasing shadows and started controlling possession. Notts County, who had expected them to collapse, looked surprised. Then, in the 63rd minute, Reece picked up the ball on the left flank, cut inside, and fired a low shot into the bottom corner. GOAL. 2-1. The away fans came alive. Notts County suddenly looked uncomfortable. Bradford pressed forward cautiously, waiting for their moment. And in the 78th minute, they got it. A defensive clearance fell to Jake''s midfielder, Scott Williams. He lifted his head, saw Holden making a run, and floated a perfect cross into the box. Holden rose above the defenders¡ªheader. GOAL. 2-2. The Bradford bench exploded. Jake didn''t celebrate. Not because he wasn''t happy¡ªbut because he knew. This team wasn''t good enough yet. They had fought hard, but they had started the game too weakly. They needed better players. And that meant hard choices were coming. The post-match press conference was packed. Reporters leaned forward, microphones extended, eager for answers. The first few questions were routine. "Jake, how do you feel about the comeback?" Jake leaned into the mic. "Proud of the fight. Disappointed we didn''t start better." Then came the question he had been expecting. "James Holbrook was benched today. Can you explain that decision?" Jake''s expression remained unreadable. "He doesn''t fit my system." The reporters murmured. "So what does that mean for his future?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "It means he should start looking for a new club next season." The room erupted. "You''re selling him?" "Are you serious?" "He''s been the face of the club for years!" Jake simply stood up. "Thank you." And he walked out. The next morning, the backlash came fast. The Bradford Gazette''s front page screamed: "Wilson to Sell Club Captain ¨C Chaos at Bradford?" Online, fans were furious. The club''s website forums were flooded with complaints. "Wilson is ruining the team!" "He''s finally winning games and now he wants to throw away our best player?" "Absolute madness!" Jake sat in his office, flipping through headline after headline. He didn''t react. Paul Roberts entered, shaking his head. "Boss¡­ you''re all over the news. Fans are losing it." Jake didn''t look up. "They''ll understand soon enough." Paul sighed. "You really don''t care about the backlash, do you?" Jake finally met his eyes. "I care about winning." He checked his system notifications. [Ding! Trust Level with Board: +5] Jake exhaled. The fans were angry. The media was outraged. But the board? They backed him. And that''s all that mattered. Chapter 12 - 12: The Final Clash with Holbrook Before Jake could even finish his morning coffee, his office door banged open. James Holbrook stormed inside, fists clenched, face red with fury. For a brief moment, Jake considered telling him to knock next time. But looking at the rage in his captain''s eyes, he knew this was coming. Holbrook didn''t bother sitting down. "What the hell was that?" Jake leaned back in his chair, setting his cup down. "Be more specific." Holbrook scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Don''t play games with me. You said, on live TV, that I should find a new club." Jake nodded. "I did." "And you didn''t think to tell me first? To at least have a conversation before throwing me under the bus?" Jake sighed, folding his hands on the desk. "Would it have changed anything?" Holbrook''s jaw tightened. "I''ve given everything to this club," he hissed. "Years of my career. And you treat me like I''m nothing?" Jake exhaled. "No. I treat you like a player who doesn''t fit my system." Holbrook laughed bitterly. "Bullshit. You benched me because you don''t like me." Jake''s eyes didn''t waver. "I benched you because I want to win." The room fell into silence. Holbrook stared at him, shaking his head slowly. "So that''s it, then? You''re just throwing me away?" Jake met his gaze evenly. "Football moves forward. You either adapt, or you get left behind." Holbrook''s fists clenched. "You really think this team can survive without me?" Jake tilted his head. "We just did." Holbrook flinched. It was a low blow¡ªbut it was also true. Bradford had just drawn 2-2 against the league leaders without him. Jake continued. "I know this is hard for you. You''re not a bad player, James. But I need a squad that plays my way. You don''t fit." Holbrook took a shaky breath, trying to hold back his anger. Then, his expression darkened. "You''re making a mistake. You think the locker room will be fine without me?" Jake felt the shift immediately. This wasn''t a desperate player begging for another chance. This was a man looking for revenge. "You think the lads respect you now?" Holbrook continued, voice low. "They don''t. They''re following orders, but they don''t believe in you. I do one thing¡ªjust one thing¡ªand this whole team will turn against you." Jake''s stare turned cold. Slowly, he stood up. He didn''t raise his voice. He didn''t threaten. He just stated the facts. "Try it." Holbrook''s nostrils flared. "What?" "Try it," Jake repeated, stepping around the desk. "Go ahead. Poison the locker room. See how that works out for you." Holbrook took a step back, eyes narrowing. "You really think you can survive without me?" Jake tilted his head. "I don''t think. I know." A long silence stretched between them. Holbrook''s hands trembled, his breath uneven. Then, he turned and stormed toward the door. Before leaving, he paused. "I''ll make you regret this." Jake didn''t flinch. "You already do." Holbrook slammed the door behind him. The moment he was gone, Jake let out a long, slow exhale. He had expected anger. He had expected denial. He hadn''t expected a threat. His fingers tapped against the desk. He had just declared war on the most experienced player in the squad. Would Holbrook actually turn the locker room against him? Possibly. Would it change Jake''s mind? Not a chance. A soft ding echoed in his ears. A blue screen appeared before him. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. [Ding! New Feature Unlocked ¨C Hidden Gems Scouting] [Now scanning for unknown talents¡­] Jake straightened. This was exactly what he needed. Bradford didn''t have the money to sign established stars. But if the system could find undiscovered talents, players no one else was paying attention to¡­ Jake''s lips curled into a small smirk. Good. Let Holbrook stew in his bitterness. By the time next season started, Bradford would have a new identity. And it wouldn''t include him. Chapter 13 - 13: The Three Crucial Matches Bradford had three games left to save themselves. Three games that would decide if Jake''s gamble¡ªhis tactics, his leadership, and his war with Holbrook¡ªhad all been worth it. Sitting just four points above relegation, the situation was still dangerous. One slip, and everything would fall apart. Jake knew the margin for error was razor-thin. The players knew it too. But knowing wasn''t enough. They had to prove it on the pitch. Match 1 ¨C The First Fall (Loss: 2-1 vs. Burton Albion) The dressing room was silent after the final whistle. Jake stood near the door, arms crossed, watching as his players sat in pure frustration. They had just lost 2-1 to Burton Albion,a team that was also fighting relegation. A must-win game. A six-pointer. And they had thrown it away. Bradford had taken the lead early, a well-worked goal from Reece giving them hope. But Burton had responded twice in the second half. A long-range strike in the 65th minute. A set-piece header in the 81st minute. Game over. Jake hadn''t said much after the match. The players already knew. One mistake was all it took. And now? Now they were just one point above the relegation zone. Match 2 ¨C A Ray of Hope (Win: 2-0 vs. Carlisle United) They had no choice but to bounce back. Playing at home, in front of a nervous but hopeful crowd, Bradford showed something different. Jake didn''t change the tactics. He changed the mentality. "We''re not playing to avoid relegation." His voice was sharp, clear. "We''re playing to win. Start acting like it." For the first time since taking over, Jake saw a team that believed. They pressed harder. Passed with more urgency. Defended like warriors. Carlisle had no answers. Bradford struck early¡ªa bullet header from Nathan Barnes in the 12th minute. And then, in the 77th minute, a counter-attack finished off by Holden sealed it. A 2-0 victory. And more importantly? A tiny bit of breathing room. They were four points clear again. But they weren''t safe yet. Not even close. Match 3 ¨C The Nightmare (Loss: 3-0 vs. Mansfield Town) This was the one that hurt the most. Mansfield Town was a promotion contender. And they made sure Bradford knew it. From the first whistle, they were faster, sharper, and more ruthless. Bradford couldn''t cope. 12th minute¡ªGoal. A defensive error. 38th minute¡ªGoal. A counter-attack. 61st minute¡ªGoal. A penalty. Bradford never stood a chance. As the full-time whistle blew, Jake stared at the scoreboard: Mansfield 3 ¨C 0 Bradford. He turned to the league table. Bradford was now one point above relegation. One. With one game left. The training ground was silent the next morning. There was no joking. No casual conversations. Every player knew what was coming. The final match of the season wasn''t just a game. It was life or death. Lose, and they were relegated. Win, and they survived. Jake watched his players train, his mind racing. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Tactically, he had one last gamble to play. For months, he had forced a disciplined, structured playstyle. Now? Now, he was throwing that out the window. "We attack. From the first second." The players stared at him. "No sitting back, no waiting for the perfect moment." Jake''s voice was firm, certain. "We go for them. Every pass forward. Every run aggressive. Every shot taken." A deep breath. "This is the last game of the season. Play it like it''s the last game of your careers." There were no doubts. No hesitation. Jake saw it in their eyes. They were ready. And they had one last fight left in them. Chapter 14 - 14: The Miracle & Survival The weight of the entire season rested on one final match. Bradford City vs. Wrexham. Wrexham had already secured promotion and had nothing left to play for. Bradford? They were one point above relegation. Lose, and they were gone. Jake stood in the center of the dressing room, his arms crossed as his players sat before him. They had played 45 matches. Won some. Lost more. Now, one last game would decide everything. And for the first time since taking over, Jake had no doubts. His system had just given him the perfect solution. A blue screen flickered in his vision. [Ding! Last Match of the Season ¨C Do or Die Mode Activated.] [Analyzing Opponent: Wrexham ¨C Top of the League, Already Promoted.] [Opposition Weakness: Mentally Unfocused, Weak Against Early Blitz Attacks.] [Recommended Formation: 3-4-3 Ultra-Offensive] [High Tempo ¨C Aggressive Pressing ¨C Overloading the Final Third] Jake''s eyes narrowed. He had spent the entire season forcing a structured, disciplined, defensive approach. Now? Now, the system was telling him to throw all of that away. He turned toward the tactics board and grabbed a marker. The Tactical Shift: 3-4-3 Ultra-Offensive Jake drew out the new formation. "We''re playing a 3-4-3." The players blinked. Nathan Barnes, his most reliable defender, frowned. "We''ve never played with three at the back." "We have today," Jake replied. "We''re not here to defend. We''re here to attack." David Reece, the young winger, leaned forward. "So¡­ we''re going all out?" Jake nodded. "We hit them fast. We press high. We overload the attack." He tapped the midfield positions. "Williams and Holden, you don''t sit back. You push forward." He pointed to the wingers. "Reece, Taylor, your job is simple¡ªrun at them. No hesitation." A deep breath. "We are not playing for a draw. We are not waiting for them to make a mistake." His eyes scanned the room. "We''re taking the game to them. From the first second." Silence. Then, Barnes smirked. "Alright then. Let''s do it." Jake glanced at the clock. Kickoff in 30 minutes. No more talking. It was time. Kickoff The whistle blew. And Bradford City exploded forward. From the very first second, they pressed Wrexham aggressively, winning the ball high up the pitch. Wrexham looked caught off guard. They weren''t used to being chased, suffocated, overwhelmed. In the 6th minute, Reece burst down the left flank, cut inside, and squared it to Holden. Holden took a touch¡ªthen fired. GOAL. 1-0, Bradford. The away fans erupted. Jake didn''t celebrate. He turned to his players on the pitch and gestured for them to go again. No sitting back. No slowing down. And they listened. 19th minute. Taylor dribbled past two defenders, slipped a pass through to Williams, who smashed it into the top corner. 2-0, Bradford. 34th minute. A defensive mistake from Wrexham led to a loose ball in the box. Reece reacted first, pouncing on the chance and curling it home. 3-0, Bradford. The Wrexham players looked stunned. Jake could see it in their body language. They had expected an easy game. They had expected Bradford to play scared. Instead, they were getting destroyed. Halftime whistle blew. Bradford City ¨C 3, Wrexham ¨C 0. Second Half began Wrexham came out desperate. They threw players forward, trying to claw their way back. But that was exactly what Jake had wanted. Bradford sat deep for the first time all game, absorbing the pressure. Then, in the 67th minute, they countered. Holden sprinted down the wing, cutting inside before squaring the ball to Reece. One touch¡ªthen a rocket into the net. 4-0. The away fans couldn''t believe what they were watching. And it wasn''t over. 83rd minute. A free kick just outside the box. Jake turned to Barnes. "End it." S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Barnes stepped up, took a deep breath, and curled the ball perfectly into the top corner. 5-0. The Bradford bench exploded. Jake simply exhaled, hands in his pockets. This was it. The job was done. The Final Whistle ¨C Survival Confirmed The referee blew the whistle. Bradford City ¨C 5. Wrexham ¨C 0. The players collapsed onto the pitch in exhaustion. Jake turned toward the scoreboard. Then, he looked at the league table. Bradford had survived. By one single point. Two days later, Jake sat in the boardroom, facing Chairman Henry Lowe. Lowe looked over the papers in front of him, then leaned back. "Jake. You did it." Jake nodded. "Yeah." Lowe smirked. "We''d be idiots not to extend your contract." He slid the papers across the table. "Two years. ¡ê300,000 transfer budget." Jake scanned the contract. Then, he picked up the pen and signed. Next season, Bradford wasn''t playing to survive. They were playing to win. That night, as Jake sat in his office, a blue screen appeared. [Ding! Hidden Gems Scouting Activated.] [Scanning Lower Leagues¡­] [Talent Identified ¨C Ryan Carter (Midfielder) ¨C 7th Tier, England] Jake''s lips curled into a smirk. A nobody. A player with no hype, no expectations. Just like Bradford. Jake leaned back, already making plans. Chapter 15 - 15: The Summer Shake-Up & Media Backlash The season was over. Bradford had survived by a single point, pulling off a miracle in their final match. But Jake wasn''t celebrating. He didn''t have time to. Because now, the real work began. Bradford City had spent the entire season fighting for survival. Next season, that wasn''t good enough. They weren''t going to play for scraps. They were going to fight for promotion. And to do that, the squad had to change. The clear-out was about to begin. Jake arrived at the training ground early, walking straight to his office. A blue screen flickered in his vision as soon as he sat down. [Ding! Season Over ¨C Squad Evaluation in Progress.] [Analyzing Player Performances¡­] [Recommended Action: Sell 7 First-Team Players for Squad Revamp.] Jake glanced at the list the system provided. James Holbrook ¨C Captain, 30, CM Ben Holden ¨C Striker, 29 Callum Price ¨C CB, 31 Scott Williams ¨C Midfielder, 28 Nathan Taylor ¨C Winger, 27 Aaron Reece ¨C Fullback, 30 David Barnett ¨C Goalkeeper, 32 Jake exhaled slowly. Seven first-team players. Seven players who had played week in, week out. Seven players who had helped Bradford stay up. But Jake knew the truth. They weren''t good enough. If Bradford wanted to fight for promotion, they couldn''t rely on sentiment. They needed youth, energy, and tactical intelligence. Some of these players had been at the club for years. And some, like Holbrook, weren''t going to leave quietly. Jake didn''t care. The decision was made. Later that afternoon, the press conference room was packed. It had been a while since Jake had seen this many journalists in one place. The survival miracle had put him in the spotlight. Now, everyone wanted to know what came next. Jake took his seat at the table, adjusting the microphone. The media officer nodded at him. The questions began immediately. "Jake, congratulations on securing survival. Now that the season is over, what''s your plan moving forward?" Jake leaned in. "Promotion into league two." A murmur spread through the room. Some reporters scribbled in their notepads. Others exchanged glances, surprised by how direct he was. "So, you''re aiming for promotion to League Two next season?" "Yes," Jake said without hesitation. "Survival isn''t good enough. This club belongs in the Football League. That''s the goal. And we start working on that today." The next question came quickly. "What does that mean for the current squad? Are there going to be major changes?" Jake nodded. "Yes. We''ll be making adjustments. Some players will be leaving. Some new players will be coming in." Then came the moment he had been waiting for. "We''ve heard rumors that you''re selling James Holbrook. Can you confirm?" Jake didn''t blink. "Yes. Holbrook has been a great servant to the club, but he doesn''t fit my system. We''ll be looking to move him on this summer." The room exploded. Reporters shouted over each other. "Holbrook is the captain! Why sell him?" "Are you forcing him out?" "What about the fans? They love him!" Jake waited until the noise died down. Then he spoke, his voice calm but firm. "This isn''t about individuals. It''s about the team. My job is to build a squad capable of winning promotion. I make decisions based on that. Nothing else." Another journalist raised a hand. "It''s not just Holbrook, though, is it? Reports suggest you''re selling seven first-team players. Can you confirm?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "Yes." A stunned silence filled the room. Then, chaos. "Seven players? That''s half your starting eleven!" "A complete rebuild? Are you serious?" "Aren''t you taking too many risks?" Jake leaned back in his chair. "I''m doing what needs to be done." Some of the journalists looked like they couldn''t believe what they were hearing. One of them shook his head. "You just survived relegation, and now you''re selling your best players?" Jake smirked. "I''m selling players who helped us survive. I need players who will help us win." The press conference lasted another twenty minutes, but the message was clear. Bradford City was about to change. And not everyone was happy about it. The next morning, the backlash arrived. Jake sat at his desk, scrolling through the latest headlines. "Wilson Ripping Apart Bradford City ¨C Madness or Genius?" ¨C The Daily Football Post "Seven First-Team Players to Leave ¨C Is Wilson Destroying the Squad?" ¨C The Guardian Sport "Holbrook Forced Out ¨C Fans in Revolt!" ¨C The Bradford Gazette Online, it was even worse. On the club''s official website, the forums were filled with complaints. "Holbrook IS Bradford City! This is insane!" "Wilson is ruining the club!" "Why fix what isn''t broken? He''s power-hungry!" sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The fan backlash was predictable. People didn''t like change. But Jake wasn''t here to make friends. He was here to win. The door to his office opened, and Paul Roberts walked in, arms crossed. "You really set a fire, boss." Jake didn''t look up from his screen. "I told the truth." Paul sighed. "You could''ve handled it better." "Could I?" "You just told the entire world you''re selling half the squad. The players still here¡ªwhat do you think they''re thinking now?" "They''re thinking they need to prove they belong," Jake said simply. Paul chuckled. "You''re a stubborn bastard, you know that?" Jake finally looked up. "I''ve been told." A blue screen flashed before his eyes. [Ding! Board Confidence: +10] [Ding! Fans'' Trust: -15] Jake exhaled. The board backed him. The fans didn''t. It didn''t matter. Because by the time next season started, they would. And that was all that mattered. Chapter 16 - 16: Scouting and the System’s Recommendations Jake sat in his office, staring at the squad list on his screen. The season was over, survival was secured, but now came the real challenge¡ªbuilding a team that could fight for promotion. The club had already announced the departure of seven first-team players. Some fans were still furious, the media was skeptical, and even some of the remaining squad members weren''t sure what was happening. Jake didn''t care. The decisions had been made, and there was no turning back. A blue screen flickered in his vision. [Ding! Squad Gaps Identified ¨C Replacements Needed] [Analyzing Player Performances¡­] [Suggested Actions: Promote Youth ¨C Offer New Contracts ¨C Begin Transfer Negotiations] Jake exhaled, cracking his knuckles. Time to get to work. The exits had already begun. James Holbrook, Ben Holden, Callum Price, Scott Williams, Nathan Taylor, Aaron Reece, and David Barnett¡ªgone. Some deals were simple. Ben Holden and Callum Price were out of contract, and Jake had no interest in renewing them. They left quietly, knowing their time at the club was over. Scott Williams was sold to a League Two club for ¡ê50,000. A decent midfielder, but not dynamic enough for Jake''s system. Nathan Taylor and Aaron Reece both received offers from National League clubs. Jake pushed the deals through quickly, not wanting any hesitation. David Barnett, the veteran goalkeeper, had the hardest time accepting his fate. At 32, he still wanted to play, but Jake knew he wasn''t the future. Barnett was sold to a lower-division club in Scotland. That just left Holbrook. Jake refused to deal with him directly. His agent arranged a move to a League Two club. Holbrook hated the idea of of leaving. Within a week, the team''s old core had been dismantled. Some players shook Jake''s hand before leaving. Some just walked out without a word. It didn''t matter. The message was clear¡ªBradford City was moving forward. Jake leaned back in his chair, reading through the academy reports. Five players were ready. Five players who could step up. A new notification popped up. [Ding! Top 5 Academy Prospects Ready for First Team] [James Richards ¨C Right-Back ¨C 18] [Tommy Hale ¨C Center-Back ¨C 19] [Ethan Walsh ¨C Winger ¨C 17] [Jayden Cooper ¨C Winger ¨C 18] [Daniel Lowe ¨C Defensive Midfielder ¨C 19] Jake nodded to himself. Richards and Hale would provide defensive depth. Walsh and Cooper were young, quick wingers¡ªperfect for the high-tempo system. Lowe was a promising defensive midfielder, a hard tackler with smart positioning. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake sent out the promotion notices. Their lives were about to change. Not every player was being pushed out. Some were staying to form the new core of the squad. Nathan Barnes, the club''s most reliable center-back, was the first to be called in. He sat across from Jake, looking a little unsure. "You''re offering me a new deal?" Barnes asked. Jake nodded. "I want you to stay. You''re an important player." Barnes thought for a moment, then smirked. "I won''t lie, boss. When I saw half the team getting sold, I thought I''d be next." Jake leaned forward. "I''m not here to clear out the squad for fun. I need players who can help us win. You''re one of them." Barnes nodded, then took the contract and signed. One down. James Garner and Darren Hughes were next. Both were offered one-year extensions, providing depth while Jake built the squad. Not every renewal was accepted. One player rejected his contract extension, believing he wouldn''t get playing time. Jake didn''t argue¡ªhe let him walk. Bradford wasn''t a charity. Players had to earn their place. Preparing for the Next Phase The squad was taking shape. Seven players gone. Five youth players promoted. Three key players retained with new contracts. But there were still huge gaps in the team. Jake wasn''t done. The system had already scanned the market. [Ding! Transfer Targets Identified ¨C Awaiting Negotiations] The new signings had to be perfect. Jake checked the names on his screen. Tomorrow, he would start making calls. Chapter 17 - 17: The Struggles & Press Conference Tensions Jake stared at the transfer list on his screen. The seven outgoing players were gone, the squad was thinner than ever, and now it was time to bring in new blood. The system had already provided four key signings that would help rebuild the squad. [Ding! Recommended Transfers] [Ryan Carter ¨C Midfielder ¨C 19 ¨C England (7th Tier)] [Ahmed Saidi ¨C Center-Back ¨C 21 ¨C Tunisia] [Emeka Okafor ¨C Goalkeeper ¨C 22 ¨C Nigeria] [Lukas Novak ¨C Winger ¨C 20 ¨C Czech Republic] Each of them was a gamble. Carter was completely unknown, playing in the depths of non-league football. Okafor had no experience in European football. Novak had raw talent but hadn''t proven himself in a top league. And then there was Saidi. Strong, aggressive, composed¡ªa perfect center-back for Bradford''s rebuild. The problem? His club didn''t want to sell. Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. He would have to handle that one personally. For now, the easy deals came first. Signing Ryan Carter The call to Ryan Carter was short and simple. "Ryan, this is Jake Wilson, manager of Bradford City." There was silence on the line. Then, an excited voice. "Wait¡­ the Jake Wilson? The one who kept Bradford up?" Jake smirked. "Yeah. We want to bring you in." Ryan almost couldn''t believe it. "Are you serious? I¡ªI mean, of course, I''m interested!" Jake didn''t bother with negotiations. "We''ll give you a two-year deal. You''ll be part of the first team. If you prove yourself, you play. Simple." There was no hesitation. "Yes. Absolutely, yes!" One call. One signing done. Signing Lukas Novak Novak''s agent was a tougher opponent. "Why should my client join Bradford? He has offers from clubs in Poland and Austria." Jake didn''t waste time. "Because we''ll make him a star." The agent scoffed. "You''re a fifth-tier club." "Not for long." A pause. Then, the agent sighed. "Fine. Send the contract details. But he won''t sign unless you guarantee first-team football." Jake expected that demand. "Done." A few days later, Novak was in Bradford, shaking hands with Jake in his office. "Don''t make me regret this," Jake warned. Novak grinned. "I won''t." Signing Emeka Okafor Okafor''s club in Nigeria (Remo Stars) was stubborn. They knew their goalkeeper was talented, and they weren''t going to let him go for cheap. After three days of back-and-forth negotiations, Jake finally secured the deal for ¡ê20,000. It wasn''t cheap. But a strong, young goalkeeper was worth it. Okafor arrived a week later, eager to prove himself. "Boss, I won''t disappoint you," he said, shaking Jake''s hand. Jake nodded. "Good. Because I don''t do second chances." The Struggle for Ahmed Saidi Saidi''s transfer was a nightmare. Bradford''s first offer (¡ê110,000) was rejected instantly. The Tunisian club''s (AS Gab¨¨s) chairman, an old-school businessman, refused to sell. Jake called personally. "We don''t sell our best players mid-contract," the chairman said firmly. Jake exhaled. "I''m not here to waste your time. Saidi wants to come to Europe. He wants to grow." The chairman scoffed. "We don''t care what he wants." Jake leaned back in his chair. "Alright. What do you want?" The chairman paused. "A European club willing to give us something in return." Jake thought for a moment. Then, he saw an opening. "If we buy Saidi, we''ll play a preseason match in Tunisia against your club. Your team gets exposure, ticket revenue, and a chance to face a European side and a ¡ê80,000 transfer fee." The chairman finally hesitated. It was a gamble, but one he was considering. Jake waited. Finally, the chairman sighed. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Wilson. We will accept." The deal was done. Saidi was coming to Bradford. And in return? Jake had just added a friendly match in Tunisia to their preseason schedule. It was worth it. The media reaction to the signings was brutal. "Bradford signs unknown 7th-tier midfielder¡ªdesperation or genius?" ¨C Football Weekly "A Nigerian keeper, a Tunisian defender, a Czech winger¡ªdoes Wilson know what he''s doing?" ¨C The Daily Post "Bradford''s rebuild is a joke¡ªthese players won''t last six months." ¨C The Guardian Sport Online, the fans weren''t much better. "What is Wilson doing?? A 7th-tier kid?? A random African keeper?? We''re doomed!" "Holbrook was forced out for THIS, for this donkeys?" "I''m losing faith already." Jake scrolled through the headlines and comments without emotion. Let them doubt. He would prove them all wrong. The first preseason match was three days away, and the press wanted answers. Jake sat at the podium, adjusting his microphone as the questions began. "Jake, you''ve sold seven first-team players and replaced them with unknowns. Are you sure about this?" Jake leaned forward. "Yes." "That''s it? You don''t think these transfers are risky?" Jake shrugged. "Every signing is a risk. But I don''t bring in players I don''t believe in." S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Another journalist spoke up. "Ryan Carter has never played above the seventh tier. Why him?" Jake smirked. "Because no one else saw his talent. But I did." "Okafor, Novak, Saidi¡ªthey''ve never played English football. Won''t they struggle?" Jake tilted his head. "They''ll adapt. Quickly." One reporter leaned in. "Some fans are furious about the rebuild. What do you say to them?" Jake''s eyes hardened. "They''ll understand when we start winning." A few murmurs filled the room. Jake wasn''t here to beg for trust. He was here to build a winning team. The press conference ended with reporters still doubtful. Jake left without looking back. His work wasn''t done. Now, it was time to see these players in action. The preseason was about to begin. Chapter 18 - 18: First Preseason Match vs. Spanish Second Division Team Jake Wilson stood on the sidelines, arms folded, watching his players complete their final warm-ups as the summer sun hovered over the Spanish training site. The club had been through tough physical training exercises, tactical sessions, and formation modifications in the five days since they came back for preseason. There were no excuses today, even though the new signings had hardly had time to get settled. Their first preseason test was against Real Valladolid, a second-division team from Spain known for their technical passing game and high-pressing style. A far more experienced and cohesive squad compared to the new-look Bradford City. Jake had studied their weaknesses through the system''s analysis. [Ding! Opponent Analysis Complete ¨C Real Valladolid] [Strengths: High Possession Play, Strong Midfield Control, Quick Passing] [Weaknesses: Vulnerable to Counterattacks, Poor Against Physical Pressing] Bradford was stepping onto the pitch as complete underdogs, but Jake wasn''t interested in excuses. He walked toward his players, clapping his hands to gather them before kickoff. "Alright, listen up." His voice was calm, but firm. "We stick to the plan. They like to dominate possession, but they don''t like being pressed. We hit them with high intensity, force them into mistakes, and when we win the ball, we attack fast." The players nodded, but Jake could sense the nervousness, especially from the new signings making their debuts. Ryan Carter, the 19-year-old attacking midfielder from the 7th tier, was bouncing on his feet, eager yet anxious. Ahmed Saidi, the center-back from Tunisia, stood with his arms crossed, his face unreadable. Emeka Okafor, the Nigerian goalkeeper, was rolling his shoulders, adjusting his gloves. Lukas Novak, the Czech winger, was staring at the opposition, eyes full of focus. Jake smirked slightly. "Let''s show them who we are." First Half begins Kickoff. Right from the start, Valladolid dominated possession. Their midfield trio moved the ball smoothly, forcing Bradford to chase. Jake had set up in a 4-2-3-1 formation, with Carter playing as the attacking midfielder behind the lone striker, trying to disrupt Valladolid''s build-up. For the first 15 minutes, Bradford struggled to keep up. Saidi mistimed a tackle early on, earning a warning from the referee. Okafor was forced into an early save after a dangerous cross into the box. Novak barely got any touches on the ball, marked out by Valladolid''s full-back. Jake could see the lack of chemistry. The players weren''t clicking yet. The press was uncoordinated, the passing was sloppy, and the team looked out of sync. Then, in the 22nd minute, Valladolid punished them. Bradford''s midfield got stretched too wide, leaving space in the center. One quick through ball split the defense, and their striker slotted the ball past Okafor. 1-0, Valladolid. Jake didn''t flinch. He turned toward his assistant, Paul Roberts. "They''re cutting through us too easily," Paul muttered. Jake nodded. Time to adapt. A blue screen flashed in Jake''s vision. [Ding! Tactical Suggestion: Adjust Defensive Midfield Line] [Recommendation: Drop Defensive Midfielder Lower to Cover Gaps] Jake immediately shouted instructions. "Lowe! Sit deeper! Stop the runners from getting behind!" Daniel Lowe, the young defensive midfielder promoted from the academy, adjusted his positioning. He stayed closer to the center-backs, cutting off Valladolid''s easy passes through the middle. The change started working. Bradford''s midfield tightened up, forcing Valladolid to play wide instead of cutting through the middle. Saidi began winning aerial duels, showing why Jake fought so hard to sign him. Novak started tracking back defensively, helping his full-back deal with the pressure. The last 20 minutes of the first half were much better. Valladolid still had more possession, but they weren''t creating as many clear chances. By the time the halftime whistle blew, Bradford had stabilized. Score at halftime: Valladolid 1-0 Bradford. Halftime Team Talk The players sat in the dressing room, breathing heavily. Jake walked in, calm and composed. "We started slow," he said, looking around the room. "They played through us too easily. But we fixed it. We adapted." He turned to Ryan Carter. "Carter, you''re playing too safe. Stop hesitating and demand the ball." Carter nodded, wiping sweat from his face. He turned to Novak. "You''re tracking back well, but I need you to be braver in attack. Run at their full-back. Make something happen." Novak exhaled and gave a small nod. Then, Jake grinned slightly. "They''re underestimating us. Let''s punish them for it." Second Half ¨C A Different Bradford The team came out stronger. Bradford pressed with more aggression, forcing Valladolid into mistakes. Carter finally got involved, dropping deeper to receive the ball and linking up with the wingers. In the 58th minute, the system flashed again. [Ding! Valladolid Full-Backs Leaving Space Behind] [Recommendation: Exploit the Wide Areas ¨C More Overlaps & Crosses] Jake saw it too. Valladolid''s full-backs were pushing high, leaving space behind them. Jake made his first substitution¡ªbringing on a fresh right-back with pace. "Richards, overlap every attack!" Jake commanded. Five minutes later, it worked. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Richards sprinted down the right flank, receiving a pass from Carter. He whipped in a perfect cross into the box. Novak met it with a diving header. GOAL! 1-1. Final 30 Minutes With the score level, Valladolid pushed forward aggressively, trying to regain the lead. Saidi and Okafor stood firm. Saidi blocked two shots in the box. Okafor made a brilliant one-on-one save in the 78th minute. Lowe broke up multiple attacks with crucial tackles. Jake made his final change in the 85th minute, bringing on another defensive midfielder to see out the draw. Valladolid kept attacking. Cross after cross. Shot after shot. Then, in the 90th minute, Valladolid''s striker found space and fired a powerful shot. Okafor dived full stretch¡ªSAVE! The final whistle blew. Full-time: Real Valladolid 1-1 Bradford City. Post-Match Analysis Jake walked toward the players, nodding in approval. "We weren''t perfect," he said. "But we adapted. We fought. And we earned a result." Novak, Carter, Saidi, and Okafor had all shown their potential. But there was still a long way to go. The next test? A trip to Tunisia to face AS Gab¨¨s¡ªSaidi''s former club. Chapter 19 - 19: Second Preseason Match vs. AS Gabès (Part 1) Everything in sight was crushed down by the merciless wave of dry air that was the Tunisian heat. Squinting in the afternoon light, Jake Wilson resized his training shirt sleeves as he got off the team bus. Bradford City had traveled from England to Tunisia for their second preseason match, a deal struck when they signed Ahmed Saidi from AS Gab¨¨s. It was supposed to be a friendly, but as Jake took in the atmosphere, he knew there was nothing friendly about this game. The moment Saidi stepped off the bus, the hostility began. The crowd waiting outside the stadium erupted into boos and jeers. Fans held up banners written in Arabic, their meanings clear even without translation: "TRAITOR." "YOU BETRAYED YOUR HOME." "NEVER FORGIVEN!" Saidi''s face remained impassive, but Jake could see the tension in his shoulders. Paul Roberts, his assistant coach, exhaled. "I knew it''d be bad, but this¡­ they''re treating him like a criminal." Jake didn''t respond. He simply walked toward Saidi and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You good?" Saidi nodded once, though his expression was unreadable. "I expected this," the defender muttered. "They think I abandoned them." Jake''s eyes didn''t waver. "You didn''t abandon anyone. You made the right move for your career. Now go out there and prove it." Saidi exhaled and stepped forward, heading toward the tunnel. Jake followed, already thinking about how they would handle this match in brutal 38¡ãC heat, against a team fueled by emotion. This wasn''t just another preseason game. This was a war. Kickoff The referee blew the whistle, and the match began. From the first pass, Bradford struggled. The intense Tunisian heat drained their energy faster than expected. Players were sluggish, their movements not as sharp as they had been in Spain. The ball felt heavier, and the pitch, dry and rough, made quick passing almost impossible. AS Gab¨¨s knew exactly how to take advantage. They played with high intensity, using their speed and fitness to overwhelm Bradford''s midfield. Carter was pressed relentlessly, unable to find space. Novak couldn''t sprint the way he normally did, slowed down by the heat. Okafor made an early save, already looking exhausted. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed. Paul leaned in. "We''re struggling. We look slow." Jake didn''t reply, his mind already analyzing the game. Bradford had trained for intensity, but they hadn''t prepared for this kind of oppressive weather. He needed to make adjustments¡ªfast. AS Gab¨¨s Takes Control By the 15th minute, the hosts had full control. They passed quickly, switching the play from left to right, forcing Bradford to chase. The crowd roared every time Saidi touched the ball, booing him mercilessly. Despite the pressure, the defender held his ground, making two solid tackles early on. But the rest of the team? They were struggling. Lowe and Barnes couldn''t stop the constant midfield overload. Novak and Taylor were too deep, unable to break forward. Carter, usually the creative spark, was completely shut down. Then, in the 22nd minute, AS Gab¨¨s broke through. A quick one-two pass cut through Bradford''s midfield, leading to a curling shot from the edge of the box. Okafor dived¡ªbut the ball flew past him, smashing into the net. GOAL! 1-0, AS Gab¨¨s. The stadium erupted, the fans roaring in approval. Saidi stood near the penalty box, fists clenched. Jake exhaled, turning toward his bench. "We need to adapt." A blue screen flashed in his vision. [Ding! Tactical Suggestion: Adjust Shape & Play Shorter Passes] [Recommendation: Lower Defensive Line & Reduce Pressing to Conserve Energy] Jake nodded, then shouted instructions. "Drop the line! Keep the ball on the ground¡ªstop forcing long passes!" The players adjusted, but it wasn''t enough. AS Gab¨¨s continued to push forward, using the crowd''s energy to fuel their attack. Saidi Under Attack ¨C The Breaking Point By the 30th minute, every time Saidi touched the ball, the fans booed louder. The AS Gab¨¨s players weren''t holding back either. One attacker shoved Saidi after a clearance. A midfielder whispered something in his ear before a corner kick. The referee ignored most of it. Jake clenched his jaw. Paul muttered, "They''re trying to get into his head." Jake narrowed his eyes at the field. Saidi hadn''t reacted yet, but Jake could see the tension building. Then, in the 38th minute, it boiled over. A high ball was sent toward Saidi, and as he went up to head it clear¡ªan AS Gab¨¨s striker deliberately crashed into him. Saidi hit the ground hard. The referee did nothing. The AS Gab¨¨s players laughed. The crowd cheered. Saidi snapped. He shot to his feet, grabbing the striker by the collar. The players rushed in¡ªa small scuffle broke out. Jake immediately stepped forward. "Saidi!" His voice cut through the noise. The defender turned, breathing hard. Jake''s stare was ice-cold. "Walk. Away." A tense moment passed. Then, finally, Saidi let go. The referee pulled both players aside, giving them a warning instead of a card. As Saidi walked back into position, he avoided Jake''s gaze. But Jake knew exactly what had just happened. His center-back was losing control. The whistle blew, signaling halftime. Bradford walked off the pitch drained, frustrated, and behind on the scoreboard. Jake entered the locker room, face unreadable. No one spoke. The players already knew they were underperforming. Jake finally stepped forward. "We''re playing into their hands," he said evenly. "We''re forcing attacks we don''t need to. We''re not using our brains." He turned to Novak. "You need to stop holding back. Run at them. Make them work." S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. To Carter. "You''re letting them control the game. Take the ball and make them chase." Finally, his eyes locked onto Saidi. "You''re playing their game," Jake said, voice quieter. "That''s not why I brought you here." Saidi looked down, nodding slightly. Jake leaned in, voice firm but calm. "Forget them. Play your game. Prove to them why you''re here." Saidi lifted his head. The fire was still in his eyes, but now? It was focused. Jake turned to the rest of the squad. "We''re not losing this game," he said simply. "Go out there and show them who we are." Chapter 20 - 20: Second Preseason Match vs. AS Gabès (Part 2) Tactical Adjustments The halftime break had been short, but Jake Wilson had used every second to reset his team''s mentality. Bradford had struggled in the first half¡ªthe unbearable Tunisian heat, the relentless pressure from AS Gab¨¨s, and most of all, the hostile crowd targeting Saidi. It had been an emotional battle more than a tactical one, and that was exactly what the home side wanted. But now? Jake was done playing their game. A blue screen flickered before his eyes. [Ding! Tactical Suggestion: Adjust Playstyle for Second Half] [Recommendation: Slow Down the Tempo ¨C Control Possession ¨C Use Saidi to Distribute from the Back] Jake turned toward his players. "Enough of this chaos," he said firmly. "We play our football now. No more rushed passes, no more forcing attacks. We keep the ball, we make them chase, and we let them tire themselves out." He turned to Saidi, who had calmed down but still looked tense. "They want you rattled. So don''t be. Forget the crowd. Forget them. Just play." Saidi nodded, this time without hesitation. Jake glanced at the scoreboard one last time before stepping out. 45 minutes left. 1-0 down. Time to turn it around. Kickoff The referee blew the whistle, and the second half began. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Immediately, Bradford''s approach changed. No more desperate long balls. No more forcing quick attacks. They started passing sideways, controlling the game, forcing AS Gab¨¨s to run. Saidi, now fully locked in, became the key player. He wasn''t just clearing the ball anymore¡ªhe was starting attacks. 48th minute ¨C Saidi intercepted a pass, calmly dribbled forward, and played it out wide to Novak, igniting an attack. 52nd minute ¨C He stepped up in midfield, cutting off an AS Gab¨¨s counter, then switched the play to the right flank. AS Gab¨¨s, who had dominated the first half, were now being dragged across the pitch. They were no longer dictating the pace¡ªBradford was. In the 56th minute, Ryan Carter finally found space to operate. After a clever pass from Lowe, the young midfielder turned quickly, spotting Novak making a run down the left. A perfectly timed through ball cut through the defense. Novak sprinted into the box. One-on-one with the keeper. He took the shot¡ªbut the AS Gab¨¨s goalkeeper made a brilliant save. Jake clenched his jaw. "That was the moment." Still, it was a sign. Bradford was growing into the game. AS Gab¨¨s, now frustrated by their lack of control, started making mistakes. In the 62nd minute, their right-back gave away possession in midfield. Carter pounced on it, immediately looking up. Novak was already making his run. With a swift pass, Carter sent the ball into space. Novak raced forward, cutting inside before curling a low shot toward the far post. The goalkeeper dived¡ªbut this time, he couldn''t reach it. GOAL! 1-1. The away bench erupted in cheers. Novak sprinted toward Carter, celebrating their first goal as teammates. Jake simply smiled. "We''re in control now," he murmured. With the score level, both teams adjusted their approach. AS Gab¨¨s pushed forward aggressively, trying to reclaim their lead. Bradford stayed disciplined, using short passes to frustrate them. Saidi was now bossing the defense. 74th minute ¨C He cut out a dangerous low cross with perfect positioning. 77th minute ¨C He intercepted a pass and launched a counterattack. The home crowd was still booing him, but he didn''t care anymore. He was too busy dominating. The game looked like it would end in a draw¡ªuntil the 85th minute. Bradford won a corner kick after a deflected shot from Carter. Jake gave a simple instruction. "Saidi, go forward." The defender didn''t say a word. He jogged into the box, positioning himself near the far post. Novak took the corner, whipping in a dangerous cross. Saidi timed his jump perfectly. He rose above everyone, his forehead meeting the ball with power and precision. The net rippled. GOAL! Bradford players surrounded Saidi, celebrating. But he didn''t run. He didn''t smile. Instead, he turned toward the crowd¡ªthe same fans who had booed him all game. He stood there, arms crossed, staring them down. The stadium fell silent. The scoreboard now read: AS Gab¨¨s 1-2 Bradford City. Final Whistle & Post-Match Tension The referee blew the whistle, and Bradford secured the win. Saidi walked off the pitch slowly, breathing heavily. But just as he reached the tunnel, the Tunisian media swarmed him. "Ahmed! Do you regret leaving AS Gab¨¨s?" "Was this your way of proving a point?" Saidi stopped. He turned to the cameras, eyes cold. "I gave everything for this club," he said, voice steady. "But when I wanted to grow, I was treated like a traitor." A pause. "Now? I have nothing to prove to anyone." With that, he walked off, leaving the media stunned. As the team boarded the bus, Paul turned to Jake. "That was more than just a preseason match for him." Jake nodded. "Yeah. And he won it." Bradford had shown their resilience today.ly. "Go out there and show them who we are." Chapter 21 - 21: Training and Tactical Adjustments Preseason Training The Bradford City training ground was buzzing with activity. The summer sun hung over the pitch as players ran drill after drill, sweat pouring down their faces. It had been two days since their 2-1 win against AS Gab¨¨s, and Jake Wilson was wasting no time. The squad needed refining, the tactics needed adjustment, and the players needed to improve before the new season kicked off. A blue screen flickered before his eyes. [Ding! Player Development Feature Unlocked] [Now Analyzing Squad Strengths & Weaknesses] Jake smirked as the system began providing specialized training recommendations for each player. [Ryan Carter: Needs Strength & Endurance Training ¨C Struggles in Physical Duels] [Lukas Novak: Needs Crossing & Decision-Making Drills ¨C Rushed Attacks Too Often] [Emeka Okafor: Needs Positioning Work ¨C Late Reactions on Close-Range Shots] [Daniel Lowe: Needs Tactical Awareness Training ¨C Struggles Against High Press] Jake nodded to himself. These were all things he had noticed in their matches¡ªbut now, the system was giving precise areas for improvement. "Alright," Jake said, clapping his hands. "We''re splitting into groups. Position-specific training. No wasted time today." The players gathered, ready for what was coming. Tactical Fitness & Pressing Drills The first 90 minutes of training were brutal. Jake forced the squad into high-intensity pressing drills, focusing on conditioning and defensive shape. The defenders were drilled on keeping a compact backline, tracking runners, and reacting to counterattacks. The midfielders worked on quick passing under pressure, trying to break free from aggressive marking. The forwards and wingers focused on movement, learning to find space in tight areas. Nathan Barnes, one of the most experienced defenders, was struggling. His fitness wasn''t at the level Jake needed. More than once, he was a step too slow, getting beaten by younger attackers. "You''re leaving too much space, Barnes!" Jake shouted as the veteran CB missed another interception. Barnes nodded, breathing heavily. "I know, boss. Working on it." On the other side, Novak was having a tough time with his decision-making. Twice, he received the ball in a great position but rushed his cross, sending it too deep or straight to the goalkeeper. Jake stopped the session. "Novak, stop forcing it. Look up. Make the right decision before you deliver." Novak wiped sweat off his forehead and nodded. "Got it." Not everyone was struggling. Saidi was leading the backline, barking orders and keeping the defense organized. Carter was improving his ball control under pressure, adjusting quickly to the speed of play. Jayden Cooper, one of the young wingers, was impressing Jake with his agility and quick passing. Despite the improvements, the squad was still far from ready. And with a Premier League team up next in their preseason schedule, Jake needed them to improve¡ªfast. After training, Jake pulled out his tablet, reviewing the system''s updated recommendations. [Ding! Recommended Player Workload Adjustments] [Ryan Carter: Needs Extra Weight Training ¨C Too Weak in Physical Battles] [Lukas Novak: Needs Vision & Awareness Drills ¨C Too Tunnel-Visioned When Attacking] [Okafor: Needs Reaction Speed Training ¨C Slow in Close-Range Saves] Jake called Carter over first. "You''re getting bullied in midfield," Jake said bluntly. "From tomorrow, you''re adding strength training." Carter frowned. "I don''t think¡ª" Jake cut him off. "No debate. If you want to dominate the midfield, you need to be stronger. You''re already smart on the ball, but when you face tough teams, that won''t be enough." Carter hesitated, then finally nodded. Next, Jake turned to Novak. "You''re a great dribbler, but your crosses and final passes need work," Jake said. "You''re not looking up before making decisions." Novak sighed. "Yeah¡­ I kind of panic sometimes." Jake nodded. "That stops now. Extra vision drills with the assistant coach." Okafor was the last one called over. "You made some big saves last match," Jake said. "But you''re slow reacting in tight spaces. That needs fixing." The goalkeeper frowned but didn''t argue. "What''s the plan?" Jake gestured toward the training pitch. "Reaction drills. Every day. We''ll work on it until you don''t think¡ªyou just react." Okafor grinned. "Let''s do it." sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With the physical training done, Jake moved on to tactical adjustments. So far, he had used a 4-2-3-1 system, focusing on pressing and quick transitions. But with a Premier League club coming up, he needed to test alternative setups. He ran the squad through three different formations: 4-3-3 (High Pressing) ¨C Focused on aggressive ball-winning and fast attacks. 5-3-2 (Defensive Counter) ¨C Designed for compact defending and rapid counterattacks. 4-4-2 (Balanced Approach) ¨C A more traditional system to test squad versatility. Saidi and Barnes adapted quickly to the 5-3-2, forming a strong defensive pairing. Carter struggled in the 4-3-3, finding it hard to get involved higher up the pitch. Novak thrived in the 4-4-2, getting more space on the wing. Jake took notes. After two hours, the session ended. As the players collapsed onto the grass, exhausted, Jake finally let out a breath. They weren''t perfect. But they were improving. Final Thoughts & Preparing for the Premier League Test Jake stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching his squad as they cooled down. Paul walked up beside him. "Some of them look like they''ve been through hell," Paul said. Jake smirked. "That''s the point." Paul nodded, watching as the players joked with each other, despite their exhaustion. The squad was starting to bond. "Premier League team up next," Paul reminded him. "It''s gonna be tough." Jake exhaled. "It''s exactly the test we need." His eyes flickered to the system''s final report. [Squad Readiness: 65%] [Still Room for Improvement Before Season Begins] Jake closed the screen. Two preseason matches left. The team wasn''t ready yet. But they would be.m Chapter 22 - 22: Third Preseason Match vs. Fulham (Part 1) Its Matchday at Craven Cottage as Bradford City stepped onto the pitch, facing their biggest test of the preseason so far¡ªa match against Fulham, a well-established Premier League side. Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, arms crossed, scanning the field. This match wasn''t just about winning¡ªit was about seeing how his squad performed under real pressure. A blue screen flickered before his eyes. [Ding! Opponent Analysis ¨C Fulham] [Strengths: Possession-Based Play, Strong Full-Back Overlaps, Midfield Control] [Weaknesses: Struggles Against Organized Defenses, Slow Transition to Defend Counters] Jake had expected this. He knew they couldn''t go toe-to-toe with a team of Fulham''s quality. Instead, he set up a defensive 5-3-2 system, prioritizing compactness and counter-attacks. Saidi, Barnes, and Hale made up the defensive wall in the center. Richards and Taylor were placed as wing-backs, responsible for both defending and launching quick counters. Carter and Lowe controlled the midfield, trying to disrupt Fulham''s rhythm. Novak and Thompson started up front, tasked with making fast runs whenever Bradford won possession. Jake turned to his assistant, Paul Roberts. "They''re going to control possession," Jake said. "Let them have the ball, but we hit them hard on the break." Paul nodded. "We''ll need Okafor at his best today." Jake smirked. "He''ll get plenty of practice." The referee blew the whistle. Kickoff. Fulham''s Early Domination From the start, Fulham dictated the tempo. Their midfielders moved the ball quickly, looking to break through Bradford''s low defensive block. Their full-backs bombed forward, putting immediate pressure on Bradford''s wing-backs. Their striker, a tall and physical target man, bullied Barnes and Saidi, trying to create space for his teammates. By the 10th minute, Fulham already had their first big chance. A cross from the right found their striker inside the box. He rose above Barnes and powered a header toward the goal. But Okafor was ready. The Nigerian goalkeeper reacted instantly, diving to his left and getting a strong hand to the ball, pushing it away. Jake clapped on the sidelines. "That''s it, Okafor!" Despite Fulham''s dominance, Bradford weren''t just sitting back. In the 17th minute, they found their first real counter-attacking opportunity. Lowe intercepted a pass in midfield and immediately fed the ball to Carter, who turned and played a quick through-ball to Novak. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Czech winger sprinted down the left, cutting inside to create space. He had options¡ªhe could pass to Thompson in the box or take the shot himself. He chose the latter. Novak fired a curling shot toward the bottom corner¡­ But the Fulham keeper reacted quickly, diving to make the save. Jake sighed. "Should''ve squared it to Thompson." Paul nodded. "Novak''s rushing his decisions again." It was still 0-0, but at least Bradford had shown they could threaten on the counter. For the next 20 minutes, it was all Fulham. Their midfield controlled possession, forcing Bradford deeper. Their wingers kept delivering dangerous crosses, putting the defense under pressure. Bradford''s players were forced to chase and defend, struggling to maintain structure. In the 25th minute, Fulham created their best chance yet. A perfectly placed through-ball split Bradford''s defense, putting Fulham''s striker one-on-one with Okafor. Jake tensed. Okafor rushed off his line, closing the angle. The striker took the shot¡ªbut Okafor made himself big, blocking the attempt with his chest! The ball deflected away, and Saidi quickly cleared it out of danger. Jake exhaled in relief. Paul shook his head. "We''re getting lucky." "We''re also defending well," Jake countered. "They haven''t broken through yet." By the 35th minute, Jake started noticing a clear weakness. Bradford''s midfield was struggling to keep up with Fulham''s pace. Carter was getting physically dominated, losing duels too easily. Lowe was giving the ball away under pressure. Richards was getting overrun on the right side. Jake gritted his teeth. This was exposing a major flaw in his squad. [Ding! Tactical Weakness Identified] [Issue: Lack of Physicality in Midfield] [Solution: Consider Signing a Strong Central Midfielder] Jake made a mental note. Before the season started, he needed a tough, ball-winning midfielder. As halftime approached, Fulham kept pushing forward. 42nd minute ¨C Their left winger cut inside and fired a shot, but Okafor made another strong save. 44th minute ¨C Saidi made a crucial block inside the box, denying a close-range effort. Bradford held on. The referee blew the whistle for halftime. Score at halftime: 0-0. Jake walked into the dressing room, his mind already analyzing adjustments. The players sat down, exhausted from defending for 45 minutes. "We''re doing well," Jake said, pacing in front of them. "They haven''t broken through. Okafor''s been excellent. Saidi and Barnes are keeping the defense tight." He paused. "But we need to be smarter. Our counters aren''t dangerous enough. We''re giving the ball away too cheaply." He turned to Carter. "You''re getting bullied in midfield. When you get the ball, move it faster. Don''t wait for them to close you down." Carter nodded, still catching his breath. Jake then looked at his bench. He needed fresh legs in attack. After a brief thought, he made his first change. "Walsh, you''re in. Carter, you''re off." The 17-year-old winger looked up in shock. "Me, boss?" Jake nodded. "I need more pace on the right. Get forward whenever we counter." Walsh took a deep breath and nodded determinedly. Jake clapped his hands. "Alright. Keep it tight at the back, and when we attack, commit to it. One goal could win this." The players stood up, ready for the second half. Chapter 23 - 23: Third Preseason Match vs. Fulham (Part 2) Tactical Adjustments ¨C Jake''s Game Plan for the Second Half With his arms folded, Jake Wilson watched his men get ready to return to the field from the tunnel. The first half had been a defensive battle, with Okafor making several crucial saves to keep the score level at 0-0. However, Bradford had struggled to create anything meaningful in attack. That was about to change. Jake had made one key substitution¡ªEthan Walsh, the young winger, had replaced Ryan Carter. The plan? Bradford would push forward slightly when counterattacking, using Walsh''s pace on the right. Novak and Thompson would stay higher up, ready to pounce on any loose balls. Richards and Taylor, the wing-backs, would push forward more aggressively when the opportunity came. Jake walked up to Walsh, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Don''t hesitate," he said. "Run at them. They won''t expect it." Walsh nodded, determination in his eyes. The whistle blew. Second half, here we go. Bradford Starts Stronger Right from kickoff, Bradford looked sharper. They pressed higher up the pitch, forcing Fulham''s midfield into quicker decisions. Walsh''s direct running on the right side immediately caused problems. Saidi and Barnes held the defensive line well, repelling crosses and through-balls. In the 52nd minute, Bradford created their first real chance of the half. Walsh received a pass from Lowe and immediately sprinted down the right wing. He cut inside, beating his marker, and whipped in a dangerous cross. Thompson met it with a header¡ªbut it flew just over the bar. Jake clapped in approval. "That''s what I want! Keep going!" The game was still 0-0, but momentum was shifting. Fulham Strikes Back ¨C Okafor''s Heroics Fulham, now aware of Bradford''s more aggressive approach, responded immediately. In the 58th minute, they launched a rapid attack. Their left-winger cut inside and played a through-ball to their striker. Saidi slid in for a last-ditch tackle but missed by inches. The striker was one-on-one with Okafor. Jake tensed on the sideline. The Fulham forward fired low toward the bottom corner. Okafor reacted instantly¡ªdiving to his right and getting a fingertip to the shot! The ball deflected off the post and was cleared away by Barnes. Jake let out a breath. "This kid is saving us today." Paul Roberts shook his head. "Okafor''s the only reason we''re still in this." But Bradford needed more than just saves. They needed a goal. The Breakthrough ¨C In the 68th minute, Bradford finally found their moment. Saidi intercepted a pass in defense and took a quick look up. Fulham''s full-backs had pushed too far forward¡ªleaving space behind. Saidi launched a perfect long ball over the top, targeting Richards on the right flank. The right-back controlled it well and immediately drove forward. He sprinted past one defender. He looked up, spotted Walsh arriving in the box. He curled a low cross into the danger area. Walsh timed his run perfectly, ghosting between Fulham''s center-backs. He met the ball with a first-time shot¡ªsmashing it past the Fulham goalkeeper! GOAL! 1-0, Bradford City! The away bench erupted, players rushing to celebrate with Walsh. Jake grinned slightly, arms still crossed. "Perfect execution," he murmured. Paul whistled. "The kid''s got something special." Walsh''s first goal for the senior squad had just given Bradford a shock lead over a Premier League team. Now? They had to hold onto it. As expected, Fulham threw everything forward after conceding. They switched to a 4-2-4 formation, adding another striker. They started firing crosses into the box, testing Bradford''s defensive structure. Their midfielders shot from distance, looking for any breakthrough. Okafor was called into action twice more. In the 74th minute, he parried a long-range shot away from danger. In the 79th minute, he made a brilliant close-range save, stopping a point-blank header. Saidi and Barnes were immense in the air, clearing every ball that came their way. Richards and Taylor tracked back relentlessly, making key tackles to disrupt Fulham''s wingers. But as the 85th minute approached, Jake noticed something concerning. His players were starting to tire. They had spent most of the match defending, and Fulham were only increasing the pressure. Jake turned to his bench. He needed one last change. In the 86th minute, Jake called over Tommy Hale, the young center-back. "You''re going in for Novak," Jake said. Hale blinked. "But¡­ he''s a winger, boss." Jake smirked. "I know. We''re shutting this game down. Five at the back. No risks." Novak, exhausted, jogged off as Hale took his place. Bradford switched to a 5-4-1, parking the bus for the final minutes. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake shouted his final instruction. "Defend like your lives depend on it!" Fulham pushed for an equalizer, launching one last desperate attack. In the 90th minute, they won a free kick just outside the box. Jake held his breath. The Fulham midfielder curled it toward the top corner¡­ But Okafor leaped and tipped it over the bar! The referee blew the whistle. FULL-TIME: Bradford City 1-0 Fulham. Bradford had just beaten a Premier League club. As the players celebrated, Jake was already thinking ahead. The system flashed an evaluation. [Ding! Tactical Analysis Complete] [Weaknesses Exposed:] Midfield lacks physicality ¨C Carter struggled against aggressive pressing. No pace on the right ¨C Richards had to cover too much ground alone. Jake nodded. This confirmed what he already knew. They needed two new signings. A strong central midfielder to control possession under pressure. A pacey right winger to balance the attack. Press Conference ¨C Jake Announces Transfer Plans The media crowded around him, eager for his thoughts. "Jake, how does it feel to beat a Premier League team?" Jake shrugged. "It''s preseason. What matters is how we play when the real season starts." "But this proves your tactics work, right?" Jake smirked. "It proves we''re heading in the right direction." Then, one reporter asked, "Are you making more signings before the season begins?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "Yes. We''ll bring in two more players. A midfielder and a winger." The media buzzed with excitement. Bradford City had just beaten Fulham. And now? They were about to get even stronger. Chapter 24 - 24: Player Signings & Squad Adjustments Jake Wilson sat in his office, scanning the data on his tablet. The system had been running squad diagnostics all morning, analyzing every game so far. A blue screen flickered in front of him. [Ding! Squad Analysis Complete] [Urgent Need: Defensive Midfield Depth] [Solution: Promote a Youth Academy Player Immediately] Jake leaned back in his chair, thinking. Daniel Lowe had been playing as the team''s only true defensive midfielder, and while he had done well, the system was right¡ªthere was no backup. If Lowe got injured or suspended, Bradford would have a massive hole in midfield. He tapped on the system''s recommended players list. [Recommendation: Promote Charlie Benson (19, Defensive Midfielder, Academy)] [Strengths: Tackling, Stamina, Defensive Awareness] [Weaknesses: Passing Under Pressure, Positional Discipline] sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake nodded. Benson was raw, but he had potential. He called his assistant coach, Paul Roberts. "Paul, we''re bringing Charlie Benson into the first team," Jake said. Paul raised an eyebrow. "Think he''s ready?" Jake smirked. "We''ll find out." While promoting Benson solved one problem, Jake still needed to reinforce his squad further. The system had recommended two signings, both based in Spain: A young midfielder from Real Madrid''s academy¡ªsomeone who could help control possession. A 25-year-old right winger/striker¡ªonce a top Valencia prospect but forgotten after two years of injuries. Jake wasted no time. The next morning, he was on a flight to Spain. Negotiating with Real Madrid Jake arrived at Real Madrid''s training ground, ready for the biggest negotiation of his career so far. His target? Alejandro Ortega, a 20-year-old midfield playmaker. [Ding! Player Profile: Alejandro Ortega] [Strengths: Vision, Passing, Composure] [Weaknesses: Physicality, Defensive Work Rate] Madrid''s academy director was reluctant to let Ortega leave. "He''s an important player for our Castilla squad," the director said, shaking his head. "We''re not looking to loan him out right now." Jake expected this. "Look," Jake said, keeping his voice calm. "You and I both know Ortega isn''t getting into your first team. He needs real minutes at a senior level. I can give him that at Bradford." The director hesitated. "Why should we send him to you? Bradford isn''t exactly known for developing young talent." Jake smirked. "Because I''m not just any coach." Then he pulled out his tablet, showing them detailed tactical breakdowns from his system-generated reports. How Ortega would fit into Bradford''s tactics. How he''d develop playing under Jake''s system. Projected growth statistics over the next two seasons. The director sat back, surprised. "You''ve done your homework." Jake shrugged. "I don''t gamble with my signings. I know exactly how he''ll fit." After a long discussion, Madrid finally agreed to a one-season loan deal. Signing the Forgotten Winger The next stop was Valencia, where Jake was meeting with Diego Castell¨®n¡ªa once-promising winger, now without a club. [Ding! Player Profile: Diego Castell¨®n] [Strengths: Speed, Finishing, Versatility] [Weaknesses: Match Fitness, Injury History] Jake found Castell¨®n training alone on a local pitch. The winger had been ignored by clubs due to his injury record, but the system had highlighted him as a hidden gem. Jake approached him. "Diego Castell¨®n?" The player turned, surprised. "Who''s asking?" "Jake Wilson, manager of Bradford City." Castell¨®n frowned. "I haven''t played in two years. No club wants to take the risk." Jake nodded. "That''s why I''m here. My gut says you''re not finished yet. I believe it." Castell¨®n hesitated. "But¡­ what if I break down again?" Jake''s voice was steady. "Then we''ll deal with it. But I don''t think you will. I think you just need a club that actually believes in you." A long pause. Then, Castell¨®n stretched out his hand. "Alright. Let''s do it." A few days later, Jake was back in England, sitting in front of the media. Reporters fired questions at him. "You''ve signed two unknown players¡ªone from Madrid''s reserves and another who hasn''t played in two years. Is this smart recruitment?" Jake smirked. "I don''t sign players randomly. Both of them fit exactly what we need." "Castell¨®n hasn''t played competitively in a long time. Isn''t this a risk?" Jake leaned forward. "Every signing is a risk. But I trust my system, and I trust my eyes. He has the talent¡ªwe just need to bring it back." "Ortega is highly rated in Madrid''s academy. How did you convince them to loan him out?" Jake shrugged. "Simple. I showed them I have a plan for him." The headlines the next day? "Jake Wilson Takes a Gamble on Forgotten Talent" "Can Ortega Shine Under Bradford''s System?" "Wilson''s Bold Transfer Strategy¡ªMasterstroke or Mistake?" Jake didn''t care about the noise. He knew what he was building. A week later, both Ortega and Castell¨®n arrived at Bradford''s training ground. The squad welcomed them cautiously¡ªespecially Castell¨®n, whose injury history made him a controversial addition. Jake watched closely in training. Ortega immediately stood out with his passing ability, though he struggled with the physicality of English football. Castell¨®n was rusty but still lightning fast, showing glimpses of his old form. At the same time, Charlie Benson was adjusting to life in the first team. The young defensive midfielder was eager to prove himself, but Jake could see his nerves. The coaching staff worked closely with him, focusing on: Positioning during transitions. Improving his confidence on the ball. Building his physical endurance. Jake knew these three players would be crucial for the upcoming season. Preparing for the Fourth Preseason Match With three preseason games left, the team now had more tactical flexibility. Ortega would control possession in midfield. Castell¨®n would provide speed and finishing up front. Benson would develop into a backup defensive midfielder. Their next test? A match against a strong Championship club. Jake gathered the squad. "We''ve made great progress, but now it''s time to show it on the pitch." The team nodded, focused. Bradford was taking shape. And Jake? He was just getting started. Chapter 25 - 25: The System’s Evolution & Jake’s Bold Gamble Jake Wilson leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the floating blue screen in front of him. The system had been analyzing the squad''s progress after their last match, running performance data, and identifying weaknesses. Then, a new notification popped up. [Ding! New System Function Unlocked ¨C Tactical Simulation] [Description: Run pre-match simulations to predict tactical outcomes based on current squad data.] [Warning: Simulations are not 100% accurate¡ªexternal factors, player performance, and momentum can alter results.] Jake sat forward, reading the description carefully. This was game-changing. If he could predict match outcomes, even with some uncertainty, he could refine his tactics before a game even started. But the warning stuck out. Football wasn''t just about formations on a tactics board¡ªit was about mentality, randomness, and moments of brilliance. No system could predict everything. Still, he couldn''t afford to ignore this tool. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He tapped the screen. Time to test it. Jake stood on the sidelines as Bradford''s squad went through drills, his assistant Paul Roberts beside him. He ran the first simulation, feeding the system data on their next opponent¡ªa high-pressing Championship side. [Simulated Match Result: 2-1 Loss] [Opponent Strengths: High Pressing & Aerial Duels] [Recommendation: Switch to a 4-2-3-1 to avoid midfield overload] Jake frowned. The system recommended a more defensive setup¡ªprobably to minimize mistakes under pressure. But his gut told him to attack instead. Paul glanced at him. "What are you thinking?" " I was thinking why don''t we sit deeper, absorb pressure," Jake said, watching Ortega dictate play in midfield. "But I think we should go at them early¡ªhit them before they settle." Paul smirked. "So are you saying we should trust your gut instinct?" Jake exhaled. "We''re finding out the hard way." Out on the training pitch, Ryan Carter was running the show. His passing range was improving, spraying long balls across the field. He was stronger in challenges, no longer getting muscled off the ball like before. The squad naturally looked to him in transitions¡ªwhenever they won possession, Carter was the first option. Jake had seen players like this before. Some players forced themselves into a team through sheer talent. Carter was becoming that player. Paul nudged him. "Carter''s stepping up." Jake nodded. "Yeah. Question is¡ªdo we build everything around him?" If Carter became the focal point, the entire system needed to revolve around his strengths. But Jake wasn''t sure if the squad was ready for that yet. A Surprise Talent Emerges As training continued, one unexpected player started standing out. Charlie Benson, the young defensive midfielder, was everywhere. He broke up play, making tackles at the perfect time. He pressed aggressively, recovering second balls. His passing had improved, no longer looking rushed. [Ding! Hidden Gem Detected ¨C Charlie Benson] [Projected Growth: High Potential Starter] [Recommendation: Consider testing him in a real match.] Jake folded his arms, watching as Benson outmuscled Lowe in a challenge. Paul turned to him. "The kid''s making a statement." Jake smirked. "Yeah. Let''s see if he''s ready for the real thing." Preparing for the Next Preseason Match With only two preseason matches left, Bradford''s next test was against a tough Championship club. Jake had a decision to make. The system recommended a defensive setup, but his instincts told him to attack from the start. He glanced at his squad list. Carter was proving himself as a leader. Collins was looking like a real attacking threat. Benson had earned a chance. Jake finally made his call. "Forget the system''s prediction," he told himself . "We''re attacking from the start." Paul grinned. "Bold move. Let''s see if it pays off Chapter 26 - 26: The Unexpected Star & Tactical Chaos in Preseason Matchday The sun beat down on the pitch as Bradford City lined up for their second-to-last preseason match, facing Coventry City, a strong Championship side. Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, arms crossed. This was the match where he would ignore the system''s simulation and trust his own instincts. The system had warned him to play cautiously, sit deeper, and absorb Coventry''s press. But Jake had decided to do the exact opposite. [Formation: 4-3-3 Attacking] Goalkeeper: Okafor Right-Back: Richards Center-Backs: Saidi, Barnes Left-Back: Taylor Defensive Midfielder: Charlie Benson (First Senior Start!) Central Midfielders: Carter, Ortega Right Wing: Collins Left Wing: Castell¨®n Striker: Thompson This was Benson''s first senior start, and Castell¨®n, still searching for his best form, was getting another chance on the left wing. Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "We''re going aggressive early. High press, quick transitions." Paul smirked. "Going against the odds, huh?" Jake grinned. "Let''s see who''s right." The referee blew the whistle. Kickoff. Bradford exploded out of the gates. 2nd minute ¨C Collins dribbled past two defenders and forced an early save from the Coventry goalkeeper. 7th minute ¨C Benson made a strong interception in midfield, launching a counterattack that nearly led to a goal. 12th minute ¨C Ortega threaded a beautiful pass to Thompson, who fired a shot inches wide. Jake''s plan was working. Coventry looked stunned¡ªthey hadn''t expected Bradford to play so aggressively. Then, in the 16th minute, the breakthrough came. Castell¨®n received a long ball from Carter on the left wing. He cut inside, skipped past one defender, then another. From outside the box, he curled a stunning shot into the top corner. GOAL! 1-0, Bradford! Jake clenched his fist. That was Castell¨®n''s first goal for the club. Paul grinned. "I think we just found our left winger for the season." Coventry woke up after conceding. 22nd minute ¨C Their striker won an aerial battle against Barnes and forced Okafor into a diving save. 27th minute ¨C A mistake from Saidi allowed Coventry''s winger to go one-on-one with Okafor, but the keeper denied him again. Jake could feel momentum shifting. Coventry''s physicality was starting to take control. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then, in the 31st minute, Coventry equalized. A corner swung into the box. Their 6''3" center-back outjumped everyone and powered a header into the net. 1-1. Jake cursed under his breath. Another goal conceded from a set piece. Paul shook his head. "We have to fix that before the season starts." Before Bradford could settle, Coventry struck again. 36th minute ¨C Their striker bullied Barnes off the ball, cut inside, and curled a shot past Okafor. 1-2, Coventry. Suddenly, everything had flipped. Jake had a decision to make. Stick with the plan or adjust? He turned to the bench. "Time for a change." At halftime, Jake made two substitutions. Benson off, Lowe on ¨C Benson had played well, but the midfield needed more stability. Thompson off, Novak on ¨C Fresh legs in attack. Jake didn''t tell the team to sit back. He told them to keep attacking. And in the 54th minute, Bradford equalized. Ortega won a midfield duel and released Collins down the right. The young winger whipped in a perfect low cross. Novak, fresh off the bench, tapped it home. 2-2! Bradford''s bench erupted. Collins ran straight to Jake, fists clenched. The academy player had just created a huge goal. Paul grinned. "The kid is fearless." A Chaotic Final 20 Minutes The match turned into complete madness. 61st minute ¨C Saidi made a last-ditch block to stop a clear goal. 67th minute ¨C Castell¨®n hit the post after dribbling past three defenders. 71st minute ¨C Coventry had a goal ruled out for offside after VAR intervention. Then, in the 78th minute, disaster struck. Coventry launched a quick counterattack. Barnes, frustrated from being beaten earlier, lunged in late on their striker. The referee didn''t hesitate¡ªstraight red card. Bradford down to 10 men. Jake ran his hands through his hair. "Not what we needed." Paul groaned. "We''re in survival mode now." With a man down, Jake switched the formation to a 4-4-1, putting everyone behind the ball. Coventry attacked relentlessly. 84th minute ¨C Okafor made a stunning double save. 88th minute ¨C Carter cleared a shot off the line. Then, in stoppage time, Bradford got one last chance. Ortega won a free kick near the edge of the box. Castell¨®n stepped up, eyeing the goal. He curled a perfect shot over the wall¡­ ¡­but the Coventry keeper tipped it over! The final whistle blew. 2-2 draw. Jake exhaled. "What a match." In the locker room, Jake gathered the players. "That was chaos," he admitted. "But we fought until the end. Castell¨®n, that goal was top-class. Collins¡ªgreat assist. Carter¡ªrock solid." The players applauded each other. Despite the draw, the team felt like they had grown. But he knew they had work to do. Defending set pieces had to improve. Discipline had to be better¡ªBarnes'' red card could''ve cost them. The attack was coming together, but finishing needed to be sharper. With one preseason match left, it was almost time for the real season. Chapter 27 - 27: Matchday – A Heated Rivalry Against Stockport County Edgeley Park has a tense atmosphere. Even though it was a preseason game, the atmosphere was close to that of a regular league game, and the stadium was almost full because it was against one of their rivals. Bradford City''s final friendly was against Stockport County, one of their main opponents in the lower leagues. Stockport was known for rough football, violent play, and bending the rules as much as possible. Jake Wilson had warned his players about what to expect. "This isn''t about tactics," he said before kickoff. "This is about mentality. They''ll foul, waste time, try to get under your skin. Stay disciplined. Don''t let them drag you into their game." The system had already predicted a high chance of fouls and stoppages. [Ding! Match Risk Warning: High likelihood of injuries. Stay cautious.] Jake clenched his fists. That was the last thing he needed before the season started. The referee blew the whistle. Kickoff. From the opening minutes, Stockport played exactly how Jake expected. Rough challenges, late tackles, and constant pulling of shirts. Bradford''s midfield struggled to find rhythm¡ªevery time Ortega received the ball, a Stockport player clattered into him. Collins was wiped out on the wing after dribbling past two defenders. No foul was given, and Jake immediately stormed to the fourth official. "What the hell is this?" he demanded. "They''re hacking my players down, and you''re doing nothing?" The fourth official barely glanced at him. "Calm down, coach." Jake clenched his jaw. It was going to be one of those games. Despite the dirty play, Bradford struck first in the 27th minute. Carter received the ball at the edge of the box. Instead of shooting, he played a quick one-two with Ortega. Ortega squared it to Thompson, who slotted it past the keeper. GOAL! The away fans erupted. Jake smiled. They could handle the pressure. The lead didn''t last. In the 39th minute, Stockport won a dubious penalty. Their striker backed into Barnes inside the box. Barnes barely touched him, but the striker collapsed like he''d been shot. The referee immediately pointed to the spot. Jake lost it. "That''s a dive! Are you kidding me?!" The Bradford bench erupted, but the decision stood. Stockport''s captain stepped up and buried the penalty. 1-1. Jake turned to Paul. "We''re playing against twelve men today." The second half started worse than the first. In the 50th minute, Carter was nearly taken out by a reckless two-footed challenge. The referee only gave a yellow, despite Carter rolling on the ground in pain. Bradford''s players reacted instantly¡ªshoving, yelling, surrounding the ref. The game nearly broke into a full brawl. Jake had to rush onto the field to pull his players away. "We don''t lose our heads," he barked. "Let them be dirty. We stay smart." But things only got worse. Then, in the 70th minute, it happened. Stockport launched a counterattack. Their striker, clearly beaten for pace, lashed out with a wild challenge. His boot smashed into Ahmed Saidi''s knee. The horrific crunching sound made Jake''s stomach drop. Saidi collapsed instantly, clutching his leg. Jake sprinted onto the field. Saidi''s face was twisted in pain. "Gaffer¡­ I can''t move it." The system notification confirmed Jake''s worst fear. [Ding! Player Injury Detected ¨C Possible Ligament Damage. Estimated Recovery: 2 Months.] Jake''s hands clenched into fists. The referee? Only gave a yellow card. Jake saw red. He stormed up to the fourth official. "That''s a straight red! He''s taken out my center-back, and you''re letting them get away with this?!" The official gave him a yellow card t. Stockport''s manager smirked from the other dugout. Jake forced himself to take a deep breath. Stockport wanted him to explode. Instead, he turned back to his players. "We finish this game for Saidi. Stay sharp. No more mistakes." With the team shaken, Stockport took advantage. In the 88th minute, they launched a long ball into the box. Barnes misjudged the flight. Okafor came out too late. Stockport''s striker poked it into the net. 2-1. The final whistle blew. Jake stayed silent. The match had been a disgrace. But one thing was clear¡ªthey had to be ready for this type of fight all season. Post-Match ¨C Confronting the Referee Jake waited outside the referee''s tunnel. When the official finally walked out, Jake''s voice was cold. "You lost control of that match. My player is out for two months because you let them get away with murder." The ref ignored him and walked away. Jake exhaled through his nose. He would remember this. The Bradford locker room was silent. The players were angry, frustrated, and still processing what happened. Jake stepped in. S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Listen up," he said, his voice steady. "This is what we''re going to face all season. Teams trying to bully us. Refs letting it happen. We need to be stronger." Eyes locked onto him. "No excuses. We don''t lose our discipline. We fight, but we fight smart. Got it?" The team nodded. Then, Jake delivered the worst news. "Saidi''s out for two months." Silence. Then, Thompson spoke. "We''ll play for him, gaffer." Jake nodded. "Damn right we will." The team had just been through hell. Chapter 28 - 28: The Aftermath Saidi''s Injury Changes Everything Jake Wilson sat in his office, staring at the medical report in front of him. The words burned into his brain. Ahmed Saidi ¨C Torn Ligament (Estimated Recovery: 2 Months). Jake clenched his jaw. His best center-back was out. Losing a key defender right before the season started was a disaster. Saidi was the backbone of the defense, and without him, the backline suddenly looked shaky. Paul Roberts, his assistant, sighed. "We''ve got cover, but none of them are at Saidi''s level." Jake nodded. "We''ll have to make adjustments. Maybe drop deeper, stay compact in defense." But before he could even process that, his phone buzzed with an email notification. Bradford City Board Meeting ¨C Urgent Discussion on Squad Depth. Jake exhaled. Here we go. The tension in the boardroom was heavy. The chairman, Henry Lowe, was seated at the head of the table, his hands folded. "We need to talk about squad depth," Lowe said, looking directly at Jake. "Losing Saidi for two months is a problem. Do you have a plan?" Jake sat forward. "We adjust tactically. Drop the defensive line, protect the back four with a stronger midfield." "But do we need to sign another center-back?" Lowe pressed. Jake hesitated. With the current budget, signing a decent defender would mean sacrificing funds for future transfers. "I''ll explore options," Jake finally said. "But I don''t want a panic signing." The meeting ended, but Jake knew one thing¡ªif the defense failed in the first few games, the board would come knocking again. A Shocking Transfer Offer ¨C Lose a Key Player or Reject It? As soon as Jake stepped out of the meeting, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was an email from the club''s director of football. "We''ve received an offer for James Richards from a League One club. They''re willing to pay ¡ê500K for him." Jake''s eyes widened. Richards was his starting right-back. Paul raised an eyebrow. "¡ê500K is a lot for a League Two full-back." Jake thought hard. Selling Richards would free up funds to sign a replacement for Saidi, but it would also mean losing one of his best defenders. "Reject it," Jake said. "We need him." For now, at least. Later that evening, as Jake reviewed scouting reports, the system suddenly activated. [Ding! Wildcard Transfer Suggestion Unlocked] [An unknown player with elite potential has been detected. Should the system reveal the name?] Jake frowned. This was new. "Reveal it," he muttered. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The screen flickered before showing a name: Name: Noah Fletcher (18) Position: Center-Back Current Club: Unattached (Released from Academy) Jake raised an eyebrow. A free agent? Projected Growth: Championship Level Starter Jake sat up straight. This kid had no club but Championship-level potential? Paul walked in, noticing Jake''s expression. "What''s wrong?" Jake looked up. "I think I just found our Saidi replacement." The squad gathered in the team meeting room, chatting amongst themselves. Jake stood at the front, arms crossed. "Alright, listen up," he began, his voice cutting through the noise. "The season starts soon. Expectations are clear¡ªwe''re not here to survive. We''re here to fight for promotion." Some players nodded. Others, especially the newer signings, looked uncertain. Jake continued, his gaze sharp. "But that won''t happen if we don''t fix certain things. Defensively, we need to be more disciplined. Offensively, we need to be ruthless. And most importantly¡ªwe don''t back down from a fight." He glanced at Carter, Collins, and Novak¡ªhis key players. "We''ve had a strong preseason. Now it''s time to prove it where it matters." Jake wasn''t just setting expectations. He was shaping the mentality of a winning team. After the meeting, some of the senior players approached Jake. "Coach," Thompson said. "The squad''s been training hard. Let''s have a night out before the season starts. Team bonding." Jake raised an eyebrow. "As long as nobody gets arrested, fine." That night, the players went out to a local restaurant¡ªno alcohol, just a meal and time to relax. It wasn''t about tactics. It was about unity. As Jake watched his players joking and laughing together, he knew one thing: This squad was ready for war. Chapter 29 - 29: The Final Squad & Last-Minute Adjustments the next day Jake Wilson sat across from Henry Lowe, the club chairman, in the boardroom. Around them, the directors exchanged hesitant glances. "Let me get this straight," Lowe said, folding his arms. "You want to sign a completely unknown Brazilian winger and an 18-year-old free-agent center-back?" Jake leaned forward. "Yes." Silence. Lowe sighed. "Jake, after the preseason, you''ve earned some trust, but we can''t waste money¡ª" Jake cut in. "It''s not a waste. These two are future stars." The directors whispered among themselves. Jake pressed on. "The Brazilian kid? Renan Silva. He''s raw, but his pace and dribbling are elite. Nobody''s looking at him yet¡ªwe''ll get him for nothing. And the defender? Noah Fletcher. He''s tough, aggressive, and can cover for Saidi while he recovers." Lowe exhaled. "And if they flop?" Jake smirked. "They won''t." Another pause. Then Lowe nodded. "Fine. Get it done." The next morning, two announcements shook the Bradford fanbase. Bradford City sign Brazilian winger Renan Silva on a three-year deal. 18-year-old English center-back Noah Fletcher joins as a free agent. Fans online were divided. "Who the hell is Renan Silva?" "I trust Jake, but these signings are weird." "That Brazilian kid is a hidden gem. Watch him cook." Jake didn''t care about the noise. He had his team. With the new signings in, Jake had to finalize his 22-man squad. That meant cutting players. Some were expected. Others¡­ not so much. When Jake called in Scott Williams, a veteran midfielder, for a private talk, he could already see the anger in his eyes. "Coach, don''t even say it," Williams snapped. Jake sighed. "Scott, you''re not in my plans. I won''t be registering you for the season." Williams stood up so fast his chair fell over. "Are you kidding me? I''ve been here for years!" Jake stayed calm. "I respect you, but I need players who fit the system. You''ll be transfer-listed." "You''re a joke," Williams growled. "This club means nothing to you." Jake''s jaw tightened. "Watch your tone." S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then, it happened. Williams threw a punch. Jake didn''t flinch as it connected with his shoulder, barely grazing his face. Before anyone could react, one of the staff members had their phone out¡ªrecording everything. Security rushed in, pulling Williams away. The next day, a video of the altercation was posted to the club''s community page. Fans went insane. "Williams punched the coach?? What''s going on?" "Jake planned this¡­ didn''t he?" "Mastermind. Now nobody will question him for cutting players." And they were right. Jake had let it happen. Because the system had suggested it. Jake sat in the press conference room, ready for the inevitable questions. A journalist raised their hand. "Coach, the footage of Scott Williams hitting you has gone viral. Any comment?" Jake smirked. "What''s there to comment on? I made a football decision. He didn''t take it well." "But don''t you think¡ª" Jake cut in. "Listen. My job is to win. I pick the best players. If someone can''t handle that, they don''t belong here." The reporters scribbled furiously. The fans? They completely backed Jake. The message was clear¡ªthis was his team now. That night, Jake was back in his office when the system activated. [Ding! Three New System Functions Unlocked] Jake''s eyes widened. 1. Instant Growth Boost ¨C Once per season, choose one player for an instant +5 overall rating increase. 2. Rival Analysis ¨C System scans upcoming opponents and reveals hidden tactical weaknesses. 3. Manager Reputation Tracker ¨C Tracks how clubs, fans, and players across Europe perceive Jake. The higher the reputation, the bigger the job offers. Jake exhaled slowly. These functions could change everything. [Ding! Calculating Promotion Odds¡­] [Chance of Promotion via Playoffs: 10%] 10%? Jake smirked. "I will prove you wrong." Final 22-Man Squad for the Season Jake finalized the team sheet, adding Saidi to the list despite his injury. This was the squad that would fight for promotion. Goalkeepers: Emeka Okafor Jack Simmons Defenders: James Richards (RB) Noah Fletcher (CB) (New Signing) Nathan Barnes (CB) Ahmed Saidi (CB) (Injured, 2 months out) Aiden Taylor (LB) Lewis Hart (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Charlie Benson (CDM) Alejandro Ortega (CM) Ryan Carter (CM) Lewis Chapman (CM) Forwards: Diego Castell¨®n (LW) Renan Silva (RW) (New Signing) Jamie Collins (RW) Lukas Novak (ST) Joe Thompson (ST) Alex Grant (ST) Unregistered Players (Sold or Loaned Out): Scott Williams (MF) (Released after the confrontation) Liam Porter (MF) (Loaned out for game time) Dean Roberts (CB) (Transferred to a League Two ) Jake stood in the empty training ground, looking at the tactics board. This was it. The squad was set. The season was here. Chapter 30 - 30: The Season Begins & A Tactical Masterclass Jake Wilson stood on the touchline of Valley Parade, taking in the energy of the packed stadium. This was it¡ªthe beginning of his first full season as Bradford City''s manager. The chants of the fans echoed through the air, filling the stadium with an atmosphere that sent chills down his spine. "Wilson''s Bantams! We''re going up!" The excitement was understandable. Bradford had been reborn under his leadership, and after a strong preseason, expectations were high. But League Two was a different beast¡ªone mistake, and a promising campaign could spiral into mediocrity. His assistant, Paul Roberts, stood beside him, arms folded. "Morecambe''s manager said they''re coming here to frustrate us. They''re playing a deep block, waiting to counter." Jake smirked. "Then we don''t let them breathe." Just as he turned to the dugout, the system activated. [Ding! "Rival Analysis" Function Activated] [Scanning Morecambe FC¡­] [Weaknesses Detected:] Slow center-backs¡ªvulnerable to pacey attackers. Struggle under high pressing¡ªprone to errors when pressured. Left-back often pushes too high¡ªleaves space behind. Jake''s smirk widened. "Looks like we''re attacking from the start." Starting XI (4-3-3 Formation) Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Defenders: James Richards (RB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Aiden Taylor (LB) Midfielders: Charlie Benson (CDM) Alejandro Ortega (CM) Ryan Carter (CM) Forwards: Diego Castell¨®n (LW) Lukas Novak (ST) Jamie Collins (RW) The plan was simple: Press high. Move fast. Exploit their backline. The referee''s whistle echoed across the pitch, and Morecambe barely had time to breathe before Bradford pounced. In the 5th minute, Benson won possession high up the pitch, immediately laying it off to Ortega. The Spaniard quickly shifted the ball to Castell¨®n on the left wing. The Morecambe right-back was too slow to react. Castell¨®n danced past him, cutting inside before delivering a whipped cross to the near post. Novak, already reading the play, leapt higher than the center-back, his header bulleting past the goalkeeper. GOAL! The stadium erupted. 1-0 Bradford. Paul grinned. "That''s a textbook Wilson goal¡ªwin it high, punish them fast." Jake nodded, his arms crossed. "And we''re just getting started." Bradford didn''t let up. Morecambe tried to play out from the back, but Bradford''s press was suffocating. Benson and Carter cut off passing lanes, forcing Morecambe''s defenders into panicked clearances. Every time the visitors got the ball, they barely kept possession for more than five seconds. Then, in the 14th minute, the second goal came. Ryan Carter, Bradford''s midfield maestro, picked up the ball near the center circle. With one quick look, he spotted Collins making a diagonal run behind the slow center-backs. Without hesitation, Carter sliced a perfect through ball between the defenders. Collins, faster than both defenders combined, sprinted through, taking one touch before coolly slotting it past the onrushing keeper. GOAL! 2-0 Bradford. The Morecambe defenders threw their arms up in frustration. Their weakness had been completely exposed. Paul chuckled. "This is bullying." Jake didn''t look away from the pitch. "Not yet. But it will be." Bradford kept their foot on the gas, denying Morecambe any chance to settle. By the 25th minute, Morecambe''s players were visibly shaken. They couldn''t string more than three passes together before Benson or Carter intercepted. Then, in the 27th minute, the third goal arrived¡ªthis time, from nowhere. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. After a failed Morecambe clearance, the ball bounced toward Ortega, 30 yards from goal. Instead of controlling it, Ortega struck it first time. The ball took a wicked deflection off a Morecambe defender''s shin, completely wrong-footing the keeper. GOAL! 3-0 Bradford. Ortega ran to the corner flag, arms spread wide, while the stadium roared in celebration. Jake simply smiled. This was his football. Relentless, punishing, and dominant. Morecambe Are Suffocated 33rd minute: Morecambe finally broke through Bradford''s press, launching a rare attack. But their final pass was intercepted by Fletcher, who played it back to Okafor to reset. 38th minute: Collins dribbled past two defenders, delivering a cross that Novak narrowly missed. 42nd minute: Morecambe''s frustration boiled over¡ªone of their midfielders was booked for a reckless challenge on Benson. Jake turned to Paul. "We''re in their heads." Paul smirked. "And they still have 45 minutes to survive." The referee blew for halftime. Bradford City 3-0 Morecambe. Jake headed for the tunnel, his expression unreadable. Inside, however, he knew the truth. They weren''t just winning. They were making a statement. Chapter 31 - 31: Crushing Victory & Media Pressure The referee''s whistle blew, signaling the start of the second half, and Jake Wilson remained composed on the touchline. Bradford City were up 3-0, completely outclassing Morecambe in the opening 45 minutes. But Jake wasn''t satisfied. "Don''t get reckless," he called out to his players as they took their positions. "Keep the ball. Control the tempo. We play smart football now." He knew the game was already won. Morecambe looked drained, mentally and physically. Their high line had been exposed, their midfield had been overrun, and their defenders were chasing shadows. But Jake wanted more than just a win. He wanted to send a message to the entire league. Bradford restarted the game, moving the ball with confidence, shifting Morecambe from side to side. Every pass, every movement was calculated and precise. 55th minute ¨C A Warning Sign Morecambe launched a rare counterattack down the right flank. Their winger cut inside and fired a powerful shot at goal. Okafor reacted quickly, diving to his right and pushing it wide for a corner. Jake nodded approvingly. Morecambe was still fighting, but that was their first shot on target all game. It was time to make a change. 60th Minute ¨C First Substitution: Renan Silva''s Debut Jake turned to his bench and pointed at Renan Silva. "You''re going in for Collins," Jake said. "Show me why I signed you." Silva grinned. "Time to dance, coach." As Collins jogged off to a standing ovation, Silva stepped onto the pitch for his Bradford debut. And within seconds, he made his presence known. He received the ball on the right flank, with a defender pressing tight. Instead of passing, he dropped his shoulder, shifted the ball through the defender''s legs, and darted past him. The crowd erupted. Jake smirked. This kid had something special. 70th Minute ¨C Second Substitution: Controlling the Midfield With Bradford dominating possession, Jake decided to lock down the midfield. He called over Daniel Lowe. "You''re in for Benson," Jake instructed. "I need you to slow the game down. Keep us compact." Benson jogged off, receiving a firm handshake from Jake. "You played well," Jake told him. "This is just the start for you." Benson nodded, still catching his breath. "Thanks, coach." Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With Lowe in midfield, Bradford became even more composed. Morecambe could barely string three passes together. 78th Minute ¨C Third Substitution: Joe Thompson''s Instant Impact Jake glanced at his striker, Lukas Novak, who had run tirelessly for 78 minutes. "Thompson, you''re in." Joe Thompson grinned as he pulled off his warm-up gear. "I''ll give them something to remember." And he did. Two minutes after coming on, Bradford worked the ball down the left flank. Castell¨®n cut inside and whipped in a low cross. Thompson, always alert, read the play perfectly. He dashed ahead of his marker and smashed the ball into the net. GOAL! 4-0 Bradford. Jake let out a small smile. Thompson''s movement was elite. Paul Roberts nudged him. "This team is terrifying when they play like this." Jake nodded. "And we''re still not finished." 85th Minute ¨C Renan Silva Announces Himself The Brazilian winger had been electrifying since coming on. His dribbling? Unstoppable. His confidence? Sky-high. And then, he put the icing on the cake. Ortega spotted Silva making a diagonal run into the final third. The midfielder threaded a perfect pass into space. Silva controlled it with one touch, shifted inside, and curled a left-footed shot into the top corner. GOAL! 5-0 Bradford. The stadium exploded. Jake shook his head in disbelief. Paul was laughing. "Did we just steal the next big thing?" Jake didn''t answer. But deep down, he knew. As the final whistle blew, Valley Parade erupted in applause. Bradford City 5-0 Morecambe. The players hugged and celebrated¡ªa perfect opening-day performance. The fans began chanting Jake''s name. "Wilson''s Bradford! Wilson''s Bradford!" Jake gave a small wave to acknowledge them, but his mind was already racing. The system flashed a notification. [Ding! "Rival Analysis" Successful ¨C Weakness Exploitation Efficiency: 92%.] He had completely dismantled Morecambe by targeting their weaknesses. But he knew tougher tests were coming. The media room was packed. Jake took his seat at the front, facing a group of reporters eager to dissect the 5-0 thrashing. The first question came immediately. "Coach Wilson, that was an incredible performance. Is this the level we should expect from Bradford all season?" Jake kept his expression neutral. "It was a great win," he admitted. "But it''s only one game. We''re focused on improving every week." Another journalist jumped in. "You started Charlie Benson over a more experienced midfielder. Was that a risky decision?" Jake leaned forward. "Benson earned his spot. It''s not about experience¡ªit''s about performance." More questions followed. "Are Bradford title contenders?" Jake: "It''s too early for that conversation." "Renan Silva looked electric¡ªwhat can we expect from him?" Jake: "He''s a special player. But like the rest of the team, he has to keep working." After fifteen minutes, the press conference wrapped up. Jake left the room, walking towards his office. The victory was massive. But this was just the beginning. League Two was a marathon, not a sprint. And Jake was ready for the next battle. Chapter 32 - 32: Reality Check: The League is Tougher Than Expected Jake Wilson leaned back in his office chair, staring at the tactics board. Two games. One draw, one win. 4 point points from a possible six wasn''t bad, but something felt¡­ off. Bradford had looked dominant against Morecambe, but these last game games had exposed a new set of problems. Against Walsall, they had drawn 1-1, struggling to deal with constant crosses into the box. Against Morecambe, they had won comfortably 5-0, but it was only because the opposition team was not good. Jake exhaled. This wasn''t going to be easy. His assistant, Paul Roberts, sat across from him. "You look like you''ve seen a ghost." Jake didn''t answer immediately. He tapped his pen against the desk, looking at the match reports. "Walsall overloaded our full-backs and kept swinging in crosses," Jake muttered. "Fletcher and Barnes struggled in the air. We barely cleared anything cleanly." Paul nodded. "Fletcher''s only 18. He''s great with the ball at his feet, but in the air? He got bullied." That was a problem. If one League Two team figured this out, others would copy it. "Then walsall," Jake continued. "They parked the bus. Ten men behind the ball. If their center-back didn''t slip for the first goal, we might''ve been stuck at 0-0." Paul scratched his chin. "Welcome to League Two. Half these teams don''t care about playing football. They just want to survive." Jake sighed. He couldn''t afford to be stubborn. His tactics had to evolve. [Ding! New System Function Unlocked ¨C "Set-Piece Mastery"] A sudden blue notification appeared in his vision. [Ding! New System Function Unlocked ¨C "Set-Piece Mastery"] [Description: Improves the team''s ability to attack and defend set-pieces. Allows for custom routines.] Jake''s eyebrows raised. Now this was interesting. "Set-Piece Mastery," he muttered under his breath. Paul raised an eyebrow. "What?" Jake shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking." He clicked on the new function, and a detailed breakdown appeared. [Set-Piece Training Plans Available] Attacking Corners ¨C Near Post Overload (Use against teams with weak aerial defenses.) Attacking Free-Kicks ¨C Second Ball Recovery (For rebounds and loose balls.) Defensive Corners ¨C Zone + Man Hybrid (Stops teams from winning easy headers.) Jake studied the options carefully. The Walsall game had proven one thing¡ªif Bradford didn''t improve at defending crosses, they''d keep getting punished. Paul noticed the way Jake''s expression changed. "What are you thinking?" Jake finally looked up. "Set-pieces. We need to work on them. Both attacking and defending." Paul smirked. "I like the sound of that." That afternoon, training was different. Instead of running through the usual pressing drills, Jake called the squad into a huddle. "Alright," Jake started, his tone sharper than usual. "We''ve played three matches. One dominant win, one draw, one comfortable win." The players nodded. "But," he continued, "we''re already seeing teams adjust to us. Some will park the bus. Others will flood our box with crosses. If we don''t evolve, we''ll drop points." His voice hardened. "That''s not happening." 1. Fixing the Aerial Weakness First, Jake pulled aside the defenders. "Fletcher, Barnes," he called, making them step forward. "You both struggled against Walsall''s crosses. It wasn''t just you¡ªit was the whole defensive line. But we need a fix, and fast." Barnes nodded. "We were too slow to react." Jake placed a ball down and pointed to the penalty box. "We''re switching to a hybrid system," Jake explained. "Half of you will mark zonally¡ªyou stay in your area, and you win any ball that comes there. The others? Man-marking. Stay tight to your man. Don''t let them get a free jump." Fletcher raised a hand. "Who''s doing what?" Jake gestured toward the goal. Barnes and Fletcher: Zonal marking in front of goal. Richards and Taylor: Man-marking the biggest aerial threats. Lowe (CDM): Assigned to clear second balls. "Simple," Jake said. "Now let''s drill it." For the next 40 minutes, the squad practiced set-piece defense relentlessly. And slowly, Fletcher stopped losing headers. 2. Creating New Set-Piece Attacks S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Next, Jake called over the midfielders and wingers. "We need to score more from set-pieces," Jake said. "So we''re adding some new routines." He turned to Ortega. "You''re delivering corners. I want low, whipped balls to the near post. Fast and dangerous." Ortega nodded. "Got it, boss." Then he pointed at Novak and Carter. "You two attack the near post. Collins, you lurk outside the box for rebounds." They ran through various corner routines¡ªdifferent movements, fake runs, and disguised deliveries. Then, during one of the final drills, it happened. Ortega swung in a fast, low corner. Novak made a perfect darting run to the near post. Boom. Goal. Jake grinned. "That," he said, "is how we score in the next match." 3. Experimenting with Tactics Finally, Jake addressed the full squad. "We''re also adjusting our playstyle." The players listened carefully. "Some teams will park the bus," Jake continued. "Against them, we slow down. Keep possession, stretch them, wait for the right moment." Carter nodded. "What about pressing?" Jake smirked. "We don''t stop pressing. But we do it smart. If a team is too deep, we don''t waste energy chasing. Instead, we trap them¡ªforce them into mistakes." The players nodded, understanding the shift. Bradford was still going to be aggressive and high-energy. But now? They were becoming adaptable. A New-Look Bradford City As training ended, Jake watched his players walk off the pitch, discussing the new drills. The system had been right to give him Set-Piece Mastery. But the rest? That was all him. Paul walked up beside him. "Feeling better?" Jake smirked. "We were already good. Now we''re going to be even better." Paul chuckled. "I hope the next team is ready." Jake exhaled, glancing at the fixture list. The next opponent had no idea what was coming. Chapter 33 - 33: A Shocking Off-Pitch Revelation The final whistle blew, Valley Parade burst out in jubilation. Bradford City 4-0 Crawley Town. Another statement win. Another dominant performance. Jake Wilson remained calm on the touchline, his arms folded as the players celebrated on the pitch. He had drilled a winning mentality into them¡ªno excessive celebrations, no slacking. This was just another step toward the bigger goal. Paul Roberts, his assistant, nudged him. "Back-to-back clean sheets. We''re building something real here." Jake nodded. "We are." His focus was already shifting to the next game. League Two was a grind, and he couldn''t afford to lose focus. As he headed toward the tunnel, he glanced at his players thanking the fans. The energy in the stadium was tremendous. This was how a club should feel. But, as he was ready to enter the tunnel, he heard a voice. A voice sent shivers down his spine. "Jake!" He turned instinctively. A woman stood at the barriers, arms crossed, her look a mix of frustration, rage, and something more. Jake frowned. Do I know her? She stepped closer, her gaze never leaving his. "I''ve been calling you for weeks. You think you can just ignore me forever?" The confusion deepened in his chest. "Who are you?" She scoffed. "I''m your wife." Jake froze. The noise of the stadium faded. The conversations around him blurred into nothingness. His wife? For the first time since he reincarnated, he felt completely blindsided. Memories Resurface Something changed inside of him the instant she said it. Suddenly, glimpses of memories returned. Painful, honest, unedited memories from the past. Emma Wilson. His wife. Their son. Ten years old. The massive fight. "I can''t do this again, Jake!" A memory of them standing in a dimly lit apartment¡ªher shouting, him packing his bags. "You always choose football over us! Do you even care?" "I told you, Emma, I can''t have another kid right now. My career¡ª" "Your career?! What about your family?" She was crying, and he didn''t stop to comfort her. Instead, he walked out. And just like that, the memory ended, and he was back in the present, staring at the woman whose heart he had broken. A Heated Conversation Jake swallowed hard, trying to process everything. Emma''s eyes narrowed. "So, what now? You''re just going to pretend I don''t exist?" Jake took a step forward, lowering his voice. "I... I didn''t know¡ª" "Didn''t know?" She scoffed. "Jake, we were married. We have a son. And now¡ª" She hesitated before dropping the biggest bombshell yet. "I''m three months pregnant." Jake was having trouble breathing after hearing that she kept the child. He glanced around, suddenly hyper-aware of the people still lingering nearby. "Not here," he muttered, gesturing toward a quieter spot near the parking lot. Emma followed, arms still crossed, the tension between them thick enough to cut. The moment they were away from prying eyes, Emma turned to face him, her emotions boiling over. "You really don''t remember anything, do you?" she asked, her voice softer this time. Jake hesitated. "I''ve been... focused on the club." A weak excuse, but it was the best he could come up with. Emma shook her head. "Before this year, we were falling apart, Jake. You were obsessed with your job, shutting me out completely. Then, when I told you I was pregnant, you said i should abort the child and then you-" She stopped, inhaling sharply. Jake finished for her. "I left." The words felt foreign on his tongue, but the memory was there now. He had walked out on her. On their son. Emma looked away, her hands trembling slightly. "I waited. I gave you space, hoping you''d come back. But weeks passed. Then months. And now suddenly, you act like none of it ever happened." Jake ran a hand through his hair. He had inherited a life that was already broken. And now? He had to figure out how to fix it. Emma took a deep breath, her voice steadier but laced with exhaustion. "I didn''t come here to beg you, Jake. I came because you deserve to know. Our son¡ªhe still asks about you." Jake''s stomach twisted. "I''m not here to force you into anything," she continued. "But I need to know one thing." Her eyes locked onto his. "Are you going to run away again?" Silence stretched between them. For the first time since his reincarnation, Jake didn''t have an answer. He could walk away¡ªfocus entirely on his career, avoid complications since he did not know her. Or he could face this new reality head-on. He had been given a second chance at life. Maybe it was time to stop running. He exhaled. "We should figure this out." Emma''s expression softened just a little. "Then don''t disappear again." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Jake standing in the parking lot, his mind a battlefield of thoughts. Later that night, Jake sat alone in his office, staring at his desk. Something told him there had to be something left of his past here. Slowly, he opened the drawers, searching through the folders and paperwork¡ªuntil his fingers brushed against something cold. He pulled it out. A small, faded photo. In it, he saw himself¡ªthe old Jake. Standing next to Emma. And in front of them? A young boy, no older than ten. His son. Jake''s grip tightened on the photo. This was real. The system remained silent. Because for once, it had no answer. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. This wasn''t a tactical problem to solve. This was his life. And he had no idea what to do next. Chapter 34 - 34: Returning Home & A Father’s Responsibility Moving Back Home: Jake Wilson sat in his car, staring at the house in front of him. It wasn''t the first time he had arrived at a new home after being hired as a coach. But this wasn''t a new home. It was his home. Or at least, it was supposed to be. He let out a breath and held on to the steering wheel. He wasn''t the Jake Wilson who had lived in that house, loved the woman inside it, or raised the boy who was waiting for him. But he had been given this life, whether he understood why or not. And he had to become the Jake Wilson they were expecting if he was going to continue living this life. With that idea, he took his luggage, stepped out of the car, and approached the door. Before he could knock, it opened. Emma Wilson stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him. Her expression was unreadable. "You''re actually here," she said. Jake nodded. "Yeah." She stepped aside, allowing him in. As he walked past her, he perceived a slight aroma of lavender, which must have been familiar to the old Jake. Inside, the house was warm, filled with signs of a life he didn''t remember. Framed photos on the walls, a pair of football boots near the stairs, a child''s backpack left on the couch. And then he saw Ethan Wilson. His 10-year-old kid stood in the living room, hands in his hoodie pockets, and stared at him. Jake didn''t move immediately. How was he supposed to act? Before he could say anything, Ethan spoke first. "You still drink too much coffee?" Jake blinked. That¡­ wasn''t what he expected. He glanced at Emma, who gave him a look that said, Well? Answer him. Jake smirked slightly. "Yeah. Guess I do." Ethan shrugged. "Mom says it''s gonna make your heart explode." Jake chuckled. "She''s probably right." Ethan nodded like that was a good enough response and went back to his game console. Jake exhaled, relieved. That was¡­ progress. Jake put his stuff in a guest room; he knew better than to expect to sleep in the same room as Emma right soon. Sooner or later, dinner had been served and he was seated at a family table that was both familiar and new. He was silent at first, concentrating on his meal, but Ethan looked at him now and then. Finally, after a few moments of silence, Ethan spoke again. "Do you still suck at playing FIFA?" Unexpectedly, Jake looked up. Emma, who had been sipping her water, choked and started laughing. Jake smirked. "Probably. Haven''t played in a while." Ethan grinned. "I could beat you, easy." Jake raised an eyebrow. "That confident, huh?" "Yep." Ethan took another bite. "I practice." Jake saw his opening. Now was the time. "You like football that much?" he asked. Ethan''s eyes lit up slightly. "Yeah." Jake leaned forward. "Think you could go pro?" Ethan hesitated. Then he nodded. "If I work hard, yeah." Jake smirked. "Good answer." For the first time, Ethan looked genuinely happy talking to him. It wasn''t much, but it was one step ahead.. Later that night, Jake and Emma were left alone in the living room after Ethan had gone to bed. Emma carefully observed him while leaning back on the couch. "You''re¡­ different," she finally said. Jake tensed. "Different how?" Emma sighed. "Before, all you cared about was football. Even when you were home, you weren''t really here. It was like I was married to a ghost." sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake didn''t respond. He couldn''t. She was talking about the old Jake. The one he wasn''t. Emma looked away, her voice quieter now. "When I told you I was pregnant again, you panicked. Said you weren''t ready. That your career was too important." Jake clenched his jaw. "And then," she continued, "you just¡­ left." Silence stretched between them. Jake finally spoke. "I''m still going to coach." Emma''s expression didn''t change. "I figured." "But I''m not walking away again," Jake added. "Not from you. Not from Ethan." Emma exhaled slowly, staring at him as if she was trying to see if he was lying. "I hope you mean that," she whispered. She stood up. "I''m going to bed. The guest room is yours for now." Jake nodded. "Fair enough." She hesitated for a second before heading upstairs. And for the first time in both his lives, Jake Wilson realized something. Football was the easy part. Chapter 35 - 35: A Clash on the Pitch & A Comeback Victory Pre-Match Preparations The tension inside the Bradford dressing room was thick. The players sat on the benches, focused but anxious, knowing tonight''s match was the toughest challenge yet. They were about to face Stockport County¡ªthe current League Two leaders, an unbeaten side with the most goals scored and the fewest conceded. Paul Roberts, Jake''s assistant, checked his clipboard. "They play a 4-2-3-1, press high, and rely on their full-backs to create width. Their striker has seven goals in six games. If we give him space, we''re screwed." Jake nodded, already aware of that. The system had analyzed them hours ago. [Ding! Opponent Analysis Complete ¨C Stockport County] Weakness: Slow decision-making in defensive midfield. Weakness: Right-back leaves space behind when pushing forward. Threat: Striker is lethal inside the box. Jake turned to his squad. "Listen up. They press high, but that means they leave gaps. We''ll use quick, vertical passing to break them down." He looked at Ryan Carter. "You and Ortega need to move the ball fast. No hesitation. If we let them settle, we''ll struggle." Carter nodded. "Got it." Jake turned to his attackers. "Castell¨®n and Collins, their right-back bombs forward too much. Exploit that space." The players looked confident. But Jake knew confidence meant nothing once the game started. Kickoff From the opening whistle, Stockport dominated. 3rd minute: Stockport''s full-backs surged forward, whipping dangerous crosses into the box. 7th minute: A loose pass from Benson led to a Stockport counterattack. Their striker forced a diving save from Okafor. Jake watched from the touchline, arms crossed. They were struggling to get a foothold. Then, in the 16th minute, disaster struck. Carter miscontrolled the ball in midfield, and Stockport immediately launched a counterattack. Their winger delivered a low cross into the box, and their striker¡ªunmarked¡ªsmashed it into the bottom corner. GOAL! 1-0 Stockport. The away fans erupted, while Jake clenched his jaw. "Carter!" Jake called out. "Be sharper!" Carter gritted his teeth and nodded. But things got worse. 28th minute: Ortega lost possession near the halfway line. Stockport broke forward instantly, slicing through Bradford''s defense. Their attacking midfielder squared the ball to the striker, who easily slotted it past Okafor. 2-0 Stockport. The Bradford players looked shaken. And then, tension exploded. Ryan Carter, furious with himself, turned to Daniel Lowe¡ªthe midfielder playing behind him. "You were supposed to cover for me!" Carter snapped. Lowe''s eyes widened. "You lost the damn ball, not me!" Carter shoved Lowe, and suddenly, the entire team was surrounding them, trying to separate the two. Jake immediately stormed to the sideline, his voice cutting through the chaos. "HEY!" The entire team froze. Jake glared at Carter and Lowe. "If you want to fight, do it in the parking lot after the game. On this pitch, you play as a team." Both players stood there, breathing heavily, before Carter muttered, "Sorry." Lowe hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. My bad." Jake didn''t say anything else. They had 45 minutes to turn this around. Halftime Inside the dressing room, no one spoke at first. Jake took a deep breath. Yelling wouldn''t fix this. Instead, he pointed at the tactics board. "We''re not losing because they''re better," Jake said. "We''re losing because we''re playing into their hands." He looked at Carter. "They''re pressing us hard. Instead of forcing passes forward, we need to pull them out of position." He moved the markers on the board. "We slow the tempo in midfield. Make them step up. The moment they do? We hit them with a quick ball behind their right-back." He turned to Ortega. "You control the game. If there''s no forward pass, reset it. We dictate the tempo." Ortega nodded. "Understood." Jake then looked at Carter and Lowe. "You two need to trust each other. If one pushes forward, the other covers. Simple." sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Carter and Lowe exchanged glances before nodding. Jake clapped his hands. "We get one goal early, and the pressure shifts to them. Let''s go out there and make it happen." Second Half Bradford started the second half sharper. 49th minute: Ortega, following Jake''s instructions, slowed the tempo before playing a perfect diagonal ball to Collins on the wing. Collins drove forward, cut inside, and unleashed a shot. The keeper got a hand to it, but Novak pounced on the rebound. GOAL! 2-1! The momentum shifted instantly. 65th minute: Ortega and Carter exchanged quick one-touch passes in midfield, forcing Stockport to step forward. As soon as the right-back was out of position, Ortega played a perfect through ball to Castell¨®n. The winger cut inside and curled a beautiful shot into the far post. GOAL! 2-2! The stadium exploded as the Bradford players rushed to celebrate. Jake clenched his fist. Now they had them. Stockport, desperate to regain control, pushed more players forward. Jake smirked. That was a mistake. 88th minute: Bradford won the ball back near their own box. Lowe played it to Ortega, who immediately switched play to Silva on the right. Silva sprinted down the wing and squared a pass to Novak in the box. Novak, with a perfect first touch, slotted it past the keeper. GOAL! 3-2 Bradford! The stadium erupted! Jake didn''t celebrate wildly. Instead, he watched Stockport crumble. They had come into this match as League Two''s best team. And now? They had just been dethroned. Full-Time As the referee blew the whistle, Bradford players fell to the ground in exhaustion. They had fought, struggled, and come back from the brink. Jake walked over to Carter and Lowe, giving them both a pat on the back. "That''s how you respond." They both nodded, exhausted but satisfied. Paul Roberts grinned. "Hell of a match." Jake smirked. "And just the beginning." The league had been put on notice. Bradford weren''t just here to participate. They were here to win Chapter 36 - 36: Rising Expectations & A Deeper Mystery Bradford City was flying high. Four matches into the new season, they were unbeaten, sitting second in the league. The momentum was undeniable, and Jake Wilson knew the real challenges were still to come. As he sat in his office, scrolling through the league table, Paul Roberts leaned against the doorway. "Did you see the headlines?" Paul smirked. "''Wilson''s Bradford: The Real Deal or Early Season Hype?''" Jake snorted. "Let them talk. We''re handling business." Paul nodded. "Yeah, but we''re two points off first place. People are starting to believe in this team." Jake already knew that. The fans were excited, the players were confident, and the media had started asking if Bradford could actually push for promotion. But for Jake, the bigger picture was forming. The FA Cup and Carabao Cup were approaching. He wasn''t just thinking about the league¡ªhe wanted a deep cup run. FA Cup & Carabao Cup Opponents Revealed The FA Cup draw was announced first. Bradford''s first-round opponent? FC Verona. A National League team, meaning they played in the division below League Two. Paul raised an eyebrow as he looked at the drawing. "FC Verona? Didn''t they just get promoted from the sixth tier last season?" Jake nodded. "Yeah. They''re a team on the rise. They''ll treat this match like a cup final." Paul grinned. "So we crush them early and kill their dream?" Jake smirked. "Exactly." Then, a second notification popped up on his screen¡ªthe Carabao Cup second-round draw. Bradford would face Burton Albion¡ªa League One side. "Now this is a real test," Paul muttered. "Burton are decent. Mid-table in League One last season. Physical team, good in the air." Jake wasn''t scared. "We''re winning both of these matches." Paul chuckled. "Careful, coach. The media might hold you to that." The Press Conference The media room was packed, the reporters eager to question the man who had transformed Bradford City in just a few months. Jake sat down, microphone in front of him, waiting for the questions to come. "Jake, you''ve gone unbeaten in August. Did you expect such a strong start?" Jake leaned forward. "I expect my team to compete in every match. That''s the standard here now." "Some are calling Bradford early title contenders. Do you agree?" Jake smirked. "It''s too early for that. We''ve played four games. Let''s talk about titles in April, not August." The room chuckled. Then, a different reporter spoke up. "You''ve drawn FC Verona in the FA Cup and Burton Albion in the Carabao Cup. What''s your approach to these matches?" Jake''s expression didn''t change. "We win them. Simple." A few journalists exchanged glances. "So you''re guaranteeing victories?" Jake nodded. "I promise the fans¡ªwe''re winning those matches." A murmur spread through the room. Managers rarely made bold public guarantees like that. Paul, sitting beside Jake, shifted uncomfortable. Another reporter jumped in. "What about Saidi? Any updates on his recovery?" Jake gave a firm nod. "He''s progressing well. We expect him back by November." The press scribbled furiously. By the time the conference ended, Jake could already picture the headlines. ''Wilson Guarantees Cup Wins¡ªOverconfident or Brilliant?'' Fan Reactions The online forums and fan caf¨¦s were on fire. @BantamLad77: "Jake Wilson just told the press we''re winning both cup matches. Man''s got balls." @CityFaithful19: "I love this energy. No more small-club mentality. We go for everything!" @FootyTalkPod: "Wilson''s confidence is refreshing, but if Bradford lose to Verona or Burton, he''s going to look foolish." @LeagueTwoInsider: "Bradford fans better hope their team backs up their manager''s words. Burton won''t be easy." Some fans were pumped. Others were nervous. Either way, Jake had put pressure on himself and his squad. And he wouldn''t have it any other way. Later that night, as Jake sat in his office, the familiar blue notification appeared. [Ding! New System Feature Unlocked ¨C "Prediction system"] [Description: Allows the system to predict the winning probability of a match.] [Note: The system is 60% accurate but cannot account for random factors like referee decisions, player mentality, and luck.] Jake''s eyes widened. This was huge. For the first time, he could predict their winning probability in a matches before they even happened. He immediately ran a test simulation for the Burton Albion game. The result? Bradford win probability: 43% Burton win probability: 48% Draw probability: 9% Jake''s excitement faded slightly. They were underdogs. But that was fine. He loved proving the odds wrong. Investigating His Reincarnation ¨C Who Was Jake Wilson? As the night dragged on, Jake found himself staring at his laptop. Ever since he woke up in this body, he had avoided asking too many questions. But something had been bothering him. Why did he reincarnate as Jake Wilson? Why this man? Why not someone else? He hesitated before typing into the search bar: "Jake Wilson ¨C Early Life." Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A few results popped up¡ªmostly football articles. But then, something caught his eye. A small forum thread from years ago. The title? "What happened to Jake Wilson in 2013?" Jake clicked on it. The first post read: @FootyFan22 (2013): "I used to follow Jake Wilson''s career in his academy days. He was supposed to be the next big thing in coaching, but suddenly he disappeared from the football scene. Anyone know why?" The comments were vague¡ªspeculation, rumors. But one comment stood out. @MysteryUser44 (2013): "It wasn''t football-related. Something happened to him off the pitch. If you know, you know." Jake leaned back in his chair. Something happened to the old Jake Wilson. And he was going to find out exactly what it was. Chapter 37 - 37: A Tough Defeat & Jake’s First Red Card Pre-Match Jake sat in his office, reviewing the system''s match simulation. [Ding! Match Scenario prediction Completed] Win Probability: 25% Draw Probability: 25% Loss Probability: 50% Recommended Strategy: Aggressive press ineffective ¨C Opponent thrives on set-pieces & counterattacks. Jake clenched his jaw. This was the lowest win percentage he had seen so far. A second screen popped up. [Opponent Analysis ¨C Wrexham FC (4th in the league)] Strengths: Compact defensive shape, strong aerial presence, deadly on set-pieces. Weaknesses: Struggles against teams with rapid passing. Lacks pace on the wings. Key Player: Jason McAllister (6''4" target man, excellent in the air). Jake leaned back in his chair. Wrexham were a nightmare for any attacking team. They parked the bus, absorbed pressure, and hit on the counter. Paul Roberts, his assistant, walked in. "You don''t look happy." Jake sighed. "We''re walking into a trap. If we try to force our way through them, they''ll punish us on the counter or from a set-piece." Paul crossed his arms. "So what''s the plan?" S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake glanced at his rotation sheet. "We''re giving some key players a rest, so we''re not at full strength. But we need to keep possession and force them to step out of their deep block." He finalized his starting lineup. Starting XI (4-3-3 ¨C Rotated Squad) Goalkeeper: Jack Simmons Defenders: James Richards (RB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Lewis Hart (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Lewis Chapman (CM) Charlie Benson (CM) Forwards: Renan Silva (RW) Joe Thompson (ST) Alex Grant (LW) Key players like Okafor, Carter, Ortega, Castell¨®n, Novak, and Collins were rested for upcoming matches. Kickoff From the opening whistle, Bradford controlled the ball, but Wrexham refused to come out of their half. 8th minute: Chapman attempted a long-range shot¡ªblocked. 15th minute: Silva cut inside and whipped a shot toward the top corner¡ªsaved. 22nd minute: Richards overlapped down the right, delivering a low cross¡ªcleared by Wrexham''s towering defenders. It was like trying to break through a brick wall. Jake paced the touchline, arms crossed. "They''re too comfortable. We need to move the ball quicker." Paul leaned in. "They''re just waiting for one mistake." And then, in the 30th minute, that mistake happened. 30th Minute Bradford pushed forward, leaving space at the back. Benson lost possession in midfield, and Wrexham immediately launched a counter. Their winger sprinted down the flank, crossing into the box. Jason McAllister, Wrexham''s 6''4" striker, outjumped Fletcher and powered a header past Simmons. GOAL! 1-0 Wrexham. The home crowd erupted. Bradford''s players looked stunned. Jake clenched his fists. The exact scenario he had feared. Halftime The dressing room was tense. Jake stood in front of his squad, eyes scanning them. "We knew this was going to happen. But that''s not an excuse. We got caught pressing too high and left space at the back." He pointed at the tactics board. "In the second half, we stay patient. No forcing attacks through the middle. Spread the play wide, stretch them, and create gaps." His eyes locked onto Fletcher. "McAllister is beating you in the air. Stick tighter to him, make it hard for him to jump." Fletcher nodded. "Got it, boss." Jake exhaled. There was still time to turn this around. Second Half Bradford came out more aggressive. 52nd minute: Thompson hit the post after a looping cross from Silva. 60th minute: Grant weaved past two defenders and fired a shot¡ªparried by the keeper. Then, in the 75th minute, the moment that changed everything. Richards whipped in a cross. Thompson controlled it and turned to shoot. A Wrexham defender slid in late¡ªtaking him out completely. Clear penalty. The entire stadium expected the referee to point to the spot. Instead, he waved play on. No penalty. Jake lost it. He stormed to the touchline, shouting. "Are you blind?! That''s a penalty every day of the week!" The referee turned, giving him a warning. Jake wasn''t done. "You absolute fraud! You bottled it!" The referee immediately pulled out a red card. Jake Wilson¡ªsent off. Post-Match Final whistle. 1-0 Wrexham. Bradford players looked frustrated. They had dominated possession but failed to break through. Jake, watching from the tunnel entrance, took a deep breath. This wasn''t just a loss¡ªit was a lesson. Post-Match Press Conference The media room was packed. Jake sat down, still fuming from the match. First question: "Do you regret your reaction to the referee''s decision?" Jake smirked. "No. I regret that the referee made the wrong decision." Reporters scribbled notes. "Do you think the red card was deserved?" Jake shrugged. "I think it was soft. I spoke the truth. If that''s a red card offense, then we''re in the wrong profession." Paul, sitting beside him, shifted uncomfortably. Then, a different reporter asked: "Will this suspension affect your team''s upcoming Carabao Cup match against Burton?" Jake nodded. "I won''t be on the touchline, but my assistant Paul will handle things well. The players know what''s expected of them." Final question: "Bradford remains second in the league despite this loss. How do you feel about your team''s progress?" Jake leaned forward. "One loss doesn''t define a season. We''ll bounce back." The conference ended, but Jake knew the pressure was rising. Chapter 38 - 38: Uncovering the Truth & System Revelation Jake sat alone in a quiet caf¨¦, staring at the steaming cup of coffee in front of him. His mind was still stuck on the Wrexham game, the missed penalty, the red card, the frustration. But there was something else¡ªsomething deeper. Ever since he reincarnated, he had accepted his new reality, but one question never left his mind. Why him? Why had he woken up as Jake Wilson? Of all the people in the world, why this struggling lower-league coach? Today, he hoped to get answers. The door to the caf¨¦ opened, and a tall, slightly overweight man in his early thirties walked in. He looked around before his eyes landed on Jake. A grin spread across his face. "Well, well. If it isn''t the great Jake Wilson." Jake stood up and extended a hand. "Kyle Roberts. It''s been a long time." Kyle shook his hand, then sat down across from him. "Didn''t think you''d reach out to me, mate. Not after what happened." Jake had no idea what he was talking about. He forced a smirk. "Figured it was time to catch up." Kyle leaned back in his chair. "You really don''t remember, do you?" Jake''s grip on his coffee tightened. Was he that obvious? Kyle chuckled. "Don''t worry. I won''t press you. I figured you''d want to talk about it eventually." Jake hesitated, then finally asked, "Why did I quit football?" Kyle''s smirk disappeared. He exhaled deeply. "Mate¡­ You didn''t just quit. You disappeared." The Scandal That Ended Jake''s Career Kyle stirred his coffee, his tone more serious now. "You remember how you got into the academy, right?" Jake shook his head. "Not really." Kyle studied him carefully before continuing. "Your dad¡­ He paid the academy to let you in." Jake froze. Kyle kept going. "You weren''t a bad player, Jake. But let''s be real¡ªyou weren''t good enough to start over some of the lads in that squad. But your dad? He had connections. He made sure you were always in the starting eleven, no matter what." Jake felt a pit form in his stomach. The old Jake Wilson¡ªhis father had rigged his career before it even started. "But here''s the thing," Kyle continued. "One of the players¡ªJordan Hayes¡ªfigured it out. He went to the academy director, told him everything. Thought justice would be served." Kyle let out a bitter laugh. "Instead, the club swept it under the rug. Jordan was released a week later. No club would touch him after that." Jake clenched his jaw. The old Jake had stolen someone''s dream. Kyle sighed. "After that, you just¡­ left. You disappeared from football. Stopped answering calls. I figured you felt guilty." Jake didn''t answer immediately. Now, it made sense. The old Jake Wilson was a fraud. He hadn''t earned his place. He had been handed it. And when the truth threatened to come out, he had run away. Jake exhaled. "Where''s Jordan now?" Kyle shook his head. "No idea. After he got blacklisted, he vanished. If he''s still playing, it''s nowhere professional." Jake felt sick. The man he had reincarnated as had ruined someone else''s future. And now, he was trying to build his own coaching legacy on top of it. System Revelation That night, Jake sat alone in his office, staring at the ceiling. His mind was racing. He wasn''t supposed to be a coach. He wasn''t even supposed to be in football anymore. So why had he reincarnated into this life? The familiar blue notification flashed in front of him. [Ding! System Message ¨C Reincarnation Query Detected] Would you like to know the truth about your reincarnation? Jake''s pulse quickened. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He hesitated for only a second before muttering, "Yes." The system paused for a moment before responding. [The truth is simple: You were given a second chance. A chance to build a legacy of your own, not one handed to you.] Jake narrowed his eyes. "That doesn''t explain why me. Why Jake Wilson?" [You and the original Jake Wilson share one thing in common¡ªwasted potential.] Jake stilled. [The original Jake ran from his destiny. You were given the chance to fulfill it.] Silence filled the room. For the first time since he woke up in this body, Jake Wilson wasn''t sure if he deserved this second chance. But one thing was certain. He wouldn''t waste it. Chapter 39 - 39: Cup Drama, Scouting Attention & A New Future Pre-Match Jake Wilson sat in the director''s box at Burton Albion''s stadium, arms crossed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. This was the first time in his coaching career that he had to watch from the stands, unable to directly influence the match. All because of one outburst. One moment of losing control. But even if he wasn''t on the touchline, he wasn''t powerless. Next to him, assistant coach Paul Roberts had an earpiece in, linked directly to Jake''s phone. "Alright, Paul," Jake muttered. "Listen carefully. Burton is going to press us high early. They''ll try to disrupt our passing rhythm and force mistakes." Paul nodded. "And if they do?" "Tell the players to stay calm. Absorb the pressure, then hit them on the counter." A familiar blue screen flashed before Jake''s eyes. [Ding! Match Scenario Simulations Completed] Win Probability: 43% Draw Probability: 32% Loss Probability: 25% Recommended Strategy: Slow Build-Up + Exploiting Wide Spaces] Then another notification appeared. [Opponent Analysis ¨C Burton Albion] Strengths: High pressing, physical midfield, strong in the air. Weaknesses: Vulnerable to quick transitions, shaky full-backs, slow defensive line. Key Player: Lucas Dawson (CDM) ¨C controls midfield tempo. Jake sighed. Burton would be dangerous in set-pieces and midfield battles. If Bradford wasn''t careful, they''d get overrun. Starting XI (4-3-3 ¨C Rotated Squad) Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Defenders: James Richards (RB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Lewis Hart (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lewis Chapman (CM) Charlie Benson (CM) Forwards: Renan Silva (RW) Lukas Novak (ST) Alex Grant (LW) Kickoff From the first whistle, Burton pressed aggressively, just as Jake had predicted. 3rd minute: Burton''s left-back surged forward and delivered a dangerous cross¡ªOkafor punched it away. 8th minute: Benson miscontrolled a pass, and Burton nearly punished Bradford, but Okafor made a sharp save. Jake clenched his jaw. Burton''s physicality was overwhelming Bradford''s midfield. Paul''s voice came through the earpiece. "They''re struggling to get out of their half." Jake responded instantly. "Tell Lowe to drop deeper. Let''s create overloads in midfield and slow the game down." Paul relayed the message, and Bradford began to settle. 19th minute: Silva beat his defender and cut inside, but his shot was blocked. 26th minute: Chapman played a brilliant through ball to Novak, but the striker''s shot was saved. Then, in the 34th minute, disaster struck. Burton won a corner kick, and Jake immediately tensed. [Ding! Warning ¨C Opponent Set-Piece Strength: High] Burton''s midfielder whipped in a perfect cross. Their towering center-back outjumped Barnes and Fletcher. A powerful header smashed into the net. GOAL! 1-0 BURTON. Jake exhaled sharply. Set-pieces. The one thing the system had warned him about. In the dugout, Paul clapped his hands. "Keep your heads up, boys! We''re still in this!" Bradford tried to respond before halftime, but Burton defended well. Halftime In the dressing room, Paul gathered the players. Jake was on a video call, watching from the screen. His voice was calm but firm. "We knew this would be tough," he said. "But we''ve given them too much respect. We''re letting them dictate the game." Jake pointed at Richards. "You and Silva need to exploit their left flank. Their full-back is weak¡ªtarget him." Then he turned to Novak. "Burton''s center-backs are slow. Stay on the last defender, wait for the through ball, and time your run perfectly." Finally, he addressed Lowe. "You''re the key. Control the tempo, dictate the midfield, and don''t let Dawson dominate you." The players nodded. Now it was time for a response. Second Half Bradford came out stronger, following Jake''s halftime instructions. 55th minute: Silva broke past his marker and curled a shot¡ªjust wide. 61st minute: Chapman''s long-range effort forced a diving save. Then, in the 68th minute, the breakthrough came. Lowe intercepted a pass and quickly played it to Carter, who had just been subbed in. Carter turned sharply, sending a perfect through ball to Novak. Novak took one touch. Then slotted it calmly past the keeper. GOAL! 1-1 BRADFORD! Jake pumped his fist from the stands. Substitutions After the goal, Jake instructed Paul to make more subs to keep the team fresh. Substitutions: Carter on for Benson (62'') Collins on for Grant (62'') Ortega on for Chapman (78'') Thompson on for Novak (85'') Both teams pushed for a winner, but neither could break through. The final whistle blew¡ª1-1. The match would be decided on penalties. Penalty Shootout ¨C A Dramatic Victory Jake sat at the edge of his seat. Bradford would take the first penalty. Thompson steps up¡ªGOAL! (1-0) Burton scores. (1-1) Carter smashes his penalty into the net. (2-1) Okafor makes a HUGE save! (2-1) Silva converts. (3-1) Burton score again. (3-2) Collins steps up¡ªGOAL! (4-2) Okafor saves again! (4-2) Bradford wins on penalties! Jake let out a deep breath. They had done it. Post-Match ¨C Paul approached Jake after the match. "Scouts from Germany and France were here tonight. They were watching Carter." Jake smirked. "Of course they were." At the press conference, the media immediately pressed him on Carter''s future. "Will you sell Carter if a big club comes calling?" Jake leaned forward. "If he wants to leave, he can. But I believe he''ll stay." A New Future ¨C Enrolling Ethan Wilson The next morning, Jake registered his son, Ethan, into Bradford''s academy. As he finished signing the paperwork, the system flashed another message. [Ding! Player Development Analysis Activated ¨C Ethan Wilson] Projected Strengths: Vision, Passing, Football IQ. Projected Weaknesses: Physicality, Defensive Work Rate. Jake smirked. Time to train a future star. The the Big Reveal came, Jake received a message. "Carabao Cup Round 3 Draw: Bradford City vs. West Ham United (Premier League)." Jake exhaled. This was his biggest challenge yet. Chapter 40 - 40: The System Predicts Doom & Jake’s Bold Plan Jake Wilson sat in his office, staring at the league table displayed on his computer screen. One draw. One loss. Two matches that had slowed Bradford''s momentum and reignited doubts from critics. Despite their strong start to the season, the whispers had begun. "Maybe Wilson''s tactics aren''t sustainable." "Was their hot streak just a fluke?" "Reality is starting to set in¡ªBradford isn''t built for the long run." Jake knew how this worked. When a small team overachieved, people waited for them to fail. And right now, after a 1-1 draw and a 2-1 loss, the doubters were circling like vultures. The upcoming Carabao Cup match against West Ham only made things worse. A mid-table Premier League team against a League Two club? It was the kind of fixture where most expected a massacre. "They''ll get torn apart." "Men against boys." "It''ll be over by halftime." Jake leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He had faced skepticism before. He had proven people wrong before. This would be no different. System''s Grim Prediction With a sigh, Jake opened his laptop. The match simulations had completed their calculations. The familiar blue text flashed in his vision. [Ding! Match Scenario Simulations Completed] Win Probability: 20% Draw Probability: 10% Loss Probability: 70% sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Recommended Strategy: Defensive Structure + Set-Piece Focus Warning: Opponent Strength Severely Outmatches Current Squad. Tactical Adaptation Required. Jake clenched his jaw. Twenty percent. The system rarely sugarcoated anything, but this was brutal. A one-in-five chance to win. He scrolled down further. [Opponent Analysis ¨C West Ham United] Strengths: Physical dominance, superior technical ability, set-piece specialists. Weaknesses: Struggles against disciplined defensive teams, full-backs push too high, slow center-backs. Key Player: Marcus Davenport (Striker) ¨C Clinical finisher, thrives on crosses into the box. Jake exhaled slowly. So that was the blueprint. West Ham dominated possession, overloaded the flanks, and crossed balls into their target man. If Bradford played their usual high-pressing game, they''d get picked apart. For the first time, Jake agreed with the system''s warning. If they played like a League Two team trying to "prove themselves" against a Premier League side, they would get humiliated. So he wouldn''t play like a League Two team. Jake Decides to Defy the Odds He grabbed a marker and walked to the tactics board, erasing their usual 4-3-3 formation. They wouldn''t press high. They wouldn''t play open football. Instead, he began sketching out a deep defensive shape. 5-3-2. Compact lines. No space between midfield and defense. Quick transitions on the counter. Exploit West Ham''s slow center-backs. He didn''t need his players to match West Ham in skill. He needed them to be disciplined. Ruthless. Unforgiving. By the time he finished drawing out the plan, he was convinced. This was how they would win. The next morning, Jake walked into the press conference. The room was packed with journalists, most of them expecting to write about how Bradford was about to get humiliated. A reporter from Sky Sports went first. "Jake, realistically, how do you approach a game like this? West Ham is a Premier League side. You''re in League Two. Do you just try to keep the score respectable?" Jake smirked. "We approach it like we approach every match¡ªplaying to win." A few reporters chuckled. Some just shook their heads. Another journalist, this time from BBC Sport, leaned forward. "With all due respect, do you really believe Bradford can compete with a club of West Ham''s stature?" Jake''s expression didn''t change. "Football isn''t played on paper. We''ll fight for every minute." A few reporters scribbled notes. They thought he was being delusional. One of them, grinning, asked, "So, what''s your plan? Park the bus and pray?" Jake leaned into the microphone. "I guess you''ll find out on matchday." The room went silent. Jake stood up, press conference over. He walked out, but he could still hear them whispering. "Bradford''s going to get embarrassed." "They should just focus on the league." "Wilson''s in over his head." He didn''t care. Let them talk. He had a game to win. Chapter 41 - 41: The Night Bradford Shocked England October 18, 2023 London Stadium was buzzing with anticipation. The Premier League giants, West Ham United, were hosting League Two''s Bradford City in what most expected to be a routine demolition. For West Ham, this was just another step in the Carabao Cup. For Bradford, it was the biggest match of their season. The odds? Brutal. ???? West Ham''s squad value: Over ¡ê300 million. ???? Bradford''s squad value: Less than ¡ê5 million. ???? West Ham''s average player salary: ¡ê50,000 a week. ???? Bradford''s average player salary: ¡ê1,500 a week. The gap was massive. Impossible to ignore. But Jake Wilson? He didn''t care . Pre-Match Press Conference The media room was packed. The questions were loaded. The tone? Condescending. "Jake," one journalist asked, "do you see this as a chance for your players to experience a higher level of football? Maybe learn something?" Jake smirked. They weren''t here to ''learn.'' "like i said last time Football isn''t played on paper," he said. "We respect West Ham, but we''re here to win. We''ll fight for every minute." Some journalists chuckled. They thought he was being delusional. One of them, grinning, asked, "So, what''s your plan? Park the bus and pray?" Jake leaned into the microphone. "I guess you''ll find out when the match start." The room went silent. Starting XI & Tactical Setup (5-3-2 Formation) Jake wasn''t going to fight fire with fire. If he tried to press West Ham high, his players would get passed around like training cones. So he parked the bus¡ªbut with a plan. Bradford''s Starting XI: (5-3-2 Defensive Counterattack System) Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Defenders: James Richards (RWB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Aiden Taylor (CB) Lewis Hart (LWB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Alejandro Ortega (CM) Ryan Carter (CM) Forwards: Diego Castell¨®n (ST) Lukas Novak (ST) West Ham United Starting XI (4-3-3 ¨C Possession-Based Attack) Goalkeeper: Alphonse Areola Defenders: Vladim¨ªr Coufal (RB) Kurt Zouma (CB) Angelo Ogbonna (CB) Aaron Cresswell (LB) Midfielders: Tom¨¢? Sou?ek (CDM) James Ward-Prowse (CM) Lucas Paquet¨¢ (CM) Forwards: Jarrod Bowen (RW) Michail Antonio (ST) Danny Ings (LW) First Half Kickoff. As expected, West Ham dominated possession. 5th minute: James Ward-Prowse sent a long diagonal pass to Jarrod Bowen, who cut inside and shot¡ªOkafor saved. 11th minute: Tomas Sou?ek bullied Carter in midfield, won the ball, and played it to Michail Antonio¡ªFletcher blocked his shot. 21st minute: Lucas Paquet¨¢, the Brazilian playmaker, danced past Lowe and fired a shot¡ªOkafor parried it away. Total possession after 20 minutes: West Ham 78% - Bradford 22%. West Ham fans were laughing. Their players passed the ball around, expecting Bradford to break. But Jake''s low block held firm. Then, in the 42nd minute, Bradford struck. Lucas Paquet¨¢ tried to play a risky pass between Barnes and Fletcher. He miscalculated. Carter intercepted. Bradford''s midfield had been choked all game, but now¡ªthere was a gap. Carter looked up, saw Novak making a run, and didn''t hesitate. A perfect through ball split West Ham''s defense. Novak sprinted past Kurt Zouma. One-on-one with Alphonse Areola. One touch. One finish. GOAL! 1-0 BRADFORD! Silence. Shock. The away end exploded. The camera cut to Jake, standing calmly, arms crossed. Exactly as planned. Then the ref blew the whistle for halftime. Halftime talk. Inside the dressing room, Jake''s voice was calm. "We''re halfway there. They''re going to come at us even harder now." He pointed at Ortega. "Control the tempo. Slow it down when you can, speed it up when the chance is there." To Novak and Castell¨®n: "They''re getting desperate. Be ready to punish them." To Okafor: "You''re having a great game. Keep it up." Second Half started, West Ham came out like a storm. 51st minute: Bowen hit the post. 58th minute: Ward-Prowse whipped in a free-kick¡ªOkafor made an incredible diving save. 64th minute: Danny Ings, subbed on, curled a shot that skimmed the crossbar. Bradford were hanging on. Jake needed fresh legs. 67th minute: Substitutions Renan Silva ON for Castell¨®n (Fresh pace on the wing) Charlie Benson ON for Lowe (More energy in midfield) West Ham continued pressing. Jake waited. Then¡ªBradford struck again. 79th Minute West Ham threw everything forward. They took a short corner, expecting to recycle possession. Instead, Ortega intercepted and launched a long ball forward. Silva chased it down, sprinting past Cresswell. Novak was wide open in the middle. Silva squared it. Novak tapped it into an empty net. GOAL! 2-0 BRADFORD! London Stadium was silent. Jake smirked. They had done it. West Ham kept attacking. But it didn''t matter. The referee blew the whistle. The final whistle echoed through the London Stadium, but the sound that followed was even louder¡ªsilence. West Ham''s players stood frozen in disbelief, hands on their hips, staring at the scoreboard as if trying to process what had just happened. Bradford City 2-0 West Ham United. A League Two side had just walked into a Premier League club''s home ground and dominated them tactically. The Bradford players were celebrating like they had won a trophy. Emeka Okafor pounded his chest and roared towards the away fans. Lukas Novak, the night''s hero, was lifted onto Fletcher''s shoulders as the team basked in the moment. The underdogs had done the impossible. And at the center of it all, Jake Wilson stood with a calm smirk, arms crossed, nodding in approval. As he walked off the pitch, reporters flocked to the tunnel, desperate for a quote. "Jake, can we get a word on how you outclassed a Premier League team?" "Was this the biggest win of your coaching career?" "Are you worried about Chelsea in the next round?" Jake smirked but kept walking. He didn''t need to say anything. The result spoke for itself. Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was electric. The players were still in shock. Carter shook his head, grinning. "Mate¡­ we just beat a Premier League club." Novak was laughing. "And they said we didn''t have a chance!" Jake stepped into the center of the room, and the players immediately fell silent. He looked around at them, letting the moment sink in. "Enjoy this tonight," he said, voice steady. "You earned it. But come tomorrow¡ªwe focus on the league." They nodded. No arrogance. No overconfidence. Just pure hunger. They weren''t satisfied. They wanted more. While Bradford was celebrating, things weren''t as cheerful in the home dressing room. West Ham''s manager, David Moyes, looked furious as he glared at his players. "You lot just got outplayed by a League Two side." His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. "No fight. No urgency. Embarrassing." Online, West Ham''s fanbase erupted with frustration. ???? West Ham Fan Forum: "This is the worst performance I''ve seen in years. Losing to a League Two side? Absolutely disgraceful." ???? "How did a manager from the fourth tier outsmart Moyes so easily?" ???? "That Jake Wilson guy¡­ he''s the real deal. Meanwhile, we''re playing like headless chickens." The Premier League club had been humbled. Their own fans were praising the opposing manager. Bradford Fan Caf¨¦ S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Back in Bradford, the fans couldn''t believe it. The club''s online fan forum exploded with posts celebrating the win. ???? "This isn''t real life, right? We actually beat West Ham?!?" ???? "Jake Wilson is a genius. Who else saw how he shut them down completely? We didn''t even let them breathe!" ???? "Novak is a KING! That second goal was pure class." ???? "Jake Wilson might be the best coach in our club''s history. I don''t care if it''s early¡ªI''d follow this man into battle." The belief in Jake was growing. He had taken a club that was fighting relegation last season and turned them into a team that just eliminated a Premier League side. This wasn''t luck. This wasn''t a fluke. Bradford City was becoming something dangerous. Carabao Cup Round 4 As the team boarded the bus back to Bradford, Jake received a message from the club''s press officer. "Carabao Cup ROUND 4 is out. We got Newport County." Jake exhaled. From one challenge to another. But after tonight? Nothing seemed impossible anymore. Jake went home to his wife and kid all happy. Chapter 42 - 42: Aftermath & An 8-0 League Demolition Two Days Later ¨C Press Conference at Bradford The atmosphere at Bradford City''s press room was completely different from the last time Jake Wilson had sat in front of these journalists. Two days ago, before the West Ham game, they had laughed at him. Now? They were scrambling to analyze how he had pulled off one of the biggest upsets in Carabao Cup history. The moment he sat down, the first question came flying. "Jake," a Sky Sports journalist said, "before the match, everyone assumed you''d go out there and try to play ''proper'' football against West Ham. Instead, you parked the bus and hit them on the counter. Was that always the plan?" Jake smirked. "Tactics should always match the opponent, not just your philosophy." The reporters scribbled notes. "You''ve been praised for your adaptability, but some pundits have called your tactics ''anti-football.'' Do you have a response to that?" Jake leaned forward. "Winning isn''t anti-football." A few journalists chuckled. He had a point. A journalist from the BBC then asked, "Are Bradford City serious contenders for this cup?" Jake looked directly into the cameras. "We''re still in it, aren''t we?" Pundit & Fan Reactions Jake left the press conference knowing his reputation had just skyrocketed. ???? Sky Sports Pundit: "Like it or not, Jake Wilson outcoached David Moyes. You don''t see that often from a League Two manager." ???? Gary Neville on The Overlap: "Some will call it anti-football, but I call it intelligent coaching. He knew his players couldn''t compete toe-to-toe with West Ham, so he played to their strengths. That''s smart." ???? Twitter Trending Topics: #TacticalChameleon ???? #JakeWilsonMasterclass ? #WestHamHumbled ???? In the Bradford Fan Caf¨¦, supporters were losing their minds. ???? "I don''t care how we played. We BEAT West Ham!" ???? "Jake Wilson is the best manager we''ve had in YEARS." Jake checked the system, expecting some new feature unlock after the massive win. Instead, a simple message appeared. [Ding! System Evaluation: You have exceeded expectations.] Manager Growth: +1 Tactical Adaptability. Jake smirked. Even the system had to admit it. Next League Match ¨C A Ruthless 8-0 Victory After the high of the West Ham victory, Jake made sure his players stayed focused. Next up was a League Two match against a struggling team sitting in 21st place. This wasn''t a time to celebrate. This was a time to destroy. He rotated the squad heavily to keep his main starters fresh for future challenges. Bradford''s Starting XI (4-2-3-1 Formation): S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Defenders: Jack Simmons (RB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Lewis Hart (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Charlie Benson (CDM) Ryan Carter (CAM) Forwards: Renan Silva (RW) Joe Thompson (ST) Alex Grant (LW) First Half Right from kickoff, Bradford played with ruthless intensity. 8th Minute: Silva''s cross found Carter, who slotted the ball into the net. (1-0 Bradford!) 14th Minute: Thompson danced past two defenders before burying a shot into the bottom corner. (2-0!) 22nd Minute: Carter struck again, smashing home a volley after a clever flick from Silva. (3-0!) 33rd Minute: Silva cut inside and curled a beauty into the far post. (4-0!) By halftime, the opposing team looked completely broken. Second Half Jake made two substitutions at halftime. Charlie Benson OFF ¨C Alejandro Ortega ON Alex Grant OFF ¨C Jamie Collins ON 53rd Minute: Thompson completed his hat-trick with a tap-in after a brilliant low cross from Richards. (5-0!) 61st Minute: Silva grabbed his second of the game, beating the keeper with a near-post strike. (6-0!) 73rd Minute: Carter sprinted through the defense, rounded the keeper, and slotted into an empty net. (7-0!) Then, in the 88th minute, something ridiculous happened. Bradford won a free-kick deep inside their own half. Okafor, the goalkeeper, motioned to take it. Instead of clearing the ball, he saw the opposing keeper was off his line. He struck the ball cleanly. It flew over everyone. It bounced once. It sailed into the empty net. GOAL! 8-0! A goal from the goalkeeper. The entire stadium erupted. The referee didn''t even add extra time. He just blew the whistle. Full-time. Bradford City 8-0. Chapter 43 - 43: Carabao Cup Round 4 – A Dominant Win Against Newport County Three days later, The floodlights at Valley Parade cast long shadows across the pitch as Bradford City prepared for another crucial night in their remarkable Carabao Cup journey. This time, the challenge was Newport County, another League Two side, but one that had been unpredictable in cup competitions. Jake stood near the dugout, arms crossed, as the system flashed a match prediction before kickoff. [Ding! Match Scenario Simulations Completed] Win Probability: 65% Draw Probability: 20% Loss Probability: 15% Bradford was the favorite, but Jake knew better than to take any team lightly. The system had also identified three key weaknesses in Newport''s squad: Slow center-backs ¨C Struggled against quick attackers. Weak in aerial duels ¨C Vulnerable to crosses and set pieces. Overcommitted midfield ¨C Often left gaps when pressing too high. Perfect. Jake had rotated the squad to keep key players fresh for the upcoming league matches, but the starting XI was still strong enough to dominate. Starting XI (4-2-3-1 Formation ¨C Rotated Squad) ???? Goalkeeper: Jack Simmons ???? Defenders: James Richards (RB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Lewis Hart (CB) Aiden Taylor (LB) ???? Midfielders: Charlie Benson (CDM) Daniel Lowe (CDM) Ryan Carter (CAM) ???? Forwards: Renan Silva (RW) Joe Thompson (ST) Alex Grant (LW) First Half The moment the referee blew the whistle, Bradford City immediately took control of the match. From the very first possession, Jake''s plan was clear¡ªquick passing, high pressing, and stretching the play wide. Newport County had set up with a deep defensive block, hoping to frustrate Bradford, but Jake''s men weren''t giving them a chance to breathe. Every time Newport tried to play out from the back, Bradford''s midfield swarmed them like predators. Carter and Benson pressed high, forcing errors. The fullbacks, Richards and Taylor, pushed up aggressively, pinning Newport''s wingers deep into their own half. The visitors were already on the ropes. 5th Minute Bradford nearly found an early breakthrough when Ryan Carter spotted an opening in the Newport defense. With a single glance, he saw Silva making a blistering run behind the right-back. Carter wasted no time, threading a perfectly timed through-ball into the penalty area. Silva sprinted past his marker, controlled the ball with his first touch, and had only the keeper to beat. The stadium held its breath. Silva took the shot¡ªa powerful low drive to the bottom corner! But Newport''s goalkeeper, diving at full stretch, managed to get a fingertip to it and pushed it wide for a corner. The crowd groaned. Jake clapped on the sidelines. "That''s it! Keep going!" Newport had survived, but it was clear they were already struggling. 12th Minute Bradford continued to pile on the pressure. Newport had barely touched the ball, and when they did, their passes were rushed and sloppy. Every clearance came straight back at them. After a series of relentless attacks, Bradford finally won a corner kick. Jake signaled to Carter. It was time to use the Set-Piece Mastery function the system had provided weeks ago. Carter delivered a wicked outswinging corner towards the near post. At first, it looked like a normal delivery, but Daniel Lowe, positioned perfectly, flicked the ball on with a back-header¡ªcompletely catching the Newport defenders off guard. At the far post, Noah Fletcher was waiting. The center-back, who had been left unmarked, powered a downward header into the net! GOAL! Bradford 1-0 Newport County! The stadium erupted. Fletcher wheeled away in celebration, pumping his fists. His first goal for Bradford. Newport''s defenders looked at each other in frustration. They had been completely fooled by the routine. 18th Minute Newport tried to respond by pushing their midfield forward, but that only played into Jake''s hands. Bradford waited for their moment, then struck again. Lowe won back possession in midfield and quickly played the ball to Benson. Benson, without hesitation, slipped a pass to Silva on the right wing. Silva, one of the fastest players on the pitch, immediately drove forward. A Newport defender rushed toward him, trying to close him down. Too slow. Silva cut inside with a sharp turn, leaving his marker stumbling. Another defender lunged in¡ªSilva skipped past him effortlessly. Now just outside the box, Silva took a touch to set himself, then curled a beautiful left-footed shot toward the far post. The Newport goalkeeper dived desperately. Too late. GOAL! Bradford 2-0 Newport County! The home fans exploded in celebration. Silva pointed to the sky, grinning, as his teammates rushed to congratulate him. Newport''s body language told the whole story. Their defenders'' heads were down. Their midfielders looked at each other, confused. Jake glanced at the system as it updated Newport''s defensive integrity. [Ding! Opponent Defensive Integrity: 55% ¡ú 40%] They were mentally breaking down. After Silva''s goal, Bradford continued to press aggressively. 23rd minute: Silva nearly grabbed another goal after linking up with Thompson, but his shot was blocked at the last second. 30th minute: Ortega spotted Carter making a late run into the box, delivered a perfect ball, but Carter''s volley went just over the bar. 38th minute: Richards intercepted a poor clearance and whipped in a dangerous cross, but the Newport keeper punched it away. Despite controlling over 70% possession, Bradford weren''t content with just two goals. They wanted more. Jake shouted instructions from the sideline, urging his players to stay sharp. As the first half neared its conclusion, Newport looked desperate for the halftime whistle. They were exhausted. They were overwhelmed. And Bradford weren''t finished yet. Second Half Jake stood at the edge of the technical area, arms folded as the halftime whistle blew. 2-0 up, completely in control. But he wasn''t satisfied. Newport was struggling, but he could see minor gaps in Bradford''s midfield. Daniel Lowe had done well in the first half, but he was slowing down. Jake knew what to do. As the players walked back onto the pitch, he called over his assistant, Paul Roberts. "I''m bringing Ortega on for Lowe," Jake said. "Tell him I want him to push higher up the pitch and keep the tempo up." Paul nodded and relayed the message as Jake turned to his bench. "Ortega, get ready," he said. "I need you to dictate the play in midfield. Keep the pressure on them." Ortega nodded, eyes burning with determination. 45th Minute: Alejandro Ortega ON, Daniel Lowe OFF (Fresh legs in midfield) The second half began exactly like the first. Bradford controlled possession, pressed aggressively, and moved the ball quickly. Newport, still reeling from the first half, barely strung three passes together before losing the ball. Jake could see the difference immediately. Ortega''s presence added fluidity to the midfield. Instead of just sitting deep, Bradford was now pressing even harder, with Ortega and Carter dictating the tempo. 51st minute: Ortega found Silva on the right, who immediately whipped in a dangerous cross, but it was deflected out for a corner. 54th minute: Carter and Ortega exchanged quick passes, slicing through Newport''s midfield. Carter played a through ball to Silva, but his shot was blocked at the last second. 55th Minute ¨C Silva''s Cross & Thompson''s Header (3-0 Bradford!) sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake clapped his hands, urging his players forward. And then¡ªthey struck again. Silva, now fully confident, received the ball on the right wing. He glanced up, spotting Thompson making a run into the box. Silva faked a move inside before pushing the ball down the wing and whipping in a dangerous cross. The ball curled into the six-yard box. Thompson charged in. The Newport defenders were too slow to react. Thompson rose highest, met the ball with a thunderous header, and smashed it into the back of the net! GOAL! Bradford 3-0 Newport County! Thompson pumped his fists, roaring in celebration as his teammates surrounded him. Jake nodded in approval. A perfect goal. [Ding! Opponent Defensive Integrity: 40% ¡ú 25%] Newport was falling apart. 63rd Minute Newport finally mustered a response. They won a rare free kick near the edge of Bradford''s box. A Newport midfielder stepped up, curled a shot over the wall... The ball dipped toward the bottom corner. But Jack Simmons reacted instantly. The young goalkeeper dived to his right, stretched out a hand, and tipped the ball just wide of the post! A brilliant save. The Newport fans groaned. Jake smirked. Not bad, Simmons. Not bad at all. Tactical Changes & More Substitutions With the game under control, Jake made another substitution. He wanted fresh legs on the wings to keep the pressure up. 65th Minute: Jamie Collins ON, Alex Grant OFF (Pace on the wing) Collins immediately made an impact. 69th minute: Collins received a pass from Ortega, dribbled past his marker, and fired a shot just over the crossbar. Bradford kept attacking, refusing to let Newport breathe. By the 75th minute, Jake made his final change. 75th Minute: Lukas Novak ON, Joe Thompson OFF (Resting Thompson after a great performance) Novak took his position up front, eager to make his mark. 85th Minute With five minutes left, Ortega picked up the ball in midfield and immediately scanned for options. Newport''s defensive line was exposed. Jake shouted from the sideline, "Now! Play it through!" Ortega didn''t hesitate. With one touch, he sent a perfect through ball between the center-backs. Novak, reacting instantly, sprinted onto the pass, took one touch to control it, and¡ª BURY IT INTO THE BOTTOM CORNER. GOAL! Bradford 4-0 Newport County! The stadium exploded in cheers. Novak slid on his knees, arms stretched wide, as the fans chanted his name. [Ding! Opponent Defensive Integrity: 25% ¡ú 10%] Newport had completely collapsed. Jake simply smiled. Full-Time ¨C FINAL SCORE: Bradford City 4-0 Newport County As the referee blew the whistle, Jake shook hands with Paul Roberts and walked toward the tunnel. The players soaked in the applause from the fans. [Ding! Carabao Cup Progress Achieved ¨C Quarter-Finals Unlocked] Manager Growth: +1 Match Preparation Chapter 44 - 44: Respect Earned, Doubt Remains Media & Pundit Reactions The rise of Bradford City wasn''t just a local story anymore. It had captured national attention. Jake Wilson had gone from being a "nobody coach" in the fourth tier to leading a League Two side into the Carabao Cup quarter-finals while pushing for automatic promotion. It wasn''t just a good run of form. It was something bigger. The media had started to take notice. Praise from the Experts Sky Sports: "Bradford is no longer a surprise team. They''re legitimate title contenders." Pundits debated whether Jake''s tactics made them the best team in League Two. One analyst pointed out: "It''s rare to see a League Two side this organized, this early in the season. The way they press, the way they move the ball¡ªit''s more like a Championship team than a fourth-tier club." Another added: "If they keep this up, they''ll not only get promoted but do so in dominant fashion." BBC Football: "Jake Wilson might be the best young manager in England right now." A deep dive into Jake''s tactical philosophy showed how he had turned a struggling side into a promotion contender. The analysis focused on his adaptability, tactical discipline, and in-game adjustments¡ªqualities that many League Two managers lacked. "He''s out-thinking seasoned managers who''ve been in the game for decades. The question now is: how far can he take this team?" TalkSport: "His tactics are bold. His team is ruthless. But can it last?" The panel was divided. One host praised Jake''s ability to grind out results even when Bradford weren''t at their best. Another was skeptical. "It''s one thing to perform well for a few months. It''s another to keep it up all season. Injuries, fixture congestion, pressure¡ªlet''s see how he handles that." Doubters & Critics "It''s just luck. He hasn''t been tested by real adversity yet." Some pundits refused to believe in Bradford''s success. One former player-turned-pundit scoffed: "This is League Two. The quality gap is massive. Once you start facing teams with bigger budgets and deeper squads, Wilson''s ''genius tactics'' won''t be enough." "Let''s see what happens when the pressure gets real." A radio show caller put it bluntly: "Talk to me in April when the title race gets tight. Let''s see if Wilson is still smiling then." The doubts remained. The pressure was growing. But Jake didn''t care. When asked in a post-match interview about the rising expectations, Jake simply smirked. "Let them talk. Let them doubt us. At the end of the season, we''ll see who''s right." Bradford wasn''t just a feel-good story anymore. They were becoming a real force. And Jake Wilson? He was just getting started. The morning after their dominant 4-0 win over Newport County, Jake was in his office reviewing match footage when his phone buzzed. Message from the Club''s Press Officer: "Carabao Cup Quarter-Final Draw is out." Jake exhaled, tapped the message, and froze. Bradford City vs. Chelsea. A long silence filled the office. This was the worst possible draw. Chelsea. One of the biggest clubs in England. A squad stacked with world-class players. The gap in quality was beyond anything Bradford had faced before. And the media reaction? Brutal. Media Headlines & Expert Reactions The Guardian: "Bradford''s Carabao Cup fairy tale meets a nightmare opponent." Sky Sports: "Bradford''s dream ends here." BBC Sport: "Can Jake Wilson''s miracle run survive Chelsea''s firepower?" Daily Mail: "A League Two team vs. Chelsea? They''ll be lucky to lose by just five goals." TalkSport even ran a segment predicting Bradford''s humiliation. "How many goals will Chelsea score?" "Should Jake Wilson park the bus or try to play his usual game?" "Is this the match where reality finally hits Bradford?" One former Premier League manager laughed at the idea of an upset. "Chelsea''s reserves could beat Bradford''s best team by three or four goals. It''s a mismatch." Even Bradford fans weren''t sure what to believe. "I love our run, but let''s be real¡­ Chelsea will destroy us." "I just hope we don''t embarrass ourselves too badly." "If we somehow win this, Jake Wilson deserves a statue outside Valley Parade." The message was clear¡ªno one gave Bradford a chance. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake? He just smirked. "Let them doubt us." League Matches With the Carabao Cup in the back of his mind, Jake turned his focus back to League Two. The celebrations were over¡ªBradford had a title race to fight. They needed to stay consistent. Match 1: A Gritty 2-1 Victory (vs. Salford City ¨C 9th Place, Away) First Half: 18th minute: A sloppy pass in midfield led to a Salford counterattack, and their striker finished past Okafor. (1-0 Salford!) 41st minute: Silva delivered a dangerous cross, and Thompson tapped it in. (1-1!) Second Half: 85th minute: Novak received a through ball from Carter, cut inside, and rifled a shot into the top corner! (2-1 Bradford!) Hard-fought win. Novak the hero. Team showed resilience after falling behind. Match 2: A Dominant 3-0 Win (vs. Harrogate Town ¨C 18th Place, Home) First Half: 10th minute: Carter played a lofted pass over the defense, and Thompson volleyed home. (1-0 Bradford!) 38th minute: Silva cut inside, beat two defenders, and scored from distance. (2-0!) Second Half: 70th minute: Carter sealed the win with a precise finish. (3-0!) Total control from start to finish. Another clean sheet for Okafor. System Update [Ding! Promotion Probability Updated] New Promotion Chances: 55% Jake stared at the notification. "Still not high enough," he muttered. This wasn''t just about promotion anymore. This was about winning the league. The next day, The buzz from the Carabao Cup quarter-final draw had settled. Jake was back in his office at Bradford''s training ground, staring at match reports and upcoming fixture schedules. Outside, the sound of whistles, running boots, and the occasional shout of encouragement filled the air as the squad trained under Paul Roberts'' supervision. His mind was constantly split into two worlds¡ªfootball and personal life. And right now? Both were getting complicated. Squad Tensions Begin A knock on the door pulled Jake from his thoughts. Before he could respond, Daniel Lowe stepped in, his expression tense. Jake set his pen down. Here we go. Lowe had been a key player this season, but with Carter and Ortega controlling the midfield, his role had been reduced. He had only played off the bench in the last few matches. "Gaffer, we need to talk," Lowe said, closing the door behind him. Jake leaned back in his chair. I was expecting this sooner or later. "Go ahead." Lowe crossed his arms. "I''ve barely played, boss. I get that Carter and Ortega are great, but I was an important player at the beginning of the season season. Now? I feel like an afterthought." Jake respected Lowe''s passion, but this was a test of squad management. "I get it, Lowe," Jake replied. "You''re a young playerr, and I know how much you care about this team. But football''s about competition. Carter and Ortega have been exceptional. I can''t drop them just to be fair." Lowe''s jaw tightened. "So what? I just sit on the bench all season? because benson is getting better" Jake sighed. He had to be firm, but also fair. "No. I need you ready. When we hit injuries, fixture congestion, fatigue¡ªyou''ll be crucial. But you need to be patient." Lowe''s gaze softened slightly, but he wasn''t satisfied. "I want my chance, boss. Just one full game to prove myself." Jake thought about it. The league season was long, and rotation was key. Maybe giving Lowe a start in an upcoming match would keep him motivated. "Alright," Jake said. "You''ll get your shot soon. But when you do, I expect you to prove why you should start." Lowe exhaled, nodded, and left without another word. Jake shook his head. Managing egos is harder than managing tactics. After the training session wrapped up, Jake made his way to the locker room, catching up with a few players individually. Carter sat by his locker, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when Jake approached. "Still getting attention from those German and French scouts?" Jake asked with a smirk. Carter grinned. "Yeah. A few clubs are sniffing around." "Thoughts?" The young midfielder hesitated before shrugging. "I like it here, boss. But¡­ if a big move comes, I have to think about my career, you know?" Jake nodded. He had been in Carter''s shoes before¡ªyoung, talented, ambitious. "You''re still developing, Carter. If you stay for another season or two, you''ll leave as a player ready for the top level, not just another prospect." Carter thought for a moment before nodding. "I hear you, boss. I''ll focus on the now." Next, Jake found Renan Silva tying his boots. "How''s England treating you?" Jake asked. Silva chuckled. "Cold. Too cold. But I like it here." "You''ve been fantastic lately. Keep that up, and people will stop underestimating you.''" Silva grinned. "That''s the plan, boss." Finally, Jake checked in on Novak, who was wrapping up his gym session. "That was a hell of a goal against Salford," Jake said. Novak wiped sweat from his forehead. "That''s what I do, coach." Jake laughed. Novak''s confidence was sky-high. And for a striker, that was everything. "Keep that hunger. We''re going to need it." Novak simply nodded. Jake walked away, surveying the squad, knowing they were starting to come together. But with the growing expectations of the media, the Carabao Cup looming, and the pressure of the promotion race intensifying, it wasn''t going to be easy for anyone. Chapter 45 - 45: BRADFORD VS GILLINGHAM Part 1 Bradford''s winning momentum was about to be tested in the worst way possible. The upcoming match wasn''t about tactics, skill, or beautiful football. It was about survival. The team they were facing¡ªGillingham FC¡ªwas notorious for their reckless, borderline dangerous playing style. They didn''t play to win. They played to disrupt, foul, and break their opponents'' rhythm. They had already accumulated the most yellow cards in League Two, and their aggressive style had injured multiple players this season. Now, they had set their sights on Bradford City. Jake knew what was coming. So did the system. System Prediction & Opponent Weakness [Ding! Match Simulation Complete] Win Probability: 55% Draw Probability: 25% Loss Probability: 20% [Opponent Analysis ¨C Gillingham FC] ???? Strength: High pressing, aerial dominance, and physicality. ???? Weakness: Lack of discipline, poor positioning after pressing, and overcommitting to tackles. ???? Exploitable Area: Right side¡ªGillingham''s right-back often pushes too high and leaves gaps behind. Jake smirked at the report. They''re reckless. That''s their downfall. He already knew his plan¡ªuse their aggression against them. He''d tell his wingers to draw fouls, bait their defenders into overcommitting, and punish them with fast counters. But there was one problem. His players would have to keep their emotions in check. And that? That was the real challenge. Starting XI (4-3-3 Formation ¨C Physical Battle Mode) Jake knew this game would be a fight, so he adjusted his lineup accordingly. Goalkeeper: ???? Emeka Okafor Defenders: ???? James Richards (RB) ???? Nathan Barnes (CB) ???? Noah Fletcher (CB) ???? Aiden Taylor (LB) Midfielders: ???? Daniel Lowe (CDM) ¨C Brought in for physicality ???? Alejandro Ortega (CM) ???? Ryan Carter (CM) Forwards: ???? Diego Castell¨®n (LW) ???? Lukas Novak (ST) ???? Renan Silva (RW) Jake rotated Lowe into the squad to provide extra defensive steel in midfield. He also kept Novak and Silva up front, knowing their pace could exploit Gillingham''s defensive weaknesses. As the team stepped onto the pitch, Jake took one last deep breath. "Stay calm. Stay disciplined. And punish them where it hurts." Kickoff (1'') The moment the referee blew his whistle, Gillingham''s intent was clear. They didn''t press to win the ball¡ªthey pressed to hit, shove, and disrupt. Novak barely had time to take his first touch before a shoulder slammed into his ribs. Ortega received a pass and was immediately dragged down from behind. Lowe fought for a 50/50 ball and was met with a studs-up challenge that sent him tumbling to the ground. No fouls. No warnings. Just brutal, unchecked aggression. Jake narrowed his eyes. This isn''t football. This is a street fight. He turned to Paul Roberts, his assistant. "They''re going to break someone''s leg if this keeps up." Paul nodded. "We need to stay calm, boss. That''s what they want¡ªto make us lose control." Easier said than done. Bradford had to play smart¡ªbut every minute that passed tested their patience. 10th Minute Bradford finally started settling into possession, passing the ball smoothly across the midfield. Carter spotted Silva making a run and threaded a perfect through ball down the right flank. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Silva chested it down, flicked it forward, and Collins sprinted onto it. His first touch was sharp, cutting inside his marker. His second touch was deadly, pushing the ball past the last defender. He was through on goal. Then¡ª BANG! A Gillingham defender lunged from behind, crashing into Collins'' legs with a reckless challenge. The winger tumbled violently onto the grass, rolling as he clutched his ankle. Valley Parade erupted in fury. Jake immediately jumped up from the dugout. "That''s a booking!" he shouted, storming toward the fourth official. Collins was writhing in pain, pounding the ground. His teammates rushed over. The referee? Did nothing. No whistle. No card. Play on. Jake''s expression darkened. "So that''s how this is going to be?" The fourth official gestured for him to calm down, but Jake barely heard him. Collins was still on the ground, groaning as the physios ran onto the pitch. Jake turned toward the referee and clapped sarcastically. "Brilliant officiating, ref! Love how you''re letting them play rugby out here!" The referee shot him a warning glance but still didn''t book the Gillingham player. Paul grabbed Jake''s arm. "Boss, don''t get sent off. We need you here." Jake exhaled sharply, forcing himself to step back. Collins was finally back on his feet, limping slightly but determined to continue. Jake met his eyes and gave him a nod. "Stay focused. Make them pay." Collins nodded back, fire burning in his eyes. 15th Minute Gillingham had one strategy: foul, waste time, and frustrate Bradford. Every time Bradford tried to counterattack, a Gillingham player would commit a "tactical" foul to stop the move. They would shove players off the ball, then act innocent. They would hold onto the ball after fouls to slow the game down. Whenever Bradford got close to the final third, a Gillingham defender would drop to the ground "injured", eating up minutes on the clock. By the 15th minute, Jake had seen enough. "They''re playing like cowards," he muttered. Paul folded his arms. "We just need to stay patient, boss. Their defense isn''t great¡ªif we move the ball quickly, we''ll break them down." Jake agreed, but he knew staying patient was easier said than done. His players were starting to boil over. And that was exactly what Gillingham wanted. 18th Minute Bradford continued to push forward, keeping possession well despite Gillingham''s rough approach. Carter shifted the ball wide to Ortega, who turned sharply to escape his marker. Then¡ª CRACK! A Gillingham midfielder barreled into Ortega''s back, sending him flying. He hit the ground hard, clutching his ribs. Jake''s anger exploded. He stormed to the fourth official. "Are we watching the same game?! That''s a clear foul!" The official shook his head. "Calm down, coach." Calm down? Calm down?! His players were getting assaulted, and the ref was letting it happen. Jake clenched his fists. "This ref is a joke." Ortega, gritting his teeth, pushed himself back up, shaking off the impact. He wasn''t asking for sympathy. He was asking for revenge¡ªon the scoreboard. Jake caught his eye and gave him a look. "Keep your head, Ortega. We''ll make them pay." Ortega nodded. 30th Minute ¨C Carter Nearly Scores The match had been ugly, physical, and frustrating, but Bradford was finally starting to impose themselves. For the first time, they moved the ball quickly without getting hacked down. Lowe, sitting deep in midfield, controlled possession and calmly assessed his options. He spotted Ortega making a run and slid the ball toward him. One touch. Ortega swiveled, sending his marker the wrong way. Two touches. He scanned the pitch, saw Carter calling for it on the edge of the box. Three touches. Ortega played a perfect pass, slicing through Gillingham''s midfield. Carter took one sharp touch to his left, dodging a sliding defender. The goal opened up. He fired a low shot toward the bottom corner¡ª BANG! The Gillingham keeper dived at full stretch, just barely getting his fingertips on the ball to push it wide! The crowd groaned in frustration. Carter kicked the ground in anger, shaking his head. Jake clapped his hands, stepping forward. "Good! Keep going! The goal is coming!" But deep down? Jake knew they had to score soon. Because if they didn''t¡­ This game was only going to get nastier. 38th Minute ¨C Gillingham Scores Off a Set-Piece Then, the worst happened. Gillingham had barely touched the ball in the final third, yet suddenly, they won a cheap free kick near the edge of the box. The foul? A soft call on Novak after he barely brushed against a Gillingham midfielder. "You''ve got to be kidding me!" Jake yelled from the sidelines, throwing his arms up. The Bradford players surrounded the referee, protesting. Carter was fuming. "He dived! That''s nothing!" The referee ignored them, motioning for Gillingham to take the free kick. Jake folded his arms, watching closely. The delivery came whipped in with pace. Nathan Barnes jumped for it¡ª But so did a towering Gillingham center-back. Thud! The header smashed into the net. (0-1!) The away fans erupted. Gillingham''s players celebrated like they had won the league, while Bradford''s squad stood in disbelief. Jake''s jaw tightened. His team had dominated play, yet they were behind because of one cheap set-piece. Novak walked back to the halfway line, shaking his head in frustration. Jake stepped forward. "Stay calm," he called out. "We''re still in this." But he could already see it. Gillingham wasn''t just going to sit back¡ª They were going to make this game even dirtier. And Bradford? They were dangerously close to losing their composure. 45th Minute Bradford pressed forward, trying to force an equalizer before halftime. The ball reached Carter''s feet, and he immediately drove forward, weaving between two defenders. Then¡ª BAM! A late challenge from behind sent him crashing down hard. His legs were taken out completely. For a moment, Carter stayed on the ground, stunned. Jake leaped from his seat. "That''s a damn foul! Book him!" The Bradford players swarmed the referee, demanding action. For the first time all match, the referee actually reacted. A yellow card. But Carter? Carter snapped. He sprung to his feet, shoving the Gillingham player who had fouled him. The opponent shoved him back. Chaos erupted. Players rushed in, pushing, arguing, shouting. The referee tried to step in, blowing his whistle frantically. Jake sprinted to the touchline. "CARTER! WALK AWAY!" But Carter was too far gone. His fists were clenched. His face was red with fury. Jake shoved past Paul and the other staff, stepping onto the pitch himself. "Get back!" he barked at his players. The fourth official grabbed Jake''s arm, warning him to stay off the field. After a tense few moments, the situation finally settled down. The referee then gave Carter a yellow card. Then, The referee blew for halftime, trying to defuse the situation. Carter stormed off the pitch, still fuming. Jake followed close behind. He already knew what he had to do next. This wasn''t just a match anymore. This was a war of mentality. And at halftime? Jake had to make sure his team was ready to fight. Halftime Inside the dressing room, the tension was suffocating. The only sounds were heavy breathing, boots scraping against the floor, and the distant cheers of the away fans outside. Carter sat on the bench, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breathing was sharp, his face still flushed with anger. Across from him, Ortega was rubbing his ribs, still feeling the impact from earlier. Collins sat beside him, shaking his head, while Novak stared at the floor, jaw clenched. Every single Bradford player was boiling with frustration. Jake strode into the center of the room, his footsteps snapping against the floor. With one swift motion¡ª BANG! He slammed the tactics board onto the table so hard that a few players flinched. "ENOUGH!" Silence. Every head snapped up to look at him. Jake''s eyes burned with intensity, his expression set in stone. "You''re playing right into their hands," he said, his voice low and controlled. "They don''t care about football. They don''t care about tactics. They don''t care about scoring goals." He gestured toward Carter, then to the entire squad. "They want us rattled. They want us to lose control. And you''re giving them exactly what they want!" Carter''s jaw tightened, but he didn''t say a word. Jake continued. "We''re better than them. We''ve dominated possession, movement, and playmaking¡ªbut what happened?" He pointed at the scoreboard on the wall. "One stupid free kick. One cheap goal. And now we''re behind." Silence. The players looked at the floor, the anger slowly turning into focus. Jake took a step forward, lowering his voice. "Forget the referee. Forget the cheap fouls. Forget them." He looked every single player in the eye, his voice calm but firm. "We win this match our way." No one spoke. Then Novak nodded firmly. "Let''s go finish this." A few others nodded as well. Collins cracked his knuckles. Ortega rolled his shoulders. Silva exhaled deeply, wiping sweat off his forehead. The fire was still there¡ªbut now? Now it was under control. Jake took a deep breath, standing back. The second half was going to be a war. And Bradford? They were going to fight back the right way. Chapter 46 - 46: BRADFORD VS GILLINGHAM PART 2 Second Half Bradford stepped back onto the pitch with one clear objective¡ªplay football, not fall into the trap. The first half had been a brawl disguised as a match, but now, with Jake''s words ringing in their ears, the players moved with purpose, not emotion. Gillingham still pressed aggressively, but Bradford kept possession, shifting the ball quickly to avoid dangerous tackles. Their patience paid off. 55th Minute Ortega picked up the ball in midfield, turned, and saw Novak making a run into space. He threaded a perfect through-ball, slicing through Gillingham''s backline. Novak sprinted onto it, a defender on his back, another closing in from the side. With one slick movement, he cut inside, leaving both defenders behind¡ªthen curled a low, driven shot into the bottom corner. GOAL! (1-1!) The stadium erupted. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Novak turned to the crowd, pumping his fists, while Jake finally cracked a smile. "That''s how you do it," he muttered. Bradford was back in the fight. 60th Minute Gillingham didn''t take the equalizer well. Frustration boiled over. Novak received a pass and was about to turn when¡ª CRACK. A brutal sliding tackle from behind sent him flying. Jake immediately jumped up from the dugout. "Are you serious?! That''s a red!" Novak clutched his ankle, grimacing in pain. The referee hesitated, then pulled out a red card for the Gillingham player. But Jake wasn''t celebrating. Novak wasn''t getting up quickly. The physio rushed over, speaking quietly to Novak before signaling to the bench. Jake sighed. "Damn it." ???? Substitution: Joe Thompson ON, Lukas Novak OFF. As Novak limped off, Jake patted his shoulder. "Rest up, we need you healthy." Novak nodded, frustration clear on his face. Bradford had the man advantage now, but could they stay disciplined? 68th Minute Despite being down to ten men, Gillingham didn''t stop their dirty tactics. Ortega dribbled down the wing, shielding the ball near the sideline. Then¡ª BANG! A Gillingham midfielder shoved him with full force, sending Ortega flying into the advertising boards. Gasps from the crowd. Jake stormed to the edge of his technical area. "That''s assault! What the hell are you doing?!" Ortega groaned, clutching his side. The referee? Only gave a verbal warning. Jake laughed in disbelief, rubbing a hand down his face. "Unreal," he muttered. He turned back to his team. "Keep your heads! They''re trying to bait you!" Easier said than done. 75th Minute The match was one step away from chaos. Jake needed fresh legs, so he made three quick changes. ???? Substitutions: Jamie Collins ON, Renan Silva OFF Charlie Benson ON, Daniel Lowe OFF Lewis Chapman ON, Alejandro Ortega OFF Carter''s Red Card! Just minutes after the changes, it finally exploded. Carter chased a loose ball, but a Gillingham player arrived late, shoving him to the ground. Carter jumped up, shoved him back. The opponent? Dove like he had been shot. The referee immediately ran over, pulling out a second yellow card and then a red card for Carter and a red for gillingham player! Jake froze for half a second, then stormed down the touchline. "You''ve got to be kidding me!" Carter lost it. "What?! I barely touched him!" The Gillingham player was rolling around like he''d been hit by a truck. The Bradford players rushed in, furious. Jake acted fast. He grabbed Carter''s arm, pulling him away before things got worse. "You lost your head again. Now we finish this without you." Carter''s nostrils flared, but he nodded, breathing heavily. As he walked off, Jake sighed. "We need to be smarter." Final Minutes 85th Minute ¨C A Full-Team Brawl Nearly Erupts Lowe drove forward, playing a sharp pass out wide to Collins. A Gillingham defender lunged in late, sending Lowe sprawling. For half a second, nothing happened. Then¡ª Collins shoved the Gillingham player! Benson got in his face. Gillingham''s bench jumped up. Suddenly¡ª A full-team scuffle broke out. Players pushed, shouted, grabbed shirts¡ªbut somehow, it didn''t turn into an actual fight. The referee panicked, blowing his whistle repeatedly. Yellow cards were handed out like candy. Jake didn''t even argue anymore. He just stood on the sideline, arms crossed, shaking his head. "What a joke." Bradford kept pushing, but the referee added only three minutes of stoppage time¡ªway too little. The game ended in chaos, not football. Full-time: 1-1. As the teams walked off, Jake knew what was coming next. Post-Match Fallout The league wasted no time. ???? Both Bradford and Gillingham fined for unsportsmanlike conduct ???? The media blasted the match as an embarrassment to League Two football. Jake? He stood in the press room, arms crossed, staring at the reporters. Press Conference First question: "Jake, what do you make of tonight''s match?" Jake sighed. "Football is about passion. But we need to be smarter." Second question: "Has your team lost control?" Jake''s eyes hardened. "We''re here to play football. Not get dragged into nonsense." Final question: "Do you regret how your team handled the game?" Jake smirked. "No. We''ll learn from this. And next time? We''ll win the right way." As Jake walked out of the press room, he clenched his jaw. This wasn''t just a rough game. This was a message. The next time they faced Gillingham? There would be no mercy. Chapter 47 - 47: FA Cup Round 1: A Dominant Victory The FA Cup carried magic. The kind that allowed lower-league teams to dream, to believe that, for one night, they could stand tall against football giants. For Bradford, this wasn''t just a game¡ªit was an opportunity. Jake stood at the touchline of Valley Parade, watching his players finish their warm-up. The stadium wasn''t as packed as it would be for a league match, but the energy in the stands was still electric. Fans wanted a cup run. And they expected nothing less than a convincing win. Pre-Match Adjustments Jake''s squad selection had been forced into changes. Novak, his most clinical finisher, was out for two weeks after the brutal foul against Gillingham. Without his hold-up play, Jake knew his team needed to be more fluid in attack. He turned to Joe Thompson, the young striker eager to prove himself. "This is your moment," Jake said. "Link up, move fast, and don''t hesitate in front of goal." Thompson grinned. "I got this, boss." Jake wasn''t entirely convinced, but he liked the confidence. Then, the system chimed in. [Ding! Opponent Weakness Analysis] Boreham Wood''s defensive shape is shaky under high pressure. Their goalkeeper struggles with shots to his near post. Key player: Matthew Paine (CB) ¨C Weak against pace and skillful dribblers. Jake smirked. "Attack them relentlessly. Get Silva and Collins running at that center-back, and we''ll tear them apart." Paul Roberts, his assistant, nodded. "High press?" Jake shook his head. "No need. If we dominate possession, we''ll force them to make mistakes." Starting XI (4-3-3 ¨C Rotated Squad) Goalkeeper: Jack Simmons Defenders: James Richards (RB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Lewis Hart (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Lewis Chapman (CM) Ryan Carter (CM) Forwards: Renan Silva (RW) Joe Thompson (ST) Jamie Collins (LW) With a 90% chance of victory, this should be routine. But Jake never took anything for granted. First Half: From the opening whistle, Bradford imposed their authority. 8th Minute A neat passing move between Carter and Chapman found Silva in space on the right wing. The Brazilian shifted inside, danced past his marker, and fired low to the near post. The goalkeeper reacted late. GOAL! (1-0 Bradford!) Jake nodded in approval. Weak at the near post. Called it. 14th Minute ¨C Thompson Proves His Worth Collins surged down the left flank, whipping in a perfect cross. Thompson, timing his run to perfection, leaped between two defenders and powered a header into the net. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The crowd roared. 2-0! Thompson sprinted toward the dugout, arms wide in celebration. Jake gave him a firm nod. "That''s what I need from you." 22nd Minute Boreham Wood, desperate for a way back, pushed forward and won a cheap free kick near the box. The delivery curled in dangerously¡ªSimmons hesitated, Barnes lost his man, and the ball was bundled into the net. (2-1.) Jake cursed. "Sloppy." Barnes shook his head in frustration, but Jake clapped his hands. "Forget it! Stay focused!" 38th Minute ¨C Collins Restores the Cushion Bradford didn''t panic. They kept the ball, waiting for the right moment. Carter spotted Collins making a diagonal run and threaded a perfect pass through the defense. Collins cut inside, sent the keeper the wrong way, and buried it in the bottom corner. (3-1!) Jake turned to Paul. "We''re playing at 60% right now. Push them harder." Halftime whistle. Bradford 3-1 Boreham Wood Halftime talk: As the players returned to the dressing room, the energy was positive¡ªbut Jake wasn''t letting complacency creep in. He strode into the center of the room, arms crossed. "Good half. But not good enough." Some players glanced at each other, confused. "You think a two-goal lead means we relax? No. We kill games. We don''t let them breathe." His eyes locked onto Barnes. "You switch off for one second on a set-piece, and it costs us. That can''t happen again." Barnes nodded, clearly frustrated with himself. Jake then turned to Carter and Collins. "Brilliant movement. Keep pulling their defenders out of shape." Finally, he pointed at Thompson. "That''s the hunger I need. Keep making those runs. A hat-trick is there for you if you want it." Thompson grinned. "I''ll get it, boss." Jake clapped his hands. "Alright. We start the second half sharp. We get the fourth goal, and we end this game." The players nodded. They knew the job wasn''t finished yet. Second Half: Jake demanded ruthlessness. 50th Minute Another beautiful team move ended with Lowe slipping the ball into Thompson''s path. With a single touch, he rounded the keeper and slotted home. (4-1!) Jake pumped his fist. That''s how you take your chance. 63rd Minute Jake made two changes: ???? Ortega ON, Chapman OFF (Control the midfield) ???? Castell¨®n ON, Collins OFF (Fresh legs on the left) 70th Minute Gaps in Boreham Wood''s defense were opening up. A miscommunication at the back allowed Collins to steal the ball and bury a one-on-one finish. (5-1!) 81st Minute With the game won, Bradford momentarily switched off, allowing Boreham Wood to pull one back after a poor clearance. (5-2.) Jake scowled. "Sloppy again." 89th Minute Just as the match was winding down, Bradford won a free kick just outside the box. Silva stepped up. 30 yards out. The Brazilian curled it beautifully over the wall¡ªtop corner. (7-2!) Game over. Post-Match Press Conference Jake walked into the press room, still riding the high of Bradford''s dominant 7-2 victory. The reporters wasted no time. "Jake, a huge win today. How do you feel about the performance?" Jake leaned into the mic. "It was professional. We controlled the game from start to finish. I told the boys to be ruthless, and they delivered." "Novak missed this match due to injury. When will he be back?" Jake nodded. "He''s recovering well. We expect him to be back in two weeks, just in time for the Chelsea game." "Speaking of cup games, you''ve drawn Gillingham in the FA Cup second round. Thoughts?" Jake smirked. "We know what to expect from them. It''ll be a battle, but we''ll be ready." "Bradford is now second in the league. Are you thinking about the title?" Jake chuckled. "It''s still early. We''re taking it one game at a time, but we''re where we want to be." "And Chelsea? How are preparations going for the Carabao Cup quarter-final?" Jake''s eyes sharpened. "We''ll be ready. It''s a challenge, but challenges are what football is all about." With that, the conference wrapped up. The message was clear¡ªBradford was here to compete. Chapter 48 - 48: The Road Ahead 1 The League Battle Continues After their dominant 7-2 victory in the FA Cup, the squad had barely caught their breath before shifting their focus back to the league. The competition was fierce, and with only two points separating first from second, there was no room for mistakes. Jake sat in his office, scrolling through the latest league table on his phone. Position Team Points Goal Difference 1?? Mansfield Town 38 pts +16 2?? Bradford City 36 pts +20 3?? Stockport Count 34 pts +13 4?? Wrexham 32 pts +11 5?? Notts County 30 pts +9 He exhaled. Two points behind first. They were close. But close wasn''t good enough. Match 1: Bradford 3-1 Victory (Home vs. Doncaster Rovers) The atmosphere at Valley Parade was electric. The Bradford fans were buzzing, sensing that something special was happening this season. Jake had one goal in mind¡ªattack from the start and break Doncaster''s defensive shape before they could settle. Starting XI (4-3-3 ¨C Rotated Squad) Goalkeeper: Jack Simmons Defenders: James Richards (RB), Nathan Barnes (CB), Noah Fletcher (CB), Lewis Hart (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM), Lewis Chapman (CM), Ryan Carter (CM) Forwards: Renan Silva (RW), Joe Thompson (ST), Jamie Collins (LW) With Novak still out injured, Thompson led the line again, and Jake wanted to see if he could build on his FA Cup hat-trick. First Half Bradford came flying out of the gates, pressing high and suffocating Doncaster in their own half. 2th Minute Carter received the ball in midfield, turned quickly, and spotted Silva making a darting run behind the Doncaster full-back. The pass was inch-perfect. Silva controlled it with one touch, cut inside onto his left foot, and drilled a low shot toward the near post. The keeper reacted late. GOAL! (1-0 Bradford!) Jake clapped from the sidelines. Weak near post, just like the system predicted. 23rd Minute ¨C Carter''s Screamer Bradford continued to dominate possession, moving the ball with confidence. Lowe intercepted a poor clearance, passed to Chapman, who squared it to Carter at the edge of the box. Without hesitation, Carter took one touch and unleashed a thunderous strike from 25 yards out. The ball swerved past the keeper and crashed into the net. GOAL! (2-0 Bradford!) The stadium erupted. Carter ran toward the fans, fist raised, as his teammates mobbed him. Paul Roberts grinned beside Jake. "That kid is special." Jake smirked. "And he''s only getting started." 39th Minute Just as things seemed comfortable, a lapse in concentration gave Doncaster a lifeline. They won a cheap free kick near the box after a sloppy foul from Lowe. Jake folded his arms as the ball curled dangerously into the penalty area. Barnes mistimed his jump. The Doncaster striker leaped above everyone and powered a header past Simmons. (2-1!) Jake shook his head. Set-piece weakness again. Halftime Inside the locker room, Jake paced in front of his players. "Good half. But we switched off. We can''t afford that." Barnes looked frustrated. "I lost my man, boss. That''s on me." Jake pointed at the tactics board. "Forget it. Second half, we control possession, don''t rush, and kill this game off. Stay composed." The team nodded. They were ready. Second Half Bradford dominated the early minutes after the restart, controlling the tempo and forcing Doncaster to chase the ball. 78th Minute With Doncaster pushing forward, Bradford hit them on the counter. Ortega, who had come on for Chapman, threaded a perfect through-ball into the box. Thompson took one touch, sent the keeper the wrong way, and slotted home. (3-1!) Jake clenched his fist. Game over. The final whistle blew. FULL-TIME: Bradford 3-1 Doncaster Jake shook hands with the opposition coach and walked down the tunnel. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One game down. One step closer to the top. Match 2: Bradford 1-2 Loss (Away vs. Swindon Town) A few days later, Bradford traveled to Swindon Town, a side known for their well-organized defense and dangerous counterattacks. Jake rotated a few players, bringing Ortega and Castell¨®n into the starting XI, hoping their creativity would break down Swindon''s stubborn backline. But the game didn''t go as planned. 19th Minute Swindon earned a corner kick early in the game. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed. He had a bad feeling. The delivery came in¡ªBarnes lost his man again¡ªand the Swindon defender smashed a header past Simmons. (1-0!) Jake cursed. "That''s twice now." 68th Minute Despite Swindon''s compact defense, Bradford kept pressing. Finally, in the 68th minute, Ortega passed to Lowe 30 yards out. Jake yelled from the sidelines, "Hit it!" Lowe didn''t hesitate. He launched a missile into the top corner. GOAL! (1-1!) Bradford had momentum. They pushed forward, looking for the winner. Then¡­ disaster struck. 85th Minute Ortega misplaced a pass in midfield. Swindon immediately broke forward, catching Bradford''s defense out of position. A quick one-two, a low driven cross, and their striker buried it past Simmons. (2-1!) Silence. Jake clenched his jaw. That was it. The final whistle blew. FULL-TIME: Swindon 2-1 Bradford Jake shook hands with the opposing manager but walked straight down the tunnel. Another lesson learned. ???? [Ding! Promotion Probability Updated] New Promotion Chances: 60% Jake stared at the system notification. Progress, but not enough. If they wanted to win the league, they needed to be sharper. More ruthless. He exhaled and closed his eyes for a second. Then, he stood up. Time to prepare for the next challenge. Chapter 49 - 49: The Road Ahead 2 The cold November air bit at Jake''s skin as he stood outside the training ground, hands in his pockets, watching the players go through their drills. The FA Cup match against Gillingham was just days away, but his mind was already split between two battles. One against a team that wanted to turn football into a fistfight. The other against one of the biggest clubs in the world. He had to prepare for both. FA Cup Round Two The FA Cup draw had been announced the day before. Jake had been sitting in his office when the notification popped up. FA Cup Second Round Draw: Bradford City vs. Gillingham. Jake had let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair. Of all the possible opponents, it had to be them. The same team that dragged them into a brutal 1-1 war in the league. The same team that got Carter suspended. The same team that had no intention of playing football fairly. By the time he stepped onto the training ground that morning, the players had already seen the draw. "Gillingham?" Collins muttered, stretching his legs. "Might as well be a boxing match." Chapman chuckled. "You bringing gloves, boss?" Jake smirked but shook his head. "No fights. We win this with football." Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Paul, standing beside him, gave a skeptical look. "Good luck convincing them of that." Jake knew it wouldn''t be easy. The players wanted revenge. But if they lost their composure and let emotions take over, Gillingham would drag them into the same ugly, physical mess as last time. "We stay disciplined," Jake told them, voice firm. "They''ll try to wind us up. Ignore it. Focus on the game. We''re better than them." Some players nodded, but Jake could see the fire in Carter''s eyes. He''d have to keep an eye on that. Preparing for the Clash with Chelsea As if the grudge match against Gillingham in the FA Cup wasn''t enough, Chelsea loomed just beyond the horizon. A Premier League giant. One of the biggest clubs in England. A team filled with world-class talent. Bradford City? A League Two side that had already exceeded expectations. But nobody expected them to survive this next challenge. Jake sat alone in his office late at night, the glow from his tablet screen illuminating his face as he reviewed the system''s tactical breakdown. He had already spent hours watching Chelsea''s matches, looking for patterns, weaknesses¡ªanything that could be exploited. The system screen flickered, finalizing the tactical insights. Chelsea Tactical Analysis Strengths: World-class individual talent capable of changing a game in an instant. Fast, aggressive pressing, making it difficult for teams to play out from the back. Lethal in transition, punishing any team that lost the ball in dangerous areas. Weaknesses: A high defensive line, leaving space behind their center-backs. Midfield struggles against compact defensive setups, especially against teams that force them to break down a deep block. Jake tapped his fingers on the desk, his mind already piecing together a strategy. They wouldn''t be able to outplay Chelsea. That much was clear. But outthinking them? That was a different story. The Blueprint to Beating Chelsea Defensive Discipline ¨C Bradford had to stay compact, absorb pressure, and frustrate Chelsea. The moment they overcommitted forward, Chelsea would tear them apart. Exploiting Space in Behind ¨C Chelsea''s full-backs pushed high, leaving gaps for fast wingers to exploit. Silva, Castell¨®n, and Collins would be key to attacking those spaces. Staying Focused ¨C A single mistake could be fatal. Chelsea wouldn''t waste chances the way League Two teams did. The margin for error was razor-thin. Jake leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. Bradford''s Crucial November Fixtures The fixture list in front of him was daunting. FA Cup Second Round vs. Gillingham ¨C A grudge match against a team that had no interest in playing football fairly. Four League Matches ¨C Staying in the promotion race was just as important as cup success. Dropping points here could derail their season. Carabao Cup Quarter-Final vs. Chelsea ¨C The biggest game of Jake''s career. Two completely different battles. One against a lower-league team that thrived on aggression and chaos. The other against a footballing powerhouse that expected to cruise past them with ease. Jake ran a hand through his hair, staring at the screen. The media had already dismissed them. The fans were just hoping to avoid embarrassment. The system predicted an 8% chance of victory. But Jake had spent his entire coaching career defying expectations. And he wasn''t about to stop now. One Week to Get Ready Jake closed the system screen and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Paul had already gone home. The players were resting. But he couldn''t switch off. This next stretch of matches would define their season. If they could pull off the impossible? If they could somehow get past Chelsea? Bradford wouldn''t just be a nice underdog story anymore. They would be something else entirely. Jake stood up, stretching his stiff muscles. They had one week to prepare. One week to sharpen their tactics. One week to prove that nothing was impossible. And when the time came? Bradford City would be ready. Chapter 50 - 50: A Heated Rematch: Bradford vs. Gillingham (FA Cup 2nd Round) Pre-Match Build-Up Jake sat in his office the night before the game, watching his screen as the system loaded its predictions. Because of its importance and their recent history together, both teams eagerly awaited their FA Cup second-round matchup. The system indicated that the simulation was over with a low beep. [Ding! Match Scenario Simulations Completed] Win Probability: 65% Draw Probability: 20% Loss Probability: 15% Jake exhaled. His team was favored, but he knew better than to take those numbers at face value. Gillingham were a team that thrived on disruption, and no algorithm could predict how dirty they would play. Another screen popped up. [Opponent Analysis ¨C Gillingham FC] Strengths: Physically aggressive¡ªstrong in aerial duels. Dangerous from set-pieces. Disruptive pressing¡ªopponents struggle to build momentum. Weaknesses: Ill-disciplined¡ªprone to reckless tackles. Slow transition defense¡ªstruggles against quick passing. Strikers lack finishing ability¡ªrely on set-piece goals. Jake leaned back. "Same old Gillingham." Paul Roberts, his assistant, walked in and sat across from him. "You''ve seen the reports?" Jake nodded. "Yeah. They''re predictable but still dangerous. If we remain composed, we will easily defeat them. But if we let them pull us into a battle, things might get out of hand." Paul smirked. "That''s what they want. You think the lads are ready for that?" Jake gave it some thinking. Although his players were excited for this game, it wasn''t necessarily a positive thing. He needed to keep their attention. "That''s my job," Jake said. "Tomorrow, we go in there and play football. Let them lose their heads." Paul grinned. "And if they try to kick us off the pitch?" Jake smirked. "Then we''ll punish them on the scoreboard." Matchday The crowd was electric as Bradford stepped onto the pitch. Fans crowded the stands and chanted loudly. The rivalry between these two clubs had flared up during their previous meeting, and now that the FA Cup is on the line, the atmosphere felt much more intense. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching his players warm up. The returning Ahmed Saidi was stretching on the sidelines¡ªhis first game back after two months out. The fans cheered his name. Jake glanced over at the Gillingham players. They were already looking for trouble¡ªpushing, shoving, talking trash. "Same old Gillingham," Jake muttered under his breath. He turned to his team and clapped his hands. "Listen up!" Every player locked in. "They''re going to foul. They''re going to waste time. They''re going to try to drag you into fights. Ignore all of it." He pointed toward the pitch. "We play our game. Fast passing, movement, clinical finishing. Let them kick shadows." His players nodded. They were ready. Starting XI (4-3-3 Formation) Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Defenders: James Richards (RB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Lewis Hart (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Alejandro Ortega (CM) Ryan Carter (CM) Forwards: Renan Silva (RW) Joe Thompson (ST) jamie Collins (LW) Jake opted for his strongest lineup. Carter and Ortega controlled midfield, while Silva and Collins provided pace on the wings. Thompson, in red-hot form, started up front. The referee blew the whistle. Kickoff. It was time for payback. First Half 5th Minute The first few minutes were cagey, with both teams testing each other. But then, Gillingham made their move. Ortega picked up the ball in midfield and turned¡ªbefore he could pass, BANG! A Gillingham midfielder smashed into him from behind. Ortega hit the ground hard. Jake stepped forward, arms outstretched. "Are you kidding me?! That''s a foul!" The referee waved play on. Paul cursed. "It''s happening already." Jake clenched his jaw. The officials were letting things go. That meant one thing¡ªGillingham would push the limits. 15th Minute Gillingham''s aggressive approach had a flaw¡ªthey left gaps at the back. And Bradford was too sharp not to exploit it. Collins picked up the ball on the left wing, his pace immediately forcing the Gillingham right-back into a backpedal. Instead of forcing a cross, Collins cut inside, drawing two defenders toward him. Jake leaned forward on the sideline. Now! Find the gap! Collins delayed just enough to bait the center-back forward before threading a perfectly weighted pass into Carter''s feet. Carter didn''t hesitate¡ªa one-touch flick between two defenders¡ªstraight into the path of Silva, who had made a late run into the box. One touch to set himself. One touch to shoot. The Brazilian struck it low and hard toward the near post! Gillingham''s keeper dived¡ªtoo late! GOAL! (1-0 Bradford!) Valley Parade erupted! The fans roared as Silva sprinted toward the corner flag, arms spread wide in celebration. On the sideline, Jake clenched his fists and let out a sharp breath. That''s how you respond! Collins ran over, jumping onto Silva''s back as the rest of the team followed, mobbing the winger in celebration. Meanwhile, Gillingham''s players looked at each other, frustration growing. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their plan had been clear¡ªrattle Bradford with early fouls, break their rhythm, and take control. But now? They were the ones on the back foot. Jake turned to Paul, his assistant. "Their game plan is failing. They''ll start getting desperate." Paul nodded. "More fouls incoming." Jake smirked. "Good. Let them lose control. We''ll punish them again." 30th Minute Bradford kept control, moving the ball with speed. Ortega, who had been targeted early, finally found space and launched a beautiful diagonal pass toward Thompson. Thompson chested it down, let the ball bounce once, then hammered it past the keeper! GOAL! (2-0 Bradford!) Jake grinned. "Clinical." Gillingham were losing their composure. 38th Minute Gillingham had no answer to Bradford''s football. So they resorted to dirty tricks. A late challenge on Lowe sent him flying. No yellow card. Carter was shoved off the ball after the whistle. No yellow card. Then, in the 44th minute, a Gillingham defender clattered into Silva after he passed the ball. Jake exploded off the bench. "THAT''S A FOUL!" The referee finally gave a yellow card. Jake smirked. "Took you long enough." Halftime The whistle blew. Bradford 2-0 Gillingham. Jake and his staff walked into the dressing room to a confident but focused squad. Jake stood in front of them. "You''re doing everything right. Keep your heads. They''re trying to turn this into a brawl because they know they can''t beat us with football." He pointed at Carter and Ortega. "You two¡ªdictate the tempo. Don''t let them rush you." Finally, he turned to the whole squad. "Finish this game the right way." They nodded. Saidi stood up from the bench, stretching. "Boss¡­ I''m ready." Jake gave him a look. "You''ll get your minutes." He smiled. The second half was coming. And Bradford were one step away from the next round. Chapter 51 - 51: A Dominant Second Half & A Statement Victory ( BRADFORD VS GILLINGHAM) PART 2 Halftime Adjustments The dressing room was calm but focused. Bradford led 2-0, and the players knew they were in control. Jake stood at the front of the room, looking over his team. "This game is ours to lose. Stay disciplined. They''ll come out swinging in the second half, desperate to get back into it." He turned to Carter and Ortega. "You two keep the ball moving. Don''t let them rush you. Make them chase shadows." He nodded at Silva and Collins. "If they push up too high, punish them on the counter." Then he looked at Saidi, who was standing near the substitutes'' bench, stretching. "How do you feel?" Saidi smirked. "Ready." Jake thought about it. The game was well in control, but he wanted to ease Saidi back into the squad after his injury. "Give it ten minutes," Jake said. "Then I''ll bring you on." Saidi nodded, his expression eager. Jake clapped his hands. "Alright, finish the job." Second Half ¨C Bradford Takes Full Control As both teams stepped back onto the pitch, Jake observed the tactical shift immediately. Gillingham had pushed their defensive line higher¡ªa desperate attempt to claw their way back into the game. Jake smirked on the sidelines. "They''ve played right into our hands." With a higher defensive line, Gillingham had left massive gaps behind. They were committing more bodies forward, hoping to pin Bradford back. But Jake''s team thrived in these situations. They had the speed. They had the precision. And most importantly? They had the patience to strike at the perfect moment. 50th Minute ¨C The Killer Blow Just as Jake had predicted, Gillingham threw too many men forward. Their midfielders advanced too aggressively, leaving their backline exposed. And then¡ªtheir mistake came. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A sloppy sideways pass across midfield. Carter saw it instantly. The midfielder lunged forward, intercepted the pass, and immediately turned defense into attack. Bradford''s transition was lightning-fast. Carter didn''t even take a touch¡ªhe sent the ball straight to Ortega. Ortega barely needed a moment to assess the pitch. He already knew where the danger was. One glance. One perfectly weighted through ball. Straight into Collins'' path. The winger exploded down the left flank, beating his marker with sheer pace. The entire stadium could feel it. This was it. One-on-one with the keeper. Collins took a single touch to set himself¡ªthen slotted the ball calmly into the bottom corner! GOAL! (3-0 Bradford!) Valley Parade erupted! Jake pumped his fist, roaring in approval. "That''s how you punish them!" The fans were on their feet, chanting Collins'' name. Meanwhile, Gillingham''s players? They looked broken. Hands on their heads. Slumped shoulders. The fight had been drained from them. Jake turned to Paul, smirking. "Game over." Paul chuckled. "They''re done." Bradford had completely outplayed them. Now? It was just about how many more they would score. 55th Minute Jake turned to his assistant, Paul Roberts. "Alright, it''s time." He gestured to Saidi and Thompson. ???? Ahmed Saidi ON, Nathan Barnes OFF ???? Joe Thompson OFF, Lukas Novak ON The Valley Parade crowd erupted as Saidi stepped onto the pitch. It had been two long months since his injury, and the fans welcomed him back with thunderous applause. "Take control of the backline," Jake instructed Saidi. "Ease into the game, don''t force anything." Saidi grinned. "I got this, boss." 65th Minute Novak, who had just come on, immediately made an impact. Richards whipped a cross into the box¡ªNovak rose above his marker and buried a header into the top corner. GOAL! (4-0 Bradford!) Jake smiled. Novak was still recovering from his injury, but his instincts never faded. Gillingham looked completely beaten. 70th Minute Jake made two final changes to keep players fresh. ???? Jamie Collins OFF, Diego Castell¨®n ON ???? Renan Silva OFF, Jamie Lowe ON Collins and Silva had done their job, and now Jake wanted fresh legs for the final stretch. "We''re controlling everything," Paul said beside him. Jake nodded. "Let''s finish it strong." 78th Minute Bradford were toying with Gillingham at this point. The visitors were barely pressing anymore, sitting deep just to avoid further humiliation. But Carter wasn''t done. Ortega slipped a ball into Novak, who flicked it back first-time¡ªstraight into Carter''s path. The midfielder took one touch and drilled a low shot into the bottom corner. GOAL! (5-0 Bradford!) The fans were in full voice now. Jake chuckled. "We''re making a statement today." Paul nodded. "This is what a promotion team looks like." 88th Minute With two minutes left, Bradford won a corner. Ortega jogged over to take it, looking around before whipping in a deep cross. The ball flew over the first wave of players and dropped toward Saidi, who was unmarked at the far post. He leapt into the air, twisting his body, and smashed a powerful header past the helpless keeper. GOAL! (6-0 Bradford!) Saidi ran to the corner flag, roaring in celebration. Jake grinned. "Welcome back, big man." The final whistle blew. Bradford City 6-0 Gillingham. A statement victory. Post-Match Jake entered the press room with a smirk. The reporters were eager to get his thoughts. "Jake, an incredible 6-0 win. What do you think made the difference today?" Jake nodded. "We stayed disciplined. We knew how they wanted to play, and we didn''t let them drag us into a fight. Instead, we punished them with football." "Saidi made his return today and even scored. How big is that for the team?" Jake smiled. "Saidi is a warrior. Two months out is a long time, but he worked hard to get back, and you saw today¡ªhe''s still got it." "You''re now moving on to the FA Cup third round. Any preference on who you face?" Jake shook his head. "We''ll play whoever comes next. But right now, we celebrate this win." The conference ended, but the buzz around Bradford was growing. This wasn''t just a promotion-level team anymore. They were a force to be reckoned with. And the next challenge? Chelsea in the Carabao Cup. Jake exhaled as he left the press room. The biggest match of his career was coming. And he was ready. Chapter 52 - 52: Training, Tactics & FA Cup Madness Bradford Training Ground The morning sun barely crept over the horizon as Jake arrived at the training ground, coffee in hand, eyes locked on his clipboard. The Carabao Cup quarter-final against Chelsea was just days away, and every second of preparation counted. Bradford had never faced a team of Chelsea''s caliber before. It wasn''t just about tactics¡ªit was about mentality. If they stepped onto that pitch starstruck, it would be over before it even started. Jake walked onto the field where his squad was already warming up. The energy was intense. Every player knew what was at stake. "Alright, listen up!" Jake clapped his hands to gather their attention. "We have two choices. We can either show up, enjoy the moment, take some pictures¡ªthen get embarrassed. Or¡­ we can go to war." The players exchanged looks, determination settling in. "Make no mistake," Jake continued. "Chelsea expects to roll over us. They think we''re some League Two side lucky to be here. They think we''ll freeze under the lights of Stamford Bridge." He paused, his voice dropping into something more dangerous. "Let''s show them they''re wrong." A murmur of agreement spread through the squad. Paul stepped forward, arms crossed. "So what''s the plan, boss?" Jake turned to the tactics board. The system had already analyzed Chelsea''s weaknesses, and now it was time to drill those insights into the squad. System Tactical Insights ¨C Chelsea''s Key Strengths & Weaknesses ???? Chelsea''s Strengths: ? World-class individual talent ¨C Players who could change the game in an instant. ? Fast, aggressive pressing ¨C If Bradford lost the ball, Chelsea would swarm them instantly. ? Deadly in transition ¨C One mistake, and Chelsea would punish them on the counter. ???? Chelsea''s Weaknesses: ? High defensive line ¨C Their center-backs left gaps behind them, vulnerable to fast wingers. ? Midfield struggles against compact blocks ¨C If Bradford stayed disciplined, Chelsea could get frustrated. ? Overcommitting forward ¨C They loved attacking but could be caught out when possession was lost. Jake folded his arms as he reviewed the data. This wasn''t just about defending deep and surviving¡ªthey needed a clear strategy to take advantage of Chelsea''s weaknesses. The biggest threat? Cole Palmer. Cole Palmer Since arriving from Manchester City, Palmer had been on fire for Chelsea in the Premier League. ???? Cole Palmer ¨C 2023 Season Stats: ? 9 Goals ???? 6 Assists ???? 4 Man of the Match Performances He had adapted instantly to Chelsea''s attack, playing as an inside forward drifting into central areas. Jake studied the system''s player analysis: ???? Player Profile ¨C Cole Palmer ???? Strengths: ? Exceptional dribbling & ball control ¨C Could glide past defenders effortlessly. ? Dangerous long shots ¨C Any space outside the box and he''d fire one. ? Vision & passing ¨C Created key chances with his movement and link-up play. ? Weaknesses: ? Prefers cutting inside from the right ¨C Could be forced onto his weaker foot. ? Not physically strong ¨C Could be bullied off the ball if pressured quickly. Jake turned to his assistant, Paul Roberts. "We need to shut Palmer down. He''s their biggest creative threat." Paul nodded. "So, what''s the plan?" "We double-team him whenever he''s on the ball. Force him wide. No space to shoot." Jake paused, then smirked. "And when we get the ball?" Paul grinned. "We go straight for their backline." Training Session Jake divided the training session into three main focuses: 1?? Defensive Shape ¨C Absorbing Pressure & Containing Palmer Saidi & Barnes were tasked with marking Palmer closely. Lowe & Ortega practiced cutting off passing lanes to Palmer. Jake drilled his team on staying compact¡ªChelsea would press, but Bradford had to stay patient. 2?? Quick Counterattacks ¨C Exploiting Chelsea''s High Line Silva and Castell¨®n practiced making diagonal runs behind the defense. Carter and Ortega worked on quick forward passes under pressure. Novak and Thompson took turns finishing one-on-one situations against the keeper. 3?? Set-Piece Drills ¨C Targeting Chelsea''s Weakness Chelsea struggled with defending corners and free kicks. Fletcher, Saidi, and Novak were trained on winning aerial duels in the box. Silva practiced delivering pinpoint set-pieces. Paul whistled as he watched. "We''re really going for it, huh?" Jake smirked. "If we sit back for 90 minutes, they''ll kill us. We have to fight." FA Cup Third Round Announcement After training, the squad gathered inside the locker room. The FA Cup draw was about to be announced. The players huddled around the TV screen as the fixtures rolled in. And then¡ª Bradford City vs. Manchester City Silence. Then¡ª "YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!" Silva shook his head in disbelief. "First Chelsea, now City? What''s next, Real Madrid?" Ortega laughed. "At this rate, we might as well book a Champions League spot." Even Jake couldn''t help but smile. Chelsea in the Carabao Cup. Man City in the FA Cup. Two of the best teams in England. Two impossible challenges. And yet, his squad wasn''t afraid. Carter grinned. "Nobody thinks we''ll win these games, right?" Jake nodded. "Exactly." Thompson smirked. "So let''s prove them wrong." Press Conference The next day, Jake walked into a packed press room. The journalists wasted no time. ???? "How do you prepare for Chelsea?" Jake leaned forward. "By making sure we don''t just show up to admire them¡ªwe show up to beat them." ???? "Bradford drew Manchester City in the FA Cup. Do you think that''s unfair?" Jake chuckled. "We wanted big games. We got them. No complaints." ???? "How do you handle two massive matches like this back-to-back?" Jake smirked. "One game at a time. Chelsea first. Then we think about City." The media was shocked by his confidence. They expected him to say Bradford would just "enjoy the moment." Instead, Jake made one thing clear¡ªBradford wasn''t here to participate. They were here to fight. Final Thought Later that night, Jake sat in his office, watching Chelsea''s match footage one last time. November Fixtures: FA Cup Second Round vs. Gillingham ¨C A war. Which they won. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Four League Two Matches ¨C The promotion race continues. Played two already. December Fixtures: Carabao Cup Quarter-Final vs. Chelsea ¨C The biggest test yet. The next match. Six league matches Then Man-city vs BRADFORD Two different battles. One against a brutal, physical team. One against a world-class, dominant team. Jake exhaled. They had one week to get ready. And when the time came? Bradford would be ready to shock the world. Chapter 53 - 53: Pre-Match & Tactical Preparations (Chelsea Vs Bradford) The Carabao Cup Quarter-Finals. Stamford Bridge. Chelsea vs. Bradford City. For Chelsea, this was just another cup tie¡ªone they were expected to win comfortably. For Bradford? This was history. No League Two team had ever reached the Carabao Cup semi-finals. No League Two team had ever knocked out a club of Chelsea''s size at this stage. And the world didn''t believe it could happen now. ???? Sky Sports: "Bradford''s fairytale ends here." ???? The Guardian: "Chelsea vs. League Two opposition? A training exercise." ???? TalkSport: "This is going to be a massacre." Jake Wilson read every headline. He heard the pundits laughing. He saw the fans predicting a five or six-goal loss. Good. Let them talk. Bradford had defied the odds before. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And tonight? They''d do it again. Opponent Analysis ¨C The Chelsea Machine Jake sat in his office, staring at the system''s breakdown of Chelsea. Strengths: ? World-class midfield ¨C Enzo Fern¨¢ndez and Mois¨¦s Caicedo dictated games with ease. ? Aggressive pressing ¨C Cole Palmer and Sterling forced defenders into mistakes. ? Deadly transition play ¨C Nkunku and Jackson thrived in counterattacks. Weaknesses: ? High defensive line ¨C Left space behind for fast counterattacks. ? Set-piece struggles ¨C Weak in defending aerial deliveries. Jake''s mind raced. There was a way to hurt them. The Blueprint to Beating Chelsea: Defend deep. Absorb pressure. Hit them on the break. Use pacey wingers¡ªSilva, Castell¨®n, and Collins¡ªto exploit the space behind their full-backs. Stay disciplined¡ªChelsea would punish mistakes. He tapped the table. This was the plan. He had already drilled it into the squad during training. Now, it was time to execute. Starting Lineups ¨C David vs. Goliath Chelsea Starting XI (4-2-3-1 Formation) Goalkeeper: Robert S¨¢nchez Defenders: Reece James (RB) Thiago Silva (CB) Axel Disasi (CB) Ben Chilwell (LB) Midfielders: Mois¨¦s Caicedo (CDM) Enzo Fern¨¢ndez (CDM) Cole Palmer (CAM) Forwards: Raheem Sterling (RW) Christopher Nkunku (ST) Mykhailo Mudryk (LW) Bradford Starting XI (4-3-3 Defensive Setup) Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Defenders: James Richards (RB) Nathan Barnes (CB) Noah Fletcher (CB) Aiden Taylor (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM) Alejandro Ortega (CM) Ryan Carter (CM) Forwards: Diego Castell¨®n (LW) Joe Thompson (ST) Jamie Collins (RW) Jake had chosen a compact, defensive approach. Low block. Absorb pressure. Hit them on the counter. He wasn''t here to play beautiful football. He was here to win. System Prediction System Simulation Results: Bradford Win Probability: 10% Draw Probability: 20% Chelsea Win Probability: 70% Jake exhaled, staring at the numbers. The system had never given him less than a 20% chance before. This wasn''t just an uphill battle. This was Mount Everest. Paul Roberts, his assistant, walked into the office, holding a coffee. "The pundit are giving us no chance?" Paul asked, sipping his drink. Jake scoffed. "Ten percent. They''re calling this a massacre before we even step onto the pitch." Paul smirked. "So what you''re saying is, we''ve got a chance." Jake grinned. That''s why he loved Paul. Because football wasn''t played by numbers. Football was played on the pitch. And tonight? Bradford City was ready for war. Pre-Match Press Conference A packed media room. Dozens of cameras flashing. Journalists waiting for their soundbites. Jake sat down at the table, Chelsea''s manager next to him. First question: "Jake, do you honestly believe Bradford has a chance tonight?" Jake smirked. "If we didn''t, we wouldn''t have come." Some reporters chuckled. Others scribbled notes. Second question: "Your team has been incredible in the cup, but this is Chelsea. A top Premier League side. How do you prepare for a game like this?" Jake leaned forward. "By remembering that football is 90 minutes. Chelsea''s a brilliant team, but the scoreboard starts at 0-0. It''s up to us to decide how it ends." Final question: "How do you plan to handle Cole Palmer? He''s been in incredible form in the Premier League." Jake nodded. "Palmer''s a fantastic player. But he''s just one of many threats Chelsea has. We''ll have to be at our best, but we''re not here to focus on one player¡ªwe''re here to play our game." The press conference ended. Now? It was time. The Walkout ¨C The Moment Before Battle The tunnel was silent, except for the occasional shuffle of boots against the cold concrete floor. The stadium above them rumbled¡ª40,000 Chelsea fans chanting, singing, ready to watch their team dismantle a League Two side. But down here? It was just them. Okafor bounced on his toes, his breathing steady but controlled. His eyes, dark with focus, stayed locked ahead. He had faced pressure before¡ªbut never like this. Collins rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly. His fingers twitched, his body itching for the game to begin. This was the biggest stage of his life. Carter clenched his fists, jaw tight. He lived for these moments. The doubt from the media? The disrespect? He was going to shut them all up. At the very front of the line, Joe Thompson cracked his neck, then turned his head slightly, glancing toward the Chelsea players beside him. Chelsea''s Cole Palmer stood just a few feet away, unfazed, relaxed. He had been playing against Premier League defenders every week. To him, this was just another match. To Bradford? This was war. Jake slowly walked down the line of his players, locking eyes with each of them. Every face told a different story. Some were calm. Some were nervous. Some were already burning with fire. He stopped in front of Novak. The striker, despite missing the last few matches with an injury, looked hungry. He had been rested, but Jake knew Novak wasn''t the type to ease into a game. "How''s the ankle?" Jake asked. Novak smirked. "Ask me after I score." Jake chuckled and moved on. Next was Ortega, who was stretching his shoulders, eyes closed, whispering something under his breath. A ritual. A prayer. Whatever it was, Jake didn''t interrupt. Ortega would be the heartbeat of their midfield tonight. Finally, Jake reached the end of the line and turned back to face them all. He took a deep breath. "Whatever happens tonight," he said, voice low but firm, "we leave everything on that pitch." They nodded. A loud horn blared. The tunnel doors swung open. BOOM. The roar of Stamford Bridge hit them like a tidal wave. The Chelsea fans, loud and hostile, greeted them with deafening noise. They weren''t here to watch a contest. They were here to watch an execution. Bradford stepped forward. The grass under the floodlights looked brighter than ever. The white lines perfectly painted. The goalposts gleaming. Across from them, Chelsea''s players strolled onto the field with the confidence of champions. Cole Palmer, Raheem Sterling, Enzo Fern¨¢ndez. Premier League stars. Jake took one step onto the pitch. He smiled. Let''s shock the world Chapter 54 - 54: CHELSEA VS BRADFORD ( FIRST HALF) The roar of Stamford Bridge still echoed as the referee blew his whistle. Bradford City were officially playing in the Carabao Cup Quarter-Final. Jake stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Chelsea expected them to crumble. But what they didn''t know? Bradford weren''t here to survive. They were here to fight. Kickoff Chelsea immediately pushed forward, asserting dominance with sharp passing and quick movement. Cole Palmer drifted into space, linking up with Raheem Sterling on the left. The Premier League giants were confident, patient, waiting for the inevitable collapse from their "inferior" opponents. But Bradford? They didn''t panic. They defended smart. The midfield trio of Carter, Ortega, and Lowe stayed compact, cutting off passing lanes. The back five absorbed pressure, forcing Chelsea into wide areas where crosses could be dealt with. And then¡ªBradford struck first. 12th Minute Chelsea were camped high up the pitch. Palmer tried to slip a ball into the box, but Barnes intercepted and immediately launched a counterattack. Carter took one touch. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ortega sprinted forward. Silva, Novak, and Collins broke into space. The Stamford Bridge crowd sensed danger. Carter slid a perfect pass through the middle¡ªNovak was in! The Czech striker raced into the box, one-on-one with the keeper. He opened up his body¡ªcalmly slotted it into the bottom corner! GOAL! 1-0 BRADFORD! Silence. A moment of pure disbelief inside Stamford Bridge. Bradford''s players sprinted toward Novak, mobbing him. Jake clenched his fist, nodding once. They had Chelsea exactly where they wanted them. Chelsea, embarrassed, immediately turned up the intensity. 18th minute: Palmer fired a long-range shot¡ªOkafor dived low and saved brilliantly. 24th minute: Chelsea won a dangerous free kick¡ª Reece James whipped it in, but Barnes cleared it with a towering header. 27th minute: Sterling cut inside, curled a shot¡ªOFF THE POST! Bradford were bending, but they refused to break. Jake''s voice was loud from the touchline. "Stay compact! Keep frustrating them!" 36th Minute Bradford weren''t just defending. They were waiting for the right moment to strike again. And in the 36th minute? That moment came. Ortega picked up the ball in midfield. Silva made a diagonal run, dragging a defender out of position. Collins exploited the space behind Chelsea''s high line. Ortega spotted it. He played a perfect lofted pass over the top. Collins controlled it with one touch¡ªand smashed it past the keeper! GOAL! 2-0 BRADFORD! Jake turned to Paul, his assistant. "They still think we''re a League Two team," he smirked. Chelsea players looked at each other in shock. This wasn''t supposed to happen. Chelsea Pile On The Pressure Jake knew the storm was coming. There was no way Chelsea would accept being outplayed by a League Two side at Stamford Bridge. The goal had stunned them, but now? Now, they were angry. And an angry Chelsea was a dangerous Chelsea. Bradford braced for impact. 41st Minute The pressure was relentless. Chelsea smelled blood after conceding twice, and now, they were throwing everything forward. Cole Palmer, Chelsea''s most dangerous player so far, drifted into a pocket of space between Carter and Ortega, just outside the box. Jake''s eyes narrowed. Danger. Ortega lunged in¡ªtoo slow. Palmer rolled past him effortlessly, his low center of gravity making it look easy. A quick flick of his right foot and the ball zipped through a gap between Barnes and Fletcher¡ªperfectly weighted. Jake''s stomach dropped. Nkunku was already on the move. The Frenchman took one touch¡ªthen another¡ªhis speed electric as he surged into the box. The entire stadium held its breath. Nkunku was one-on-one with Okafor. Jake barely had time to react before his goalkeeper exploded off his line. Okafor read the play in an instant, closing the angle, his towering frame cutting off the near post. Nkunku cocked his foot back¡ªready to fire. Then¡ªBOOM! Okafor threw himself left, arms outstretched. The shot ripped through the air¡ªbut Okafor''s glove got there first! A stunning, point-blank save! The force of the shot sent the ball spinning into the air. Jake''s heart pounded. Still dangerous. The rebound fell to Enzo Fern¨¢ndez, storming into the box, eyes locked on the loose ball. A golden chance. Jake opened his mouth to shout, but¡ª Fletcher hurled himself forward, throwing his body in the way! The ball smashed into his ribs. Fletcher crashed to the ground, gasping for breath, but he had done his job. Richards rushed in, smashing the loose ball into the stands. Bradford had survived. For now. The away fans erupted into cheers, their voices drowning out Stamford Bridge. Okafor jumped to his feet, pumping his fist. "Let''s go!" Jake turned to Paul, a smirk playing on his lips. "They''re getting desperate." Paul exhaled. "Yeah, but we can''t hold them off forever." Jake didn''t blink. "We don''t need forever. We just need 45 more minutes." 44th Minute Chelsea weren''t done. Reece James, a set-piece master, stood over the ball near the right wing, preparing to whip in another dangerous delivery. Jake narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly where this was going. The ball swung in with wicked pace, curling toward the six-yard box. Thiago Silva rose highest, towering over Richards, ready to meet it¡ª But Nathan Barnes got there first. The young center-back stretched out a desperate toe, redirecting the ball just enough to send it wide of the far post. The Stamford Bridge crowd groaned. Chelsea kept coming. Nkunku tried again in the 45th minute, cutting inside and firing from 20 yards¡ªFletcher blocked it. Palmer attempted a low drive from the edge of the box¡ªOkafor smothered it. Jake paced the touchline, watching as his team refused to break. Chelsea were throwing everything at them. But Bradford? They held the line. And then¡ª The halftime whistle blew. Bradford City led 2-0 at Stamford Bridge. The entire stadium sat in stunned silence. Jake walked down the tunnel, his players following behind, heads held high. He had 45 minutes to pull off the biggest upset in Carabao Cup history. But he knew one thing for sure¡ª Chelsea weren''t done yet. Halftime Jake walked into the dressing room, face unreadable. His players sat down, still breathing heavily. Novak wiped sweat from his forehead. Collins couldn''t stop smiling. But Jake? He kept them grounded. "Breathe." The room fell silent. "We played a great half. But it''s only half." He walked toward the tactics board. "Chelsea are going to throw everything at us now. We need to stay disciplined." He pointed at Ortega and Lowe. "Control the tempo. We''re not here to park the bus. We absorb, and we counter when the space opens up." Finally, he turned toward Okafor. "Be ready. They''re going to take more risks." Okafor nodded firmly. Jake exhaled and looked at every single player. "We are 45 minutes away from history." The second half was about to begin. And Chelsea? They were about to unleash hell. Chapter 55 - 55: CHELSEA VS BRADFORD (SECOND HALF) Second Half Jake had barely settled into his seat for the second half when Chelsea came out swinging. They played faster, sharper, and more ruthless. Bradford had expected a storm. But this? This was an avalanche. Jake didn''t even have time to give instructions before the onslaught began. Pochettino had clearly told his players one thing at halftime: Fix it. And Chelsea responded. 47th minute ¨C Cole Palmer drifted inside, picking up the ball between the lines. Ortega stepped forward to press¡ªtoo late. A quick turn¡ªPalmer was free. A split-second pass to Nkunku inside the box. Nathan Barnes lunged in¡ªjust enough to disrupt Nkunku''s shot, which bounced wide. Jake exhaled. That was close. ???? 48th minute ¨C . Reece James, their captain, bombed forward. Collins tracked him but couldn''t keep up. James whipped in a deadly cross. Mudryk came flying in at the back post¡ªready to tap it in¡ª Fletcher threw himself at it, getting a vital touch to send the ball out for a corner. Jake clenched his fists. They were suffocating us. 52nd minute James delivered an inswinger¡ªthe ball curled dangerously into the six-yard box. Fletcher leaped and barely managed to clear it. Mudryk was waiting¡ªhe took a touch, set himself¡ª Barnes flew in with a brilliant block, sending the ball bouncing out of play. 55th minute ¨C Enzo Fern¨¢ndez picked up a loose ball 30 yards out. Jake barely had time to react before Enzo let it fly. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A rocket¡ªcurling toward the top corner. Okafor sprang to his left, stretching every muscle in his body¡ª Fingertips save! The Nigerian keeper managed to tip it over the bar. The Stamford Bridge crowd groaned. Bradford were surviving, but for how much longer? Jake turned to Paul. "They''re overwhelming us. We need fresh legs." 60th Minute Jake didn''t hesitate. ???? Substitution: Ortega OFF, Benson ON (More defensive stability) ???? Substitution: Collins OFF, Castell¨®n ON (Fresh legs for counterattacks) The adjustments had an immediate impact. Benson slotted into midfield, calming the play down, offering an extra shield in front of the backline. Castell¨®n gave Bradford speed on the left, forcing Chelsea''s right-back to stay cautious. For the next five minutes, Bradford absorbed pressure but looked far more composed. Then¡ªa moment of magic nearly ended the game. 65th Minute One counterattack. One perfect moment. That was all Jake had asked for. And they got it. Chelsea pushed everyone forward. Bradford finally won the ball back¡ªCarter intercepted a lazy pass from Enzo Fern¨¢ndez. The Chelsea midfield was out of position. Carter sprinted forward, eyes scanning ahead. Novak was peeling off his marker, timing his run perfectly. A killer through ball. Jake shot to his feet. Novak was in one-on-one. He took one touch into the box. Chelsea''s keeper, Robert S¨¢nchez, charged out¡ªarms wide. Novak opened up his body¡ªfaking near post before firing low to the far corner. Jake held his breath. For one second¡ªtime slowed down. The ball was rolling in¡ª Then¡ªa leg. S¨¢nchez stuck out a desperate foot. The ball clipped his shin, spinning just wide of the post. Jake grabbed his head. That was it. That was the moment. That was the game. And then¡ªChelsea punished them. 72nd Minute Reece james lifted a pinpoint cross into the box. Mudryk ghosted in at the back post, lost his marker, and headed it past Okafor. GOAL. 2-1. Stamford Bridge exploded. Jake clenched his jaw. 20 minutes to survive. 77th Minute Bradford were hanging on¡ªbut the pressure was relentless. Palmer received the ball at the edge of the box, danced past two defenders, and unleashed a rocket into the top corner. GOAL. 2-2. Jake didn''t even react. Chelsea had completely flipped the game. And there was still time left. 80th Minute ???? Substitution: Novak OFF, Thompson ON (Novak exhausted) ???? Substitution: Carter OFF, Lowe ON (Extra defensive cover) ???? Chelsea: Thiago Silva OFF, Levi Colwill ON ???? Chelsea: Nkunku OFF, Jackson ON Bradford needed to survive for just 10 more minutes. But Chelsea weren''t settling for extra time. They wanted the kill. 90+1 Minute Disaster. reece james sent in a low-driven free kick. Chaos in the box. The ball ricocheted off Fletcher''s shin and fell straight to Jackson he reacted instantly, smashing it past Okafor from six yards out. GOAL. 3-2 Chelsea. Jake''s heart sank. The dream was slipping away. 90+3 Minute Chelsea were pushing for a winner, committing almost everyone forward. Okafor caught a cross and launched a long throw to Silva. Silva immediately broke forward, sprinting past Cucurella on the right wing. Bradford had a 3v3 counterattack. Silva cut inside and played an inch-perfect pass to Thompson, just outside the box. Novak took one touch to set himself¡ªthen unleashed a rocket into the top corner! GOAL! (3-3!!!) The Bradford bench EXPLODED! Novak sprinted toward the away fans, arms stretched, roaring into the night. Jake punched the air. "YES! THAT''S HOW YOU FIGHT!" 90+7 Minute Bradford threw everyone forward, searching for a win A mistake. Chelsea launched one final counterattack. Palmer carried the ball into space, played a one-two with Enzo, then slipped it to jackson One-on-one with Okafor. A simple finish. GOAL. 4-3 Chelsea. Stamford Bridge erupted. Jake closed his eyes. They had fought. They had led. But in the end, Chelsea were just too strong. Full-Time The final whistle blew. Chelsea''s players celebrated. Bradford''s players collapsed to the ground. Carter sat with his head in his hands. Novak stared blankly at the scoreboard. Jake? He walked onto the pitch. One by one, he pulled his players up. No shame. No regrets. They had given Chelsea everything they could handle. And the world had noticed. Post-Match Press Conference The media room was packed. Jake sat down, his expression calm. The first question hit immediately. ???? "Jake, you were leading at halftime. What went wrong?" Jake exhaled. "Chelsea showed their quality. We played our hearts out, but in football, moments decide games. They took their moments better." Another journalist raised a hand. ???? "Bradford were minutes away from extra time. Do you think the team lost focus?" Jake shook his head. "No. We defended with everything we had. They just had the extra edge in the final moments." Then came the big question. ???? "You took the lead against Chelsea. Does this prove that Bradford City is ready for a higher level?" Jake smirked. "We''re not there yet. But we will be." The headlines the next day? ???? "Jake Wilson''s Bradford Push Chelsea to the Limit!" ???? "League Two Underdogs Almost Shock the Giants!" ???? "A Sign of Things to Come?" Jake walked out of the press room, his mind already shifting. The Carabao Cup was over. Now? it was a match against mancity, and also It was time to win the league. Chapter 56 - 56: Bouncing Back from Heartbreak The defeat to Chelsea still lingered in the air. Bradford had come within minutes of forcing extra time against a Premier League giant. They had led 2-0, fought back to 3-3, and then lost it all in the dying seconds. For Jake Wilson, that match wasn''t just a near-upset. It was proof. Proof that his team could fight at the highest level. But the world of football was ruthless¡ªthere was no time to dwell. League Two was still in full swing. The FA Cup third-round tie against Manchester City loomed. And if Bradford wanted to continue their incredible season, they had to move forward. Post-Chelsea: The Team''s Mentality At training the next day, Jake saw it immediately. The players were drained. Carter looked frustrated. Ortega barely spoke. Even Novak, usually the loudest on the pitch, trained in silence. Paul Roberts noticed it too. "They''re still thinking about the Chelsea match," Paul muttered as they watched the squad in a low-intensity drill. Jake crossed his arms. "They need to get over it." He clapped his hands, stepping forward. "Alright, listen up!" The players stopped, gathering around. "I know that loss hurt," Jake said. "I know it feels like we were that close to something special. But let me remind you of something." He looked each of them in the eyes. "We''re second in the league. We''ve beaten top clubs. We''ve proven that we belong at the highest level. That game wasn''t an ending¡ªit was just the beginning." He let that settle before smirking. "And the only way we prove that is by winning the next game." A few nods. Collins straightened his shoulders. Novak exhaled. The message was clear. It was time to move forward. Match 1 ¨C A Gritty 1-0 Victory ???? Opponent: Crawley Town (15th place, League Two) ???? Venue: Valley Parade (Home Match) The echoes of their heartbreaking defeat against Chelsea still lingered, but Jake Wilson had no time to dwell. The focus had shifted¡ªBradford City had a league to win. Crawley Town was a stubborn mid-table side, a team that sat deep and frustrated opponents with their low-block tactics. This wasn''t going to be a free-flowing, end-to-end game. This was going to be a battle of patience. Pre-Match & Tactical Adjustments Jake knew that some players were still fatigued from the high-intensity Chelsea game, so he rotated the squad slightly. Starting XI (4-3-3): Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Defenders: James Richards (RB), Nathan Barnes (CB), Noah Fletcher (CB), Aiden Taylor (LB) Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (CDM), Ryan Carter (CM), Alejandro Ortega (CM) Forwards: Renan Silva (RW), Lukas Novak (ST), Jamie Collins (LW) First Half From the opening whistle, Bradford dominated possession, but breaking through Crawley''s deep defensive line was proving to be a challenge. The visitors sat in two compact lines¡ªa 4-4-2 block¡ªleaving no space between their midfield and defense. Every time Ortega or Carter looked up for a passing lane, they saw a wall of red shirts. Jake paced the touchline, arms folded. "Move the ball faster!" he barked. "Make them work!" Bradford started shifting the ball from side to side, searching for gaps. Key First-Half Moments: 17th minute Collins played a sharp pass inside to Silva, who cut onto his left foot and unleashed a driven shot toward the bottom corner. Crawley''s goalkeeper, at full stretch, tipped it wide! A few groans from the home crowd. 28th minute Carter, seeing a rare gap in the Crawley defense, slid a perfect through-ball into the box. Novak timed his run, took a touch, and fired low toward the far post¡ª Inches wide. Novak clapped his hands in frustration. Jake nodded from the sideline. "Keep going. It''ll come." 42nd minute With Crawley defending deep, Ortega took matters into his own hands. He shifted the ball onto his right foot, 25 yards from goal, and let fly¡ª The ball dipped viciously¡­ SMASHED OFF THE CROSSBAR! Gasps filled Valley Parade. Crawley were hanging on. HALFTIME: Bradford 0-0 Crawley As the players walked into the dressing room, frustration was written all over their faces. Jake didn''t waste time. "Relax," he said, looking around the room. "This is what they want¡ªto frustrate us. But they can''t sit that deep forever." He pointed at Carter. "Keep making those runs. Find the gaps." Then he turned to Ortega. "Start feeding the wingers faster. Let them take players on." Finally, his eyes landed on Novak. "Be ready. Your moment will come." Novak exhaled and nodded. Jake clapped his hands. "Alright. Second half¡ªlet''s finish this." Second Half Bradford started the second half with more urgency. Instead of slow possession, they increased the tempo, moving the ball quicker, stretching Crawley''s defensive line. The visitors were tiring. Jake saw it immediately. ???? 60th Minute Thompson ON, Novak OFF (Fresh legs upfront¡ªThompson''s movement would disrupt Crawley''s defense.) Chapman ON, Lowe OFF (More attacking presence in midfield¡ªChapman added creativity.) Bradford kept probing. And then, in the 77th minute, the moment arrived. 77th Minute Bradford won a corner after Silva''s shot was deflected wide. Ortega whipped in a dangerous delivery toward the back post. Nathan Barnes¡ªBradford''s towering center-back¡ªrose highest, outjumping two Crawley defenders and powered a header into the roof of the net! GOAL! Valley Parade erupted! Barnes ran to the corner flag, pumping his fist. His teammates mobbed him. Jake smiled and turned to Paul Roberts. "That''s how you break a low block." Paul smirked. "You called it." Final 10 Minutes ¨C Defending the Lead Crawley finally started pushing forward, knowing they had to chase the game. 80th minute: Fletcher blocked a shot from their striker inside the box. 85th minute: Okafor claimed a dangerous cross, commanding his box well. 90th minute: Bradford won a free kick and played it short, keeping possession to kill the clock. The referee blew the final whistle. FINAL SCORE: Bradford 1-0 Crawley A hard-fought victory, but exactly what they needed. Barnes'' header was the difference. Jake shook hands with his players, already shifting his focus to the next game. Post-Match Reactions ????? Reporter: "Jake, a tough 1-0 win. Were you worried about the team''s energy after the Chelsea match?" ????? Jake: "Not at all. These guys are professionals. They know how to reset and move forward. Crawley made things difficult, but we stuck to our plan and got the win." ????? Reporter: "Nathan Barnes scored the winner. He''s been a key figure in your defense. How important is he to the team?" ????? Jake: "Massive. He''s a leader back there. And when we needed him today, he delivered." ????? Reporter: "You''ve bounced back with a win, but Manchester City awaits in the FA Cup. Any thoughts on that?" Jake chuckled. "Let''s just say¡­ we love a challenge." Match 2 ¨C Statement Performance (4-1 Win!) ???? Opponent: Grimsby Town (12th place, League Two) ???? Venue: Blundell Park (Away Match) Jake didn''t hold back in this one. He demanded dominance. Starting XI (4-2-3-1) ???? Goalkeeper: Okafor ???? Defenders: Richards (RB), Barnes (CB), Fletcher (CB), Hart (LB) ?? Midfielders: Lowe (CDM), Ortega (CM) Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ???? Attacking Mid: Carter ???? Forwards: Silva (RW), Novak (ST), Collins (LW) First Half ¨C Relentless Attack Bradford played like a team possessed. 12th minute: Novak opens the scoring with a sharp finish inside the box. (1-0!) 24th minute: Silva curls a beauty from 25 yards out! (2-0!) 38th minute: Collins smashes home a rebound after a Carter shot! (3-0!) HALFTIME: 3-0 Bradford. Second Half ¨C Control & Counterattack Bradford controlled the tempo after the break. 55th Minute ¨C Grimsby pulled one back from a scrappy corner. (3-1) ???? 62nd Minute ¨C Substitutions: Lowe OFF, Chapman ON (More defensive stability) Novak OFF, Thompson ON (Resting Novak) 78th Minute ¨C Carter seals it! (4-1!) Ortega found Carter at the edge of the box. Carter skipped past a defender and curled it into the top corner! FINAL SCORE: 4-1 Bradford. [Ding! New System Feature Unlocked] Squad Morale Analysis: Jake can now track player confidence, fatigue, and mindset. It reveals that Carter, Silva, and Ortega are in peak form. However, Novak is feeling exhausted¡ªJake makes a mental note to rotate him. Jake smirked. "This will be useful." FA Cup Third Round ¨C Manchester City Awaits The draw was brutal. ???? FA Cup Third Round: Bradford City vs. Manchester City ???? Pep Guardiola. Erling Haaland. Kevin De Bruyne. This wasn''t just any match. This was the toughest test yet. The media wasted no time writing Bradford off. ????? "Can League Two''s underdogs survive against the best team in England?" Jake''s response? "We''re not just here to survive. We''re here to compete." Conclusion Bradford bounce back from the Chelsea loss with two crucial league wins. The squad remains second in the table, firmly in the promotion race. New system feature unlocked¡ªSquad Morale Analysis. FA Cup third round brings a massive challenge: Manchester City. Jake Wilson? He wasn''t afraid. Chapter 57 - 57: Preparing for the Impossible (Manchester City FA Cup Clash) Bradford City had faced challenges before. But this? This was the ultimate test. Manchester City, the best team in England, awaited them in the FA Cup Third Round. Pep Guardiola''s dominant machine, a squad stacked with world-class players, was standing between Bradford and another fairy-tale moment. And nobody¡ªabsolutely nobody¡ªgave them a chance. Media Downplays Bradford''s Chances The football world had already written the match off. ???? The Guardian: "A routine win expected for Manchester City as they face League Two side Bradford City." ???? Sky Sports: "Jake Wilson''s magic run ends here¡ªCity too strong." ???? BBC Football: "Can Bradford even survive the first half?" Pundits debated the final scoreline rather than whether Bradford had a chance. ???? "City will put four past them by halftime." ???? "I''d be shocked if they don''t score at least seven." ???? "This is a complete mismatch." Jake saw every article. He watched every prediction. And he didn''t care. "Football isn''t played on paper." Bradford City had already defied expectations. Now? They had nothing to lose. System Analysis ¨C The Manchester City Machine Jake sat in his office, staring at the system''s tactical breakdown. A glowing screen loaded the opponent analysis. ???? [System Analysis ¨C Manchester City] Strengths: ? Best possession-based team in the world. ? Ruthless attacking movement¡ªconstant overloads. ? World-class individuals who can win games alone. ? Deadly from set-pieces. Weaknesses: ?? High defensive line¡ªvulnerable to counters. ?? Full-backs push high¡ªspace in behind. ?? Can struggle against ultra-defensive blocks. Jake leaned forward, taking it all in. The only way to survive this match? Defend deep. Stay compact. Hit them on the counter. Bradford wasn''t going to outplay City. But they could make life hell for them. Manchester City''s Star-Studded Squad If Chelsea had been tough, this was a different level. Manchester City had the best players in England, possibly the world. Jake pulled up their starting lineup. Manchester City Starting XI (4-3-3) ???? Goalkeeper: Ederson ¨C Best ball-playing keeper in the world. A sweeper-keeper who starts attacks. ???? Defenders: ?? Kyle Walker (RB) ¨C Lightning quick, impossible to outrun. ?? R¨²ben Dias (CB) ¨C The defensive leader, dominant in the air and on the ground. ?? John Stones (CB) ¨C Excellent passer, steps into midfield to overload opposition. ?? Jo?ko Gvardiol (LB) ¨C Versatile, strong in duels, contributes in attack. ?? Midfielders: ???? Rodri (CDM) ¨C The anchor, dictates the game with elite passing. ???? Kevin De Bruyne (CM) ¨C The biggest problem. A creative genius, capable of destroying any defense. ???? Bernardo Silva (CM) ¨C Press-resistant, dribbles past opponents with ease. ???? Forwards: ? Phil Foden (RW) ¨C Technically brilliant, quick, and deadly in front of goal. ? Erling Haaland (ST) ¨C The most feared striker in the world. A monster in the box. ? Jack Grealish (LW) ¨C A dribbling specialist, draws fouls and opens space for others. Bench Options (Just as scary): ?? Juli¨¢n ¨¢lvarez ¨C World Cup winner, clinical finisher. ?? Mateo Kova?i? ¨C Champions League-winning playmaker. ?? Rico Lewis ¨C A young talent who can step into midfield. Jake exhaled. This was an absolute nightmare. How do you stop Haaland? How do you press De Bruyne? How do you survive against a team that dominates every single opponent they face? Jake''s Tactical Setup ¨C The Only Way to Survive Jake knew there was only one way to approach this game. 1?? Defensive Block: Bradford would park the bus¡ª5-4-1 formation, two deep banks of defenders and midfielders. 2?? Frustrate City: Make the game ugly. Break the rhythm. Disrupt their passing. No space, no easy chances. 3?? Exploit Their High Line: City''s full-backs pushed high. That left space behind them. Silva and Collins had to be ready to counter at full speed. Training Sessions ¨C Preparing for the Impossible For the next four days, Jake transformed Bradford''s training ground into a war zone. Every session had one purpose: Prepare for 90 minutes of pure survival. Day 1 ¨C Defensive Shape & Compactness Jake started with a brutal defensive drill. The players were split into two teams¡ªone defending, one attacking. The defending side couldn''t leave their half. The attacking side had unlimited possession. Goal? The defenders had to hold their shape, block passing lanes, and stop any shots. The whistle blew. Carter and Ortega passed between each other, trying to pull defenders out of position. Richards stayed tight on his man. Barnes and Fletcher tracked every movement. Silva tried to slip through¡ªblocked. Novak attempted a one-two¡ªintercepted. Jake watched closely. "No space! No gaps! Move as a unit!" For two straight hours, the players drilled their low block. By the end? They could defend with their eyes closed. Jake nodded. "That''s what I want. That''s how we frustrate City." Day 2 ¨C Counterattacking Speed "City will dominate possession," Jake told them. "But that means they''ll leave space behind." And Bradford''s only chance? Exploit that space like their lives depended on it. The players lined up for a brutal sprint drill. Test 1: Reaction Speed Jake blew the whistle. Silva, Collins, and Novak exploded forward, racing toward the goal. First touch, second touch¡ªshoot. "Again!" Jake yelled. They ran over and over, perfecting their acceleration. Test 2: The Breakaway Drill Okafor launched a long throw downfield. Carter had two seconds to find a pass. Collins and Silva had to time their runs perfectly. Ortega sent a ball over the top. Silva sprinted through and smashed it past the keeper. Jake clapped. "That''s what we need¡ªone pass, one shot, one goal." Day 3 ¨C Set-Piece Defense "City are deadly from corners and free kicks," Jake warned. "We stop that, we stop half their goals." Barnes and Fletcher spent hours battling in the air, learning how to time their jumps against Haaland-level pressure. Okafor commanded his box, charging off his line to punch away crosses. Richards and Taylor practiced clearing second balls¡ªensuring no loose rebounds led to easy goals. Jake had one demand: "If the ball comes into our box, we win the first challenge. If we don''t, we win the second. No excuses." Day 4 ¨C Mental Toughness & Composure The final session was psychological warfare. Jake sat the entire squad down. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You will not have the ball," he said. "For 90 minutes, City will press you, move the ball around, and try to make you feel powerless." He looked at them, his voice turning serious. "You cannot panic. You cannot lose focus." The players absorbed every word. "This is not about skill anymore. This is about mentality. We fight for every tackle, every second, every blade of grass." Silence. Then Novak spoke. "We''re not scared, boss." Jake smirked. "Good. Because they should be." Training ended. The players were ready. Now, it was time to face the impossible. Bradford wasn''t training to beat City. They were training to survive. Press Conference Drama Matchday was approaching, and Jake faced the media. The room was packed. Every major football outlet had sent reporters. The first question? ???? Reporter: "Jake, your team is facing Manchester City, one of the best clubs in the world. Do you realistically think Bradford has a chance?" Jake leaned forward, gripping the mic. "Football is played on the pitch, not on paper." The room fell silent. ???? Reporter: "So, you believe you can win?" Jake smirked. "I believe that when the whistle blows, it''s 11 vs. 11. I believe we will fight. I believe that nothing is impossible in football." The headlines were written instantly. ???? "Jake Wilson Refuses to Back Down!" ???? "Bradford Manager: ''Football Isn''t Played on Paper''!" ???? "Miracle Incoming? Wilson Believes in the Impossible!" Jake wasn''t delusional. He knew City were the better team. But that didn''t mean he would bow down before the match even started. Final Thoughts The players were ready. The game plan was set. Now, all that was left¡­ was to face the giants. Manchester City vs. Bradford City. A battle nobody thought Jake Wilson''s team could survive. But Jake? He had other plans. He stood outside the tunnel, arms crossed, staring at the massive Etihad Stadium ahead of him. "Let''s see what happens when they step onto the pitch." Chapter 58 - 58: A Lesson in Brutality (MAN-CITY VS BRADFORD SECOND HALF) The second half wasn''t about winning. It was about survival. Jake had never gone into a match accepting defeat before, but this? This was different. Manchester City weren''t just better. They were on another planet. And the worst part? They weren''t even done yet. Halftime Team Talk Bradford''s dressing room was silent. Some players were gasping for air, others sitting with their heads in their hands. Okafor wiped sweat from his forehead, exhausted after pulling off seven first-half saves. Silva had his hands on his knees, still reeling from his encounter with Gvardiol. Jake looked around. He saw frustration. He saw defeat creeping in. And that? That was something he couldn''t allow. "Listen up." The players looked at him. Jake''s voice was calm. "You''re not playing badly." They blinked. Some of them frowned. "You''re not losing because you''re making mistakes. You''re losing because City are one of the best teams in the world. You should be struggling." Ortega exhaled, nodding. "So what do we do?" Novak muttered. Jake stepped forward, his gaze sharp. "We fight. We don''t roll over. We show them that Bradford City doesn''t quit. That''s what this second half is about." He turned to Paul. "We''re making changes." Second Half ???? 45th Minute ¨C Double Substitution Chapman ON, Lowe OFF (More energy in midfield) Thompson ON, Novak OFF (Resting Novak after a tough first half) The second half started¡­ the same as the first. City attacked. Bradford suffered. And then, just minutes after kickoff, it got even worse. 48th Minute City passed it around effortlessly, switching from left to right. Bradford chased shadows. Silva tried to press, but Rodri brushed past him. A quick one-two between Foden and De Bruyne carved open the midfield. Suddenly, Haaland was in. The Etihad roared. One-on-one with Okafor. The Bradford keeper barely had time to react before Haaland rifled it into the top corner. 4-0. Jake closed his eyes. This wasn''t a match. This was an execution. 55th Minute ???? Collins ON, Silva OFF (Giving Silva a break) ???? Fletcher OFF, Richards ON (Reinforcing defense) Jake knew they had lost. Now it was about damage control. But even that? Wasn''t possible. Because City? They never stopped. 62nd Minute Foden received the ball at the edge of the box. Barnes and Richards closed in. It didn''t matter. Foden twisted, turned, and curled a shot into the top corner. A goal so perfect even Jake wanted to applaud. 5-0. Paul muttered, "This is getting embarrassing." Jake didn''t respond. He already knew. 67th Minute City wouldn''t stop. They kept pushing. Relentless. Unforgiving. Bradford were beyond exhausted. Their bodies were heavy. Their minds were shattered. They weren''t just losing. They were being destroyed. Then city made a sub ???? Alvarez ON, Haaland OFF (Giving Silva a break) 70th Minute A simple cutback from De Bruyne. A simple tap-in from Alvarez. 6-0. The City fans chanted. Bradford''s players? They just wanted it to be over. But it wasn''t. Not yet. 77th Minute Foden dribbled through three defenders, danced into the box, and chipped it over Okafor. A goal so disrespectful that even some City fans laughed. 7-0. Jake ran a hand down his face. This wasn''t football. This was bullying. 85th Minute Bradford were done. Their legs felt like concrete. Their minds were drained. Nine players stood behind the ball, but not a single one had the energy to press, to challenge, to fight. They had given everything. And City? City were still hungry. Rodri dictated play from midfield, effortlessly stroking the ball left and right. Alvarez drifted into the half-space, dragging Richards out of position. A simple one-two between De Bruyne and Foden pulled apart the last bit of Bradford''s shape. It was too easy. Bradford''s backline barely reacted as Bernardo Silva ghosted into the box, completely unmarked. Rodri spotted him. A soft, delicate pass. Silva took one touch. Then another. He had all the time in the world. Okafor stayed on his feet, trying to make himself big. Silva didn''t care. A cool, simple finish into the bottom corner. 8-0. Jake exhaled, running a hand down his face. That was the moment he saw it. His players had stopped moving. Collins stood near the center circle, staring at the grass. Barnes was bent over, hands on his knees, unable to even process what was happening. Even Silva¡ªhis Silva¡ªhad his hands on his hips, shaking his head. They had accepted their fate. Jake clenched his jaw. No. This wasn''t just about this match anymore. This was about character. He stepped forward and shouted one last command. "Keep running!" It didn''t matter if they were exhausted. It didn''t matter if they couldn''t stop City. They would not walk off this pitch like losers. They would finish the game fighting. Then Another sub from city again came in ???? Grealish ON, Silva OFF (Giving Silva a break) 90+2 Minute ¨C Even the City fans had stopped celebrating. They had won this match before halftime. Now, they were just enjoying the spectacle. But City? City didn''t stop. They never did. Jake saw it before it happened. Foden, drifting out wide, taking his time. The Bradford players were too slow to close him down. Foden looked up. A simple cut-back to De Bruyne. The Belgian¡ªperfect as always¡ªtook one touch before slotting a disguised pass between the lines. Alvarez reacted fastest. Bradford''s defenders were statues. Alvarez wasn''t. He took a touch to set himself. One-on-one with Okafor. The Nigerian keeper had been a warrior all night, making save after save. But this? This was unstoppable. Alvarez smashed it into the roof of the net. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 9-0. The ball had barely hit the back of the net before the referee ended it. No extra time. No added suffering. Just mercy. Full-Time: Manchester City 9-0 Bradford City. Post-Match Silence. The only sound was the distant hum of the City fans singing. Bradford''s players didn''t move. They stood there. Stunned. Shattered. Humbled. Jake walked onto the pitch, straight toward them. He didn''t shout. He didn''t scold. One by one, he pulled them up. Collins. Carter. Silva. He looked them all in the eye. "We walk off this pitch as a team." They did. Heads held high. They had been beaten. But they would not be broken. Bradford''s players dropped to the ground. Okafor lay on his back, staring at the sky. Barnes had his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Silva sat near the halfway line, completely still. They had just faced the best team in England. And they had been taught a lesson. Post-Match Press Conference Jake sat in front of the cameras, knowing exactly what was coming. ???? "Jake, a devastating loss. What do you even say after a match like that?" Jake exhaled. "We saw the level we need to reach. That''s all there is to say." ???? "Was there anything you could''ve done differently?" "Probably. But against Manchester City, sometimes it doesn''t matter what you do. They''re just that good." ???? "Will this defeat hurt team morale?" Jake smirked. "No. If anything, it motivates us. We just got a firsthand look at what it takes to be elite. Now? We work toward it." The headlines the next day? ???? "Bradford CRUSHED by City ¨C A 9-0 Nightmare!" ???? "Jake Wilson: ''This is the level we must reach.''" ???? "League Two Team Meets Footballing Reality." Jake walked out of the press room, his mind already elsewhere. The FA Cup was over. Now? It was back to the league. Chapter 59 - 59: A Nightmare First Half (MAN CITY VS BRADFORD) Pre-Match Atmosphere ¨C A David vs. Goliath Battle The Etihad Stadium was a fortress. Fifty thousand Manchester City fans filled the air with chants, fully expecting a one-sided demolition. The energy in the stadium was different. This wasn''t a Carabao Cup game against Chelsea. This was a full-strength, treble-winning Manchester City side, the best team in England, playing at home. Jake stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching as his players soaked in the moment. Some looked around in awe; others were laser-focused. The media had given them no chance. ???? "Bradford will be lucky if they don''t lose by double digits." ¨C Sky Sports ???? "League Two side against Pep Guardiola''s machine? This isn''t a match, it''s an execution." ¨C BBC Sport S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But Jake didn''t care. His eyes flicked toward Pep Guardiola on the other sideline. The legendary coach stood calm, hands in his pockets, as if this was just another routine match. Jake clenched his fists. If we''re going down, we''re going down fighting. Kickoff The moment the referee blew the whistle, City took control. Bradford had set up in a deep defensive block¡ªa 5-4-1 designed to absorb pressure and break on the counter. But the problem was¡­ Manchester City didn''t just attack. They suffocated. 3rd Minute From the opening whistle, it was clear¡ªthis was a different level of football. Manchester City didn''t rush. They didn''t force attacks. They strangled the game. Bradford''s players chased shadows as City passed effortlessly around them, their movement smooth, precise, and calculated. ???? Rodri would collect the ball from deep, scanning the pitch like a general commanding his troops. ???? Gvardiol and Walker pushed high, stretching the field. ???? De Bruyne and Bernardo Silva drifted between the lines, always an option, always moving. Bradford sat deep in their 5-4-1 block, just as Jake had prepared them to do. But knowing what City would do and stopping it? Two completely different things. For a full minute, the ball didn''t leave Bradford''s half. City recycled possession, shifting it from left to right, waiting, probing, searching for the smallest gap. The Bradford players kept their shape, shifting as a unit. But how long could they keep this up? 4th Minute Then, the first real crack appeared. Bernardo Silva, gliding across the midfield like a ghost, received the ball from De Bruyne just outside the box. He feinted left, then quickly slipped a disguised pass into Phil Foden, who had drifted inside from the left wing. Barnes and Fletcher reacted a split second too late. Foden, now free just outside the penalty area, took a touch, looked up¡ª And let fly. A venomous, curling shot aimed for the far corner. For a brief second, time slowed. The Etihad crowd held its breath. Okafor exploded off his line, reading the shot instantly. He stretched, diving full length to his right, arms extended. The ball curled¡ªjust enough¡ªtoward the top corner. Fingertips. Okafor got the slightest touch, pushing it just past the post! The ball zipped out for a corner. The crowd sighed in frustration. Foden threw his hands up in disbelief. Okafor sat up, breathing heavily, his teammates rushing over to pat his back. Jake? He barely reacted. He had expected this. "Stay focused!" he shouted. City wouldn''t stop. This was only the beginning. 5th Minute Bradford had barely touched the ball when Kevin De Bruyne received possession at the edge of the box. With one smooth flick, he sent Haaland through. Fletcher stepped up too late. Haaland took one touch¡ªthen rifled a shot past Okafor into the top corner. Boom. The Etihad erupted. Jake barely reacted. He knew this was coming. But the way City carved them open in just five minutes? It was terrifying. 12th Minute Bradford tried to settle, but City''s press was relentless. A loose touch from Lowe was all it took. Rodri pounced, intercepting the ball and immediately feeding it to De Bruyne. De Bruyne to Silva. Silva took a touch, glanced up, and curled a beautiful shot into the top corner. Okafor didn''t even move. Jake exhaled slowly. This could get ugly. 24th Minute Bradford were drowning. The Etihad crowd smelled blood, roaring as City attacked in waves. Then¡ªanother mistake. Barnes received a simple back pass but hesitated for half a second. That''s all Foden needed. The City winger stole the ball, dribbled around Okafor, and tapped it into an empty net. 3-0. Jake turned away, running a hand down his face. Paul Roberts, his assistant, muttered, "If we don''t settle down, this could be a record-breaking loss." Jake didn''t respond. He just kept watching. Bradford''s Struggles Bradford simply couldn''t get out. Every pass was met with instant pressure. Every clearance came straight back. Silva and Collins were supposed to be outlets on the wings¡ªbut they never got a chance. 32nd Minute Bradford were drowning under City''s relentless pressure. Jake had told them to remain disciplined, to stay compact, but reality was proving far harsher than any tactical preparation. They couldn''t get out. Every clearance came straight back. Every pass had to be perfect¡ªbecause a single mistake? It would be punished instantly. Bradford had barely strung three passes together before City''s midfield trio swarmed them like wolves. Then, finally, a chance. Ortega received the ball deep in midfield, just outside Bradford''s box. For the first time, he had a second to breathe. He glanced up, spotting Collins in space on the left flank. Switch the play. That was the plan. Ortega wound up a long diagonal pass, aiming to relieve the pressure¡ª But he didn''t see Rodri closing in. The Spanish midfielder read the play a second ahead, stepping forward just as Ortega struck the ball. Intercepted. Rodri calmly chested the ball down and immediately slid a through pass to Haaland, who was already making his move. Bradford''s defense was caught off guard. Haaland powered toward goal¡ª Fletcher lunged in, stretching every inch of his body¡ª A last-second block! The ball deflected out for a corner. Bradford had survived. But Ortega knew. One second of hesitation. One moment of poor awareness. That''s all it took. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, jaw tight. He didn''t need to say anything. Ortega already understood¡ªagainst City, every mistake mattered. 37th Minute For over half an hour, Bradford had been suffocated. It wasn''t just City''s possession¡ªit was their movement, their press, their suffocating presence. Whenever a Bradford player received the ball, a blue shirt was already there. There was no time. No space. Then, finally¡ªa breakthrough. City worked the ball into midfield, Foden receiving it with his back to goal. Lowe had had enough. He lunged in, shoulder-first, using every ounce of his strength¡ª Won the duel! The ball spilled free, rolling toward Ortega. Lowe scrambled to his feet, looking up for a pass¡ª But there was nothing. No options. Collins and Silva were too deep, pinned back by Walker and Gvardiol. Novak was completely isolated against two center-backs. By the time Lowe turned back, Rodri was already on him. A heavy touch¡ªgone. Rodri stole possession. Bradford had tried to fight back. But against a machine like City? It wasn''t enough. 41st Minute Jake had told them this match was about survival. But Silva? Silva still believed. The Brazilian teenager had never faced a team like this before. But fear? That wasn''t in his DNA. He wanted the ball. He demanded the ball. Ortega obliged, slipping a pass to Silva on the right flank. Silva took off. One quick touch to cut inside. He saw Gvardiol stepping forward Silva didn''t care. A sharp feint to the right¡ªthen a sudden flick to the left. He thought he had beaten him. Then¡ª THUMP. Gvardiol didn''t bite. Didn''t move. Didn''t even flinch. The Croatian simply planted his foot and used his body, knocking Silva off balance like he was nothing. Silva stumbled, lost control¡ªGvardiol took the ball cleanly. No foul. No argument. Just a simple reminder of the difference in physicality, experience, and class. Silva lay on the turf, breathing hard, staring at the sky. Jake watched from the sideline, nodding slightly. This was the moment every young player needed to experience. The moment they realized the level required to be among the elite. Silva had talent. But talent alone wasn''t enough. Jake shouted from the touchline. "Keep your shape! Stay compact!" But deep down, he knew. They weren''t playing badly. City were just that much better. Halftime The whistle blew for halftime. Bradford''s players trudged off the pitch, heads down, sweat dripping from their faces. City hadn''t even broken a sweat. Jake walked to the tunnel, his mind racing. The easy thing to do would be to scream. To rant. To demand more. But what was there to demand? They were doing their best. They were just up against a team from another world. As he entered the dressing room, he turned to Paul. "How many shots did we have?" Paul sighed. "None." Jake exhaled. They were in for a long second half. Chapter 60 - 60: League Focus & A Rising Star The day after the 9-0 thrashing against Manchester City, Valley Parade was quiet. Too quiet. The usual banter in the locker room? Gone. The confidence that had carried Bradford through League Two? Shattered. Jake walked into the training ground, finding his players already warming up. No one spoke much. Heads down, focused, but the weight of that defeat was still on their shoulders. Paul Roberts, his assistant, leaned in. "They''re still thinking about it." Jake nodded. He had expected this. Losing was part of football, but getting humiliated? That stuck with you. He clapped his hands, gathering everyone. "I know what you''re all thinking," Jake began, looking around. "You''re embarrassed. Frustrated. Maybe even questioning if we belong at the top." No one said anything, but their eyes told the story. "Good." Jake''s voice was firm. "Because that feeling? That''s fuel. You never forget a loss like that. You use it. You let it drive you forward." He paused. "But let''s get one thing straight¡ªManchester City didn''t expose us. They just showed us where we need to go. If we want to be great, we can''t sit here feeling sorry for ourselves. We have a league to win." The players lifted their heads. Novak clenched his fists. Collins exhaled sharply. Carter wiped his face and nodded. They were ready. Jake smiled. "Back to work." A Crucial Run of League Games: With the FA Cup behind them, Bradford had to shift their focus back to League Two. They were still in 2nd place, but the race for automatic promotion was tight. Match 1 ¨C A 3-2 Comeback Victory (vs. MK Dons, 3rd Place) Bradford needed a statement win¡ªand this match was it. First Half ¨C A Nightmare Start Bradford came out sluggish. Sloppy passes. Missed tackles. MK Dons looked sharper, hungrier. It only took 15 minutes for them to strike. ???? 15th Minute ¨C MK Dons Take the Lead (0-1) A misplaced pass from Lowe was intercepted in midfield. MK Dons countered at lightning speed. Their striker, Ethan Robson, ghosted between Barnes and Fletcher, receiving a perfect through-ball. One touch. Shot fired. GOAL. Bradford 0-1 MK Dons. Jake clenched his jaw, but he stayed calm. "Wake up!" he barked from the sideline. But his players weren''t waking up. ???? 29th Minute ¨C Disaster Strikes Again (0-2) MK Dons forced a corner. The ball was swung in deep. Nathan Barnes lost his marker. A towering header smashed past Okafor. GOAL. Bradford 0-2 MK Dons. Valley Parade fell silent. Jake turned to Paul, shaking his head. "We''re all over the place." Paul sighed. "They''re rattled." Bradford needed halftime. Fast. They had zero shots on target in the first 40 minutes. The midfield was non-existent. The attack? Isolated. Then, in the 44th minute, Carter finally tested the MK Dons keeper with a long-range effort. Saved. Whistle blew. Halftime. Bradford 0-2 down. Halftime The locker room was dead silent. Players sat on the benches, heads down, still processing what had just happened. Jake wasn''t having it. He walked to the center of the room and slammed the tactics board onto the table. "Look at me," he said. Slowly, they lifted their heads. "You think this is over?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. "Because if any of you believe that, you can stay in here for the second half." Eyes widened. Nobody moved. Jake pointed at the board. "We are NOT losing this game. You hear me?" Novak clenched his fists. Carter exhaled sharply. Jake took a deep breath. Then, he changed tactics. ???? Tactical Adjustments for Second Half: ? Press higher up the pitch ¨C force MK Dons into mistakes. ? Exploit the wide areas ¨C use Silva and Collins'' pace against their full-backs. ? Ortega & Carter to push forward more ¨C overload their midfield. Substitutions: ???? Thompson ON, Lowe OFF (Extra attacking presence) Jake clapped his hands. "We''re going back out there, and we''re fighting. Every single one of you. No more standing around. We take this game back." The fire returned to their eyes. Jake turned to Novak before they left. "Be the difference." Novak nodded. "I will." Second Half The second half began with chaos. Bradford pressed aggressively, suffocating MK Dons'' midfield. Suddenly, the energy had shifted. 52nd Minute MK Dons tried to build from the back¡ªbad idea. Collins stole possession near the halfway line and fed Carter, who took one touch and slipped a beautiful through-ball behind the defense. Novak was already sprinting. One-on-one with the keeper. Composed. Clinical. GOAL! Bradford 1-2 MK Dons! The stadium roared back to life. Jake pumped his fist. "That''s the response I wanted!" MK Dons were rattled now. 68th Minute Bradford kept pushing. They had all the momentum. Ortega spread the play wide to Silva, who cut inside and floated a cross into the box. Novak leaped for it but missed¡ªbut Collins was there at the far post! A cushioned volley straight into the bottom corner! GOAL! Bradford 2-2 MK Dons! Jake grinned. "Game on." MK Dons panicked. Their passes became sloppy. Their defense shaky. They were crumbling. Jake turned to Paul. "One more goal buries them." ???? 80th Minute ¨C Final Substitution ???? Chapman ON, Richards OFF (Extra energy in midfield) Bradford kept attacking. Then, in stoppage time, the moment arrived. ???? 90+3rd Minute Silva picked up the ball on the right wing. Two defenders closed in. He somehow slipped between them with a nutmeg, then curled in an inch-perfect cross into the box. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Thompson rose highest. Header. Bullet. GOAL! Bradford 3-2 MK Dons! The stadium ERUPTED. Thompson sprinted towards the dugout, arms wide. His teammates piled on top of him. Jake roared, fists clenched. The whistle blew. Full-Time: Bradford 3-2 MK Dons. Post-Match Reactions ???? The Fans ¨C Valley Parade shook. The chants of "Bradford! Bradford!" echoed through the night. ???? The Players ¨C Collins and Silva collapsed to the ground, exhausted but victorious. ???? Jake Wilson? He stood at the edge of the technical area, hands on his hips, taking it all in. A comeback win against one of the toughest teams in the league. The title race? Still alive. Paul walked up to him, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really never panic, do you?" Jake smirked. "Not when I know we''re better." He turned back to the pitch, watching his players celebrate. Bradford wasn''t done yet. Match 2 ¨C A 2-0 Defensive Masterclass (vs. Sutton United, 12th Place) This time, Jake focused on keeping things tight at the back. The system had shown Sutton''s weakness: they struggled against disciplined pressing teams. ???? First Half: Ortega controlled the midfield, dictating the tempo. Carter scored a stunning long-range effort in the 32nd minute. ???? Second Half: Silva sealed the win in the 78th minute after a brilliant counterattack. Final Score: 2-0 Bradford. A clean sheet. A controlled performance. Bradford were showing their resilience. Match 3 ¨C A Frustrating 1-1 Draw (vs. Grimsby Town, 17th Place) ???? First Half: Bradford dominated, but Grimsby parked the bus. Silva hit the post twice. ???? Second Half: Novak finally broke through in the 67th minute, but Grimsby equalized from a controversial penalty in the 85th. Final Score: 1-1 Draw. Jake was frustrated, but he knew¡ªin a title race, every point mattered. After his dominant performances in midfield, Ryan Carter was getting serious attention. Scouts from Borussia Dortmund, Bayer Leverkusen, and AS Monaco had been spotted in the stands during the last few matches. After training, Paul pulled Jake aside. "Carter''s agent called. He''s got offers lined up for the summer." Jake exhaled. He had expected this. That night, he called Carter into his office. "You know why I called you," Jake said. Carter nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Clubs are sniffing around." Jake studied him. "You''re 19. You''re one of the best midfielders in League Two. People are going to want you." Carter met his gaze. "You think I should leave?" Jake smirked. "I think you should do what''s best for your career." Silence. Then, Carter exhaled, shaking his head. "I want to stay. At least for now. We have something special here." Jake nodded. "Good. Because we''re going all the way." Bradford was still in the fight. And Carter? He was going to be at the center of it. League Standings Update After this run of games, Bradford remained in 2nd place. # Team P W D L Pts 1 Stockport County 30 20 5 5 65 2 Bradford City 30 18 8 4 62 3 Wrexham 30 17 7 6 58 4 MK Dons 30 16 7 7 55 5 Gillingham 30 14 9 7 51 Jake glanced at the table in his office. Three points behind the leaders. A title race was officially on. And Bradford? They weren''t backing down. Final Thoughts With the FA Cup humiliation behind them, Bradford had responded perfectly. ?? Three crucial matches. ?? Seven points gained. ?? Still in the promotion race. But Jake knew this wasn''t over. There were still lot league matches left. And the next challenge? The January Transfer Window. Carter had committed to staying¡ªfor now. But what about the rest of the squad? Decisions had to be made. Bradford City were still fighting. And Jake Wilson? He was just getting started. Dinner with Family ¨C A Rare Moment of Peace For the first time in what felt like months, Jake Wilson wasn''t on a pitch. No tactical meetings. No match footage. No endless system analysis. Just dinner. He sat across from Emma and Ethan at one of Bradford''s nicer restaurants, the dim lighting casting a soft glow over the table. The warm scent of grilled steak and roasted vegetables filled the air. Ethan, already halfway through his plate of pasta, grinned up at Jake. "Dad, you know you''re eating like you have a match tomorrow, right?" Jake smirked. "Old habits die hard." Emma chuckled, sipping her wine. "It''s nice, though. Having you here, really here." Jake glanced at her, feeling a twinge of guilt. He was here, physically¡ªbut mentally? Football never left his mind. For now, though, he pushed it aside. Ethan sat forward, his eyes bright. "Coach at the academy said I''ve been improving a lot! He thinks I could make the U-12 team next year!" Jake grinned. "That''s my boy. But remember, talent is nothing without hard work." Emma rolled her eyes. "Here comes the football speech." Ethan laughed. "I don''t mind. But seriously, Dad¡­ do you ever wonder why you''re so different now?" Jake froze. The air at the table shifted. Emma tilted her head, studying him. "He''s right. You''ve changed, Jake. And I''m not complaining¡ªit''s just¡­ it feels like you woke up one day and became a different person." Jake''s grip on his fork tightened. He forced a small smile. "People change, Em." Emma watched him for a moment before nodding slowly. "Well, whatever happened, I like this version of you." The tension passed, and the conversation drifted back to normal things¡ªEthan''s school, Emma''s work, even a bit of teasing about Jake''s "mild" obsession with tactics. But even as they laughed¡­ Jake couldn''t shake the feeling that his past¡ªor rather, the past he had inherited¡ªwas going to catch up to him. A Late-Night Revelation ¨C The System Tells the Truth Back home, once Ethan had gone to bed and Emma was asleep, Jake sat alone in his office. The only light in the room came from the screen in front of him, replaying clips of league matches. He was analyzing opposition tendencies, refining strategies, making sure Bradford stayed on course for promotion. Then¡ª [Ding! New Information Unlocked.] Jake''s eyes narrowed as a new system notification appeared. ? "Expanding System Knowledge..." ? "You are not alone." Jake sat up straighter. "What do you mean?" The system continued. ? There are others. ? People across different industries who have received a system like yours. ? Some in sports. Some in business. Some in entertainment. Jake felt his pulse quicken. "There are more like me?" The system remained vague. ? Your path is your own. Competing against them is inevitable, but you must focus on your journey. Jake clenched his jaw. This changed everything. He had always assumed he was the only one. That his advantage was unique. But if others had systems too¡­ It meant he wasn''t just competing against regular coaches anymore. He was up against people who, like him, had an edge. Jake exhaled, leaning back in his chair. If he wanted to reach the top of football¡ªto not just win, but dominate¡ªhe had to be smarter, faster, better. Because somewhere out there, another coach might have a system too. And one day, Jake would have to face him. A Bigger World Beyond Football? For the first time, Jake wondered¡ª If others had a system¡­ did that mean the next battle wouldn''t just be on the pitch? Business moguls. Athletes. Musicians. People using their own system to bend the world in their favor. Jake had only just begun to master his. But if this was true? Then this story was bigger than just football. And one day¡ª He was going to see just how deep this rabbit hole went. Chapter 61 - 61: Transfer Window Drama Begins January 1 ¨C Transfer Chaos Begins The new year had barely begun, and Jake Wilson was already drowning in transfer chaos. His inbox was flooded with emails¡ªtransfer requests, scouting reports, and inquiries from clubs circling his best players. The January transfer window had officially opened, and the football world was moving fast. Sitting in his office at Valley Parade, he leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the system''s latest report. Unlike before, where he had to rely on instinct and staff recommendations, the system now provided detailed analysis of squad weaknesses. A cold, emotionless breakdown of where his team needed fixing. ???? Key Areas for Improvement ? Defense needed depth ¨C Barnes and Fletcher were solid, but one injury could derail everything. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ? Backroom staff was outdated ¨C The system flagged multiple weak links. If Bradford wanted promotion, upgrades were necessary. ? Loaning out Saidi could free up space ¨C Fulham had submitted an offer, and the young defender had already expressed his desire to leave. Jake exhaled slowly, drumming his fingers on the desk. This transfer window wasn''t just about buying players. It was about laying the foundation for the club''s long-term success. The right decisions would push Bradford toward promotion. The wrong ones? They could undo months of hard work. He cracked his knuckles, grabbed his phone, and got to work. [Ding! New Feature Unlocked ¨C Staff Recruitment] Jake blinked as the notification flickered in front of him. For the first time, he had full control over reshaping the club''s backroom staff. Bradford''s coaching team had been outdated. Their scouting network? Practically nonexistent. The medical department? A joke. This system upgrade? It was exactly what he needed. ???? Staff Recruitment Unlocked! ? 1 Sporting Director ¨C To handle negotiations and transfers. ? 3 Coaches ¨C To refine tactical training. ? 3 Scouts ¨C To expand Bradford''s recruitment network. ? 4 Physios ¨C To prevent injuries and improve player recovery. ? 5 Sports Scientists ¨C To optimize fitness and conditioning. Jake immediately grabbed his phone and dialed Paul Roberts. "Get to my office. Now." Restructuring Bradford City''s Operations Paul arrived within minutes, raising an eyebrow at Jake''s urgency. "Something big?" Jake smirked. "We''re rebuilding the entire backroom team. Scouting, coaching, medical department¡ªeverything." Paul let out a low whistle. "About time." For the next 48 hours, Jake barely slept. ???? Reviewing applications. ???? Analyzing recommendations. ???? Conducting interviews. The system''s insights gave him an instant breakdown of every candidate''s strengths, weaknesses, and long-term impact. ???? New Signings ¨C The Right People for the Job ????????? Sporting Director: ? Michael Stone ¨C An elite negotiator with an exceptional transfer record. "Your job," Jake told him, "is to get me the players I need without overspending." Stone smirked. "Leave that to me." ???? Scouting Department ¨C Expanding the Network Bradford''s scouting network had been limited to England. That changed now. ? South America ¨C To find technical wizards. ? Asia ¨C A rising football market full of underrated gems. ? Europe ¨C To hunt for bargains in overlooked leagues. ???? Coaching Staff ¨C Tactical Evolution ? Tactical Analyst ¨C For opponent breakdowns. ? Set-Piece Specialist ¨C To maximize corners and free-kicks. ? Defensive Coach ¨C To tighten up the backline. ???? Medical & Sports Science Team ¨C Injury Prevention ? Four new physios ¨C To manage recovery and rehab. ? Five sports scientists ¨C To reduce injuries and enhance conditioning. ???? Staff Released ¨C Cleaning House ? 10 outdated staff members were sacked. ? Bradford needed progress, not mediocrity. Only one person was guaranteed to stay. Paul grinned. "Would''ve been awkward if I got fired." Jake smirked. "You''re the only one I trust here." Saidi''s Departure ¨C A Mutual Decision Later that afternoon, Jake heard a knock on his door. "Come in," he called, already knowing who it was. Ahmed Saidi stepped inside, his expression serious. "Gaffer, can we talk?" Jake gestured to the chair. "Of course, Saidi. What''s on your mind?" Saidi took a deep breath. "I want to take the Fulham deal. It''s a chance to play at a higher level." Jake studied him. The kid had talent, but he was never going to be a starter here. With Barnes and Fletcher solidifying their partnership, this was the best move for everyone. "I understand," Jake nodded. "This is a big move for you." Saidi smiled slightly. "Yeah. I spoke to Fulham''s sporting director. They really need a center-back." Jake didn''t hesitate. "I won''t stand in your way. If this is what you want, then I support it." Saidi exhaled in relief. "Thanks, boss. It means a lot." Jake extended his hand. "Give them hell over there." Saidi grinned. "I will." Finalizing the Transfer By the next morning, the deal was done. ? Loan with a ¡ê3M mandatory buy clause ? Saidi signed a four-year deal with Fulham ? Medical completed at Craven Cottage That evening, Jake scrolled through his phone. Fulham''s official website had already announced the transfer. He nodded once, locked his phone, and moved on. Another deal done. Now, onto the next target. System Recommendation ¨C Defensive Signings Jake didn''t have time to relax. With Saidi gone, his defense needed immediate reinforcements. A familiar notification appeared. [Ding! Scouting Suggestion Available] ???? Recommended Signings: ? Kang Min-jae (CB, South Korea, 24 years old) ¨C A dominant center-back, known for his aerial ability and leadership. ? Juli¨¢n Rojas (CB, Colombia, 21 years old) ¨C A technical, ball-playing defender. However, Deportivo Cali wanted him loaned back until summer. Kang Min-jae ¨C A Battle with European Clubs Bradford wasn''t the only club interested. Italian and French sides had already made offers. Jake called his new Sporting Director. "Get me a meeting with his agent. Today." Stone worked fast. Within hours, he had secured a direct meeting. The agent was blunt. "Why should Kang join a League Two club?" Stone smirked. "Because Bradford is on the rise." Then, Jake made the final move¡ªa direct call to Min-jae himself. "You''ve got offers from bigger clubs. But here, you won''t be another squad player. You''ll be a leader. Are you up for it?" Min-jae took less than 24 hours to decide. ? Kang Min-jae signed for ¡ê1.2M! Juli¨¢n Rojas ¨C A Long-Term Investment Negotiations with Deportivo Cali were slow. They refused to let Rojas leave mid-season. Stone flew to Colombia to negotiate personally. After four days of back and forth, a deal was struck. ? Bradford signed Rojas for ¡ê750K ? Loaned back to Deportivo Cali until the summer Final Thoughts With Min-jae joining immediately and Rojas arriving in the summer, Bradford''s defense was set for the future. Jake exhaled, reviewing the final transfers. This wasn''t just about this season anymore. This was about building a squad capable of competing at the highest level. Matches going on during transfer season January 1 ¨C Bradford City 2-2 Stockport County (League Two ¨C Away) The new year kicked off with an intense away battle against Stockport. With rumors swirling about Ryan Carter''s potential departure, the young midfielder played with fire, setting up the opening goal for Silva in the 18th minute. But defensive lapses¡ªone of the key issues Jake was trying to fix in the transfer window¡ªproved costly. Stockport equalized in the 37th minute before taking the lead in the second half. It took a 94th-minute equalizer from substitute Silva to salvage a point. Jake clenched his jaw as he watched his team celebrate the last-gasp goal. A draw was better than nothing, but this wasn''t good enough. He needed reinforcements¡ªfast. ???? Final Score: Stockport County 2-2 Bradford City January 10 ¨C Bradford City 3-1 Colchester United (League Two ¨C Home) With Kang Min-jae''s arrival still being finalized, Jake had to make do with his current defensive lineup. This time, they held firm. Bradford dominated from the start, and Ryan Carter put in another masterclass performance. He scored a brilliant free-kick in the 27th minute, assisted another for novak in the 58th, and controlled the midfield effortlessly. Bradford claimed a much-needed win and, for the first time in weeks, looked like a side capable of securing promotion. ???? Final Score: Bradford City 3-1 Colchester United January 17 ¨C Wrexham 1-1 Bradford City (League Two ¨C Away) This was the real test. Mansfield was sitting in third place, pushing for automatic promotion. For Jake, this was a chance to see how far his side had come. Bradford set up in a compact counter-attacking shape, knowing wrexham would dominate possession. The game plan worked¡ªBarnes and Fletcher absorbed pressure, while Reece''s pace caused constant problems on the break. In the 74th minute, Bradford struck first. Fletcher latched onto a long ball, cut inside, and smashed his shot past the keeper. But, as had become a frustrating trend, Bradford couldn''t hold onto the lead. A defensive lapse in the 87th minute led to Mansfield equalizing, robbing Jake''s side of three points. ???? Final Score: Wrexham 1-1 Bradford City Jake barely spoke in the locker room after the game. His mind was already elsewhere¡ªMin-jae''s transfer had to be completed ASAP. January 24 ¨C Bradford City 2-2 Crawley Town (League Two ¨C Home) The transfer madness hit its peak. With Saidi''s departure to Fulham finalized and Min-jae''s deal nearly complete, Jake''s squad was stretched thin. That instability showed on the pitch. Bradford went down 0-2 within the first 30 minutes, their defense looking shaky without reinforcements. The Valley Parade crowd grew restless, sensing another home defeat. But Jake''s men responded. A thunderous volley from Carter in the 64th minute sparked a comeback. Then, in the dying moments, substitute Taylor curled in a free-kick, rescuing a point. A solid fightback, but Jake hated drawing games they should be winning. ???? Final Score: Bradford City 2-2 Crawley Town January 31 ¨C Tranmere Rovers 0-1 Bradford City (League Two ¨C Away) The final game of the month. Bradford''s squad had been rebuilt in the last four weeks, and now it was time to see if the changes were working. Kang Min-jae made his debut, slotting straight into the heart of defense. And from the very first tackle, it was clear¡ªhe was exactly what Jake had been missing. Tranmere had no answer for him. Every aerial duel, every interception¡ªMin-jae dominated. Then, in the 76th minute, he made his mark at the other end. Rising highest from a corner, the South Korean center-back powered a header into the net, sealing Bradford''s first clean-sheet win in a month. As the full-time whistle blew, Jake nodded in satisfaction. ???? Final Score: Tranmere Rovers 0-1 Bradford City Final January Summary: ???? Matches Played: 5 ? Wins: 2 (Colchester, Tranmere) ? Draws: 3 (Stockport, Wrexham, Crawley) ? Losses: 0 Bradford remained unbeaten in January, but inconsistency was a problem. Three draws in five matches meant they hadn''t fully capitalized on their opportunities. The promotion push was still alive, but with every match, it became clear¡ªJake''s squad was one step away from something great. Now, with Min-jae in the squad and Rojas arriving in the summer, that missing piece might just be falling into place. Chapter 62 - 62: February & March: Fighting for Promotion February 3 ¨C Bradford City vs. Gillingham (Home) [Win 2-1] The atmosphere at Valley Parade was electric. The fans knew how crucial every game was now¡ªBradford sat second in the table, but the margin was razor-thin. A single misstep could push them into the playoff spots. This was also a special match. It marked Kang Min-jae''s debut. The South Korean center-back had joined in January, and now was the moment to prove why Jake had fought so hard to sign him. From the opening whistle, Min-jae made an immediate impact. His presence in the backline was commanding, barking orders, winning headers, stepping into tackles. Within the first 10 minutes, he had already bullied Gillingham''s striker off the ball twice. Lukas Novak opened the scoring in the 24th minute, finishing off a cutback from Jamie Collins. But Gillingham responded before halftime with a scrappy goal after a defensive mix-up between Taylor and Barnes. In the second half, it was Min-jae''s moment. 80th minute¡ªcorner kick. Ortega whipped in the cross. Min-jae rose above everyone, towering over the defense, and powered a header into the net. A goal on his debut. Bradford 2-1 Gillingham. The stadium erupted. Jake clenched his fist on the sideline¡ªthis was why he signed him. Final Score: Bradford City 2-1 Gillingham ? Kang Min-jae''s dominant debut ? Novak scores again ? Bradford stay in 2nd place February 10 ¨C Northampton Town vs. Bradford City (Away) [Loss 1-2] Jake knew he had to rotate the squad. With back-to-back fixtures, fatigue was creeping in. Key Rotations: Okafor rested ¨C Jack Simmons started in goal. Chapman replaced Ortega ¨C giving him a much-needed rest. Joe Thompson started over Novak ¨C to keep the striker fresh. Bradford struggled early. Without Ortega''s creativity, the midfield looked disjointed. Northampton capitalized in the 35th minute, scoring from a set-piece. Ryan Carter pulled one back in the 67th minute with a stunning long-range strike, but Northampton scored the winner five minutes later. Jake''s frustration was clear post-match. "Rotations are necessary, but we need to be better as a squad." Final Score: Northampton 2-1 Bradford City ? Simmons shaky in goal ? Ortega''s absence was felt ? Bradford remains in 2nd but only 1 point clear now February 17 ¨C Bradford City vs. Doncaster Rovers (Home) [Win 3-0] With momentum slipping, Jake put his strongest eleven back on the pitch. The response? Pure domination. Diego Castell¨®n (finally returning to full fitness) started on the left wing and tormented Doncaster''s right-back. He set up Novak for the opener before smashing in a second-half volley himself. Kang Min-jae and Barnes kept things rock-solid at the back, and Ortega ran the midfield, pulling strings like a maestro. Bradford secured a comfortable 3-0 victory, reasserting their control over the promotion race. Final Score: Bradford City 3-0 Doncaster Rovers ? Castell¨®n''s comeback performance ? Novak & Ortega shine ? Bradford stay in 2nd place, now 3 points clear March 3 ¨C Bradford City vs. Walsall (Home) [Draw 1-1] Walsall came to Valley Parade to disrupt. They sat deep, frustrating Bradford and refusing to allow space for Ortega or Carter. Jake adjusted in the second half, bringing on Grant and Thompson for fresh energy. It worked¡ªThompson scored in the 72nd minute after a well-worked move. But just as Bradford looked set for the win, a late defensive mistake by Fletcher allowed Walsall to snatch an equalizer. Jake stormed down the tunnel, furious. Final Score: Bradford City 1-1 Walsall ? Dropped points in a winnable match ? Fatigue still an issue ? Bradford only 2 points clear of 3rd place now March 10 ¨C Swindon Town vs. Bradford City (Away) [Loss 0-1] Another away match. Another frustrating performance. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching his team dominate every aspect of the game except the one that mattered¡ªscoring. Bradford had been in control from the first whistle. The midfield trio of Carter, Ortega, and Lowe dictated the tempo, stringing together passes, shifting play from side to side, stretching Swindon''s low defensive block. By the 15th minute, Bradford had already tested Swindon''s keeper three times. Novak had a powerful shot tipped over the bar, Silva''s curling effort was clawed away, and Ortega''s long-range strike rattled the post. It was one-way traffic, and yet, somehow, the ball just wouldn''t go in. First Half ¨C Swindon''s Defensive Wall Swindon weren''t even trying to play football. They parked the bus, sitting in two rigid banks of four, relying on their goalkeeper¡ªwho was having the game of his life. 25th minute ¨C Silva beat his man down the right, whipped in a perfect cross, but Novak''s header was pushed onto the crossbar. 32nd minute ¨C Ortega played a clever one-two with Carter at the edge of the box before firing a low shot. Saved. Again. Jake glanced at Paul Roberts on the bench. "How is this keeper playing like prime Buffon?" Roberts shook his head. "No idea, boss. Feels like the script''s against us." 42nd minute ¨C Bradford earned a free kick just outside the box. Ortega stepped up, bent a beauty over the wall, but the Swindon keeper somehow got a hand to it. Halftime whistle. Still 0-0. Second Half ¨C The Frustration Grows Jake didn''t change the game plan. There was no need. The system was working¡ªthe ball was moving fast, chances were coming. The players just had to be more clinical. 50th minute ¨C Novak was played through on goal. One-on-one. The away fans rose to their feet. Novak went for power. The keeper saved it with his legs. The Swindon crowd erupted like they had scored. "You''ve got to be kidding me," Jake muttered. Swindon had zero attacking intent, relying solely on last-ditch blocks, time-wasting, and hoping for a miracle counterattack. 75th Minute ¨C Time for Changes Bradford needed fresh legs. ???? Substitutions: Joe Thompson ON, Novak OFF ¨C More physical presence up top. Collins ON, Silva OFF ¨C Direct dribbler to force openings. The changes worked¡ªBradford pushed even harder. 83rd minute ¨C Thompson''s towering header was cleared off the line. 87th minute ¨C Carter tried a desperate volley from 20 yards out. It sailed inches over. Jake clenched his fists. One goal. Just one. 89th Minute ¨C Disaster Strikes Then, it happened. Bradford were committed forward, still desperately searching for the winner. Too committed. Swindon won the ball near their box and launched a long clearance downfield. Fletcher and Barnes¡ªboth exhausted¡ªwere too slow to react. Swindon''s lone striker sprinted past them, racing onto the ball with nothing but Okafor to beat. Jake''s stomach dropped as the Swindon forward took a touch, steadied himself, and¡ª Slotted it past Okafor. 1-0. The home crowd exploded. Swindon''s first shot on target of the entire match. Jake''s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His players sank to the ground, disbelieving. They had dominated for 89 minutes and lost. Full-Time ¨C A Brutal Blow As the final whistle blew, Jake stood still for a moment, staring at the pitch. His team had outshot Swindon 15-1. 70% possession. 10 corners. And yet, they had lost. The players walked off the pitch in silence, the weight of the result sinking in. Jake didn''t need to say much in the locker room. They already knew. The scoreboard said Swindon 1-0 Bradford. But it felt like so much more than just one defeat. ???? League Update: ? Bradford now level on points with 3rd place. ? The gap to 4th was shrinking. The race for automatic promotion was getting tighter. Jake exhaled slowly, then turned to Paul. "Get them ready for training first thing in the morning. We''re not letting this slip." There was still work to do. March 17 ¨C Bradford City vs. Crewe Alexandra (Home) [Win 2-0] This was a must-win game. The team couldn''t afford to keep slipping. Jake brought back his strongest lineup, and they delivered. Novak scored early (12th minute). Min-jae shut down Crewe''s attack. Carter curled in a free kick in the 75th minute to seal the victory. The relief was visible across Valley Parade. Bradford were back on track. Final Score: Bradford City 2-0 Crewe Alexandra ? Strong response after back-to-back poor results ? Carter & Novak keep performing March 24 ¨C Barrow vs. Bradford City (Away) [Win 2-1] Barrow had one of the best home records in the league, making this a tricky fixture. Jake went with a counter-attacking setup. Bradford absorbed pressure before hitting Barrow on the break. Silva & Collins terrorized the wings. Ortega found Novak for the opener. Barnes scored a rare header from a corner. Despite a late goal from Barrow, Jake''s side held firm. Final Score: Barrow 1-2 Bradford City ? Tactical masterclass from Jake ? Bradford keep 2nd place with a 5-point cushion over 4th March 31 ¨C League Standings Update ???? Bradford still in 2nd place. ???? 1 point ahead of 3rd place. ???? 5 points ahead of 4th place. The automatic promotion race was still wide open. Jake knew April would define their season. His final words to the squad before they left training that day were simple. "We fight for this. Every match. Every moment. We don''t stop until we''re over the line." The players nodded in unison. Promotion was within reach. But there was still a war left to fight. Final Summary for February & March ? Matches Played: 10 Wins: 5 (Gillingham, Doncaster, Crewe, Barrow) Draws: 2 (Walsall, another match) Losses: 3 (Northampton, Swindon, another match) ???? Kang Min-jae''s impact: 2 clean sheets, 1 goal, defensive stability. ???? Carter & Ortega critical in midfield. ???? Novak continues to score consistently. Bradford were so close to automatic promotion. But the final stretch would decide everything. Chapter 63 - 63: Disaster Strikes! April 2024 ¨C A Training Catastrophe Jake Wilson prided himself on running intense training sessions. He knew the team was operating on thin margins in the race for automatic promotion, and every minor improvement mattered. But on this day, intensity turned into disaster. The sun hung low over the training ground as Bradford''s players ran through their final drills. The session had been longer than usual, but with the upcoming schedule, Jake wanted every player tactically and physically prepared. Then it happened. First, it was Diego Castell¨®n¡ªa sharp turn, a misstep, and suddenly, he was clutching his right knee, his face twisted in pain. A few minutes later, Noah Fletcher went down after an awkward landing in a defensive drill. He didn''t even try to stand back up. Something was wrong. "Stop the session!" Jake barked, his heart hammering. But before the words had even left his mouth, two more players collapsed. Novak clutched his hamstring, Ortega rolled on the ground gripping his ankle. Then Taylor. Then Silva. It was chaos. Medical staff sprinted onto the pitch as Jake stood frozen, watching what felt like his entire season fall apart in front of him. Players groaned, physios shouted instructions, assistants scrambled to bring ice packs and stretchers. The sight of six injured players scattered across the training ground made Jake''s stomach sink. This can''t be happening. He turned to Paul Roberts, his assistant coach, who stood wide-eyed beside him. "Tell me this is a bad dream." Paul exhaled, shaking his head. "It''s real, boss." The promotion race was about to get a whole lot harder. The Injury Report ¨C A Nightmare Confirmed The medical team worked late into the night, running scans, assessing damages, and delivering the news Jake had been dreading. He sat in his office, staring at the report in front of him. The list was brutal. ???? Long-Term Injuries (Out for the Season) ???? Diego Castell¨®n (LW/ST) ¨C Knee Ligament Injury (3 months) Status: Season over. Impact: The most versatile forward in the squad¡ªgone. ???? Noah Fletcher (CB) ¨C Broken Foot (8+ weeks) Status: Likely to miss the remainder of the season. Impact: Bradford''s defensive rock was now out, leaving Kang Min-jae as the only experienced center-back. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ???? Short-Term Injuries (3-6 Weeks Out) ?? Lukas Novak (ST) ¨C Hamstring Strain (4-5 weeks) Status: Likely to miss the next 6-7 matches. Impact: The team''s top goal scorer was now out. Thompson and Grant would have to step up. ?? Alejandro Ortega (CM) ¨C Ankle Sprain (3-4 weeks) Status: Out for a critical stretch of games. Impact: Carter now had to run the midfield alone. ?? Aiden Taylor (LB) ¨C Groin Strain (3-4 weeks) Status: Misses key matches in April. Impact: Lewis Hart steps in as the new starting left-back. ?? Renan Silva (RW) ¨C Thigh Injury (3-4 weeks) Status: Sidelined for at least a month. Impact: Collins and Walsh must fill the void on the right wing. Jake leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with both hands. Six injuries. Six critical players gone. It wasn''t just bad luck¡ªit was a crisis. And then, the system notification arrived. [Ding! System Alert] ???? "Squad depth insufficient. Probability of direct promotion declining." ???? Updated Promotion Probability: ???? Now at 45% (down from 75%) Jake exhaled sharply as the notification flickered across his vision. He had been expecting bad news. He just didn''t think it would be this bad. For weeks, everything had been leading toward this moment. The relentless schedule. The fatigue creeping into every match. The warning signs that he had ignored. Now, six key players were sidelined, and his squad¡ªonce a well-oiled machine¡ªwas running on fumes. He clicked into the system update, scanning the latest tactical recommendations. ???? System Tactical Recommendations ???? Switch to a More Defensive Setup With Novak out and Castell¨®n injured, Bradford''s attack had lost its bite. The system advised dropping deeper, keeping defensive shape, and reducing the number of players committed forward to avoid unnecessary risks. Kang Min-jae and Barnes would be key¡ªthey had to hold the backline together. ???? Energy Preservation & Squad Rotation The risk of more injuries was dangerously high. The system warned that pushing players too hard now could result in even more long-term casualties. Jake needed to rotate carefully, giving vital minutes to squad players who hadn''t featured much. Joe Thompson and Alex Grant would now rotate as the starting striker in Novak''s absence. ???? Counter-Attacking Strategies Instead of High Pressing With Ortega missing from midfield and Silva out wide, the team''s pressing ability was compromised. Instead of playing their usual high-intensity, front-foot football, the system suggested a low-block defensive structure, absorbing pressure, and hitting teams on the break. Ryan Carter would now be the centerpiece¡ªhis vision and passing range would be crucial to launching quick transitions. Jake leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. The system had always been a guiding tool, giving him insights that no other manager could have. But this time, he didn''t need it to tell him how bad things were. He already knew. The squad was running on fumes, the depth had been exposed, and with only a handful of games left, their season was now hanging by a thread. The worst part? There was no time to dwell on it. Bradford had a match in three days. The Aftermath ¨C Media Panic & Fan Reactions By morning, the news had leaked. ???? BREAKING: Bradford City suffer injury crisis ahead of season''s final stretch! Every sports outlet picked up the story, questioning whether Bradford could maintain their form without their key players. ???? Fan Reactions on Social Media & Forums: ???? "How unlucky can we be? Six injuries at once? This is a disaster!" ???? "No Novak, no Ortega, no Fletcher¡­ how are we supposed to survive?" ???? "It''s still possible. I believe in Jake. We fight until the end!" Even though panic spread, Jake saw one constant¡ªthe fans still believed. The club''s official fan cafe was flooded with support messages, urging the team to push through. The Board''s Concern ¨C A Crucial Meeting Later that afternoon, Jake sat in the boardroom, facing the directors of the club. Chairman Henry Lowe leaned forward, fingers steepled. "This injury crisis," he said slowly, "could derail our promotion. What''s the plan?" Jake took a deep breath. They wanted answers. He had them. "We adjust," he said firmly. "We adapt." He laid out a new tactical plan, based on the system''s recommendations: ???? A compact, counter-attacking system. ???? Rotating Thompson and Grant in Novak''s absence. ???? Giving Carter full midfield control. ???? Trusting Min-jae to marshal the defense. The board members exchanged glances, weighing his words. Finally, Henry nodded. "Then get it done." Jake''s Message to the Team Before the next training session, Jake called for an emergency squad meeting. The players entered the locker room somber, anxious. The weight of the situation was clear on their faces. Jake stood at the center, his arms crossed. "We''ve been punched in the mouth," he started, his voice calm but firm. "We''ve lost some of our best players. The media thinks we''re done. Some people think we''ll collapse." He scanned the room, his eyes locking onto each player. "But let me make one thing clear." His voice sharpened. "We are not done." Silence. The players were hanging on every word. "I don''t care if we have six injuries. I don''t care if the world doubts us. We don''t stop here. We fight." He turned to Carter. "You wanted to lead? This is your time." Then to Min-jae. "This defense is yours now." Finally, to the whole squad. "You want promotion? Then we have to earn it. And we start with the next match." A moment of silence. Then, Novak¡ªstill in his training gear, despite his injury¡ªspoke up from the back. "Let''s f*cking do this." The squad erupted. Bradford''s promotion dream had taken a massive hit. But they weren''t out of the fight yet. Chapter 64 - 64: The Collapse April 2024 Matches ¨C A Nightmare Run Begins Jake Wilson had never felt this kind of helplessness before. For months, he had been the architect of Bradford''s rise, crafting a team that played fast, ruthless, intelligent football. A team that out-thought and outworked its opponents. A team that had turned doubters into believers. But now? Now, his squad was broken, both physically and mentally. With key players missing, Jake had tried everything¡ªtactical adjustments, rotations, even simplifying their approach. But it didn''t matter. The reality was harsh: no system in the world could replace the quality they had lost. And now, that truth was playing out in front of him in the worst way possible. Match 1: The First Punch The match against third-place Exeter City was supposed to be a battle for automatic promotion. Instead, it turned into a lesson in survival. Bradford couldn''t create chances. Without Novak''s movement up front, their attacks were slow and predictable. Without Ortega pulling the strings in midfield, possession felt meaningless. But to their credit, they defended like warriors for 85 minutes. Kang Min-jae and Barnes threw themselves into every tackle, Okafor made save after save, and for a brief moment, it looked like they might hold on for a hard-earned draw. Then, in the 88th minute, disaster. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A simple clearance should have been routine, but Carter miscontrolled the ball in midfield. Exeter pounced, launching a quick counter-attack. A cross into the box, a scramble, and then¡ª GOAL. The stadium erupted. Jake stood motionless on the sideline, jaw clenched, fists in his pockets. He could already hear the headlines writing themselves. Final Score: Exeter City 1-0 Bradford City. They were no longer in second place. Match 2: The home crowd at Valley Parade was nervous. They had seen the injury crisis unfold, but they still believed¡ªstill hoped that Jake''s tactics could pull them through. By halftime, that belief was crumbling. Bradford were 1-0 down to mid-table Colchester United. They had barely created a single meaningful chance, and every attack fell apart before reaching the final third. Carter was double-marked, Silva''s replacements offered nothing on the wings, and Thompson¡ªstarting in place of Novak¡ªwas completely isolated up front. Jake tried everything. Switched to a counter-attacking approach. Made substitutions. Pushed more players forward. Nothing worked. Colchester scored again in the 70th minute. Ryan Carter pulled one back late in the game, a long-range shot that gave the fans a flicker of hope, but it was too little, too late. The full-time whistle blew. Bradford had lost two in a row. Final Score: Bradford City 1-2 Colchester United. And just like that, they were out of the automatic promotion spots. The Aftermath ¨C A Brutal Reality Check The next morning, Jake sat in his office, staring at the league table. ???? Bradford City ¨C 3rd Place. ???? Automatic Promotion: Impossible. ???? Only Three Games Left. His jaw tensed as he exhaled slowly. They had blown it. Not entirely, not yet¡ªbut they had let the chance slip away. He reached for his phone, scrolling through the media coverage. ???? "Bradford City''s Promotion Dream Fading Fast." ???? "Jake Wilson''s Tactical Genius or Just Luck?" ???? "After All the Talk, Can He Deliver When It Matters?" He tossed the phone aside, running a hand through his hair. The worst part? He didn''t even disagree with them. Match 3: A Desperate Response The next match against Carlisle United wasn''t about playing well. It was about survival. Jake made drastic changes¡ªswitching formations, playing a deep defensive block, and focusing solely on not conceding first. It was ugly football. But it worked. Bradford ground out a hard-fought 2-1 win, barely scraping by. The players celebrated at full-time, but Jake wasn''t smiling. He knew the truth¡ªthis wasn''t a return to form. This was a bandage on a bullet wound. Final Score: Bradford City 2-1 Carlisle United. They were still 3rd. Match 4: Next up: Tranmere Rovers, a team fighting to avoid relegation. On paper, Bradford should have won comfortably. But nothing was comfortable anymore. Tranmere attacked with nothing to lose, and only Emeka Okafor''s heroics in goal kept them in the game. He made three world-class saves in the first half alone. Then, in the 67th minute, Carter produced a moment of brilliance¡ªa perfect through ball to Collins, who slotted it home. 1-0. For the next 30 minutes, Bradford defended for their lives. The final whistle felt like a relief, not a victory. Final Score: Bradford City 1-0 Tranmere Rovers. The Mental Toll ¨C The Squad Is Cracking The two wins had kept Bradford alive, but they hadn''t healed the wounds. The scars from those back-to-back losses still lingered. The belief that had once driven them forward was starting to crack under the weight of pressure. And Jake could feel it. The atmosphere in the dressing room was different¡ªtense, heavy, suffocating. It wasn''t just disappointment anymore. It was frustration. Doubt. Exhaustion. Training sessions that used to be sharp and intense were now erratic and filled with mistakes. Every misplaced pass felt like an argument waiting to happen. Every failed drill turned into a war of blame. It started with little things. ???? Benson cursed under his breath when Carter misplaced a simple pass. ???? Collins threw his hands up in frustration when a cross sailed over everyone''s head. ???? Fletcher muttered to himself after being beaten in a one-on-one drill. Then it escalated. It happened on a cold morning at training. A simple passing drill¡ªa routine exercise that should have been second nature. Min-jae took a pass under pressure, looked up, and misread Carter''s run. Instead of playing it to his feet, the ball rolled harmlessly into open space. Drill ruined. Momentum gone. Carter stopped dead in his tracks, frustration boiling over. "Are you even watching?!" he snapped, spinning toward Min-jae. The South Korean stiffened, eyes narrowing. "Maybe if you moved faster, I wouldn''t have to guess where you are." His voice was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. Carter stepped forward, shoulders squared. "Excuse me?" Min-jae didn''t back down. "You heard me. Maybe stop acting like everything has to run through you, and we wouldn''t be in fourth place right now." Silence. Even the other players froze, sensing that things were about to spiral out of control. Paul Roberts immediately stepped between them before it could escalate. "That''s enough!" His voice cut through the tension, sharp and authoritative. "Save it for the damn match." Carter clenched his fists. Min-jae shook his head and walked off. But the damage was done. The Breaking Point Jake had been watching from a distance, arms crossed, jaw tight. He''d seen enough. The tension was infecting the squad. If they didn''t fix it now, the playoffs would be over before they even started. And then, Paul Roberts pulled him aside. His assistant coach rarely looked concerned, but today, his expression was dead serious. "We''re losing them, Jake." Jake didn''t respond. Paul continued, voice low. "They''re barely holding it together. If you don''t pull them back in, we won''t even survive the playoffs." Jake exhaled slowly, staring at the squad as they finished training in complete silence. He already knew. This wasn''t about tactics anymore. This wasn''t about injuries or formations. This was about belief. And if they didn''t find it soon¡­ They were finished. The Team Meeting ¨C A Brutal Reality Check Jake gathered the squad in the locker room, closing the door behind him. No tactics. No analysis. No system. Just honesty. "I won''t sugarcoat this," he said. "We blew it." No one spoke. "We had automatic promotion in our hands, and we let it go." His voice was steady, but sharp with frustration. "Blame whoever you want. Blame me if it helps. But the fact is, we have three games left. Three games to put this right." He paused, scanning their faces. "We either fight like hell to win the playoffs... or we collapse completely. But I promise you this¡ªif we go down, we go down fighting." Silence. Then Novak, still injured but sitting at the back, gritted his teeth and spoke. "Then let''s f*cking fight." A shift. A flicker of belief. Jake nodded once. "Good. Because we''re not finished yet." Final Standings & The Last Hope ???? Bradford City ¨C 3rd Place. ???? Automatic Promotion: Gone. ???? Only the Playoffs Remain. The dream wasn''t over. But the war was about to begin. Final League Two Standings (After 46 Matches) ???? Bradford finishes 3rd, missing automatic promotion but securing a playoff spot. ???? Wrexham takes 2nd place, earning direct promotion. ???? Stockport County wins the league. Top 6 Final Standings ¨C League Two (After 46 Games) Position Team P W D L Pts 1?? Stockport County 46 28 10 8 94 2?? Wrexham 46 26 12 8 90 3?? Bradford City 46 24 14 8 86 4?? MK Dons 46 22 13 11 79 5?? Gillingham 46 21 11 14 74 6?? Notts County 46 20 12 14 72 ???? Bradford must now fight through the playoffs to secure promotion to League One. Chapter 65 - 65: PLAY-OFF SEMI FINAL: FIRST LEG (MK DONS VS BRAFORD CITY) PART 1 System Predictions & Tactical Insights The notification flashed in Jake Wilson''s vision the moment he sat down in his office, the glow of the screen reflecting off his sharp gaze. ???? [Ding! System Analysis] "Opponent: MK Dons ¨C Strong in possession, weak under pressure." Jake''s expression remained unreadable, but inside, his mind was already processing the information. This was the advantage he had¡ªaccess to deeper insights, a tool that broke down the opponent in ways no scouting report could. MK Dons. One of the most disciplined, possession-heavy sides in the league. A team that didn''t rely on individual brilliance but instead thrived on structure, passing sequences, and control. If Bradford let them dictate the game, it would be a long, frustrating night. ???? Match Prediction: 45% chance of victory ¨C If the plan worked, Bradford could punish MK Dons on the counter. 30% chance of a draw ¨C Likely if neither team took risks. 25% chance of defeat ¨C If MK Dons were given too much control. Jake exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the desk. Not the worst odds. But nothing guaranteed. This wasn''t like the regular season anymore. The playoffs were an entirely different beast¡ªone mistake, one moment of hesitation, and the dream of promotion could be over. ???? Key Tactical Notes: Jake''s eyes narrowed as he absorbed the breakdown. The system had pinpointed MK Dons'' greatest strengths and fatal weaknesses. ???? MK Dons dominate possession. Their midfield was well-drilled, constantly shifting the ball, forcing opponents to chase shadows. If they were given time, they would control the tempo, suffocate the game, and force Bradford to react rather than dictate. Carter and Lowe''s defensive discipline would be crucial. ???? Slow build-up play. MK Dons weren''t a team that thrived in chaos¡ªthey wanted order. They liked to break teams down gradually, passing through defensive lines rather than playing direct. If Bradford sat too deep without pressing, MK Dons would eventually find a way through. ???? Defensive vulnerability. Their biggest weakness was how high their full-backs pushed up when in possession. If Bradford could win the ball quickly and switch play, Silva and Collins would have acres of space to exploit on the wings. ???? Press them hard. The key to disrupting MK Dons was forcing them into uncomfortable situations. They struggled against teams that pressed aggressively and forced mistakes. If Bradford gave them space, they would settle into their rhythm. If they rushed them, they would crumble. Jake''s Reaction He leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. He had faced teams like this before. Teams that looked unbeatable on paper but had fatal flaws when pressured. He reached for a notepad, scribbling down key ideas: Force turnovers in midfield. Exploit the wide spaces left by their full-backs. Play direct when transitioning. Defensive shape must stay compact¡ªno gaps between the lines. This game wouldn''t be won by matching MK Dons pass for pass. It would be won by dragging them into a fight they weren''t built for. He glanced back at the system''s final assessment and nodded to himself. "We can win this." System-Recommended Formation & Tactical Adjustments ???? Recommended Formation: 4-2-3-1 (Counter-Attacking Focus) Bradford would sit compact, absorb pressure, and strike fast. Two defensive midfielders (Carter & Lowe) to break MK Dons'' control in the center. Silva & Collins on the wings to exploit their full-backs pushing too high. Thompson starting as a target man, pressing their center-backs and holding up play. ???? Planned Rotations: Novak still unavailable, meaning Thompson would lead the attack. Min-jae and Barnes continued their partnership in central defense. Okafor in goal¡ªhis shot-stopping ability was vital. This was the strategy. The numbers, the weaknesses, the patterns¡ªall of it had been studied. But numbers didn''t win games. Execution did. Pre-Match Press Conference The room was packed with reporters, cameras flashing as Jake took his seat at the press table. He adjusted his microphone and looked out into the sea of eager journalists. This was his moment to control the narrative. ???? "Your team barely missed out on automatic promotion. How is morale heading into the playoffs?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "We were disappointed, sure. But this squad is built to fight. We move forward, no dwelling on what''s behind us. Now, it''s about proving that we deserve to go up." ???? "MK Dons finished just behind you in the table. What makes you confident that Bradford will win?" A smirk. "They''re a good team, no question. But we''ve studied them. We know their weaknesses, and we''re ready." ???? "Injuries have hurt your team. Will that be a factor in this tie?" "We''ve adapted. Injuries happen, but we don''t make excuses. Every player on this team knows their role, and I trust them to step up." ???? "Any thoughts on MK Dons'' playing style?" Jake leaned forward slightly. "They like to control possession. We''ll see how well they handle pressure when we take the game to them." The subtext was clear. MK Dons weren''t going to get an easy game. As the press conference ended, Jake stood up, adjusted his jacket, and walked out. The talking was over. Now, it was time to deliver. First Half The air inside Stadium MK was thick with tension. 16,000 fans packed the stands, but it was the away section¡ªfilled with traveling Bradford supporters¡ªthat made the most noise. Their chants echoed across the stadium, a relentless reminder to MK Dons that this was a battle. Jake Wilson stood on the sideline, arms crossed, watching his team settle into their shape. The opening minutes played out exactly as the system had predicted. Kickoff. MK Dons were immediately on the ball, shifting possession from side to side, testing Bradford''s defensive structure. Their midfield moved the ball quickly, trying to pull gaps in Jake''s carefully constructed low-block setup. But Bradford stayed compact, disciplined. Carter and Lowe formed a wall in midfield, cutting off passing lanes. Min-jae and Barnes led the backline, stepping up when necessary but never overcommitting. Collins and Silva stayed high and wide, waiting for the moment to strike. MK Dons kept probing, but Bradford didn''t break. The longer they held firm, the more restless the home crowd grew. 15th Minute MK Dons found a pocket of space down the right flank. A quick one-two allowed their right-winger to burst behind Taylor. He squared a dangerous low cross into the box¡ªa tap-in goal seemed inevitable. Then Min-jae arrived. The South Korean defender slid in at the perfect moment, blocking the ball before it reached the striker. The Bradford fans roared in approval. Jake nodded, shouting from the sideline. "Stay switched on! That''s just the first test!" 20th Minute Bradford started to grow into the game. Carter began to dictate play, threading forward passes to Silva and Collins. Lowe broke up two attacks, crunching into tackles and winning second balls. Silva and Collins tested their full-backs, forcing MK Dons to drop deeper. Jake could feel the shift. His team was finding the rhythm of the game, feeling out where the weaknesses were. And then, in the 27th minute, the breakthrough moment arrived. 27th Minutee Silva saw it before anyone else. MK Dons'' right-back had pushed too high, leaving a massive gap behind. Silva darted into the open space, calling for the ball. Carter saw the movement and played a sharp pass into his path. Silva didn''t hesitate. A quick give-and-go with Collins¡ªa perfect one-touch return. Silva exploded into the box, cutting inside onto his left foot. One defender slid in late¡ªbut too late. Silva curled a low, precise shot toward the far corner. It looked like a goal. Then¡ªA SAVE. The MK Dons keeper stretched full-length, just getting a fingertip to it. The ball deflected wide. The away fans groaned. Silva buried his face in his hands for a second before clapping his hands in frustration. From the sideline, Jake clapped once, loudly. "That''s it! That''s the opening! Go again!" They had seen the weakness. Now they had to exploit it. 35th Minute Carter won a free kick just outside the box. Ortega stepped up to take it¡ªa beautiful curling strike toward the top corner¡­ But again, the MK Dons keeper reacted quickly, pushing it over the bar. Jake ran a hand through his hair. Two big chances. No goals. He turned toward Paul Roberts. "They''re there for the taking. We just need one." Paul nodded. "Silva and Collins are winning their battles. We need to feed them more." 40th Minute Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Just when it seemed like Bradford had full control, MK Dons reminded them why they were dangerous. A simple long ball over the top caught Taylor out of position. Their winger chased it down and squared the ball to their striker at the edge of the box. Jake''s stomach tightened. Shot. Okafor reacted instantly, diving low to his right. Saved. The rebound fell to another MK Dons player¡ªbut Barnes slid in and cleared it away! Bradford escaped. Jake took a deep breath. That was too close. Halftime The whistle blew, and the players walked off. Score at halftime: 0-0. Jake wasn''t disappointed¡ªbut he wasn''t comfortable either. They had created chances. They had defended well. But they hadn''t punished MK Dons yet. And in a playoff game, failing to take chances could cost everything. Jake pulled his coaching staff together. Adjustments needed to be made. He looked at the team, catching Carter''s eyes first. "We can win this. But we need to be sharper." The war was far from over. The second half would decide everything. Chapter 66 - 66: PLAY-OFF SEMI FINAL: FIRST LEG (MK DONS VS BRAFORD CITY) PART 2 Halftime Team Talk Jake walked into the dressing room, his face calm but intense. The players took their seats, their breathing still heavy from the first half. The match was 0-0, but Bradford had created better chances. They had MK Dons figured out¡ªthey just hadn''t punished them yet. Jake took a slow breath, his eyes moving across the room, locking onto each player. "We''re halfway there. But we need more." Silence. The players listened closely. He pointed to Carter and Lowe. "You two are doing great breaking up their midfield, but don''t let them dictate the tempo. Keep them uncomfortable." Then, to Silva and Collins. "You''ve got their full-backs beat. Every single time. Stay aggressive. Take them on. No hesitation." He turned to Thompson. "You''ve battled hard, but I need you to hold the ball up better. Keep their center-backs occupied. Draw them out." Finally, to the entire squad. "We planned for this. We knew how they play, and we''ve exposed them. Now, we finish the job." The intensity in the room grew. The players nodded, exchanging determined looks. Jake clapped his hands once. "Let''s go win this." Second Half- Kickoff The second half begins. MK Dons try to take control again, pushing numbers forward, but Bradford keep their shape, waiting for the moment to strike. Bradford remain patient, absorbing the pressure. Then, the moment arrives. 55th Minute ¨C A misplaced MK Dons pass falls to Carter in midfield. He doesn''t hesitate¡ªa quick turn, a forward pass to Ortega. Ortega sees the opportunity immediately. Collins makes a diagonal run behind the left-back, and Ortega threads the perfect through ball between two defenders. Collins bursts into the box, takes one touch to steady himself¡­ And buries it past the keeper. GOAL! Bradford''s bench explodes. Jake pumps his fist, turning to Paul Roberts. "Exactly how we planned it!" Collins sprints to the away fans, celebrating with them as the players pile on top of him. MK Dons 0-1 Bradford City But the game was far from over. 63rd Minute ¨C The momentum of the game was shifting. MK Dons, sensing the urgency, started throwing more players forward. Their full-backs pushed even higher, their midfielders took more risks, and their striker was dropping deep to link play, dragging Min-jae and Barnes out of position. Jake saw it happening before it became a real problem. From the touchline, he turned to Paul Roberts. "They''re getting desperate," Jake said, watching as MK Dons'' center-backs split wider to accommodate their full-backs'' forward runs. "If we don''t adjust now, we''ll get pinned in." Paul nodded, already knowing what was coming. Jake waved over Alex Grant, the versatile forward who had been warming up. "Alex," Jake started, keeping his voice firm but calm, "I need fresh legs up top. You press their center-backs hard. Don''t let them settle. Force mistakes." Grant nodded quickly, eyes locked in focus. ???? Substitution: ???? Joe Thompson OFF | Alex Grant ON Grant jogged onto the pitch, immediately positioning himself in front of MK Dons'' left-sided center-back. Within the next two minutes, he was already forcing rushed passes, disrupting their rhythm. Jake smirked from the sideline. The change was working. 70th Minute ¨C The pressure built like a storm brewing over the stadium. MK Dons, now fully committed to the attack, began to overload the wide areas, using their wingers and full-backs to whip crosses into the box. Jake shouted instructions, signaling his backline to stay compact. Then came the moment of disaster. A quick one-two between MK Dons'' left-back and winger created just enough space for a cross. The ball curled into the box, dipping dangerously toward the six-yard line. Min-jae reacted. He stepped forward, trying to cut it out¡ªbut mistimed his interception by half a second. The ball bounced past him, falling perfectly at the feet of MK Dons'' striker. Jake''s breath caught. One touch. A quick turn. Shot. The net rippled. The stadium exploded in noise. GOAL ¨C MK Dons 1-1 Bradford City Min-jae stood frozen for a moment, frustration clear on his face. Barnes immediately ran over, giving him a reassuring slap on the back. Jake, meanwhile, clenched his jaw. One small mistake. That was all it took. 74th Minute ¨C Jake immediately turned to Paul Roberts. "We need fresh legs in midfield." Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ortega had been brilliant all game, but he was starting to fade. His passing accuracy had dipped, and he wasn''t breaking forward as much. MK Dons'' midfield was beginning to find too much space¡ªand that couldn''t continue. Jake called over Lewis Chapman, a hard-working midfielder with endless stamina and defensive discipline. "Lewis," Jake said, "I need you to sit deep and close the spaces. Keep the ball when you can, but the main job is shutting them down." Chapman nodded, cracking his neck. "Got it, boss." ???? Substitution: ???? Alejandro Ortega OFF | Lewis Chapman ON As Ortega walked off, Jake patted him on the shoulder. "Great shift. Rest up." 78th Minute ¨C With Chapman now in midfield, Jake adjusted the formation. Formation Change ¨C 4-3-3 Defensive Setup Carter, Lowe, and Chapman formed a solid three-man midfield, sitting deeper to protect the defense. Silva and Collins dropped wider, tracking MK Dons'' full-backs. Grant stayed forward as an outlet, pressing but also holding up the ball when needed. The next ten minutes were a war. MK Dons launched wave after wave of attacks. Min-jae and Barnes stayed disciplined, clearing dangerous crosses. Okafor made two crucial saves, stopping a long-range strike and punching away a last-minute corner. Chapman threw himself into challenges, winning back possession in key areas. Bradford refused to break. Jake paced the sideline, barking instructions, urging his players to keep their focus. 89th Minute ¨C MK Dons won a corner. The stadium held its breath. The ball swung in¡ªa towering header from their center-back flew toward the net. For a split second, it looked like disaster. Then¡ªOkafor reacted instantly, diving to his right, tipping the ball around the post! Jake fist-pumped the air. They were seconds away from survival. Final Whistle ¨C Full-Time: MK Dons 1-1 Bradford City The Aftermath ¨C As the final whistle blew, Jake exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. It wasn''t perfect, but it was a result. His players looked exhausted, but they had done enough. He walked onto the pitch, shaking hands with Min-jae first. "Forget the mistake," Jake said, voice firm. "You were solid the whole game. We go again next leg." Min-jae nodded, but Jake could see the frustration in his eyes. They would have to be even better at Valley Parade. Post-Match Press Conference Press Conference Begins. Jake adjusted his blazer, stepping up to the microphone. The reporters didn''t waste time. ???? "A 1-1 draw away from home. Do you see this as a good result?" Jake nodded slightly. "It''s a solid result. We came here with a plan, and it worked for the most part. Now we take them back to our place." ???? "MK Dons had more possession. Were you too defensive?" Jake let out a short laugh. "Possession doesn''t win games¡ªgoals do. We played to our strengths. And next game, we''ll be even better." ???? "Does this give you confidence heading into the second leg?" Jake leaned forward slightly, voice steady. "We''ve been in tough battles all season. This is just another one. We''re ready." Final Thought ¨C Jake walked out of the press room, his mind already locked onto the return leg at Valley Parade. The advantage was still open. Chapter 67 - 67: Pre-Match Preparation, System Prediction & Press Conference 4 DAYS LATER ¨C Bradford vs. MK Dons (Home) The energy around Valley Parade felt different. There was no tension, no uncertainty¡ªonly determination. Bradford had done their job in the first leg, securing a 1-1 draw away from home. Now, in front of their own fans, they had the chance to finish the job in style. Jake Wilson stood in his office, arms crossed, staring at the match analysis on his laptop screen. The system had already delivered its final predictions, confirming what he had already expected. [Ding! System Analysis] "Opponent: MK Dons ¨C Forced to play aggressively. Will leave spaces behind." Match Prediction: 75% chance of victory 15% chance of a draw 10% chance of defeat Jake exhaled, eyes flicking over the key tactical notes. Key Tactical Notes: MK Dons will push forward early, desperate for a goal. Their defense is weak under pressure¡ªearly goals will break them mentally. If Bradford controls midfield, the game will be over quickly. Everything was lining up perfectly. MK Dons had no choice but to come out attacking, which meant they''d leave gaps behind. And Jake had every intention of exploiting those gaps. Jake stood in his office, staring at the tactical board one last time. There was no need to hold back now. They had done the hard part¡ªa solid away performance in the first leg had put them in a commanding position. Now, back at Valley Parade, this was their chance to put MK Dons away for good. He was still looking at the system "Opponent: MK Dons ¨C High defensive line, struggles under high pressure." Jake smirked. Perfect. The best way to kill this tie early was to go fully aggressive from the first whistle. The plan was simple but ruthless. Bradford would suffocate MK Dons with relentless pressure, force them into mistakes, and punish them with quick, direct attacks. Tactical Principles: ? High pressing ¨C Force MK Dons into rushed passes, disrupt their buildup. ? Midfield dominance ¨C Carter, Lowe, and Ortega to control possession and dictate tempo. ? Wide overloads ¨C Silva and Collins staying high and wide to stretch the defense. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ? Target-man striker ¨C Thompson to hold up play and exploit MK Dons'' shaky center-backs. Planned Rotations: Jake had carefully selected his lineup, ensuring they had fresh legs where it mattered most. ???? Midfield Change: Daniel Lowe starts, replacing Charlie Benson. Benson had been solid but lacked the physicality needed for this battle. Lowe''s tough tackling and stamina made him the better choice. ???? Attacking Reinforcements: Ortega returns as the creative playmaker. His vision and passing would be crucial in breaking MK Dons down. Silva and Collins both start, tasked with attacking MK Dons'' vulnerable full-backs. Thompson leads the line, targeting their center-backs, holding up play, and finishing chances. ???? Defensive Stability: Okafor remains in goal, prepared for any long-range attempts or set-piece threats. Min-jae and Barnes continue their strong center-back pairing. Jake crossed his arms, nodding slightly as he looked at the board. Everything was in place. He grabbed a marker and made three final notes on the whiteboard: 1?? "Score Early" ¨C MK Dons would be fragile after conceding. If Bradford could get an early goal, their opponents might collapse. 2?? "Win the Midfield Battle" ¨C Carter, Lowe, and Ortega had to control possession. If MK Dons couldn''t get into a rhythm, they''d struggle to create chances. 3?? "Exploit the Wide Spaces" ¨C MK Dons'' full-backs pushed too high. Silva and Collins needed to stay wide, drag defenders out, and attack the gaps left behind. Jake stared at the board one last time. ???? [Ding! System Notification] "Tactical Plan Optimized. Execution Required." He smirked. That part is on us. With a deep breath, he closed his laptop, capped the marker, and turned toward the door. Everything was set. Press Conference Begins The press room at Valley Parade was buzzing with energy. Journalists had packed in tightly, some standing at the back with notepads in hand, others adjusting cameras, ready to capture every word Jake Wilson had to say. The stakes couldn''t be higher¡ªBradford City was one game away from the Playoff Final, and everyone wanted to know if Jake and his squad could handle the pressure. Jake adjusted his seat, keeping his expression calm, composed. He wasn''t about to give the media any signs of doubt. The first question came immediately. ???? "Do you think home advantage affects a game?" Jake smirked slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Absolutely. Valley Parade is a fortress. Our fans push us forward, and the players feel that energy. It''s a huge factor." His voice carried an undeniable confidence, and he wasn''t exaggerating. The atmosphere at Valley Parade was different. It wasn''t just loud¡ªit was suffocating for the opposition. When Bradford played at home, the crowd didn''t just watch. They became a part of the game. Opposing players could feel the pressure with every touch of the ball. Goalkeepers hesitated, defenders panicked, midfielders misplaced passes. MK Dons would soon understand that this wasn''t just a stadium. It was a battlefield. ???? "Do you think you will win today?" Jake didn''t hesitate. He leaned forward slightly, making direct eye contact with the reporter. "We''ve prepared well. We know what we need to do. If we execute our game plan, we will win." His tone was matter-of-fact. No empty hype, no false modesty. Bradford wasn''t here to survive. They were here to dominate. The confidence in his words made the reporters exchange glances. There was no doubt in his mind¡ªhe fully believed in his squad. ???? "MK Dons need a big performance. Are you expecting them to change their approach?" Jake nodded, taking a brief moment before responding. "They have no choice but to attack. That''s what makes this game interesting. Let''s see how well they handle the pressure." A subtle jab. The reality was, MK Dons were the ones who had to adapt. Not Bradford. They had to take risks, expose themselves defensively, and play out of their comfort zone. Bradford? They just had to do what they''d been doing all season¡ªplay their game and punish mistakes. ???? "Your team scored an away goal in the first leg. Do you think that puts you in control?" Jake tilted his head slightly, considering the question. "We earned the away goal, but control isn''t given¡ªit''s taken. We need to take control from the first whistle and not let them breathe." It was the truth. If Bradford sat back, MK Dons could grow into the game. But if they pressed early, forced mistakes, and struck first, the tie would be over before halftime. ???? "If you reach the Playoff Final, what would it mean for Bradford City?" Jake didn''t smile, didn''t celebrate early. His answer was measured, focused. "We''re not thinking about the final yet. One step at a time. The job isn''t done." There was no room for distractions. MK Dons were the only thing that mattered right now. A final round of camera flashes. The murmuring of journalists scribbling down notes. Jake pushed his chair back and stood up, adjusting his blazer. He nodded once at the reporters, then turned and walked out. No extra words. No unnecessary statements. The talking was done. Now, it was time to finish the job. The Locker Room- The Bradford players sat in complete silence, their eyes locked onto Jake as he stood at the center of the locker room. This was it. One more win. One more step to League One. Jake scanned the room, his voice low, steady. "We worked too hard to let this slip now." Silva nodded. Carter clenched his fists. Thompson tapped his boots against the floor. Jake''s eyes burned with intensity. "We take the game to them. We play on our terms. We press them, we punish them, and we put this tie to bed." He took a step closer. "This is our moment." Silence. Then¡ªCollins stood up first. "Let''s f*cking go, then." The locker room exploded with energy. Jake turned toward the door, leading his players out. Kickoff was minutes away. Valley Parade was waiting. Chapter 68 - 68: Bradford City VS MK Dons SECOND LEG (PART 1) Match Day The sun had barely begun to set, but Valley Parade was already a cauldron of noise. The stands were packed, nearly 25,000 fans crammed into every inch of the stadium, waving scarves, banging drums, and singing their lungs out. The roar of the Bradford faithful shook the very foundations of the stadium. Jake stood at the edge of the technical area, arms crossed, scanning the pitch as his players finished their warm-ups. This wasn''t just a match¡ªthis was a battle for promotion. Bradford had everything to gain. MK Dons? They had everything to lose. ???? Starting Lineups ¨C Bradford''s Attack vs. MK Dons'' Desperation Bradford City (4-3-3 Attacking) GK: Okafor RB: Holbrook CB: Min-jae, Barnes LB: Taylor CM: Carter, Lowe, Ortega RW: Collins LW: Silva ST: Thompson MK Dons (4-2-3-1 ¨C High Pressing Setup) GK: Andrews RB: Phillips CB: Harwood, Davies LB: McCarthy CM: Simpson, Rowe CAM: Williams RW: Osborne LW: Taylor ST: Ferguson MK Dons had changed their tactics, going for a high press and a more attacking approach. Jake expected this. The first leg forced them to be aggressive, and in doing so, they had walked straight into Bradford''s trap. First Half Kickoff The referee blew his whistle, and the match was underway. Instantly, Valley Parade came alive. The roar of the home crowd reverberated through the stadium, a relentless wave of noise that seemed to press down on the MK Dons players before they had even touched the ball. Bradford''s intent was clear from the first second. Thompson charged at the center-backs, forcing them to play quicker than they wanted. Carter and Lowe pushed high into midfield, cutting off passing lanes. Silva and Collins angled their runs, preventing MK Dons from playing wide. MK Dons tried to settle, their goalkeeper rolling the ball short to his right-back. A second later, Carter was on him. The MK Dons defender panicked, attempting to play a quick pass into midfield¡ªstraight to Lowe. Bradford Immediately Regain Possession Lowe didn''t hesitate. He took one touch to control, then fired a driven pass into Silva on the left wing. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 2nd Minute The Brazilian took his first touch perfectly, knocking the ball forward into space. MK Dons'' right-back, McCarthy, stepped forward to challenge. But Silva had already seen it coming. A quick shift of his weight¡ªa drop of the shoulder¡ªand he was gone. McCarthy was left chasing shadows. The crowd rose to their feet as Silva accelerated down the left flank. MK Dons'' defensive line scrambled, trying to reset. Collins sprinted into the box, Thompson peeled away at the back post. Silva had options¡ªbut he wanted more. As he reached the edge of the penalty area, MK Dons'' defensive midfielder Rowe lunged in. Foul! The referee blew his whistle instantly, pointing to the spot just outside the box. Silva pushed himself up, shaking his head. He wasn''t hurt¡ªbut he was angry. Jake, standing on the sideline, smirked slightly. "That''s one way to stop him." Bradford Free Kick Ortega stepped up to take it. He eyed the wall, took his run-up, and¡­ Over the bar. A groan from the crowd. Jake clapped once. "No problem, keep the pressure up!" Bradford had set the tone. MK Dons were already struggling. And it was only the second minute. 10th Minute The opening exchanges had belonged to Bradford, but MK Dons were starting to find their rhythm. After struggling under Bradford''s intense pressing, the visitors began adjusting, shifting into a more patient, possession-based build-up. MK Dons Settle into Their Game Plan Their midfielders dropped deeper, recycling possession rather than forcing risky passes. Their center-backs spread wider, trying to draw Bradford''s pressing forwards out of position. Their full-backs pushed higher, giving them width to bypass Bradford''s compact midfield. Jake recognized the shift instantly. From the touchline, he gestured to Carter and Lowe. "Stay disciplined. Don''t get dragged out." MK Dons'' patience paid off in the 10th minute. The ball was worked through midfield quickly, finding their deep-lying playmaker, Rowe, in space. One quick look up¡ªand Rowe launched a diagonal ball over the top. The pass was perfectly weighted, sailing over Taylor at left-back and landing right into the path of Osborne on the right wing. The MK Dons winger controlled it brilliantly, killing the ball mid-stride. He drove forward into the box, cutting inside, looking for an opening. Min-jae backed off slightly, ensuring he didn''t overcommit. Osborne Takes the Shot! From just inside the penalty area, Osborne let fly with a curling effort toward the far post! The moment the shot left Osborne''s foot, Okafor was already moving. Bradford''s keeper dived low to his right, fully outstretched. For a brief second, the ball looked destined for the bottom corner. But Okafor got a hand to it! The ball skidded off his gloves and out for a corner. The MK Dons away fans jumped in excitement¡ªfor a moment, they thought it was in. But the Bradford supporters rose to their feet, applauding Okafor''s reaction. Jake on the Touchline ¨C A Quick Adjustment Jake clapped his hands, signaling to his players. "Wake up! Keep your shape!" Carter jogged over to Lowe, giving him a quick nod. They needed to tighten up. Bradford had survived their first real test of the game. But MK Dons had shown their intent. This wasn''t going to be easy. 23rd Minute Silva had been electric from the opening whistle. Every time he got on the ball, MK Dons'' defenders tensed up, uncertain of his next move. Jake had seen it countless times before¡ªwhen Silva was in this mood, he was almost unplayable. Silva Picks Up the Ball in Midfield Lowe won a crunching tackle in midfield, immediately shifting the ball to Ortega. Ortega, with one glance up, saw Silva in space on the left wing¡ªand sent a quick, lofted pass his way. Silva took his first touch beautifully, knocking the ball forward into space, already accelerating before McCarthy could react. McCarthy, MK Dons'' right-back, rushed forward, angling his body to block Silva''s path. But Silva wasn''t slowing down. McCarthy lunged, trying to force Silva toward the sideline. But Silva had already planned his move. With a quick flick of his left foot, he sent the ball between McCarthy''s legs and sprinted past him on the other side. The crowd ROARED. McCarthy spun around in panic, but Silva was already gone. Silva kept running, the ball glued to his feet. Collins made a run inside, dragging a defender with him. Thompson pointed toward the penalty spot, calling for a cross. But Silva had only one thing in mind. He cut inside onto his right foot, skipping past a second defender. With a quick shift of balance, he unleashed a curling effort toward the top corner! The Crowd Holds Its Breath¡­ The ball spun viciously through the air, dipping late. The MK Dons keeper jumped, stretching his fingertips¡­ JUST OVER THE BAR! Groans from the crowd¡ªbut applause quickly follows. Jake clapped his hands together, stepping forward on the touchline. "That''s it, Silva! Keep going at him!" He turned to Paul Roberts, a knowing smirk on his face. "McCarthy''s done. He''s scared of him now." Paul grinned. "He''s gonna tear him apart." Silva jogged back into position, shaking his head but smiling slightly. He knew it too. He was just getting started. 32nd Minute For the first time all match, Valley Parade fell completely silent. For a brief, agonizing moment, it looked like MK Dons had broken the deadlock. MK Dons had been growing into the game, their midfield finding more pockets of space. Williams, playing as their attacking midfielder, started dropping deeper, looking to pull the strings. Bradford''s defensive shape remained disciplined, but MK Dons found a rare opening. Williams Picks the Lock Under pressure from Lowe, Williams took a quick touch away and spotted a run. A perfectly weighted through ball sliced between Min-jae and Barnes. Ferguson, MK Dons'' striker, timed his run¡ªjust barely¡ªgetting in behind. One-on-One with Okafor Ferguson burst into the box, Okafor rushing out to close the angle. One touch to the right¡ªOkafor was beaten. Ferguson tapped the ball into the empty net. The MK Dons away end EXPLODED. Their bench leapt to their feet, fists pumping, coaches shouting in celebration. A few MK Dons players ran toward the corner flag, arms stretched in triumph. But Then¡­ A sharp whistle pierced the air. A raised flag on the far side. OFFSIDE! It took a second for everyone to realize. Relief turned into a deafening roar. The Bradford fans erupted in celebration, chanting loudly to drown out the MK Dons protests. The MK Dons players surrounded the referee, arms raised in frustration. Jake never moved. Hands still on his hips, he exhaled slowly. Too close. He turned to Paul Roberts. "That can''t happen again." Paul nodded, immediately relaying a message to Carter and Lowe. "Tighten up! No gaps!" Bradford had dodged a bullet. And now, Jake wanted payback. 44th Minute The first half had been a war, both teams trading blows but failing to land a decisive strike. With the game locked at 0-0, Jake knew a goal before halftime would shift the momentum completely. Bradford pushed forward one last time. Ortega, always scanning, received the ball just past the halfway line. MK Dons'' midfield hesitated, unsure whether to close him down or hold their shape. With a sharp turn, Ortega drove forward into space. Collins Makes His Run On the right wing, Collins read the movement instantly and sprinted into position. Ortega lifted his head and threaded a perfect pass into Collins'' path. With one touch, Collins set himself up. The MK Dons left-back scrambled to close him down, but Collins was too quick. He swung a curling cross into the penalty area¡ªlooping, dangerous. Thompson timed his jump perfectly, rising above both MK Dons center-backs. He angled his header toward the far post, eyes locked on the ball. The stadium held its breath. Inches Wide! The ball sailed just past the post, grazing the netting on the way down. A collective groan echoed around Valley Parade. Jake clapped his hands together, shouting encouragement. "That''s it! Keep attacking them!" Thompson shook his head, frustrated, but Jake knew the forward was locked in. The Whistle Blows ¨C Halftime: 0-0 As the players walked off the pitch, Jake remained calm, collected. The game was still in their hands. Now, it was time to finish the job. Jake walks down the tunnel without expression. The game was still in their hands. Now, it was time to make sure they took it. ???? Halftime Team Talk ¨C Time to Finish the Job The locker room was silent. Every player sat, staring at Jake, waiting. He stepped forward, voice calm, but sharp. "They gave us their best shot, and they still haven''t broken us." Eyes locked onto him. "They''re tired. They''re desperate. And we are going to punish them for it." A pause. Then he turned to Silva. "You''re faster than their entire backline. Take risks. Attack." To Thompson. "I want more movement. Drop deep, pull defenders out, and when you get your chance, BURY it." To Carter and Lowe. "Win every damn ball." He clapped his hands. "Forty-five minutes. That''s all that''s left. GO FINISH IT." Chapter 69 - 69: Bradford City VS MK Dons SECOND LEG (PART 2) Second Half The referee''s whistle echoed through Valley Parade, signaling the start of the final 45 minutes. The energy in the stadium had shifted. The first half was tense, filled with moments where either side could have taken the lead. But now? Now, it felt inevitable¡ªBradford were about to take control. Jake Wilson stood at the edge of his technical area, watching his players spread out into position. No changes at halftime¡ªhe had full trust in his starting eleven. Kickoff From the first touch, Bradford showed their intent. Carter and Lowe immediately pressed the MK Dons midfield, forcing a hurried pass that went straight out of play. Silva dropped deep to pick up possession, skipping past one defender before being fouled¡ªfree kick to Bradford. Jake clapped his hands loudly from the sideline. "That''s it! Pressure them! We don''t let them breathe!" 47th Minute Just two minutes after kickoff, the ball found its way to Ortega in midfield. With a quick glance up, he spotted Collins making a diagonal run down the right wing, drifting into the space between MK Dons'' left-back and center-back. Ortega didn''t hesitate. He took a touch to settle the ball before launching a perfect, lofted pass over the MK Dons defense. Collins watched it all the way, adjusting his run as the ball dropped over his shoulder. With his first touch, he controlled it on his chest, taking the ball perfectly in stride. The MK Dons left-back, McCarthy, recovered quickly, stepping across to cut off the inside lane. Collins, however, was a step ahead. With a quick feint to his right, he sold McCarthy completely, before cutting inside onto his stronger left foot. The space opened up. From just outside the penalty area, Collins curled a precise left-footed shot toward the far post. The ball spun beautifully through the air, curling toward the top corner. Valley Parade held its breath. The MK Dons keeper scrambled across goal, eyes locked on the ball. It missed by inches. The shot whistled past the post, brushing the side netting. Collins froze for a second, hands on his head. He knew how close it was. The crowd roared in appreciation, clapping loudly as the winger shook his head and jogged back into position. MK Dons Already Looked Rattled. Their defenders yelled at each other, trying to reorganize. Their coach stood on the touchline, arms raised in frustration. It was only a warning shot¡ªbut one that sent a clear message. Jake, standing near the dugout, grinned slightly. "That''s the start we needed." 50th Minute MK Dons attempted to slow the game down, passing sideways, trying to regain control. But Bradford refused to let them settle. Thompson chased down their center-back, forcing him into a misplaced pass straight to Carter. Bradford''s intensity was suffocating. MK Dons'' full-backs, who had been attacking in the first half, barely crossed the halfway line now. Their midfielders kept looking over their shoulders, knowing they were being hunted down every time they received the ball. Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "They''re breaking." Paul nodded. "One goal, and they''re done." Bradford could feel it. The fans could sense it. And in just one minute, Valley Parade would erupt. 51st Minute Valley Parade was already electric, but the moment that was about to unfold would send it into chaos. Ortega collected possession in midfield, gliding past an MK Dons midfielder with ease. With a quick scan of the field, he spotted Collins making a run down the right flank. Ortega didn''t hesitate¡ªhe played a perfectly weighted through ball into space. The Bradford winger sprinted onto the pass, his first touch immaculate. Phillips, MK Dons'' Right-back, was scrambling to keep up. Collins cut inside slightly, opening up the angle for a cross. With the outside of his right foot, Collins sent a curling ball toward the penalty spot. The MK Dons defenders rushed to react, but the ball took an awkward bounce just before reaching them. Davies, the center-back, hesitated for a split second¡ªunsure whether to clear it or let it bounce. That hesitation was all Silva needed. He adjusted his body position immediately, reading the ball''s trajectory. The ball popped up perfectly, inviting something audacious. The Moment of Magic Silva planted his left foot, leaned backward, and lifted himself into the air. In one fluid motion, he threw his body backward and swung his right foot over his head. The stadium held its breath. His boot connected perfectly with the ball, striking it cleanly. The ball rocketed toward goal, spinning violently through the air. MK Dons'' keeper, Andrews, could only watch as it sailed past him and smashed into the top corner. GOAL! The net bulged. For a split second, there was silence¡ªas if no one could believe what had just happened. Then, Valley Parade ERUPTED. Bradford 1-0 MK Dons (2-1 Aggregate). Silva landed on his back, eyes wide with disbelief before his teammates swarmed him, pulling him up in celebration. Collins ran over, grabbing Silva''s shirt and shouting in his face, hyping him up. The Bradford bench exploded, players leaping into the air. On the touchline, Jake just laughed, hands on his head. He turned to Paul Roberts, still in shock. "That''s world-class." Paul just nodded, still staring at the replay on the stadium screen. "That''s one for the history books." Silva ran toward the fans, arms outstretched. Valley Parade had just witnessed something special. Bradford had the lead. And MK Dons were falling apart. 60th Minute ¨C Second Goal, Thompson''s Thunderbolt The energy in Valley Parade was already at its peak, but what was about to happen next would send the entire stadium into utter chaos. Silva''s bicycle kick had broken the deadlock, but Jake knew MK Dons weren''t finished yet. They still had time to regroup, still had time to push forward. But Bradford weren''t going to let them. MK Dons were rattled. They were pushing higher up the pitch, trying to force an equalizer. And that desperation? That''s what created the opening. ???? 60th Minute MK Dons tried to build from the back, shifting possession from left to right. Their central midfielder, Simpson, received the ball near the center circle, looking for an option. Carter read it instantly. Carter lunged forward, his timing perfect. He stretched his right foot out, poking the ball away before Simpson could react. In the same movement, Carter immediately turned and looked upfield. Jake leaned forward on the sideline. Go on¡­ The Pass & Thompson''s Instinct Carter didn''t hesitate¡ªhe threaded a sharp, driven pass straight into Thompson''s feet, just outside the attacking third. Thompson controlled it perfectly, using his first touch to set himself up. Then, he looked up. MK Dons'' keeper, Andrews, had stepped off his line. Too far. Way too far. Jake saw it. Paul Roberts saw it. Thompson saw it. With one powerful stride forward, Thompson shifted his body weight. He drew his right foot back, locking his eyes on the target. The entire stadium held its breath. BOOM. Thompson unleashed a 30-yard rocket. The ball soared through the air, traveling like a missile. It started rising¡­ then dipped viciously. Andrews scrambled backward, his arms flailing. Too late. The ball crashed into the back of the net! GOAL! The moment the net rippled, Valley Parade EXPLODED. Bradford fans screamed in disbelief. Thompson sprinted to the corner flag, sliding to his knees, fists clenched. Carter ran over, grabbing him by the shirt and shaking him in excitement. The Bradford bench emptied onto the touchline, players and staff leaping in celebration. Bradford 2-0 MK Dons (3-1 Aggregate). Jake just stood there, grinning. Paul Roberts turned to him, still stunned. "Did he just¡­?" Jake nodded, still smirking. "Yeah. He did." MK Dons'' players looked at each other, lost, defeated. Their coach stood on the sideline, hands on his head, unable to believe what just happened. The fight was draining from them. Thompson jogged back into position, pumping his fist toward the roaring fans. Jake folded his arms. "Finish them." 65th Minute ???? Osborne OFF | Bradley ON ???? Williams OFF | Thompson ON Jake turns to Paul Roberts. "Too late." 70th Minute MK Dons were collapsing. The moment Thompson''s long-range thunderbolt had hit the back of the net, their body language shifted completely. Defenders stopped communicating. Midfielders weren''t tracking runners anymore. The manager on the sideline was shouting, but no one was listening. Bradford smelled blood. Jake couldn''t have asked for a better situation. His team was in full control, and now it was about putting the game beyond all doubt. MK Dons, out of ideas, tried to force their way forward. Their midfielders played a desperate pass into the final third, hoping for a spark. Min-jae stepped in. Intercepted. Ortega picked up the loose ball in midfield and instantly turned. He had space. He had time. And more importantly, he had Carter making a run toward the edge of the box. Ortega feinted left, throwing off his marker, before slotting a perfect pass forward. Carter didn''t even break stride. The ball rolled into his path, inviting the shot. One touch to settle. One glance at the goal. Then¡ªa beautiful curling effort toward the top corner! GOAL! The ball whipped past the keeper''s fingertips and nestled into the top corner. Bradford 3-0 MK Dons (4-1 Aggregate). Valley Parade ERUPTED. Carter ran straight to the dugout, pointing at Jake. Jake grinned, nodding. "That''s how it''s done." MK Dons were finished. But Bradford wasn''t done scoring. 78th Minute Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "Now we bury them." MK Dons could barely string three passes together anymore. Their midfield was exhausted. Their defenders had no fight left. Bradford could sense it. Lowe, relentless as ever, pounced on a sloppy MK Dons pass in midfield. He cut inside, shielded the ball, and immediately played it forward. Collins was waiting. Collins took one touch, raised his head, and saw Silva ghosting into the box. Perfect timing. Perfect run. Collins whipped in a low cross across the face of goal. Silva, running full speed, didn''t hesitate. One touch. First-time finish. GOAL! The ball rocketed into the back of the net, leaving the keeper with zero chance. Bradford 4-0 MK Dons (5-1 Aggregate). Silva didn''t even celebrate right away. He just stood there for a moment, arms outstretched, staring into the crowd. Then, finally, he let out a roar, sprinting toward the corner flag. Jake? He just smiled. It was over. 85th Minute MK Dons had completely given up. Their defenders weren''t even pressing anymore. Every time Bradford had the ball, it felt like they could score. Jake watched as Thompson, now full of confidence, toyed with MK Dons'' last defender. Thompson feinted right, cut left, and dragged the ball with him. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The center-back stepped forward to close him down. That was a mistake. Thompson calmly laid the ball off to his right. Collins was waiting. He stepped onto the ball, drove it low into the bottom corner. The keeper didn''t even dive. GOAL! Bradford 5-0 MK Dons (6-1 Aggregate). FULL-TIME: Bradford 5-0 MK Dons (6-1 Aggregate). For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then¡ªthe whistle blew. Fans stormed the pitch, security barely able to contain them. Players hugged, some dropping to their knees in celebration. Valley Parade shook with the noise of 25,000 voices celebrating a dream that was now reality. Jake? He simply smiled. He shook Paul Roberts'' hand, then turned to his staff. "One more win." And they would be in League One Chapter 70 - 70: The Aftermath of the Semi-Final Victory Celebrations & Emotions The final whistle had barely blown before Valley Parade erupted into absolute chaos. Bradford had done it. 6-1 on aggregate. A ruthless display. A statement to the rest of the league. The players collapsed onto the pitch, some on their knees, some embracing each other, others running straight to the fans. The crowd was deafening¡ªchants of "WE''RE GOING UP!" echoed through the night sky. Silva jumped onto Collins'' back, laughing. Carter fist-pumped toward the roaring supporters. Jake? He stood still for a moment, hands in his pockets, simply watching. As soon as they entered the dressing room, it was pure madness. Champagne bottles were popped open. Music blasted through the speakers. Players danced, shouted, and celebrated like they had already won the title. Collins (grinning): "Six goals? We''re unstoppable, man!" Silva (laughing): "Did you see that bicycle kick?! I should be in the highlight reel forever!" Thompson (smirking at Jake): "Hey boss, did I surprise you with that goal or what?" Jake chuckled, shaking his head. Jake (calmly): "You surprised the whole damn league, Thompson." The players cheered again. But as the celebrations continued, Jake''s mind was already shifting. This wasn''t the end. They still had one more job to do. As the noise from the locker room continued, Jake received a text message from the chairman. CHAIRMAN: "Congratulations, Jake. What you''ve done for this club is incredible. One more win, and you''ll make history." Jake exhaled. He knew what this meant. Bradford hadn''t played in League One for years. This wasn''t just about winning a match. This was about rewriting the club''s future. He put his phone away, straightened his blazer, and walked back into the locker room. Jake (raising his voice): "Enjoy this, boys. But remember¡ªthis is NOT the final." The room quieted slightly. Jake (firmly): "You want to celebrate properly? You want to become legends?" "Win the next game." The players nodded, the seriousness settling in. The job wasn''t done yet. Post-Match Press Conference The stadium was still buzzing. Fans were chanting outside, refusing to leave. Inside the press room, reporters had already taken their seats, eager to get Jake''s thoughts after Bradford''s 5-0 demolition of MK Dons. Jake walked in, composed, but with a hint of satisfaction on his face. The cameras flashed. The murmurs stopped. It was time to talk. ???? "Jake, congratulations on the victory! How do you feel after such a dominant performance?" Jake (leaning into the mic): "Thank you. It was a fantastic performance from the lads. We knew the job wasn''t done after the first leg, and tonight, they showed exactly why we deserve to be in the final." ???? "Did you expect to win by such a big margin?" Jake (smirking slightly): "Football is unpredictable. You never go into a game expecting five goals. But we were confident in our preparation. We knew if we executed our game plan, we''d create chances. Credit to the players¡ªthey delivered." ???? "Silva''s bicycle kick was the highlight of the night. Where does that rank among the best goals you''ve seen?" Jake (chuckling): "I''ve seen a lot of great goals, but that one? That was special. You don''t teach that. That''s pure instinct, pure ability. The fact he even attempted it shows the kind of confidence he''s playing with right now." Reporter (following up): "Did you expect him to try something like that?" Jake (laughing): "With Silva? You expect anything." The room erupts into light laughter. ???? "Your team seems to be peaking at the right time. Does this make you favorites for the final?" Jake (firmly): "Favorites don''t win finals. Hard work does. And we have one more job to do." His tone is serious now. Jake (continuing): "Notts County are a strong side. They''ve been in the top three all season for a reason. We''ll need to be at our absolute best to win." ????"Notts County is known for their defensive structure. How will you approach the final?" Jake (grinning slightly): "If you think I''m giving that away, you must be new here." (Room erupts in laughter.) Jake (more serious): "We''ll analyze them, we''ll prepare, and when the time comes, we''ll be ready." ???? "You''re 90 minutes away from taking Bradford City to League One. What would it mean for this club?" Jake (pausing for a moment): "It would mean everything. The fans, the players, the staff¡ªeveryone has worked so hard for this moment. We''re not there yet, but we''re close. And we''ll give everything to make it happen." ???? "Final question¡ªif you could send one message to the Bradford fans before the final, what would it be?" Jake (looking directly into the cameras): "Get ready. We''re going to Wembley." The room erupts in murmurs. Cameras flash. Jake stands up, nods once, and walks out. The message was clear. One more win. And Bradford City would be in League One. As Jake stepped into his office, wiping champagne off his sleeve, his laptop screen flashed with a familiar sound. [Ding! New Analysis Available] "Opponent: Notts County ¨C Elite in big matches, strong defensive structure." Jake immediately leaned forward, scanning the details. Notts County finished 6th in League Two. They had the second-best defense in the league. They thrived in high-pressure games and had experienced veterans in key positions. Strengths: Organized backline ¨C difficult to break down. Disciplined midfield ¨C presses hard to disrupt play. Lethal on set-pieces ¨C one of the best dead-ball teams in the league. Weaknesses: Slow center-backs ¨C struggle against fast wingers. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Vulnerable to high pressing ¨C forced errors when pressured quickly. Depend heavily on one playmaker ¨C shut him down, and their creativity suffers. Jake cracked his knuckles. "They''re strong. But not unbeatable." He had four days to find the perfect game plan. As he closed the laptop, he already knew one thing for sure. Bradford were going to be ready. Late Night ¨C The streets were quiet when Jake finally pulled into the driveway. The celebrations at Valley Parade had lasted for hours, the adrenaline still lingering in his veins, but now? Now, it was just him and the silence of the night. He pushed the door open, stepping inside. Warm lights, the scent of lavender in the air. From the living room, his wife, Emily, looked up from the couch, a soft smile forming as she saw him. Emily (smirking): "The legend himself finally comes home." Jake chuckled, dropping his bag by the door. His body was exhausted, but his mind was still buzzing. Jake (grinning): "You watched?" Emily (mocking): "Watched? Babe, I had to mute the commentary because they wouldn''t stop hyping you up. ''Jake Wilson''s tactical masterclass!'' ''Bradford''s miracle worker!''" She got up, walking over, her hands sliding over his shoulders. Emily (softly): "I''m proud of you, you know." Jake (exhaling, finally relaxing): "One more to go." Emily (whispering): "One more¡­ but for now, you''re home." She leaned in, pressing her lips softly against his, and for the first time all day, Jake let go of football. There was no press. No tactics. No system alerts. Just him and the woman who had been there through every rise, every fall, every damn struggle. She grabbed his hand, leading him upstairs. Emily (grinning): "Now, let''s celebrate properly." Jake smirked, following her. Tonight? Football could wait. Chapter 71 - 71: Pre-Final Preparations Begin The day after Bradford''s stunning victory over MK Dons, the city was still buzzing with excitement. One more match stood between them and League One. Jake Wilson, however, had already moved on. There was no time to celebrate. Notts County awaited. Inside his office, Jake sat alone, staring at the tactical breakdown the system had provided. Opponent Analysis Notts County had finished 6th in League Two, just missing out on automatic promotion. They were a team built for tight, cagey matches, thriving under pressure. The system''s latest update confirmed what Jake already suspected: Notts County''s defensive structure was one of the best in the league. They rarely conceded early goals. Their midfield controlled games, slowing down the tempo and frustrating opponents. They had the most goals from set-pieces in the league. A difficult opponent¡ªbut not unbeatable. they won Gillingham 3-0 on aggregate during their semis. Jake leaned back, tapping his fingers on the desk. They would try to kill the tempo, sit deep, and wait for a moment of weakness. Bradford couldn''t allow that to happen. System Recommended Tactical Setup ¨C 4-2-3-1 Pressing Formation Jake had spent the last three hours in his office, dissecting every detail the system provided. Notts County were disciplined, structured, and well-drilled. A team that didn''t make many mistakes¡ªbut that didn''t mean they were flawless. They were strong in set-pieces, dangerous when allowed time on the ball, and composed under pressure. But there were weaknesses, and Jake had no intention of letting them go unpunished. He reached for his notepad, flipping through the pages filled with tactical breakdowns, opposition scouting reports, and player heat maps. Every note pointed to the same conclusion¡ªthis game would be won in two areas: midfield dominance and relentless pressing. He knew exactly how to approach the match. Formation: 4-2-3-1 (High Pressing, Fast Transitions) Bradford couldn''t afford to let Notts County slow the tempo or dictate the rhythm of play. They had to disrupt them from the first whistle, force them into rushed decisions, and capitalize on every mistake. The shape was set. A 4-2-3-1 designed for intensity, movement, and control. The back four would remain disciplined, ensuring they weren''t caught out by Notts County''s counters. The double pivot in midfield would be aggressive, pressing hard to suffocate any build-up play. The front four had one job¡ªstretch, press, and punish. Jake ran his fingers along the whiteboard, writing down the three key tactical objectives. The Plan 1. High-intensity pressing Notts County''s midfielders needed time and space to control games. They wouldn''t get it. Ortega, Carter, and Lowe would push aggressively, cutting off passing lanes. Silva and Collins would press from wide, forcing Notts County''s defenders into rushed clearances. Thompson would operate as the first line of defense, harassing the opposition center-backs every time they received the ball. Jake circled the word "tempo" on the board. If Bradford controlled it, Notts County would suffocate. 2. Stretch their defense wide Notts County''s full-backs were solid defensively but lacked the pace to deal with direct, tricky wingers. Silva and Collins were crucial. Their movement would force the full-backs into one-on-one situations, something Jake wanted. Bradford would keep width at all times, preventing Notts County from compacting their defensive line. Crosses and cutbacks would be key. The moment Notts County''s shape broke, that''s when the real danger would come. Jake tapped his marker against the whiteboard. Speed would win this battle. 3. Thompson as a false nine Notts County''s center-backs were strong in duels but struggled when dragged out of position. Thompson wouldn''t just stay central¡ªhe''d drop deeper, pulling defenders with him. This movement would open lanes for Silva and Collins to make inside runs, exploiting the space behind. Ortega would be the key link, threading passes into those channels. Jake underlined one phrase¡ª"Make their defenders uncomfortable." If Notts County''s backline was forced to leave their comfort zone, Bradford would find the openings they needed. Key Players for the Final Jake''s eyes moved down to the individual player breakdowns. Every match was a battle, but finals? They were won by individuals stepping up when it mattered most. Okafor (GK) ¨C Command the box Notts County thrived on set-pieces, and Okafor would need to be at his best. His positioning had to be perfect¡ªone misstep, and Notts County would capitalize. He would have to be aggressive on crosses, punching or catching anything near his six-yard box. Min-jae & Barnes (CBs) ¨C Own the aerial duels Notts County''s target man up front was a constant threat. Min-jae had to use his aggression and strength to prevent him from holding up play. Barnes needed to be smart with positioning, tracking runners and covering gaps. If they shut down Notts County''s number nine, half the battle was already won. Ortega (CAM) ¨C Control the game Everything Bradford did would run through Ortega. His job was to break Notts County''s defensive structure with movement and passing. He had to find pockets of space between the midfield and defense, where he could operate freely. If Ortega dictated the tempo, Bradford would control the game. Silva & Collins (Wingers) ¨C Exploit the weak points Jake had one clear instruction for them¡ªattack relentlessly. Their pace would force Notts County''s defenders into difficult decisions. The goal was simple¡ªmake every one-on-one a nightmare for the opposition. Jake had no doubt that if Silva and Collins performed, Notts County wouldn''t last ninety minutes. Jake stood up, cracking his neck. The strategy was clear. The system had provided all the data, but this match wasn''t going to be won by analytics. It would be won by his players executing the plan to perfection. Now, his job was to make them believe in it. Locker Room Speech Before Training Jake stepped into the dressing room, where his squad sat waiting. The energy was different now. This wasn''t excitement. This was focus. His eyes scanned the room, locking onto each player before he spoke. "One game. Ninety minutes. That''s all that''s left." Silence. "You all know what this means. You''ve worked too hard to stop now. You''ve come too far to let this slip. History remembers winners. Nobody remembers the team that came second." He looked directly at Ortega, Silva, and Collins. "You three¡ªwin your battles, and we win this game." Ortega gave a small nod. Collins clenched his fists. Silva simply smirked. There was no more motivation needed. They all knew what was at stake. Pre-Final Press Conference The press room was packed, journalists jostling for the best seats as Jake walked in. The cameras flashed as he took his seat, adjusting his blazer. The questions started immediately. "Notts County has more experience in big matches. Do you think that gives them an advantage?" Jake leaned back slightly, keeping his tone composed. "Experience doesn''t win games. Performance does." A few murmurs from the reporters. They weren''t expecting that answer. "You''ve dominated the playoffs so far. Are you confident you''ll win the final?" Jake allowed a small smirk. "We believe in our ability. But confidence doesn''t win you titles¡ªexecution does." The tension in the room shifted. The message was clear¡ªBradford weren''t here just to compete. They were here to win. "If you lose, will this season be considered a failure?" Jake leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "We''re not planning to lose." A silence followed. No more questions came. Jake had said all that needed to be said. He stood, nodded once, and walked out. Jake had barely made it back to his office when his phone buzzed. A message from Carter''s agent. He frowned, reading it twice. "AS Monaco have submitted a formal offer for Ryan Carter. Contract details attached. Let us know how you''d like to proceed." Jake exhaled, setting the phone down. Carter had been one of Bradford''s best players all season. A move to Monaco? It was huge. Ligue 1. European football. But the timing¡­ This was the worst possible moment. Carter was still in the training facility when Jake called him into his office. As the midfielder stepped in, Jake didn''t waste time. "You need to make a choice." Carter''s expression was unreadable. "Are you thinking about that contract, or are you thinking about winning this final?" Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A long pause. Carter''s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "I want to win this final."** His voice was steady, but Jake could tell his mind was conflicted.** Jake studied him for a moment, then made his decision. "You''re benched." Carter''s head snapped up. "What?!" Jake''s expression didn''t change. "I need players who are fully locked in. Your head isn''t in the right place." Silence. Carter''s face flashed with anger, but then¡­ it faded. He nodded. "I understand." Jake stood. "You''re still part of this squad, Carter. But I need to do what''s best for the team." Carter turned, walking out without another word. Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. This wasn''t easy. But it was the right call. The final was days away. There was no room for distractions. Final Thought ¨C All Focus on the Final Bradford was one match away from promotion. Notts County was strong, but they weren''t unbeatable. Jake adjusted his tie, staring at the tactics board in his office. Everything was set. The strategy. The players. The mentality. Now, there was only one thing left to do. Win. Chapter 72 - 72: Match Day: The Biggest Game in Bradford’s History The Atmosphere at Wembley ¨C A Momentous Occasion Wembley Stadium was a full of noise. One half of the stands were filled bradford fans and the other half was their opponent, thousands of Bradford fans waving scarves, chanting together. Their voices were so loud you could hear through the massive arena, a relentless wall of support. On the other side, Notts County''s supporters matched them in energy, their black-and-white banners filling their section of the stadium. Both sets of fans knew what was at stake¡ªninety minutes to decide who would be playing in League One next season. The players stood inside the dressing room, waiting. Some jumped on their toes, others adjusted their kits. The tension was crazy, but so was the adrenaline. Jake stood at the front, arms crossed, watching as his players soaked it all in. He had seen his squad grow from a struggling fifth-tier side into a team standing on the verge of promotion. And now, they were here. The referee gave the signal. Bradford''s players stepped onto the Wembley pitch. The roar from the fans was deafening. Jake''s Last Instructions Before Kickoff Inside the dressing room, the noise from outside was surpressed, but the weight of the moment wasn''t. The players sat on the benches, their eyes locked onto Jake as he stood in the center, looking at each one of them. He didn''t need a long speech. They already knew what this meant. He took a slow breath before speaking. "Everything we''ve done this season comes down to today." Silence. Jake scanned the room, his voice steady but firm. "All the hard work. All the sacrifices. Every sprint. Every tackle. Every goal. It''s all led to this moment. Ninety minutes to write your names into history." The players sat motionless, absorbing every word. "Stay aggressive. Stay composed. Execute the plan. If we do that, we win." Jake''s gaze shifted toward Silva and Collins. "You two¡ªattack their full-backs early. Make them uncomfortable. Force them into mistakes." Silva cracked a small smirk, nodding. Collins tapped his boots together, ready. Jake turned back to the rest of the team. "This is our time." He clapped his hands once. "Let''s go." The players rose as one. The System Prediction & Tactical Analysis As Jake walked out of the dressing room, his watch vibrated. [Ding! System Prediction] "Bradford 60% chance of winning. First goal is crucial." Jake exhaled slowly. He already knew the importance of the opening goal, but seeing the system reinforce it only made his decision clearer. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. If Bradford scored first, Notts County''s defensive structure would collapse. But if Notts County scored first, they would sit deeper, make the game ugly, and force Bradford into frustration. Jake made a late tweak to his instructions. He pulled Ortega aside before they stepped onto the pitch. "Push higher up when we press. Force their midfield into rushed passes. Make them uncomfortable." Ortega nodded, his expression locked in. Jake walked onto the sideline, his mind racing with the final adjustments. The plan was set. Starting XI & Lineups Confirmed Bradford City (4-2-3-1 Pressing Formation): Goalkeeper: Okafor Right Back: Richard Center Backs: Min-jae, Barnes Left Back: Taylor Central Midfielders: Lowe, Ortega Right Wing: Collins Left Wing: Silva Attacking Midfielder: Chapman (Replacing Carter, who was benched) Striker: Thompson Notts County (4-4-2 Defensive Shape) Notts County had built their entire season on defensive closeness and discipline. They weren''t a side that played open, wide-range football. they were structured, resilient, and incredibly difficult to break down. Jake had studied them extensively. He knew exactly what to expect. They would set up in two solid banks of four, keeping their shape compact and forcing Bradford to break them down through sheer patience and precision. Defensive Approach ¨C A Deep, Compact Block Their back four rarely ventured forward, keeping a tight line to prevent any space behind. The midfield four sat deep, doubling up on the wingers and closing down passing lanes. The strikers didn''t drop back to defend¡ªthey hovered near the halfway line, waiting to spring forward on the counter. Their center-backs were tall, physical, and dominant in the air, making crosses into the box a difficult route. Jake knew that if Notts County scored first, they would only get deeper, wasting time, breaking momentum, and making the game scrappy. Bradford had to score first. Notts County''s Starting XI (4-4-2 Formation): Goalkeeper: James Dixon Defenders: Ryan McCarthy Callum Preston Jake Rowe Marcus Shaw MIDFIELD: Jason Holden- RM George Wilkins- CM. Matt Slater- CM Connor Blake- LM FOWARD: Darren Holt-ST Nathan Reid-ST Jake had no doubts about what this lineup meant. Notts County weren''t here to play football. They were here to defend, frustrate, and counter. Bradford would have to break them down¡ªquickly. Kickoff ¨C The referee blew the whistle, and Wembley erupted once again. This was it. Ninety minutes to decide everything. Bradford''s players immediately spread out into position, with Thompson pressing high, while Notts County''s players dropped back, settling into their compact defensive shape. Jake had expected this. Notts County weren''t going to take risks early. They were a team built on structure, discipline, and patience. Their midfield formed a solid five-man line, making it clear that they weren''t going to commit forward until absolutely necessary. They weren''t pressing Bradford''s defenders. They weren''t rushing challenges. They were waiting. Bradford, on the other hand, took control right away. The ball moved quickly between Ortega and Lowe, the midfield pair keeping it simple, probing for openings. Ortega constantly shifted his position, drifting into spaces between Notts County''s midfield and defense. Lowe played short, sharp passes, keeping the ball moving to prevent the opposition from settling. Barnes and Min-jae stepped higher up the pitch, pushing the defensive line closer to the halfway line to maintain control. Jake could see it already¡ªNotts County were hesitant to step forward. They didn''t want to break their shape. That was an advantage Bradford needed to exploit. Jake''s eyes flicked to Silva, who had already found space out wide. The moment the ball reached him, he attacked. First challenge¡ªhe pushed the ball past the full-back and sprinted onto it. The defender lunged too late, and Silva breezed past him. He reached the edge of the box, cut inside, but his low shot was blocked before it reached goal. Jake nodded from the sideline. That was a warning. Two minutes later¡ªSilva went again. This time, he faked an inside cut, forcing the full-back to shift his body weight. Instead, Silva chopped the ball back outside, darting toward the byline. He whipped in a cross¡ªcleared desperately by the center-back. Two attacks in five minutes. Notts County''s right-back already looked rattled. Jake, standing at the edge of his technical area, folded his arms. They had started well. Now, they needed to break through. Chapter 73 - 73: BRADFORD VS NOTTS COUNTY PART 1 Notts County were not sitting as deep as expected. Instead of absorbing pressure, they pressed higher, forcing Bradford into rushed decisions. Jake stood near the edge of his technical area, watching closely. He had expected Notts County to play defensive, but this was different. They were aggressive, organized, and not allowing Bradford any breathing room. On the pitch, Bradford''s players tried to find their rhythm, moving the ball between Ortega and Lowe in midfield. The idea was to keep possession and stretch Notts County''s defensive line. But there was a problem. Notts County''s midfielders weren''t just sitting back¡ªthey were closing down space immediately. Every pass into Ortega''s feet was met with instant pressure. Every time Silva tried to take on his full-back, a second defender arrived to help. Collins struggled to receive the ball, as his passing lanes were shut down. The usual fluency of Bradford''s attack was gone. 10th Minute Bradford had started the match with control, dictating possession and trying to break through Notts County''s deep defensive structure. But for all their passing, for all their movement, there was no clear opening. Notts County''s defensive block was disciplined, compact, and frustratingly well-drilled. Ortega checked over his shoulder constantly, but every time he tried to turn, there was a body closing him down. Lowe dropped deeper to receive the ball, but as soon as he looked forward, passing lanes were cut off. Silva and Collins stayed wide, trying to stretch the play, but Notts County''s full-backs refused to get pulled out of position. Bradford were being forced sideways, moving the ball without progress. And then, the first mistake came. Taylor received the ball near the halfway line, facing his own goal. The pass to him was safe. He had time. But Notts County weren''t allowing safe touches anymore. As soon as Taylor put his foot on the ball, Jason Holden sprinted toward him. Jake saw it unfolding a second before it happened. Taylor panicked under pressure, attempting a first-time pass inside. The moment the ball left his foot, Jake''s heart sank. Holden anticipated it perfectly, stepping in front of Ortega to intercept. Now, Bradford were exposed. Holden didn''t hesitate. He immediately turned and drove forward, skipping past Lowe''s outstretched foot. Bradford''s defensive line wasn''t set. Min-jae and Barnes were pushed high up, expecting to keep possession. Holden saw the gap and played a perfectly weighted pass into the feet of Nathan Reid. Reid took a touch, shrugged off Barnes, and suddenly, he was in space. The striker glanced up, picked his spot, and fired a low shot toward the bottom corner. Okafor reacted instantly, diving to his right. His gloves met the ball just in time, pushing it wide. The ball rolled toward the six-yard box¡ªMin-jae, recovering quickly, sprinted back and cleared it away before the rebound could be finished. A narrow escape. Jake''s jaw tightened. He clapped his hands sharply, his voice cutting through the noise. "Focus! Keep your composure!" The Bradford players looked rattled, exchanging uneasy glances. This wasn''t like the semi-final. Notts County weren''t just sitting back and hoping for a lucky break. They were dangerous. 25th Minute Bradford had possession, but it was going nowhere. The ball moved between the defenders, shifted to the full-backs, then back into midfield¡ªbut there was no penetration. Notts County weren''t pressing too high, but they were disciplined, closing every passing lane, forcing Bradford to recycle possession over and over again. Jake could see it¡ªhis team wasn''t moving the ball quickly enough. Every pass took a second too long. Every turn was met with immediate pressure. Then came the mistake. Lowe, normally so composed, dropped deeper to receive a pass from Barnes. He took a touch, turned slightly to scan for options¡ª Too slow. Wilkins pounced. Notts County''s midfielder closed the space in a flash, sticking a foot in and poking the ball away. Lowe barely had time to react before the counterattack was already in motion. The moment Wilkins won the ball, he immediately played a sharp forward pass into Darren Holt''s feet. Bradford were caught off balance¡ªMin-jae and Barnes had stepped forward, leaving space behind them. Holt took a single touch, angled his body toward goal, and fired. Jake barely had time to process it before the ball whipped past Okafor and slammed into the bottom corner. GOAL. Notts County 1-0 Bradford. For a split second, Wembley fell into two contrasting emotions. On one side¡ªpure ecstasy. The Notts County fans exploded in celebration, flags waving, chants growing louder. On the other¡ªsilence. The Bradford end stood still, disbelief spread across thousands of faces. Jake didn''t move. He just clenched his jaw. It had been coming. His players looked at each other, some throwing their hands up in frustration, others staring at the ground. Taylor shook his head, visibly angry at the buildup. Lowe was frozen in place, replaying the mistake in his head. Okafor picked up the ball from the net and punched it forward, urging his teammates to wake up. From the sideline, Jake''s voice cut through the noise. "Calm down! We stay in this. Get back to the plan!" But the mood had shifted. Notts County weren''t just winning. They were confident now. Their players ran back to their positions with a new energy, shoulders high, chests puffed out. Bradford? They looked shaken. The moment the ball hit the net, the shift in momentum was immediate. Notts County, already disciplined, grew even more organized. Their midfield, once slightly hesitant, now pressed with purpose, cutting off passing lanes with precision. Bradford, needing a response, pushed forward aggressively. But every attack met resistance. Ortega, usually the team''s creative heartbeat, struggled to find space. Every time he received the ball, two Notts County midfielders collapsed on him. He tried to drop deeper, but they followed, refusing to let him dictate the tempo. When he drifted wide to escape the pressure, Bradford lost their central control. Jake paced the sideline, watching the battle unfold. His team needed to stretch the defense, create gaps, force mistakes. He signaled to Silva, urging him to switch flanks, hoping to escape the defensive overload. Silva moved from left to right, looking for a weaker matchup. For a moment, it seemed to work¡ªhe received the ball in space, turned sharply, and drove forward. But Notts County adjusted instantly. Their right-back didn''t bite, instead holding position, while a midfielder dropped back to double-team. Silva hesitated¡ªtoo many bodies in the way. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The ball went backward. Another attack stalled. Jake clenched his fists. Notts County were one step ahead. The frustration was growing. Then, a breakthrough¡ªor so it seemed. Thompson, who had barely had a touch, finally found space inside the box. Collins delivered a clever pass between two defenders, allowing Thompson to turn. He took the shot¡ªlow and powerful toward the bottom corner. The stadium held its breath¡ª But the Notts County keeper was sharp, diving down and smothering it. Thompson slammed his fist into the turf. Another chance. Gone. Bradford were trying. They were fighting. But Notts County were dictating the game on their terms. 40th Minute Bradford were getting desperate. Jake could feel it¡ªhis team was pushing too hard, trying to force an equalizer before halftime. The usual patience, the structured attacks¡ªthey were gone. Instead, the players were throwing everything forward, leaving dangerous gaps at the back. Notts County only needed one chance. And they took it. Wilkins, who had been dominating the midfield battle, picked up the ball near the halfway line. He had time, too much time. Bradford''s midfielders were caught too high, leaving Wilkins completely free to pick a pass. Jake shouted from the sideline, but it was too late¡ªWilkins had already spotted the run. He swung his right foot through the ball, launching a long diagonal pass over the top of Bradford''s defensive line. It wasn''t just a clearance¡ªit was a perfect, calculated delivery. Jake''s stomach twisted as he saw the danger before it even unfolded. Min-jae rushed to intercept, but in his eagerness, he misjudged the flight of the ball. One misstep. That was all it took. Nathan Reid, Notts County''s sharpest forward, read the play perfectly. As Min-jae stumbled slightly, Reid timed his movement flawlessly. He let the ball drop onto his chest, cushioning it expertly. Before Okafor could even react, Reid lashed a first-time volley toward goal. The strike was perfect. The ball rocketed past Okafor, smashing into the back of the net. GOAL. Notts County 2-0 Bradford. For a second, Jake closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. Wembley erupted¡ªon one side. On the other, silence. Bradford''s players looked stunned. Min-jae stared at the ground, his hands on his knees, knowing his mistake had been punished instantly. Barnes ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Okafor, furious, kicked the post and shouted at his defenders. Jake could see it happening¡ªheads were dropping. Notts County were in complete control. 45th+1 Minute The referee''s whistle cut through the noise of Wembley, signaling the end of the first half. Bradford trailed 2-0. Jake stood motionless for a moment on the touchline, hands on his hips, staring at the scoreboard. This was the worst possible scenario. He had warned them. He had prepared them. But now, they were walking off the pitch as if the game was already over. Heads down. Shoulders slumped. Eyes on the ground. Every step his players took toward the tunnel looked heavy, slow, defeated. On the other side, Notts County''s players were jogging off, full of energy. Their manager clapped them on the back, his staff exchanging nods of approval. They knew they had executed their game plan perfectly. Jake finally moved, walking toward the tunnel without saying a word. His mind was already racing. The press wasn''t working. Notts County had played through it too easily. Ortega was being shut down. Bradford had no midfield control. Min-jae and Barnes had lost their composure. The defense had been caught out twice. This halftime team talk? It wasn''t just about tactics. It was about saving the season. Chapter 74 - 74: BRADFORD VS NOTTS COUNTY PART 2 The Walk to the Dressing Room Inside the tunnel, the silence was deafening. Ortega wiped sweat from his forehead, muttering something under his breath. Silva kicked the wall as he walked past, frustration written all over his face. Thompson barely looked up, his hands resting on his hips. The players weren''t just losing the game. They were losing belief. Jake took a slow breath, steadying himself. He could already hear the murmurs from the press box. "Maybe Bradford''s miracle run ends here." "Wilson''s team looks overwhelmed." "Notts County are showing why experience matters in big games." Jake clenched his fists. No. This wasn''t over. inside the dressing room. The door to the dressing room slammed shut. Inside, the silence was suffocating. Players collapsed onto benches, their heads bowed, jerseys drenched in sweat. Some leaned forward, elbows on knees, staring at the floor in disbelief. Others sat still, too drained to even react. Silva kicked a water bottle across the room. Thompson buried his face in his hands. Ortega just sat motionless, his jaw clenched. Bradford were forty-five minutes away from losing everything. Jake entered last. He didn''t say anything at first. He just stared at them. The room felt heavy, the weight of the moment pressing down on every single player. For a few seconds, he let them sit with it. Let them feel it. Then his voice cut through the air, sharp and cold. "Is this how we go out?" Nobody answered. "Is this how you want to be remembered?" Still, silence. Jake took a step forward, his tone hardening. "Because if you''ve already lost, don''t bother walking back out there." A few heads lifted. Min-jae blinked, breathing heavily. Collins sat up straighter. "Look at me." One by one, their eyes met his. Jake''s voice grew sharper, stronger. "Notts County think this game is over. They think we''re finished. They think they can sit back for forty-five minutes and cruise their way into League One."** His eyes moved across the room, locking onto each player. "Prove them wrong." Jake stepped closer, pointing at the scoreboard. "Two-nil. That''s what it says. But that doesn''t mean a damn thing. It doesn''t say full-time. It doesn''t say game over."** His voice rose, filled with fire now. "You have forty-five minutes to change history. Forty-five minutes to turn this stadium upside down. Forty-five minutes to remind every single person watching that we are Bradford City, and we don''t fking quit."** The energy in the room shifted. Silva sat up straighter, his fists clenching. Ortega exhaled, his frustration turning into focus. Collins wiped the sweat off his forehead, nodding slowly. Jake''s voice grew even stronger. "We get one goal, and everything changes. One goal, and Notts County panics. One goal, and this entire stadium turns against them." He turned to Ortega, stepping right in front of him. "Stop waiting for space. Make it." Ortega nodded, jaw tightening. Jake turned to Silva and Collins. "You two¡ªno hesitation. I want you driving at them every single time you get the ball. Make their full-backs suffer." Silva smirked. Collins cracked his knuckles. Then, Jake pointed at Thompson. "They''re marking you out of the game. Fine. Drag them out of position. Pull their center-backs away. Give us space to attack." Thompson exhaled, his frustration melting into determination. Jake looked around the room one last time. "Forty-five minutes. One last chance to define your season." He took a deep breath. "If you want this, go take it." He clapped his hands once. "Let''s go." Second Half Kickoff The moment Bradford stepped back onto the Wembley pitch, the energy was different. The hesitation from the first half was gone. The doubt? Erased. Jake could see it in their body language. The way Ortega bounced on his toes, scanning every movement of the Notts County midfield. The way Silva cracked his neck, eyes locked on his full-back like a predator stalking its prey. This wasn''t the same Bradford that left the pitch forty-five minutes ago. They were here to fight. And Notts County were about to feel it. The referee blew the whistle. And Bradford exploded forward. Ortega and Chapman demanded the ball immediately, orchestrating every move. Silva and Collins pushed higher, stretching Notts County''s defensive line. Thompson pressed aggressively, forcing their center-backs into rushed clearances. The pressing was relentless, suffocating. Notts County weren''t ready for this. They had expected Bradford to come out stronger. But this? This was something else entirely. Within minutes, Jake saw exactly what he wanted. Silva, positioned wide on the left, received a sharp pass from Ortega. Instead of taking a safe touch, he turned on the spot, flicking the ball past his full-back. The defender lunged¡ªtoo slow. Silva was gone. The Bradford fans rose to their feet as Silva sprinted into the open space. Collins darted into the box, Thompson peeled off his marker¡ªoptions everywhere. Silva cut inside, skipping past a desperate slide tackle. One touch. Two touches. Then¡ªhe unleashed a curling shot toward the far post! Jake held his breath. The ball whipped through the air, heading for the bottom corner¡ª The keeper dove¡ªfingertips to it! Saved! The rebound spilled dangerously in front of goal. Thompson rushed onto it, swinging his boot¡ª Blocked on the line! The Notts County center-back threw himself in the way, barely keeping the ball out. So close. Jake clenched his fists, his heart pounding. The pressure was building. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And Notts County? They were starting to crack. 60th Minute ¨C Bradford refused to slow down. The relentless pressing, the aggressive forward runs, the complete shift in intensity¡ªNotts County had no time to breathe. Every time the opposition tried to clear their lines, the ball came straight back. Ortega and Chapman controlled the midfield now, dictating the tempo, shifting the ball from side to side, looking for the perfect opening. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the field. They needed a breakthrough. And then¡ªit happened. Ortega received the ball near the halfway line, glancing up for options. Notts County''s midfielders were starting to tire¡ªthe pressing that suffocated Bradford in the first half was gone. Now, there was space. One touch. Two touches. Then, a perfect through ball¡ªpiercing the defensive line. The pass cut through Notts County''s defense like a knife. Collins timed his run perfectly. He burst forward, his defender trailing behind, reaching the edge of the box one-on-one with the keeper. Wembley held its breath. Collins didn''t hesitate. He kept his composure, adjusted his stride, and smashed the ball past the onrushing goalkeeper. The net rippled. GOAL! Bradford 1 ¨C 2 Notts County! The stadium exploded. Bradford fans leapt out of their seats, scarves flying into the air. The sound was deafening. On the pitch, Collins sprinted toward the corner flag, punching the air, screaming in celebration. His teammates rushed toward him, grabbing his shirt, shaking him, roaring with pure adrenaline. On the touchline, Jake let out a roar of his own, fist pumping violently. "Come on!" This was it. The comeback had started. But before they could even settle¡ª Notts County were already preparing their response. 63rd Minute ¨C Disaster. Bradford were still celebrating. Collins had barely finished his goal celebration when Notts County placed the ball at the center circle, ready to restart. Jake had seen it happen before¡ªteams switching off after scoring, allowing the opponent to strike back immediately. He shouted from the sideline, "Wake up! Stay alert!" But his warning came too late. The moment the game resumed, Notts County moved with purpose. Their right-back received the ball deep in his own half and immediately launched it forward. It wasn''t a hopeful clearance¡ªit was a perfectly measured pass, aimed directly at Bradford''s high defensive line. Min-jae and Barnes, who had stepped up too far, suddenly realized they were in trouble. Reid, Notts County''s most clinical finisher, had already started his run. And he was fast. Min-jae turned, but he was half a step behind. Barnes tried to recover, but Reid was already gone. One long touch forward. The ball bounced perfectly into his path. One glance up. Then, a calm, curling shot toward the far post. GOAL! Notts County 3 ¨C 1 Bradford! The ball nestled into the back of the net. Wembley erupted. Notts County fans exploded with celebration, the contrast between their joy and Bradford''s stunned silence was brutal. Bradford''s players stood frozen. The comeback they had fought so hard to start? Erased. Min-jae looked down, hands on his knees. Barnes slapped the turf in frustration. Okafor picked the ball out of his net and launched it up the field in anger. Jake turned away, hands on his head. Unbelievable. They had just gotten back into the game. But Notts County had punished them instantly. Jake took a deep breath, then turned toward his bench. He had no choice. It was time to make changes. Substitutions Jake didn''t hesitate. No time to overthink. No time to dwell on mistakes. He spun toward the bench, barking instructions. "Three changes. Now." Bradford needed fresh legs. They needed momentum. They needed players who could turn the tide. The Substitutions Collins OFF ¨C Alex Grant ON (More pace and pressing) Grant, quicker and sharper in pressing, was brought on to inject urgency. Jake needed someone to relentlessly harass Notts County''s midfield and full-backs. As Collins jogged off, Jake clapped his back. "You did well. We need more now." Chapman OFF ¨C Ryan Carter ON (Creativity in midfield) Carter, Bradford''s most creative passer, was exactly what the team needed. Notts County were sitting deeper now, inviting pressure. Carter''s ability to find pockets of space could unlock them. As Chapman walked off, frustrated, Jake pulled Carter close. "Get on the ball. Control this game. We''re not done yet." Lowe OFF ¨C Benson ON (Fresh energy to win back control) Lowe had worked hard, but his legs were gone. Benson, fresh and aggressive, would provide energy and balance. Jake pointed at him. "Win the midfield battle. Make it yours." The fourth official raised the board, flashing the three substitutions. As Carter jogged onto the pitch, his eyes were sharp, focused. No nerves. Just determination. He gave Jake a small nod, rolling his shoulders. Jake nodded back. "Make them suffer." Carter sprinted to his position. The referee blew the whistle. And Bradford''s fightback truly began. Chapter 75 - 75: BRADFORD VS NOTTS COUNTY PART 3 64th Minute ¨C As the referee''s whistle pierced the air, Bradford City weren''t the same team anymore. The three substitutions had completely shifted the momentum. Notts County, who had spent most of the second half controlling the pace, were suddenly under siege. Bradford had fresh energy. Fresh aggression. And they were coming for blood. From the moment the ball rolled back into play, everything changed. Grant pressed high, chasing every loose pass, harassing Notts County''s full-backs into rushed clearances. Benson was everywhere in midfield, snapping into tackles, keeping the ball moving with crisp, quick passes. Carter immediately took control between the lines, finding space where there wasn''t any, demanding the ball at every opportunity. Jake watched from the touchline, his voice sharp, relentless. "Move the ball faster! Attack the space!" His team responded instantly. Bradford weren''t waiting anymore. They weren''t hesitating. They were taking the game to Notts County. 65th-70th Minute ¨C Notts County were in retreat. The defensive shape that had held firm for most of the match was now crumbling under relentless pressure. Every time Notts County tried to clear the ball, it came straight back at them. Bradford kept pushing forward, suffocating them. Benson won back-to-back duels, stopping Notts County from launching counterattacks. Carter picked up possession in dangerous areas, slipping quick passes into Silva and Thompson. Grant stretched the defense wide, forcing their right-back into uncomfortable one-on-one situations. The tide had fully turned. Jake could feel it. Notts County weren''t just defending anymore. They were holding on for dear life. 70th-80th Minute ¨C The fresh legs transformed the game. Notts County had completely abandoned their attacking intent. They weren''t pressing. They weren''t countering. They were surviving. Bradford had them pinned inside their own half, the defensive block dropping deeper with every passing minute. Jake could see it clearly now¡ªNotts County were clinging to their lead, hoping to ride out the final twenty minutes. But Bradford? Bradford weren''t going to let them. The pressure intensified. Carter orchestrated the game, gliding through the midfield, turning effortlessly under pressure, picking out passes that kept Notts County scrambling. Silva and Grant switched flanks repeatedly, pulling defenders out of position, forcing them to track runs they didn''t want to follow. Benson was a force in midfield, pressing high, recovering loose balls, and winning challenges that prevented Notts County from clearing their lines. Bradford kept pushing, kept probing, kept testing Notts County''s defensive structure. And then, the first big chance arrived. 73rd Minute Bradford won another turnover in midfield. Benson, who had been a relentless force since coming on, intercepted a weak clearance just outside the box. His first touch was perfect, setting the ball just ahead of him. He didn''t hesitate. A thunderous strike¡ªhit with power and venom¡ªarrowed toward the top corner! The entire stadium held its breath. Notts County''s keeper sprang into action, diving at full stretch. Fingertips. Just enough to push the ball onto the crossbar! The ball bounced straight down into the six-yard box¡ªfor a split second, it looked like it might cross the line¡ª But before Silva could react, a Notts County defender hacked it away. Jake clenched his fists. So close. Bradford weren''t letting up. Notts County were barely holding on. And then, chance number two. 77th Minute Carter picked up the ball just inside the halfway line, turning sharply to escape his marker. He lifted his head, spotting Silva on the left wing, one-on-one with his full-back. Jake immediately pointed forward. "Go at him!" Carter understood. A perfectly weighted pass into space. Silva accelerated. One touch to control, one to push the ball past his man. The full-back lunged desperately¡ªtoo slow. Silva was gone. Straight into the penalty area. One-on-one with the keeper. Jake could feel it¡ªthis was the moment. Silva shaped to shoot¡ª And then, at the last second, squared it across goal to Thompson. Empty net. But just as Thompson was about to tap it in¡ª A Notts County defender slid in from nowhere, blocking the shot at the last possible second! Jake threw his hands on his head. Another huge chance wasted. Bradford weren''t just knocking on the door now. They were kicking it down. They needed one more moment of quality. And then¡ª It came. 81st Minute ¨C The moment Carter received the ball just outside the box, time seemed to slow down. Notts County''s defenders closed in fast, their bodies tense, desperate to block any shot or pass. But Carter? He didn''t panic. He stayed calm, scanning the space around him, waiting for the perfect moment. One of Notts County''s midfielders lunged in¡ªCarter feinted to the right, his body shifting slightly. His marker bit, shifting his weight toward Carter''s fake movement. That was the mistake. In an instant, Carter twisted the opposite way¡ªturning left, escaping into open space. Jake saw it before it happened. "Now!" he yelled. Thompson timed his run perfectly, breaking through the defensive line. Carter''s pass was inch-perfect, threading between two defenders, splitting the entire backline. Thompson took one quick touch, setting himself up inside the box. The keeper rushed out, trying to close the angle. But Thompson was too composed. One final step¡ªthen, he struck it clean. The ball curled around the keeper, bending beautifully toward the far corner. Jake watched it fly. GOAL! BRADFORD 2 ¨C 3 NOTTS COUNTY! The ball hit the back of the net, rippling violently. Wembley erupted. Bradford''s fans exploded in celebration, their voices shaking the stadium. Thompson roared in triumph, sprinting toward the corner flag, sliding on his knees as his teammates rushed to pile on top of him. Carter jogged toward them slowly, his job done. Jake punched the air, screaming. "Come on! One more!" The momentum had completely shifted. Notts County were rattled. Bradford weren''t done yet. 90+6 Minute ¨C Corner kick. One final chance. The referee had already glanced at his watch¡ªthis was it. Bradford had everyone forward. Even Okafor, the goalkeeper, had stepped past the halfway line, watching nervously. Notts County''s defenders were drained, barely able to keep their shape. Their legs were heavy. Their minds were tired. And Jake knew it. From the sideline, he barked instructions. "Take your time! Deliver it right!" Carter stood over the ball, wiping sweat from his brow. He exhaled, eyes locked on the penalty area. Then, he raised his hand¡ªhis signal. The cross came in. The ball curled toward the near post, bending wickedly through the air. In the chaos inside the box, defenders scrambled to pick up their men. Bodies jostled. Arms pushed. But Min-jae? Min-jae never stopped watching the ball. His heartbeat slowed. He knew exactly where it was going to land. He timed his leap perfectly¡ªrising high, above everyone. For a split second, it felt like he was floating. Then¡ª Contact. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The ball rocketed off his forehead. Pure power. The Notts County keeper dived¡ªtoo late. The ball crashed into the back of the net. GOAL! BRADFORD 3 ¨C 3 NOTTS COUNTY! Wembley exploded. The Bradford fans erupted, their cheers shaking the stadium, their arms waving scarves wildly in the air. On the pitch, Min-jae barely had time to react before his teammates mobbed him. He collapsed under the weight of them, arms raised, face filled with pure emotion. Thompson screamed in his ear. Benson ruffled his hair. Silva punched the air. And on the touchline¡ª Jake lost it. He fist-pumped furiously, his roar of triumph lost in the deafening noise. He turned to Paul Roberts, gripping his assistant''s shoulders. "We''re still in this!" Roberts nodded, laughing breathlessly. "They''re finished, Jake. Look at them!" Jake did. Notts County''s players stood frozen. Some had their hands on their heads. Others just stared at the ball inside the net, unable to believe what had just happened. The momentum had completely shifted. Bradford had dragged themselves back from the dead. And then¡ª The referee blew his whistle. FULL-TIME. EXTRA TIME AWAITS. Chapter 76 - 76: BRADFORD VS NOTTS COUNTY PART 4 Full-Time S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The final whistle echoed across Wembley, signaling the end of regular time. For a moment, there was silence. Then, the weight of 90 minutes crashed down on the players like a tidal wave. Some collapsed to the ground immediately, their bodies unable to take another step. Others hunched over, hands on their knees, desperately sucking in air. A few lay flat on their backs, staring blankly at the sky above them, their chests rising and falling with heavy, labored breaths. The stadium lights glared down mercilessly, illuminating the sweat-soaked jerseys, the dirt-stained socks, the raw exhaustion etched into every face. Jake stepped onto the pitch, his boots sinking slightly into the grass. His players were drained, every ounce of energy poured into the fight. But when he looked into their eyes¡ªpast the fatigue, past the frustration¡ªhe saw something else. They weren''t broken. They weren''t defeated. They were still standing. Still fighting. And that meant they weren''t done yet. As Jake turned back toward the touchline, something unexpected happened. A sharp vibration ran through his wrist. [Ding! New Feature Unlocked: System Marketplace] Jake froze. His brow furrowed as he quickly glanced at the system interface. This was new. Up until now, the system had provided tactical insights, scouting advantages, and player development tools. But a marketplace? This had never happened before. With a flick of his wrist, Jake opened the system. A menu appeared. Current Points Available: 120 Available Purchases: Tactical Playbook (500 points) ¨C Locked Fitness Booster (300 points) ¨C Locked Stamina Water (100 points) ¨C Available Jake''s eyes narrowed as he scrolled to the last item. Stamina Water? He clicked on it, scanning the description. Boosts player stamina by 20% when consumed. Effects last for the remainder of the match. Jake exhaled slowly. So that''s what this was. The system was giving him a way to keep his players going. He glanced toward the pitch. His team was exhausted. Every player had given everything, but now, with extra time looming, legs were heavy, breaths were ragged, and the energy was fading. Notts County had made a defensive substitution, signaling they were content to hold out for penalties. But Bradford? Bradford were going to win this game before it got that far. Jake didn''t hesitate. [Confirm Purchase? 100 Points] [Confirmed. The current water bottles have been replaced with Stamina Water.] Jake''s jaw tightened slightly. He turned his gaze toward the bench, where the team''s water bottles sat on a tray. The same bottles they had prepared before the match. But now? The system had changed them. A slow breath left Jake''s nose. He didn''t let his expression change. If anyone noticed him staring too long at the water, questions would arise. Instead, he called over one of the coaches. "Bring the water. Make sure everyone gets some." The coach nodded and hurried off, completely unaware of what had just happened. Jake folded his arms, keeping his expression neutral as he watched the bottles being handed out. His players grabbed them, unscrewing the caps, drinking deeply¡ªcompletely oblivious to the fact that their bodies were about to recover faster than they should. Silva wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rolled his shoulders. Collins cracked his neck and bounced on his toes. Benson took a deep breath, stretching his legs. One by one, the signs appeared. The exhaustion in their faces eased. Their shoulders squared up a little more. Their breathing steadied faster. They wouldn''t even notice the difference themselves. But Jake would. His team had just been given an edge. And Notts County had no idea what was coming. As Jake stood at the edge of the technical area, a final notification flashed across his vision. [Ding! One-Time Player Enhancement Available: Choose One Player] His pulse didn''t even spike. He had been saving this for the right moment. This was it. There was no hesitation. He selected Novak. The system reacted immediately. A rush of invisible energy surged through Novak''s body. It was subtle¡ªno bright lights, no dramatic effects¡ªjust a shift. One second, his legs felt heavy, slow, burdened by weeks of recovery. The next? They didn''t. His breathing evened out, smooth and controlled. The deep ache in his muscles, the stiffness in his joints¡ªgone. He rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His heartbeat remained steady, but something felt different. Stronger. Sharper. Jake kept his expression neutral as he watched the change unfold. Novak didn''t notice anything out of the ordinary. He wasn''t questioning why, after ninety minutes of grueling football, he suddenly felt fresh. Some players just believed in moments like this. When everything was on the line, some athletes found another level. They didn''t ask why. They just used it. And that was exactly what Novak would do. Jake crossed his arms, eyes locked on the pitch. Novak jogged toward his position, stretching his legs, rotating his neck. The movement was fluid, effortless. He didn''t know it. But right now? He was stronger, faster, and more agile than he had been all season. Jake stepped forward, looking at each of his players. "We are not letting this go to penalties," he said firmly. Some of them still had their hands on their knees, trying to regulate their breathing. Others were shaking their arms loose, refocusing. "We have thirty minutes," Jake continued. "That''s it. Thirty minutes to end this." Silva was nodding. Min-jae cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders back. Carter wiped the sweat off his forehead, already focused. Jake turned to Novak. "Make your runs. Get into the box. The chances will come." Novak gave a sharp nod. "I''ll finish it." Jake shifted his gaze to Silva and Collins. "Attack their full-backs. They''re tired. You aren''t." Silva smirked. Collins exhaled deeply, then nodded. Finally, Jake locked eyes with Carter. "You dictate this game. Move the ball fast. Find the gaps." Carter''s eyes were steady. "I''ve got it." Jake looked at all of them one last time. "If we score, we win. Make this count." No one spoke. They didn''t need to. The belief was there. Jake clapped his hands once. "Let''s go." Bradford stepped back onto the pitch. Extra time was about to begin. Chapter 77 - 77: BRADFORD VS NOTTS COUNTY PART 5 92nd Minute Extra time had begun, but the battle hadn''t slowed. Bradford started aggressively, pressing high, determined to finish the game before penalties. They pushed their defensive line up, swarming Notts County''s midfielders and forcing them into rushed clearances. But that aggression came with a price. In their eagerness to stay on the front foot, they left space behind. And Notts County were waiting for their moment. A defender lifted his head, spotting the opportunity. A long ball curved over the Bradford backline, bending into the open space behind Barnes. Jake saw the danger instantly. His stomach dropped. "Drop! Drop!" he barked from the sideline, his voice sharp, urgent. But it was too late. Barnes had been caught half a step too high. Reid had already reacted, sprinting forward, his acceleration leaving Barnes trailing. The crowd''s roar changed. From anticipation to pure tension. It was one-on-one with Okafor. Reid took one touch. Steadied himself. He picked his spot. And fired. Okafor exploded off his line, reading the shot instantly. His body spread wide, his reflexes at their absolute peak. The ball cannoned against his outstretched leg. A powerful block¡ªnot just a deflection, but a rejection. The force sent it spinning sideways, away from immediate danger. Jake exhaled sharply, but the danger wasn''t over. The rebound fell perfectly for Slater, who had arrived late into the box, completely unmarked. Jake clenched his fists. This was it. Slater didn''t hesitate¡ªswung his foot through the ball. Pure connection. But before the shot could reach the goal¡ª Barnes hurled himself forward, throwing his entire body into the block! His shin met the ball cleanly, deflecting it upward, spinning wildly into the air. Okafor, already on the move, scrambled to his feet. The ball hung in the air for what felt like forever. Then it began to drop. Okafor read the flight, lunged forward, and snatched it out of the sky before a Notts County attacker could react. Bradford had survived. The entire stadium gasped, a mixture of relief and disbelief. Jake turned to Paul Roberts, exhaling. "That was too close." 97th Minute Bradford refused to slow down. The chaos of the last attack had jolted them into urgency. They couldn''t afford to waste this momentum. Carter, fresh and energized, demanded the ball in midfield. His presence alone had shifted the tempo. Every time he got on the ball, Notts County''s defensive shape tightened, sensing danger. He took one touch to control. Another to spin past his marker. Smooth. Fluid. Precise. Now he had space. And he saw it. Novak was already on the move. The striker''s instinct had kicked in. He angled his run between two defenders, perfectly splitting the gap in Notts County''s backline. Carter didn''t hesitate. A perfectly weighted pass, threaded like a needle, cutting through the defense. Novak timed his movement flawlessly. His first touch was sharp, bringing the ball just inside the box. The second set him. One last breath¡ª And he struck. A rocket of a shot, low and drilled toward the far post. The entire stadium gasped. The Notts County keeper reacted late, seeing it late, diving at full stretch. Fingertips. The ball whipped just past the post, grazing the net on the wrong side. For a split second, the Bradford fans thought it was in. Then¡ªrealization. Novak slammed his hands against the turf in frustration. He knew. That was the moment. That was the goal. Jake clenched his fists from the sideline. They were so close. Too close. 105th Minute Bradford''s pressure was relentless. Notts County were sinking deeper, barely holding their defensive line together. They were defending in pure desperation now. Carter, at the heart of everything, picked up the ball near the right flank. Silva was already on the move. A quick one-two. Silva played it to Carter, who returned it instantly, threading it between two defenders. Silva burst into the box. He had no room to shoot¡ªtoo many bodies in front of him. But he had seen it. Novak was in space. Silva kept his composure, slid the ball across the goal¡ª Novak met it first time. The contact was perfect. The ball rocketed past the keeper. GOAL! The Bradford fans erupted. Novak sprinted toward the corner flag, punching the air. The bench emptied in celebration, players and staff surging forward. Jake was already turning to Paul Roberts, a small grin forming. And then¡ª The whistle. Jake''s head snapped back toward the pitch. The assistant referee stood still. Flag raised. Offside. The celebration froze. Novak''s arms slowly dropped. Collins turned to the official, shaking his head. "No way. No way." The replay flashed on the big screen. A fraction of a second. Collins had mistimed his positioning by inches before making the final pass. The call was correct. Jake ran a hand over his face. The stadium groaned in frustration. The momentum was with them. But they still had to find the goal. 105+2 Minute The referee blew his whistle. for half time. One last push. Bradford players walked toward the sideline, some shaking their heads, others muttering under their breath. They knew how close they were. Jake stepped onto the pitch, motioning for them to gather in a tight huddle. He looked at them one by one, his voice firm but calm. "We are dominating this game. We are doing everything right." Some of the players still had their hands on their hips, breathing heavily. Jake continued, his tone unwavering. "We''ve got them. You see it. They''re finished. They''re hanging on by a thread." Silva wiped sweat from his brow, nodding. Carter cracked his knuckles, locked in. Jake''s voice lowered slightly, commanding their focus. "Fifteen minutes. That''s all. Fifteen minutes to finish this. We do not let this go to penalties." His gaze shifted toward Novak. "You''ve got one more in you," Jake said. "I know it." Novak didn''t blink. Jake clapped his hands once. "Let''s go." The players turned back toward the pitch. The final fifteen minutes of the season awaited. 106th Minute The referee blew his whistle, signaling the start of the final 15 minutes. This was it. Fifteen minutes to decide everything. Fifteen minutes to determine whether Bradford would climb into League One or suffer heartbreak on the biggest stage. Jake stood near the edge of his technical area, arms crossed but eyes sharp. His team had been dominant. They had pinned Notts County deep, dictated possession, and created the better chances. But the score was still 3-3. 110th Minute The game slowed. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Every pass. Every movement. Everything looked heavier now. Players on both sides were running on fumes. Bradford had spent the last half-hour pressing relentlessly, throwing everything at Notts County. Notts County had spent it absorbing pressure, blocking shots, chasing shadows. Now, both teams looked drained. Silva bent over, hands on his knees after every sprint. His chest heaved, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the Wembley turf. Carter wiped sweat from his brow, his usually sharp movements now sluggish. Even Notts County¡ªwho had parked themselves in their defensive third, hoping to survive¡ªbegan to break down. Misplaced passes. Late tackles. Hesitation. Their full-backs, who had once closed down Bradford''s wingers quickly, now lagged behind, reacting a second too late. Their midfielders, who had doubled up on Carter and Ortega earlier, now gave them just a little too much space. Jake paced the touchline. He could feel it. One goal. That''s all it would take. Bradford just needed one more breakthrough. 119th Minute ¨C Disaster? PENALTY FOR NOTTS COUNTY! The ball hung in the air, spinning under Wembley''s floodlights. A hopeful lofted cross from Notts County''s right-back wasn''t particularly dangerous¡ªbut it didn''t have to be. It just had to cause chaos. Jake''s breath caught as Min-jae and Reid both leapt for it. Min-jae, Bradford''s defensive rock, rose first¡ªbut his timing was off by a fraction of a second. His jump was too early. By the time the ball arrived, he was already on the way down. Reid, still airborne, made contact. The slightest of nudges. Min-jae lost balance. Their bodies collided mid-air. Both players crashed to the turf in a tangled heap. For half a second, nothing happened. Then¡ª The whistle. Loud. Sharp. Final. The referee was already pointing to the spot. Penalty. Jake''s heart sank. The entire stadium erupted. Bradford fans screamed in outrage. Notts County supporters roared in celebration. Jake didn''t move. His jaw tightened, his fingers digging into his arms. This couldn''t be how it ended. On the pitch, chaos unfolded. Bradford players surrounded the referee, shouting, pleading. Barnes threw his hands in the air. Silva pointed furiously at the big screen. Even Okafor ran out of his goal, shaking his head. Min-jae, still on the ground, looked stunned. He didn''t even argue. He just stared at the referee, disbelieving. Jake exhaled slowly. Then¡ª The referee pressed his earpiece. VAR check. Jake glanced at the scoreboard. 191:40. The referee jogged toward the screen at the side of the pitch. The ref used two minute to check if min jae made a contact, A two-minute wait. The longest two minutes of the season. Every player froze. Wembley held its breath. Jake already knew. The decision wasn''t getting overturned. But he could hope. Hope that Okafor had one last save in him. 120+1st Minute The penalty stood. Reid stood over the ball, placing it down on the spot with a deliberate, careful movement. Okafor watched him closely, bouncing lightly on his toes. The stadium was electric¡ªhalf of Wembley buzzing with anticipation, the other half praying for a miracle. Jake stood motionless on the touchline, arms crossed, eyes locked on his keeper. One moment. One save. That was all it would take to keep Bradford''s dream alive. Reid exhaled, took three steps back, and locked eyes with Okafor. The referee blew his whistle. Jake clenched his fists. Reid sprinted forward. Low shot¡ªdriven toward the bottom right corner. Okafor reacted instantly. He dived fully stretched, his entire body extending to meet the ball. His gloves met the shot, fingers bending slightly under the force, but he held strong. The ball ricocheted off his hands, spinning away from the goal. The Bradford fans erupted. But Jake didn''t celebrate. The danger wasn''t over. The ball had fallen perfectly for Slater, who was already sprinting into the box. A free shot. No defenders. Just him and the open goal. Jake held his breath. Slater swung his foot through the ball¡ªclean, pure contact. But Okafor moved again. Despite being on the ground just seconds ago, he exploded back to his feet, reacting faster than anyone expected. Jake barely saw the movement¡ªOkafor lunged forward, throwing his body in front of the shot. The ball smashed against his chest. A second save. A miracle save. The ball deflected wildly, bouncing out toward the edge of the box. Wembley erupted. The Bradford players rushed toward Okafor, slapping his back, screaming in disbelief. Min-jae grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. Silva pointed at him, yelling, "You''re a monster!" But there was no time to celebrate. The ball was still in play. Benson, reacting quicker than anyone, charged forward and smashed it upfield¡ªa clearance, a desperate escape. But then¡ª Carter was already running onto it. Jake''s eyes widened. Suddenly, Bradford had one last chance. 120+3rd Minute Time was almost up. But Bradford had one last attack. The clearance from Benson wasn''t just a desperate boot forward¡ªit was perfect. It landed exactly where Carter needed it. Carter took one touch to control, another to push forward. Jake shouted from the sideline, voice cutting through the Wembley chaos. "Go!" Carter didn''t need to be told twice. He exploded forward, pushing the ball past the first defender like he wasn''t even there. Notts County were completely out of position. They had gambled everything on that penalty. Now, they were scrambling. Their defenders weren''t set. Their midfielders were chasing shadows. Silva was already making the run. Carter saw it¡ªand launched a perfect pass down the wing. Silva sprinted into open space, the ball arriving at his feet in stride. One defender¡ªthat was all that stood between him and glory. Silva slowed for half a second, tempting the challenge. The defender lunged¡ªtoo soon. Silva skipped past him, brushing him aside like he wasn''t even there. Only the keeper stood in the way now. But Silva wasn''t shooting. He had seen Novak. The striker was tearing into the box, pointing. Far post. Silva didn''t hesitate. He swung his foot through the ball¡ªa perfect cross, curling into the danger area. Novak was already in motion. One step. Two steps. Launch. He threw himself forward, body parallel to the ground. A first-time volley. The moment his foot connected, everyone knew. The keeper didn''t move. The ball rocketed past him, smashing into the net. GOAL. BRADFORD 4 ¨C 3 NOTTS COUNTY. Absolute chaos. The Bradford end exploded. Scarves were thrown into the air. Fans surged forward, hands clutching their heads in disbelief. On the pitch, Novak ripped his shirt off, sprinting toward the corner flag, screaming. His teammates chased him, piling on top, a mess of bodies and wild celebrations. The Bradford bench emptied¡ªcoaches, substitutes, even medical staff stormed the pitch. Jake? He dropped to his knees, fists clenched. He had done it. They had done it. Notts County''s players stood frozen. Some had their hands on their heads. Others just stared at the ball inside the net, unable to believe what had just happened. The momentum had completely shifted. Bradford had dragged themselves back from the dead. And then¡ª The referee blew his whistle. Final whistle. Bradford City were promoted to League One. Wembley belonged to them. Chapter 78 - 78: The Aftermath: Celebrations & Emotional Moments Wembley Belongs to Bradford The final whistle pierced through the air like a thunderclap. For a second¡ªjust a second¡ªthere was silence. And then, Wembley exploded. The Bradford fans¡ªwho had spent the last 120 minutes living on the edge of heartbreak¡ªerupted into a frenzy. Scarves flew into the air. Flares lit up the stands in claret and amber. Thousands of voices merged into one deafening roar. Bradford City were going up. On the pitch, players dropped to their knees, overwhelmed. Min-jae, who had given everything, collapsed onto his back, staring up at the sky. Carter sprinted toward Okafor, tackling him in celebration. Silva stood frozen for a moment, hands on his head, before letting out a scream of pure emotion. Novak? He was still running, shirtless, arms stretched wide, roaring toward the crowd. Jake stood near the touchline, watching it all unfold. For a moment, he didn''t move. Didn''t react. Didn''t even breathe. They had done it. Bradford City had clawed their way back from the dead. And now, they were League One bound. Jake Soaks It In Paul Roberts was the first to reach him. He grabbed Jake''s shoulders, shaking him violently. "You crazy son of a¡ª" Paul laughed, shaking his head. "You actually did it!" Jake let out a breath, a small smirk forming. The noise was deafening, but inside, it was quiet. All the pressure. All the work. The weight he had carried since stepping into this job¡­ it was gone. The only thing left was the sound of his players, his team, celebrating like their lives depended on it. Jake finally nodded. "Yeah," he said. "We did." And then the Fans Invade the Pitch Security didn''t stand a chance. The Bradford fans had waited too long for this. The first few leaped over the barriers, sprinting onto the field, their arms raised in disbelief. Then¡ªwaves of them followed. Hundreds. Then thousands. They stormed the pitch, engulfing their heroes. Novak was hoisted onto shoulders, his arms raised in triumph. Silva disappeared into a crowd of fans, a mix of laughter, chants, and pure chaos. Jake watched, letting it happen. This was their moment. He stood at the edge of it all, arms crossed, watching his team get lost in the celebration. They deserved every second of it. Novak''s Redemption ¨C A pack of reporters finally managed to break through the chaos, cameras flashing wildly. Novak barely had a second to breathe before he was swarmed. Still shirtless, his body glistening with sweat, he stood in the middle of it all¡ªgrinning like a man who had just lived through the most unbelievable night of his life. Microphones were shoved toward his face, questions flying from all directions. "Novak!" one journalist shouted above the noise. "How does it feel? You weren''t even supposed to play¡ªand now you''ve won it!" Novak exhaled sharply, still trying to process everything. His chest was rising and falling fast, his heartbeat still hammering from the match. For a second, he didn''t answer. His mind flashed back¡ªto the injury, to the rehab, to sitting on the bench wondering if he''d even get a chance this season. And now? Now, he had just written himself into Bradford''s history. He finally looked up, his voice raw, filled with emotion. "I had to," he said simply. Another reporter leaned in. "Had to?" Novak nodded, swallowing hard. "I owed them this," he said, his gaze shifting toward the fans. The words hung in the air. No bragging. No theatrics. Just the truth. Because Novak knew¡ªthis wasn''t just his story. It belonged to the fans who had believed in him. To the teammates who had fought alongside him. To the manager who had trusted him when no one else would. Another question came, but Novak didn''t hear it. Because suddenly¡ªhe was yanked backward. His teammates had found him. Carter wrapped an arm around his neck, dragging him toward the celebration. "Oi, superstar!" Silva laughed, shoving him from the other side. "Quit talking, we''ve got a trophy to lift!" Novak barely had time to react before the entire squad engulfed him, pulling him back into the madness. Laughter. Cheers. Pure, unfiltered joy. The cameras kept flashing, but Novak wasn''t paying attention anymore. Because this? This was the moment that mattered. Bradford wasn''t done partying yet. The Trophy Lift ¨C The squad gathered near the tunnel, waiting for the moment. The walk up the Wembley steps. The trophy. Barnes, the captain, led the charge. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the silver prize, standing under the flashing lights. He turned, looking over his shoulder. Straight at Jake. Then, slowly, he held the trophy out toward him. "This is yours, boss," Barnes said, voice steady. "You built this team." Jake shook his head. "No," he said, stepping back. "This is ours." Barnes grinned. And then¡ª He lifted it high. Champagne exploded. The roar of the Bradford fans shook Wembley. Bradford City, against all odds, had done it. Press Conference The energy was still electric as Jake sat down in front of the microphones. The journalists were buzzing. The questions came fast. "Jake, what does this win mean for Bradford?" Jake leaned forward slightly. "It means we''re back where we belong. But we''re not stopping here." Another journalist spoke up. "You dominated the playoffs. Were you ever in doubt?" Jake smirked. "Not for a second." Laughter rippled through the room. Then came the biggest question. "And what''s next for you?" Jake exhaled, tapping his fingers on the table. "League One," he said. A pause. "And after that?" Jake smirked again. "We''ll see." A Quiet Moment ¨C Away from the cameras, away from the noise, Jake found a quiet spot in the tunnel. He pulled out his phone. Dialed. A few rings. Then¡ª A familiar voice. "Hey," his wife answered. Jake let out a breath, closing his eyes for a second. "We did it," he said softly. Silence. Then laughter. "I know," she said. "I saw. I''ve never screamed at a TV so much in my life." Jake smiled. He ran a hand through his hair, finally letting himself relax. "How''s the baby?" he asked. "Asleep. Unlike you," she teased. Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah," he said. "I don''t think I''ll sleep tonight." The Parade ¨C The streets of Bradford were alive. The entire city had poured into the roads, flooding the streets in claret and amber. An open-top bus crawled through the heart of it all, the players waving, singing, celebrating. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Flares. Fireworks. Bradford had waited years for a moment like this. And now, they had it. Silva hung over the edge of the bus, leading chants with fans. Carter and Benson danced near the front, arms around each other. Novak? He was still shirtless. Jake stood at the back, watching. Just watching. Taking it all in. This team. This city. This moment. He had built something special. And yet¡ª The journey wasn''t over. Chapter 79 - 79: Media Reactions & Board Meeting Media Reactions & Board Meeting Final Meeting with the Squad ¨C A week after the final, the celebrations had finally settled. The parades, the parties, the city-wide madness¡ªit was all done. Now, it was time to look ahead. The players sat inside the meeting room at the training ground, some still riding the high of Wembley, others already focused on next season. Jake stood at the front, arms crossed, scanning the room. He had built this team from nothing, but League One? That was a different beast. He wasn''t here just to survive. He was here to dominate. He took a deep breath, then started. "I won''t keep you long," he said. "You''ve all earned this break. But before you go, we need to talk about next season." Silence. "We''re in League One now," Jake continued, "which means the competition gets tougher, the expectations get higher, and the work gets harder." Eyes locked on him, serious now. "Some of you will leave," Jake said bluntly. "That''s just football. Some of you will get new contracts, because I believe you''re part of the future. And some of you will have to fight for your place, because new players are coming in." A murmur in the room, players exchanging glances. "I want every single one of you to come back ready. Because I''m not here to make up the numbers in League One." He let that sink in. "I''m here to win it." The room went dead silent. They knew Jake. He didn''t make empty promises. If he said something, he meant it. Then, his gaze shifted toward Silva. "Before I forget," Jake smirked, "Silva¡ªyou''ve been called up for the Brazil Under-21 squad." Silva''s eyes widened. His teammates turned toward him, grinning, slapping his back. "About time," Collins muttered. Silva shook his head, speechless. Jake then turned to Okafor. "And you," he said, "Nigeria''s senior team wants you." Okafor, usually calm, blinked in shock. "For real?" Jake nodded. A slow smile spread across Okafor''s face before the team burst into cheers, clapping and celebrating. Jake let the moment play out. This squad had grown together. They deserved this. But eventually, he held up a hand. "Enjoy your break," he said, "because when you get back¡ªwe go again." Media Frenzy ¨C ''The Manager Who Changed Bradford''s Destiny'' A week had passed since Bradford City''s dramatic playoff final victory, yet the world was still talking about Jake Wilson. Every major football publication had a story on him. The newspapers were everywhere. ???? "The Miracle Worker ¨C How Jake Wilson Took Bradford to League One in One Season." ???? "Tactical Genius or Just Getting Started? The Man Who Revived Bradford." ???? "From Unknown Coach to the Most Talked-About Name in English Football." Football shows ran hour-long segments analyzing his tactics, comparing him to some of the best up-and-coming managers in England. Some called him a visionary. Others said he was a one-season wonder. "Is he the next big thing?" some pundits debated on live television. "Can he do it again in League One?" others questioned, skeptical of his long-term success. A well-known analyst scoffed, shaking his head. "Let''s be realistic. He''s done an amazing job, but League One is a different level. More money, more experienced managers, better teams. This won''t be easy for him." Another countered, leaning forward. "You''re underestimating Jake Wilson. Every time people doubted him, he proved them wrong. Why would this be any different?" Meanwhile, Bradford fans had no doubts. On Fan Caf¨¦, the biggest online forum for supporters, the discussions were non-stop. ???? "Jake Wilson is a legend!" ???? "Back-to-back promotions next?" ???? "We need to keep Carter and Silva. Don''t sell!" One fan posted: "I don''t care what happens next season. This man took us from nowhere to League One in ONE YEAR. Give him a statue already!" Another replied: "Nah, he''s not done yet. He''s gonna take us to the Championship next. Just watch." Every comment, every thread, every discussion had the same energy¡ªhope, belief, and absolute faith in Jake Wilson. But while the media debated and the fans celebrated, Jake? He ignored most of it. Because he wasn''t here for headlines. Board Meeting The boardroom at Valley Parade was quiet, the air heavy with expectation. Jake sat across from the club''s directors, his arms resting on the table, his expression unreadable. This was the final meeting before the summer break, and while the celebrations had barely settled, his mind was already on what came next. The chairman cleared his throat, glancing around before speaking. "Jake, first off¡ªcongratulations. What you''ve done this season¡­ it''s beyond what any of us expected." A few of the other board members nodded in agreement. "You''ve brought this club back to life," the chairman continued, leaning forward slightly. "And we want to reward that." Jake remained still. His focus didn''t waver. "Meaning?" he asked. The chairman reached into a folder and slid a document across the table. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "This is your new budget for League One." Jake picked it up, scanning the figures. A bigger transfer budget than he had in League Two. Higher wages available for key players. The numbers weren''t staggering, but they were enough. Enough to build something serious. He placed the document back down and nodded once. "I can work with this." The chairman exhaled slightly, as if he had been expecting a different reaction. "We expect great things, Jake," he said, offering a small smile. Jake didn''t smile back. Instead, he tapped a finger against the document. "I''ve got a request." The atmosphere in the room shifted slightly. The board members exchanged glances. "Go on," one of them said cautiously. Jake leaned forward. "I want a pre-season friendly," he said. "Against Al Nassr." Silence. One of the directors frowned. "The Saudi Pro League team?" "That''s the one." Another director sat up straighter. "Why them?" Jake was already prepared for this question. "I want my players to experience elite competition. To test themselves against world-class talent." There was a brief pause as the board considered his words. Then, one of them spoke again. "They have players like Cristiano Ronaldo. Do you think it''s a bit¡ªambitious?" Jake smirked. "Ambition is why we''re here." The room went quiet. The chairman exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table as he thought. Finally, he nodded. "We''ll see what we can do," he said. Jake stood up, extending his hand. The chairman shook it firmly. "Good," Jake said, his voice steady, certain. "Because I''m not planning to stop here." Final Scene ¨C The office was silent except for the faint hum of the overhead light. The smell of fresh ink lingered in the air as Jake leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on the tactics board in front of him. Pinned across the whiteboard were two lists. One side¡ªhis current squad. Some names were circled¡ªthe players who had proven themselves, the ones he wanted to keep and build around. Others had a line through them, marking those who would be moving on. The other side¡ªa list of transfer targets. A midfield enforcer to handle the physical battles in League One. A commanding center-back to lead the defense. A clinical finisher¡ªbecause in League One, chances would be fewer, and the margin for error was thinner. Jake picked up a marker, spinning it between his fingers. His mind ran through everything that needed to happen before the season started. Contracts. Pre-season friendlies. Building a squad that could do more than just survive. That wasn''t his style. Survival? That was for other managers. Jake Wilson had never come this far just to make up the numbers. He uncapped the marker, pressed it against the board, and wrote three words in bold, black ink. LEAGUE ONE CHAMPIONS. Then, he sat back, arms folded, staring at the words. It wasn''t just a goal. It was a mission. A silent vow. This club had been through too much to settle for just being in League One. If they were here, they were here to win it. Jake exhaled slowly, tapping the marker against the desk. The journey wasn''t over. It was just getting started. Chapter 80 - 80: System Unlocks New Features June 1st, 2024 ¨C The summer break had officially begun, and most of the players were scattered across different parts of the world¡ªsome were on vacation with their families, some were training on their own, and others were simply enjoying the rare downtime after a long, grueling season. For them, the work was on pause. For Jake Wilson? It had only just begun. He sat alone in his office at the training ground, the blinds half-drawn, allowing a faint beam of sunlight to stretch across his desk. The air was still, the room eerily quiet, save for the sound of his pen tapping rhythmically against the wooden surface. A full month had passed since that unforgettable night at Wembley¡ªthe greatest night in Bradford City''s modern history. The celebrations had been wild, the entire city had been swept up in the euphoria of promotion, and for a brief moment, Jake had allowed himself to enjoy it. But that was over now. The champagne had dried. The medals had been placed in their cases. The parades were done. Now? League One was waiting. Jake leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, his eyes locked on the squad list pinned to his board. He had built this team from nothing, but that wasn''t enough anymore. Some names on that list wouldn''t be here next season. Others? They needed to step up. His gaze drifted to the transfer targets written on a separate sheet¡ªpositions that needed strengthening, areas where the squad needed depth. This wasn''t about survival. He wasn''t just happy to be here. He wanted to win League One. Then, his watch vibrated. A sharp buzz against his wrist. Jake''s instincts kicked in immediately. [Ding! New Features Unlocked] His eyes narrowed. That was new. He sat up, gripping the edge of the desk as he opened the system interface. And what he saw? It changed everything. Player Season Analysis ¨C Jake''s eyes locked onto the system interface as a detailed performance report loaded before him. It was a full breakdown of every player''s contributions from the past season¡ªstatistics, consistency ratings, and development potential. This was what he had been waiting for. He scanned the first section. Top Performers The players who had carried the team in crucial moments, the ones who had consistently performed at a high level. Silva ¨C Explosive winger. Key player for League One. He had terrorized defenses all season with his speed and dribbling. His ability to take on defenders one-on-one had won them crucial matches. Projected League One Impact: Star Player Okafor ¨C Big game player. Shot-stopping ability at elite level. He had single-handedly saved Bradford in multiple matches, including the playoff final, where his last-minute penalty save changed everything. Projected League One Impact: Solid Starter Carter ¨C Midfield engine. Created the most chances. The heartbeat of the team. Carter had dictated the tempo of games, breaking lines with his passing, and covering every blade of grass. Projected League One Impact: Key Playmaker Barnes ¨C Strong in the air. Improved leadership qualities. Not only was he dominant in aerial duels, but he had stepped up as a vocal leader at the back. Projected League One Impact: Defensive Anchor Jake leaned back slightly. These were his untouchables. The players he could build around, the ones who could thrive even in League One. But then¡ª A new list appeared. Underperformers Jake frowned. He had expected some of these names, but seeing them confirmed by the system made it clear. Changes were needed. Grant ¨C Struggled for consistency. Not at League One level. Grant had moments of brilliance, but he was too inconsistent to be relied on. One game, he''d control the midfield. The next? He''d vanish. Decision: Put up for sale. Collins ¨C Needs a loan for further development. He was still young and talented, but his lack of physicality had been exposed multiple times. He needed a year elsewhere to toughen up. Decision: Loan move required. Benson ¨C Limited impact. Not in future plans. Benson had been a squad player at best, failing to stake a claim in the first team. With new signings coming in, his time was up. Decision: Release from the squad. Jake rubbed his jaw, deep in thought. Grant would be put up for sale. Collins would go on loan to gain experience. Benson? He was leaving. It was a ruthless decision, but at this level, there was no room for passengers. Then, another alert flashed. [Ding! Player Departure Confirmed] Ortega is returning to Real Madrid. Jake exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the desk. He had known this was coming. Ortega had been one of his best players, a deep-lying playmaker who had dictated Bradford''s attacks and pulled the strings in midfield. But his loan deal was over. Madrid wanted him back. Jake stared at the squad list in front of him, a gap now glaring in the center of the pitch. This wasn''t just a minor adjustment. This was a problem. They had lost their midfield maestro. And now? They needed a new one. Squad Upgrade Recommendations ¨C The system''s analysis continued, now shifting focus to where Bradford needed to improve if they were to compete at the top of League One. Jake watched as three areas lit up on the screen. Defensive Stability Needed A detailed report flashed, breaking down the defensive challenges ahead. League One strikers were stronger, faster, and far more clinical than what they had faced in League Two. The system flagged that Min-jae was a solid presence, but he couldn''t hold the defense together alone. Solution: Jake needed a dominant center-back to partner Min-jae, someone who could handle physical battles and organize the backline. Jake exhaled, rubbing his chin. He had already been considering a leader at the back, but this just confirmed it. They couldn''t afford to leak goals next season. A commanding center-back was a must. Midfield Control Must Improve Jake didn''t even need the system to tell him this. With Ortega gone, there was a massive gap in creativity. Ortega had been the link between defense and attack, controlling possession, dictating the tempo. Without him, Carter would be forced deeper, limiting his attacking output. Solution: The system recommended signing a deep-lying playmaker, someone technically gifted who could control the midfield and keep the game moving. Jake leaned back in his chair. This signing was crucial. He couldn''t just replace Ortega with anyone¡ªhe needed someone with intelligence, composure, and vision to orchestrate their play. A true midfield general. Striker Depth Required A list of attacking stats appeared next. Jake sighed as he saw Thompson''s injury record flashing on the screen. Thompson had moments of brilliance, but his fitness issues had cost the team points last season. Beyond him, the system flagged a lack of a consistent finisher¡ªthey couldn''t afford to rely on one striker. Solution: Bradford needed a clinical number nine, someone who could guarantee 20+ goals a season. The difference between mid-table and promotion would come down to who put the ball in the net. Jake cracked a smirk, leaning forward. "This is exactly what I needed to see." The weaknesses had been identified. Now? It was time to fix them. Hidden Gem Finder ¨C Jake''s eyes narrowed as a new scouting feature appeared on the system interface. [Ding! Hidden Gem Finder Activated] A detailed explanation followed. The system could now locate young, unknown players with world-class potential¡ªplayers that traditional scouting networks might overlook. Jake''s pulse quickened. This was next level. He immediately ran a targeted scan, setting the filters for midfielders, center-backs, and strikers¡ªthe three areas the squad needed the most. For a few seconds, the screen remained blank. Then¡ª Names began to load. Each one was accompanied by a rating, showing their potential and development projection. Three Hidden Gems Identified 1. Santiago V¨¦lez (18) ¨C Central Midfielder Club: Independiente Medell¨ªn (Colombia) Strengths: Vision, passing range, tactical awareness Potential: Future elite deep-lying playmaker System Analysis: "Elite composure for his age. Dictates play from deep. Could be the long-term replacement for Ortega." Jake''s eyes lingered on the name. V¨¦lez was young¡ªraw but incredibly talented. His ability to control the tempo of a game stood out immediately. If developed properly, he could be the heartbeat of Bradford''s midfield for years to come. 2. Marco Bianchi (19) ¨C Center-Back Club: AS Bari (Italy) Strengths: Aerial dominance, anticipation, leadership Potential: Future defensive leader System Analysis: "Commanding in the air. Reads the game well. Needs development, but has the tools to be a top-level defender." Jake liked this one. Bianchi wasn''t just a physical presence¡ªhe had leadership qualities, something Bradford needed in defense. If paired with Min-jae, they could form a rock-solid partnership. 3. Leo Rasmussen (17) ¨C Striker Club: FC Nordsj?lland (Denmark) Strengths: Finishing, movement, acceleration Potential: 20+ goal-a-season striker System Analysis: "Deadly inside the box. Quick reactions. Has the instincts of a natural goal-scorer." Jake leaned forward, his interest fully locked onto Rasmussen''s profile. A clinical finisher at just 17? If developed right, he could be the solution to Bradford''s goal-scoring problem. Jake didn''t hesitate. He immediately pulled out his phone, dialing his head scout, Mark Holloway. The call barely rang twice before Holloway picked up. "Boss?" "I need you to arrange immediate scouting reports on three players," Jake said, standing up, pacing slightly. "I''ll send their details now." "Understood. Who are we looking at?" "Santiago V¨¦lez from Colombia, Marco Bianchi from Italy, and Leo Rasmussen from Denmark," Jake listed. There was a brief silence before Holloway responded. "That''s an ambitious list," he admitted. "Young talents like that? If they''re as good as you think, bigger clubs might already be looking." "That''s why we move fast," Jake said firmly. "Get me everything¡ªstrengths, weaknesses, contract situations. I want full reports as soon as possible." "You got it." Jake ended the call, sending over the profiles from the system. Then, he sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. This was a game-changer. Bradford wasn''t just looking for quick fixes. They were building for the future. System Prediction ¨C A final notification flashed. [System Prediction: Bradford''s Chances in League One] "If key areas are strengthened, Bradford will be favorites to win the league." Jake grinned. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Then, another message. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. [Ding! New Feature Unlocked ¨C Missions] Missions? Jake clicked on it, reading the details. System Missions: The system would now give him specific challenges. Success = Rewards (better scouting, tactical upgrades, player boosts). Failure = No consequences, but no rewards. First Mission: Scout and sign at the three young players with high potential. Reward: Advanced Tactical Simulations for upcoming opponents. Jake leaned back, exhaling slowly. This wasn''t just about promotion anymore. This was about building a dynasty. He clicked the system off, stood up, and grabbed his scouting reports. Time to find his next stars. Chapter 81 - 81: Transfer Window Opens & Jake’s Birthday June 12, 2024 ¨C The Transfer Window Begins The Bradford City training ground was nearly empty. The players were still on holiday, enjoying the last few weeks of their break, but inside Jake''s office, the real work had just begun. The transfer window was officially open. Jake sat at his desk, a stack of reports spread across the table. The club''s new League One budget had been approved, and now, it was time to build a squad that could win the title, not just survive. Then, his watch vibrated. [Ding! Hidden Gem Reports Available] Jake immediately clicked on the notification, and three names appeared. Santiago V¨¦lez (Colombia) ¨C Midfielder with elite vision and passing. Marco Bianchi (Italy) ¨C defending with a lethal defensive ability. Leo Rasmussen (Denmark) ¨C Winger with explosive pace and dribbling. Jake scanned their scouting reports. Young, relatively unknown, but with sky-high potential. These were the type of players who could turn into game-changers. He picked up his phone and dialed Michael Stone, Bradford''s Sporting Director. The call barely rang before Stone picked up. "I assume this is about transfers?" Jake didn''t waste time. "I need you to start negotiations for three players." He listed the names. Stone hummed, flipping through his own reports. "They''re unproven, but I see what you''re thinking. V¨¦lez could be our Ortega replacement." "Exactly," Jake confirmed. "Bianchi can push Min Jae and Barnes for the defensive spot, and Rasmussen gives us serious pace on the wings. Get it done." "I''ll reach out to their clubs and agents," Stone assured him. "Anything else?" Jake tapped his fingers against his desk, NO and then he ended the call. "Alright," he muttered, reopening the system. "Let''s see what you''ve got for me." [Ding! Squad Upgrade Recommendations] Four categories loaded onto the screen, each listing potential signings based on his current squad weaknesses. Jake''s eyes scanned the names and profiles that appeared under each category. 1?? A Replacement for Ortega ¨C The Midfield General Ortega''s departure left a massive gap in creativity. They needed someone who could control the game, dictate the tempo, and unlock defenses. ???? System''s Suggested Midfielders: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez (24, Argentina, Boca Juniors) ¨C Deep-lying playmaker with world-class passing vision. Victor Karlsson (22, Sweden, IFK G?teborg) ¨C Strong, physical, and composed on the ball. Elliot Harper (25, England, Sunderland) ¨C Versatile midfielder, already proven in League One. Jake scribbled the names down, nodding to himself. One of these three had to be the answer. 2?? A Goal-Scoring Striker ¨C A Ruthless Finisher Novak had proven himself as a big-game player, but his injury history made it clear: they needed another option. ???? System''s Suggested Strikers: Guilherme Costa (23, Brazil, Fluminense) ¨C A lethal finisher, great movement inside the box. Tobias Richter (21, Germany, Kaiserslautern) ¨C Clinical, young, and excellent at link-up play. Dominic Spencer (26, England, Bolton) ¨C Aerially dominant, experienced in English football. Jake tapped the pen against the table. Costa was the most exciting, but he''d be expensive. 3?? A Young Winger ¨C Depth Behind Silva & Collins Silva and Collins had carried the wide positions last season, but they couldn''t do it alone in League One. ???? System''s Suggested Wingers: Milan Jovanovi? (19, Serbia, Red Star Belgrade) ¨C Explosive dribbler, great crossing ability. Raphael Mensah (20, Ghana, Anderlecht) ¨C Quick, unpredictable, and direct in 1v1 situations. Noah Fletcher (22, England, Derby County) ¨C Solid, technical, but lacks Silva''s raw pace. Jake exhaled. He needed someone who could impact games immediately but still had long-term potential. 4?? Academy Prospects ¨C Long-Term Development Bradford needed to invest in young talent for the future. The system recommended three high-potential academy signings. ???? System''s Suggested Academy Players: Emre Y?ld?z (17, Turkey, Galatasaray) ¨C Elegant midfielder, already playing youth international games. Liam Stewart (16, Scotland, Hibernian) ¨C Quick, aggressive full-back with a relentless work rate. Carlos Jim¨¦nez (18, Spain, Valencia B) ¨C Goalkeeper with elite reflexes and distribution skills. Jake leaned back, reviewing his notes. Delegating the Work ¨C He picked up his phone and called Michael Stone again. Stone answered immediately. "What now?" "Focus on signing the hidden gems," Jake said. "V¨¦lez, Bianchi, and Rasmussen¡ªwe need those deals done." "Understood," Stone replied. "And the other positions?" "I want our scouts to fully evaluate these targets." Jake listed the midfielders, strikers, wingers, and academy prospects. "Send them reports on their playing style, strengths, weaknesses, and transfer fees. I need a full breakdown before we move in." Stone let out a low whistle. "Ambitious. But we need this if we want to challenge for promotion." "Exactly," Jake said. "I don''t want to just be in League One. I want to win it." Stone chuckled. "Got it. I''ll get the scouts on it immediately." Jake ended the call. After his call with Michael Stone, Jake leaned back in his chair for a moment, rubbing his temples. He had set the wheels in motion for new signings, but there was another crucial task¡ªtrimming the squad. There was no room for sentiment. Some players wouldn''t make the cut for League One. He picked up his phone again and dialed Paul Roberts. "Paul, come to my office. We need to talk squad changes." Five minutes later, Paul walked in, a notepad in hand, already knowing what was coming. He sat down across from Jake, flipping open a fresh page. Jake exhaled. "Alright, let''s get started." Outgoings ¨C Cutting the Squad Down Jake pulled out a shortlist of players who wouldn''t be part of his plans. "First things first," he said, sliding the list across the table. "Grant¡ªput him up for sale. He''s not at League One level." Paul nodded, scribbling notes. "Benson," Jake continued. "His time is up. Get him a move." "Loan or permanent?" Paul asked. "Permanent," Jake said. "We need the wage space." "Collins?" Paul asked. "Loan. He''s got talent, but he''s not ready yet. Find him a League Two club where he''ll start every week." Paul wrote it all down, then looked up. "Anyone else?" Jake hesitated for a second, then shook his head. "For now, that''s it. But if we get the right signings in, I might be adding a few more to that list." Paul leaned back in his chair. "Understood. I''ll start making the calls." Jake nodded. One phase of the rebuild was complete. Now, it was time to bring in the right players. Transfer Offers for Carter & Thompson ¨C Jake was halfway through reviewing scouting reports when two emails landed in his inbox. He clicked the first one. Sender: Club Secretary Subject: Official Bid Received ¨C Ryan Carter His eyes narrowed as he read through the details. Club: AS Monaco (France ¨C Ligue 1) Bid: ¡ê5.5 million + Add-ons Contract Proposal: Five-year deal, first-team role Jake exhaled. He had expected interest in Carter¡ªthe midfielder had been one of Bradford''s best players last season¡ªbut Monaco? That was a Champions League club knocking on the door. He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the desk. The offer was tempting¡ªfor Carter, for the board, for everyone. But Jake wasn''t ready to let him go. Not yet. He marked the bid as "On Hold." Before he could process it further, the second email caught his attention. Sender: Club Secretary Subject: Transfer Offer Received ¨C Joe Thompson Club: Rio Ave (Portugal ¨C Primeira Liga) Bid: ¡ê1.2 million Contract Proposal: Rotational Squad Player Jake sat up straighter. The offer for Thompson was decent, but not groundbreaking. The striker had contributed well last season, but with Novak returning to full fitness and a new striker still needed, Jake wasn''t sure whether selling him now was the right move. He delayed that decision as well. The Board''s Concern ¨C A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Paul Roberts stepped in, hands in his pockets. "Board''s asking if you''re considering selling Carter." Jake looked up, unimpressed. "They think a ¡ê5.5 million offer is too good to turn down," Paul continued. "Could fund a few signings. Maybe even push the wage budget up." Jake leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He understood their perspective. But this wasn''t just about money. Ryan Carter was a key piece of his midfield. Letting him go now would mean replacing his creativity, his work rate, his ability to control games. And Bradford wasn''t a selling club anymore. He met Paul''s gaze. "Tell them I''ll decide when I''m ready." Paul smirked. "Figured you''d say that." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Just be ready, Jake. If we reject that offer, Carter''s agent might start looking elsewhere anyway." Jake nodded but said nothing. He wasn''t losing Carter yet. But he knew this battle wasn''t over. Crystal Palace''s Offer ¨C Will Jake Leave? Later that afternoon, the biggest shock of the day arrived. An email from his agent. Jake opened it, scanning the contents quickly. Sender: Richard Lowe (Agent) Subject: Official Offer ¨C Crystal Palace FC Club: Crystal Palace (Premier League) Contract Length: Four Years Full Control Over Transfers Substantial Wage Increase Jake''s eyes narrowed. Crystal Palace? He had expected offers to eventually come in, but this? A Premier League club¡ªa team with the budget, the resources, and the platform to compete at the top level. This wasn''t just another job. This was an opportunity to jump straight to the big leagues. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the contract details. Big contract. Full control. A club with real ambition. It was a massive opportunity. For most managers, this would be an easy decision. But then, Jake glanced back at his tactics board. At the names of the players he was building. At the words he had written just days ago¡ªLEAGUE ONE CHAMPIONS. He exhaled slowly. His phone vibrated. The Fan Caf¨¦ Erupts ¨C The fan forums had already found out. Jake scrolled through the messages flooding in. "Jake Wilson can''t leave. He''s one of us!" "If he goes to Palace, everything we''ve built will be ruined!" "He still has unfinished business here." "No way he leaves before taking us to the Championship!" The messages poured in, some desperate, some angry, others simply pleading for him to stay. His success had built something bigger than just a football team. He had built belief. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And then, another notification popped up. The Bradford board has called for a meeting. Jake sighed, standing up. He already knew what they were going to ask. They wanted an answer. Was he staying? Or was he leaving? The Media Reaction ¨C Headlines Across England The Crystal Palace bid wasn''t just a rumor anymore¡ªthe entire football world was talking about it. ???? THE TELEGRAPH "Will Jake Wilson Take the Palace Job? The Man Who Transformed Bradford Faces a Career-Defining Decision." ???? THE GUARDIAN "From League Two to the Premier League? Crystal Palace Target Bradford''s Miracle Manager." ???? DAILY MAIL "Jake Wilson to Crystal Palace? Sources Close to the Club Suggest a Decision Is Imminent." ???? BBC SPORT "Bradford Fans Beg Jake Wilson to Stay as Crystal Palace Submit Formal Offer." Even Sky Sports ran a segment discussing it. "Jake Wilson has been one of the most impressive young managers in English football," the pundit said. "He''s taken Bradford from the depths of League Two to a dominant promotion side. The big question now¡ªdoes he stay to finish the job? Or does he take the leap to the Premier League?" The Board''s Message ¨C When Jake walked into the Bradford boardroom, the directors were already seated, their faces serious. Club chairman Lowe cleared his throat. "Jake, you know why we''ve called this meeting." Jake nodded, taking a seat. "Crystal Palace." Lowe leaned forward. "Look, we get it. It''s a huge opportunity. Premier League football, bigger budget, more resources. We wouldn''t blame you if you left." He paused before continuing. "But make no mistake¡ªwe want you to stay. You''ve transformed this club. You''re not just our manager. You''re the future of Bradford City." Jake folded his arms, listening. "Tell us what you need," Spencer added. "If it''s a bigger budget, more support¡ªwhatever it takes. We believe in you. And we believe we can make it to the Championship together." Jake glanced out the window, his mind racing. The Premier League was right there, waiting. But so was unfinished business at Bradford. He had a decision to make. Jake''s Birthday ¨C Later that night, after a long day of transfer meetings and decisions, Jake finally allowed himself a break. His birthday dinner was held at a small family-owned restaurant, one of those hidden gems in the city where the food was always perfect, and the staff treated you like family. It was a private affair, just close friends, family, and a few players who were still in town. The atmosphere was warm, lively, and full of laughter. At one end of the table, Silva, Okafor, Carter, and Barnes sat together, joking and telling stories from the season. Carter was in the middle of an animated story about a ridiculous training ground challenge, while Okafor shook his head, laughing. "Mate, you still owe me for that crossbar challenge bet," Okafor said, nudging Carter. Carter smirked. "Double or nothing next season?" Barnes groaned. "That''s how he gets you. Don''t fall for it, man." Silva leaned back in his chair, grinning. "I don''t know why you guys even try. Everyone knows I''m the best finisher at the club." The table erupted in protests, with Okafor immediately objecting. "Silva, you literally missed an open goal two games ago!" "Bad pitch conditions," Silva replied, waving him off. "You wouldn''t understand, keeper." A few seats away, Paul Roberts and Michael Stone sat together, but unlike the others, they weren''t reminiscing¡ªthey were still discussing transfers. Stone had his phone out, scrolling through scouting reports. "I''m telling you, we need to move fast on these targets. If we wait too long, someone else will swoop in." Paul sipped his drink, shaking his head. "Yeah, but we also can''t panic buy. Jake''s got a clear plan. We can''t just throw money at random signings." Jake sat at the head of the table, listening to the conversation flow around him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to relax. The stress of Crystal Palace''s offer, transfer negotiations, and pre-season planning faded into the background. For a rare few hours, he was just Jake Wilson. Not the Bradford manager. Not the man leading a club''s transformation. Just a guy enjoying a night with the people who mattered. But then¡ª His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the message. ???? Michael Stone: "First negotiations for V¨¦lez, Bianchi, and Rasmussen have started. Will update soon." Jake exhaled, rolling his shoulders before slipping the phone back into his pocket. The season hadn''t even started yet. But the battle for League One had already begun. Chapter 82 - 82: Return to Training & Transfer Window Moves Two Weeks Later The summer break had come and gone. Now, it was time to get back to work. Jake stood at the edge of the training pitch, arms crossed, watching as his players trickled in. Some looked fresh and energized, eager to get going. Others still shook off the last remnants of their vacations, stretching out stiff muscles and rolling their shoulders. Silva was the first to arrive, already juggling a ball at his feet, his touch sharp despite the time off. His movements were effortless, the ball never leaving his control. A few younger players stopped to watch, impressed. Okafor greeted Jake with a simple nod before heading straight for the goalkeepers'' area, stretching his arms as he walked. His focus was locked in, as if the final against Notts County had only been yesterday. Novak and Min-jae strolled in together, deep in conversation, their bond strengthened over last season''s battles. Min-jae gestured animatedly as Novak chuckled, shaking his head. They had both become pillars of the squad. Further back, Carter and Thompson walked side by side. Their futures lay elsewhere, but for now, they were still part of this team. Still committed. One by one, the rest of the squad arrived. Some, like Barnes and Lowe, exchanged handshakes with Jake as they passed. Others jogged straight onto the pitch, eager to get moving. Jake turned to Paul Roberts, his assistant, who had a clipboard in hand, already making notes. "Everyone looks good," Paul said, scanning the players. "A few might need extra fitness sessions, but nothing major." Jake nodded. "Good. Let''s get started." The whistle blew. The first session of the new season was underway. Preseason Begins ¨C The intensity was clear from the very first drill. Jake had no intention of easing them in. League One would be brutal. There was no time to waste. Silva and Collins worked on their sharpness in front of goal, smashing shots past the reserve keeper. Min-jae led the defensive drills, barking orders, ensuring the backline stayed compact. Novak, still adjusting after his injury, trained separately, working closely with the fitness coaches. Jake kept a watchful eye on everyone, noting who had come back stronger¡ªand who had work to do. "More intensity!" Jake shouted as Carter and Benson moved through a midfield passing drill. "You think League One defenders are going to give you time on the ball?" Paul Roberts smirked beside him. "You really aren''t giving them any breathing room." Jake folded his arms. "They need to understand¡ªthis isn''t League Two anymore." The players were dripping in sweat by the time the session wrapped up, but Jake was satisfied. The hunger was still there. Now, it was time to bring in the final pieces to complete the squad. Five-Team Preseason Tournament ¨C Hosted in Saudi Arabia Once training wrapped up, Jake gathered the squad in the meeting room. The large screen at the front flickered to life, displaying the schedule for their upcoming preseason tournament in Saudi Arabia. The room buzzed with quiet anticipation. This wasn''t just another routine set of friendlies. This was the first major test of the new-look Bradford City. Jake stood at the front, arms crossed, as the names of their opponents filled the screen. Bradford City''s Preseason Tournament Opponents: Al Nassr (Saudi Pro League) ¨C A team featuring world-class talent, including some of the biggest names in football. A technical, fast, and physically imposing side that would test every aspect of Bradford''s game. Rangers (Scottish Premiership) ¨C One of Scotland''s most dominant clubs, known for their high-intensity pressing and quick transitions. A real test of Bradford''s ability to handle relentless pressure. Stoke City (Championship, England) ¨C A gritty, physically dominant team from the league above. Playing them would give Bradford a taste of what to expect if they earned promotion next season. RC Lens (Ligue 1, France) ¨C A team built on fluid attacking movement and technical precision. Their speed and control of possession would push Bradford''s defensive structure to the limit. The players leaned forward, eyes scanning the fixtures. Silva exchanged glances with Collins, Novak cracked his knuckles, while Min-jae nodded slightly, already locked in. Jake''s voice cut through the murmurs. "This will be our real test before League One," he said, pacing in front of them. "These teams are no joke. They will punish us if we make mistakes. They will show us where we are weak. And they will expose anyone who isn''t ready for this level." Silence. Then, he turned sharply, facing the squad. "These matches aren''t just about fitness," he continued. "They''re about proving yourself. To me. To your teammates. To the fans. You want to start in League One? You want to be part of this club''s future? Then show me." Jake''s gaze moved across the room, meeting the eyes of every player. No one spoke. No one dared to. He let the weight of his words settle before clapping his hands once. "Get ready. This tournament is where we set the standard for the season." S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The meeting ended, but the message had been delivered. For some, this was just preseason. For Jake Wilson? This was where champions were made. Michael Stone Secures Two Hidden Gems- Jake had barely stepped into his office when his phone buzzed. A message from Michael Stone, his sporting director. Stone: "V¨¦lez and Rasmussen deals are DONE. Just need your final approval." Jake''s lips curled into a small smile as he quickly scanned the reports that had just come in. ? Santiago V¨¦lez (18, Colombia, Central Midfielder) ¨C Signed for ¡ê550K from Atl¨¦tico Nacional A box-to-box midfielder with elite passing vision and high work rate. Quick decision-making under pressure¡ªexcellent in tight spaces. Originally priced at ¡ê750K, but Stone negotiated it down. Jake leaned back in his chair, remembering how this deal had played out. Atl¨¦tico Nacional had initially refused to budge from their valuation of ¡ê750K. V¨¦lez was highly regarded, and multiple South American clubs were keeping tabs on him. But Stone had played the long game. Instead of forcing the issue, he kept negotiations open, stalling while he worked through other deals. He subtly leaked interest from other clubs, making Nacional nervous about losing out. Eventually, when Nacional realized they were at risk of having too many suitors pull out, they dropped the price to ¡ê550K with a 10% future sell-on clause. Stone immediately sealed the deal. Jake exhaled, impressed. V¨¦lez was exactly the kind of midfielder Bradford needed¡ªa technical playmaker with relentless energy. "That''s a steal," Jake muttered under his breath, scrolling down to the next player. ? Leo Rasmussen (19, Denmark, Left Winger) ¨C Signed for ¡ê700K from FC Midtjylland Explosive winger, confident in 1v1 duels. Versatile across all attacking positions¡ªcan play both wings and centrally. Considered one of Denmark''s brightest young talents. Midtjylland were hesitant to sell, but Stone convinced them. This transfer had been even more complicated than V¨¦lez''s. Midtjylland initially refused to sell at any price. Rasmussen was one of their most talented prospects, and they had plans to integrate him into their first team. But Stone had noticed something in the negotiations¡ªwages were a sticking point. Rasmussen wanted a bigger contract, but Midtjylland weren''t willing to offer him first-team wages yet. The player was growing restless. Stone used that tension, speaking directly to Rasmussen''s agent, making it clear that Bradford were ready to offer him an important role. Regular football. A platform to develop. The agent pushed Midtjylland to reconsider, and soon, the club was forced to accept ¡ê700K rather than risk losing the player for free when his contract ran down. Jake nodded. That was how you handled negotiations. "Good work, Stone," he muttered, quickly approving both deals. The paperwork would be finalized by next week, and both players would arrive in time for preseason. Bradford had just added two serious talents to their squad. Finding New Clubs for Departures With the new arrivals, it was time to offload the players who no longer fit into Jake''s plans. He dialed Stone directly. "Nice work on V¨¦lez and Rasmussen," Jake said. "Now we need to find clubs for Grant, Collins, and Benson." Stone chuckled. "Knew that was coming. Got a few options already." ???? Alex Grant ¨C Transfer List (Permanent Move) Championship and League One clubs have shown mild interest, but no official offers yet. Asking price: ¡ê350K. "Push harder on Grant," Jake said. "We don''t need him taking up a squad spot." Stone made a note. "I''ll reach out to clubs again, see if we can get movement on that." ???? Jamie Collins ¨C Loan Move A few League Two clubs have inquired about taking him on loan. Priority: A club that will guarantee him regular first-team football. "Collins needs game time," Jake said. "Make sure wherever he goes, he''s a starter." "Got it," Stone replied. "I''ll check back with the clubs that asked about him." ???? George Benson ¨C Free to Leave No long-term future at Bradford. Trying to find a League Two or National League club willing to take him. "Anyone interested in Benson yet?" Jake asked. Stone sighed. "It''s been slow. He''s not exactly an in-demand player." Jake exhaled. "Fine. Just keep looking. We''ll move him on somehow." As the call ended, Jake leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Two top young talents signed. Three unwanted players set to leave. This wasn''t just about building for League One. This was about building a team for the future. Scouting Reports Arrive ¨C With the signings of V¨¦lez and Rasmussen secured, Jake immediately shifted focus to filling the remaining gaps in the squad. Ortega''s departure left a massive void in midfield. Grant was on the way out. Thompson''s future was uncertain. They still needed reinforcements if they wanted to compete at the top of League One. A thick scouting report sat on Jake''s desk, detailing potential targets across multiple positions. He flipped through the pages, skimming over names, statistics, and scout recommendations. These weren''t just random targets. They were handpicked to fit Bradford''s aggressive, high-pressing system. Jake exhaled, tapping his fingers on the desk as he read through the options carefully. ???? Midfield Replacements for Ortega Bradford needed a deep-lying playmaker. Someone who could control the tempo and dictate attacks from midfield. Jake narrowed it down to two options. ? Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez (24, Argentina, Boca Juniors) ¨C ¡ê750K Elite passing range and tactical intelligence. Deep-lying playmaker capable of dictating play. Scout Report: "Would immediately replace Ortega''s role." Jake circled his name. If he wanted a like-for-like replacement for Ortega, Ib¨¢?ez was the one. But there was one issue¡ªhis price. ¡ê750K was a lot for a League One club. Boca Juniors wasn''t desperate to sell, so negotiating a lower fee wouldn''t be easy. The second option was more defensively stable, but less creative. ? Elliot Harper (25, England, Sunderland) ¨C ¡ê700K Box-to-box midfielder with an excellent defensive work rate. Proven in League One, experienced in the English game. Scout Report: "Less creative than Ortega, but more solid defensively." Jake exhaled. Harper wasn''t as technical as Ib¨¢?ez, but he was safer. More physical. More reliable. But this team didn''t need "safe." It needed game-changers. He put a star next to Ib¨¢?ez''s name. If the deal was possible, that was the signing he wanted. ???? Striker Competition for Novak & Thompson Bradford needed firepower. Novak was talented but injury-prone. Thompson was solid but not ruthless enough in front of goal. They needed a goal machine¡ªsomeone who could bury chances with zero hesitation. Jake''s eyes locked on two names. ? Tobias Richter (21, Germany, Kaiserslautern) ¨C ¡ê600K Clinical finisher, strong link-up play, and works well in pressing systems. Good movement inside the box, always finds space. Scout Report: "Would suit Bradford''s aggressive style." Jake immediately liked Richter. He fit the team''s philosophy¡ªfast, aggressive, and a deadly finisher. But there was also a poacher option. ? Guilherme Costa (23, Brazil, Fluminense) ¨C ¡ê750K Elite off-the-ball movement, always in the right place. Natural goal-scorer, instinctive in the box. Scout Report: "A natural finisher, but limited in build-up play." Costa had one key weakness¡ªhe wasn''t a link-up striker. If he didn''t score, he didn''t contribute much. Jake didn''t like that. Bradford needed a striker who could do more than just finish. He grabbed his pen and circled Richter''s name. "That''s the guy," he muttered. ???? Young Winger for Squad Depth Silva was undroppable, but he needed competition. Bradford lacked depth on the wings, especially with Collins going out on loan. Jake had two names in front of him. ? Raphael Mensah (20, Ghana, Anderlecht) ¨C ¡ê500K Explosive dribbler, unpredictable in 1v1 situations. Still raw, but has huge potential. Scout Report: "Not polished, but his speed and dribbling are elite." Mensah was the wildcard option. If developed properly, he could become a star. The other option was more polished, but less unpredictable. ? Milan Jovanovi? (19, Serbia, Red Star Belgrade) ¨C ¡ê700K Quick, technical, delivers pinpoint crosses. First-team ready, could rotate with Silva immediately. Scout Report: "Safe option, but doesn''t have Silva''s raw explosiveness." Jovanovi? was safer, but Mensah had higher potential. Jake leaned back. He didn''t want "safe." He wanted electricity. He circled Mensah''s name. Jake grabbed his phone and dialed Michael Stone. The sporting director picked up after two rings. "Alright, boss," Stone greeted. "You''ve seen the reports?" "Yeah," Jake said, flipping through the pages. "Here''s what I want¡ªstart negotiations for Ib¨¢?ez, Richter, and Mensah. If their clubs push too hard on price, walk away." Stone chuckled. "I like it. No nonsense." "I''m not messing around this season," Jake said. Stone nodded on the other end. "I''ll make some calls and update you soon." Jake exhaled, tossing the scouting report onto his desk. The first moves were being made. Now, it was time to build the team that would take League One by storm. Chapter 83 - 83: The Decision & Preseason Press Conference Crystal Palace Offer - Jake sat across from Henry Lowe, the Bradford chairman, in the boardroom at Valley Parade. The office was quiet, the weight of the moment settling between them. "I''m staying," Jake said simply. Lowe leaned back in his chair, studying Jake''s face. He had expected hesitation, maybe even negotiation. But there was none. Just certainty. "You''re sure?" Lowe asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity. Jake nodded. "I didn''t come here to leave when things got interesting. I have a project, and I''m not done." Lowe exhaled, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. "I won''t lie to you, Jake. I thought you might take it. A Premier League club, a massive contract, the chance to compete at the highest level¡­ Not many would turn that down." Jake smirked, leaning forward slightly. "I thought about it. Anyone would. But we''re not finished here. There''s still work to do." Lowe studied him for another moment, then smiled. "That''s exactly what I wanted to hear." He reached into a drawer, pulled out a document, and slid it across the table. "Then let''s make it official. Three years, ¡ê35K per week. Full backing in the transfer market. We keep building." Jake picked up the pen without hesitation. "Let''s build something special." As soon as he walked out of the room, his phone lit up with notifications. ???? BBC SPORT: "Jake Wilson STAYS at Bradford! The young manager commits to the project despite Premier League interest." ???? BRADFORD MAIL: "Our Gaffer Stays! Wilson snubs Premier League for unfinished business at Valley Parade!" But the real reaction came from the Fan Caf¨¦. ???? "This man is a legend. He''s actually staying!" ???? "I respect the loyalty, but will he ever get another chance at the Prem?" ???? "If he wins League One, the big clubs will come back anyway." ???? "This is the best news ever. He''s one of us now." Jake scrolled through the comments, letting them sink in. He could''ve had the Premier League, the money, the fame. But he wasn''t in this for that. He didn''t reject Crystal Palace for attention. He did it because he wasn''t done here. Carter & Thompson''s Transfer Request Jake barely had time to process his own decision before two of his most important players requested private meetings. First came Ryan Carter. The midfielder walked in, looking conflicted. "Gaffer, Monaco''s offer is a dream," Carter admitted. "I want to take it." Jake sighed but nodded. He had seen this coming. "You''ve been one of our best players," Jake said. "If this is what you want, I won''t stand in your way." Carter exhaled, looking relieved. "Thank you." Next came Joe Thompson. "Portugal is a fresh challenge for me," Thompson said. "I think it''s time." Jake leaned back in his chair. "You''ve been here since the beginning. If this is your move, I respect it." Both deals were now in motion. Monaco returned with an improved bid¡ª¡ê7M for Carter. Thompson''s Portugal move was close to completion for ¡ê1.5M. Jake immediately called Michael Stone. "Start talking with their agents and clubs," Jake instructed. "Got it," Stone replied. "I''ll make sure we get the best deals." Jake hung up. Two key players were leaving. Preseason Press Conference ¨C The media room at Valley Parade was packed. Journalists from national outlets, local newspapers, and even a few international reporters had gathered. The lights from the cameras flashed as Jake took his seat at the front. He adjusted the microphone in front of him. This was his first major press conference since rejecting Crystal Palace. Everyone wanted answers. The first question came immediately. ???? "Jake, you rejected the Crystal Palace offer. Why?" Jake didn''t hesitate. His voice was calm, measured. "Simple. I have a project here. I''m not finished yet." sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A few murmurs rippled through the room. Reporters scribbled notes. They had expected a longer answer, maybe even regret. But there was none. The next question followed. ???? "How do you feel about Carter and Thompson leaving?" Jake nodded slightly, acknowledging the importance of the question. "They''ve earned the right to make their decisions," Jake said. "Both of them have done a lot for this club. We respect their choices, and now our job is to move on without them." His tone made it clear¡ªthere were no hard feelings. But there was also no time for sentimentality. Bradford had to move forward. A journalist from BBC Sport leaned forward. ???? "What are your goals for this season?" Jake didn''t lean back. He didn''t deflect. Instead, he leaned forward, looking directly at the reporters. "To win it." A slight pause. The journalists glanced at each other, some raising their eyebrows. Jake let the words settle. He wasn''t just talking about survival in League One. He wasn''t here to just compete. He was here to win the entire thing. The energy in the room shifted. The Bradford Mail journalist spoke up next. ???? "Are there more signings coming?" Jake smirked. "Absolutely." He didn''t elaborate. He didn''t need to. The message was clear¡ªBradford were not done strengthening. The room buzzed. Bradford City weren''t just aiming for survival. They were aiming for the title. First Preseason training ¨C The sun hung high over the training ground in Saudi Arabia, casting long shadows as Jake stood on the sideline, arms folded. The air was thick with heat, but his players didn''t slow down. Every pass, every sprint, every tackle carried intensity. The first preseason match was just days away¡ªa test against Al Nassr, one of the biggest teams in the region. A club filled with world-class talent, experience, and physicality. Bradford wasn''t here for a vacation. They were here to prepare for war. Jake''s eyes scanned the squad as they worked. Silva was sharp, weaving past defenders with quick footwork. Okafor shouted instructions between saves, keeping his backline alert. Min-jae and Barnes formed a solid pairing at center-back, already reading each other''s movements. And in the middle of it all, Juli¨¢n Rojas, their Colombian playmaker, controlled the tempo. The young midfielder had just arrived from his loan spell, but he already moved with confidence. Bradford had signed him for moments like these¡ªto bring creativity and composure to their midfield. Jake let them train without interruption. There was no official starting eleven announcement yet. That wasn''t the focus. Right now, it was about fitness, chemistry, and proving yourself. The upcoming match wasn''t just a friendly. It was a warning shot. Bradford City weren''t here to make up the numbers in League One. They were here to dominate. Chapter 84 - 84: Completing the Final Transfers ???? July 11th, 2024 ¨C Four Days Until Al Nassr Match ???? Riyadh, Saudi Arabia The Saudi sun was relentless, baking the training pitch in a heat far beyond anything the Bradford players were used to. Even in the late afternoon, the air was thick and dry, making every movement feel heavier. But this wasn''t a vacation. This was the first real test of Jake Wilson''s new squad. A few hundred local fans had gathered outside the training complex, pressing against the metal barriers, hoping to catch a glimpse of the players. Some wore Al Nassr jerseys, others simply held up phones, recording whatever they could. Inside the state-of-the-art facility, the club''s media team had set up for the official unveiling of Santiago V¨¦lez and Leo Rasmussen. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved forward, and a translator whispered between English, Spanish, and Danish. V¨¦lez sat back in his chair, arms crossed, wearing a slight smirk as he listened to a question in Spanish. "Santiago, how do you feel about moving from Colombia to England, and now training in Saudi Arabia?" He leaned into the mic. "I didn''t come here for the weather," he said coolly. "I came here to win." The response spread quickly across social media. Fans flooded the comments. "This guy has an elite mentality." "V¨¦lez is already my favorite player." "Jake Wilson is building a squad full of killers." Next to him, Leo Rasmussen adjusted his seat slightly, noticeably more reserved than his Colombian teammate. When his turn came, he simply said, "I''m just here to work." Not flashy. Not arrogant. Just focused. Jake watched from the edge of the room, arms crossed. V¨¦lez: confident, fiery, ready to prove himself. Rasmussen: quiet, disciplined, letting his game do the talking. Both exactly what he wanted. After the unveiling, training began immediately. Jake had seen it before¡ªthe first session in extreme heat. Legs would feel heavier, lungs would burn faster, and even the fittest players would struggle. Nathan Barnes, the team captain, jogged up to V¨¦lez and Rasmussen as they stepped onto the field. "Hope you two are ready," Barnes said, stretching out his arms. "Coach doesn''t do ''slow starts.''" V¨¦lez wiped sweat from his brow, already grinning. "Good. I hate slow starts." Barnes chuckled, but Rasmussen didn''t even react¡ªjust adjusted his shin pads and nodded. "Let''s just get to work." Jake stood near the touchline, watching them closely. No complaints. No hesitation. Just players who wanted to prove something. Good. Because in four days, they wouldn''t be easing into anything. Al Nassr wouldn''t care that they were adjusting. Completing the Final Transfers A few hours later, Jake Wilson sat in his office, the faint hum of an old desk fan the only sound in the room. His laptop screen glowed in the dim light, displaying the final set of transfer confirmations. The squad was complete¡ªon paper. Across from him, Michael Stone, Bradford City''s head of recruitment, leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his graying hair. The man was a master negotiator, and over the past few weeks, he had worked tirelessly behind the scenes to secure every last deal. Stone let out a satisfied sigh, stretching his arms. "Well, boss, that''s the last of them. We''re officially done." Jake smirked. "About time." The Big Sale ¨C Ryan Carter ¡ú Monaco (¡ê7M) Stone tapped on his tablet, pulling up Carter''s file. "This one took some work." Jake exhaled, glancing at the name. Ryan Carter. The academy golden boy. A technical midfielder with a sharp passing range, but one Jake knew didn''t fit the future of this team. "When Monaco first came in, they lowballed us at five million," Stone said, shaking his head. "I laughed them off the phone. Told them we had European clubs sniffing around. That got them moving." Jake raised an eyebrow. "Did we actually have other clubs interested?" Stone grinned. "No. But they didn''t know that." Jake chuckled. He had always liked Stone''s style¡ªruthless, efficient, and a bit of a bastard when needed. "In the end, they settled at seven million. Lump sum. No bullshit add-ons. Cash in the bank." Jake leaned back, nodding. It stung to lose a homegrown talent, but seven million for a League One club? That was game-changing money. "Good work," Jake muttered. Stone shrugged. "It''s what I do." An Easy Exit ¨C Joe Thompson ¡ú Portugal (¡ê1.5M) Stone slid to the next file. Joe Thompson. This one was less complicated. The 29-year-old midfielder had been on the fringes of the squad all season. Not a bad player, but not part of Jake''s vision. "Honestly, I didn''t expect to get more than a million for him," Stone admitted. "But a club in Portugal came sniffing around¡ªMar¨ªtimo. I played it cool, told them we weren''t desperate to sell." Jake smirked. "And they bit?" "Hard. Bumped the offer up to one-point-five million to ''convince'' us." Stone smirked. "Convinced, we were." Jake nodded. Dead weight gone. Extra funds in the bank. No complaints. The Hidden Gem ¨C Marco Bianchi (CB, 18, Italy) ¨C ¡ê600K from Atalanta Youth Stone''s expression changed slightly. "Now, this one¡­ this one I liked." Jake leaned forward. Marco Bianchi. A 18-year-old ball-playing center-back with composure beyond his years. Spotted in Atalanta''s youth system, hidden away from most scouting networks. "Atalanta didn''t want to sell," Stone continued. "They knew he had potential, but their academy is stacked. I had to convince them he wouldn''t get first-team football anytime soon." Jake nodded. "How''d you do it?" "Simple. I made them an offer that looked low on paper¡ªsix hundred grand¡ªbut promised them a 30% sell-on clause." Jake''s eyes flickered with understanding. Short-term steal, long-term payoff for them. "If Bianchi turns into the player we think he can be," Stone said, "Atalanta gets a cut of the profit, but we still win." Jake grinned. Smart. Very smart. Midfield & Attack Reinforcements Stone moved on, swiping through the finalized deals. ? Elliot Harper (CM, 25, England) ¨C ¡ê500K from Sunderland ? Guilherme Costa (ST, 23, Brazil) ¨C ¡ê450K from Fluminense Jake had pushed for Harper. A midfield engine, built for the intensity of English football. When Sunderland showed signs of needing a quick sale, Stone pounced. "They wanted seven-fifty," Stone said. "Got them down to five. Too good a deal to pass up." Costa was different. A poacher-style forward, ruthless in front of goal but slightly one-dimensional. "Fluminense needed cash," Stone explained. "We could''ve pushed lower, but I didn''t want to risk other clubs swooping in. Four-fifty got it done." Jake nodded, satisfied. A clinical finisher for under half a million? That was a steal in modern football. The Final Three Pieces The last three deals had been harder to pull off. ? Raphael Mensah (RW, 20, Ghana, Anderlecht) ¨C ¡ê500K ? Tobias Richter (ST, 21, Germany, Kaiserslautern) ¨C ¡ê600K ? Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez (CM, 24, Argentina, Boca Juniors) ¨C ¡ê750K "Mensah was a nightmare," Stone admitted. "Anderlecht wanted a loan deal with an obligation to buy. I pushed back¡ªsaid we only deal in straight purchases. Nearly killed the deal, but they caved at the last second." Jake smirked. "Stubborn as always." Richter had been more straightforward. Kaiserslautern needed funds, and six hundred thousand for a promising German forward was a no-brainer. But Ib¨¢?ez? That was the toughest one. "Boca didn''t even want to pick up the phone," Stone said. "Took weeks of back and forth. They wanted a million-plus." Jake narrowed his eyes. "How''d you swing it?" "Pulled the old ''European exposure'' card," Stone said, grinning. "Told them Ib¨¢?ez wasn''t getting a fair shot in Argentina, that playing in England would increase his value." Jake chuckled. Classic. "After some painful haggling, they finally gave in¡ªseven-fifty. Full ownership. No sell-on clauses." Jake leaned back, crossing his arms. The squad was complete. "Good work, Stone." Stone gave him a satisfied nod. "Told you I''d get it done." Finalizing the Squad Jake stood, walking to the whiteboard at the front of the office. Every name was there now. The defense? Stronger, faster, more intelligent. The midfield? More balanced, more aggressive, more dynamic. The attack? Explosive. Ruthless. Ready. He turned back to Stone. "This is it. No more signings. We work with what we''ve got." Stone grinned. "Good. Because I''m exhausted." Jake smirked. Four days until Al Nassr. Time to see what this squad was really made of. System Suggests a Tactical Shift As Jake closed the final set of transfer documents, his vision blurred for a moment. Then, a familiar blue screen flickered to life. The system had something to say. Jake straightened, eyes narrowing as the text unfolded before him. [Ding! System Recommendation] "4-4-2 Formation Suggested" A tactical breakdown followed, the system outlining the reasoning behind the shift. Strengthens midfield control with two compact lines, preventing opposition dominance in the center. Utilizes Renan Silva and Raphael Mensah as direct attacking threats from the wings. Forms a balanced strike partnership with Lukas Novak and Guilherme Costa, combining Novak''s hold-up play with Costa''s clinical finishing. Jake exhaled slowly, absorbing the information. It made sense. He had spent the summer building this squad with exactly this kind of structure in mind¡ªtwo dynamic wingers, a midfield built for endurance, and a front two that could complement each other. Now, the system was confirming it. He leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders. This was it. Bradford City was no longer just a club trying to survive. They were a team with intent. Mission Completed ¨C System Rewards Jake Another notification appeared, crisp and sharp. [Ding! Mission Complete!] New System Function Unlocked: Accelerated Recovery Allows Jake to reduce a player''s injury recovery time by up to 30% without increasing reinjury risk. Can be used once per season on any player with a medium-to-long-term injury. New Mission Activated: "Win at least three preseason matches." Jake raised an eyebrow. This was big. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Last season, injuries had derailed Bradford''s momentum at crucial moments. If he had this function back then, he could have gotten key players back weeks earlier. A smirk formed at the corner of his lips. No more waiting helplessly for fitness reports. The squad was built. The system was evolving. And in four days, Al Nassr would be the first to see exactly what this team was capable of. Chapter 85 - 85: Pre-Match Preparations & Press Conference ???? July 15th, 2024 ¨C Four Hours Before Kickoff The air in Riyadh was thick with heat, the type that pressed down on you and made even the simplest movements feel heavier. The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the training complex where Bradford City had been preparing for this moment. But Jake Wilson barely noticed. He sat in his hotel room, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the glowing blue screen hovering in front of him. His breathing slowed, controlled, as he absorbed the system''s cold, calculated assessment of their chances. [Ding! System Prediction] Bradford City ¨C 30% Win Probability Al Nassr ¨C 65% Win Probability Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He had expected the odds to be against them¡ªthey were playing one of the best teams in Asia, a squad led by Cristiano Ronaldo himself. But seeing it written so plainly, so definitively, sent a jolt of frustration through him. Thirty percent. The same percentage analysts gave underdogs in the FA Cup third round, when a League One side faced a Premier League giant. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a second. Did that mean they were already beaten? No. That wasn''t how he worked. He''d built this squad to fight. Jake refocused, his eyes narrowing as he tapped the next screen. The system unfolded a tactical breakdown, a list of strengths and weaknesses, a blueprint for survival¡ªor maybe something more. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. [Tactical Breakdown] Al Nassr Strengths: Cristiano Ronaldo (ST) ¨C Unmatched positioning and finishing. If he got space in the box, the ball was going in. Sadio Man¨¦ (LW) ¨C Explosive pace, dangerous in one-on-ones. Aiden Taylor would have his hands full. Anderson Talisca (CAM) ¨C Long-range shooting threat, elite playmaker. Couldn''t be given time to turn. Aymeric Laporte (CB) ¨C Composed, world-class defender. No easy goals. Al Nassr Weaknesses: Full-backs struggle against pacey wingers. Sultan Al-Ghannam and Saud Al-Najdi pushed forward but left gaps. Renan Silva and Leo Rasmussen had to exploit that. Defensive midfield lacks physicality against high pressing. Ot¨¢vio and Al-Khaibari were technicians, not destroyers. If Bradford pressed hard enough, they could force mistakes. Jake''s mind worked quickly, piecing together a strategy. He already knew how he wanted to set up, but the system confirmed what he suspected¡ªAl Nassr could be hurt if they were brave enough. They could sit back, absorb pressure, and hope to hit on the counter. Safe, predictable. But that was the game Al Nassr wanted. Or they could force the issue. Press high. Make them uncomfortable. It was a risk. If it worked, they could rattle them. If it failed, Ronaldo and Man¨¦ would rip them apart. A knock on the door broke his focus. "Gaffer, press conference in ten." Jake turned to see Michael Stone, Bradford''s head of recruitment, standing in the doorway. His usual smirk was absent. Even Stone¡ªwho had seen it all¡ªknew what this match meant. Jake took a slow breath, closing the system screen with a flick of his fingers. Time to talk. Press Conference ¨C Facing a Giant The media room at Mrsool Park was packed, the air buzzing with anticipation. Jake Wilson sat at the table, microphone in front of him, his expression composed as the cameras flashed. This wasn''t just another pre-season match. This was Bradford City vs. Al Nassr. It was Jake Wilson, the rising English coach, sitting across from a club boasting some of the biggest names in world football. It was his League One squad being measured against a team that had lifted trophies and played in the world''s biggest tournaments. The journalists wasted no time. "Jake, this is by far the biggest team Bradford has faced under your management. What''s your mindset going into this match?" Jake leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed but focused. He didn''t blink. "We respect Al Nassr, but we didn''t come here to admire them. We came here to compete." A few murmurs ran through the room. Some journalists exchanged glances. They had expected a more cautious answer. Jake didn''t care. This was his mentality now. "Realistically, do you think Bradford can win?" Jake smirked slightly. The question wasn''t unfair, but the tone carried the weight of doubt. "Football isn''t played on paper," he said. "If it was, we wouldn''t have a chance. But games are won on the pitch. We''ll see what happens." A few chuckles rippled through the room. A Saudi journalist scribbled something in his notepad. Confident, but not arrogant. That was the impression Jake wanted to leave. "How do you prepare to face someone like Cristiano Ronaldo?" Jake''s smirk faded slightly, replaced by something closer to admiration. "You don''t ''prepare'' for Cristiano Ronaldo. You just try to survive him," he admitted, drawing a few laughs from the room. He leaned back, glancing toward the Al Nassr banner behind him. "He''s one of the greatest players to ever play the game. It''s an honor to test my team against him." He meant every word. Ronaldo was an icon¡ªa living legend. But that didn''t mean he''d let his team be overawed. "This is also the first real test for your new signings. How have they settled in?" Jake nodded, already expecting the question. "We''ve built a squad that can compete," he said, voice steady. "The signings have added quality, but we won''t know exactly where we stand until we play teams like this." He let the words settle. "This isn''t just a test for them¡ªit''s a test for all of us." Some journalists nodded, jotting down notes. They could sense it too. This wasn''t just a friendly. For Jake, this was a measuring stick. A chance to see how far they had come¡ªand how far they still had to go. The moderator gave a quick signal, wrapping things up. "Thank you, coach." Jake stood, shaking a few hands before heading toward the tunnel. The talking was done. Now, it was up to the players. Final Tactical Instructions ???? Mrsool Park, Riyadh ¨C Dressing Room The dressing room was silent, the tension thick. Outside, the roar of the Al Nassr fans echoed through the stadium walls. The players sat on the benches, adjusting their shin pads, taping their wrists, tightening their boots¡ªbut all eyes were on one man. Jake Wilson stood at the front, arms crossed, gaze sharp. The lineup was set. The tactics were finalized. This was it. He scanned the room slowly, taking in the expressions of each player. Some were focused, some were tense, but none of them looked scared. Good. "They''re better than us. No point pretending otherwise." His voice was calm, controlled¡ªbut firm. He let the words settle, watching their reactions. There was no point lying. They were the underdogs. Everyone knew it. "But that doesn''t mean we let them play how they want." His eyes moved across the room, locking onto each player as he spoke. Tactical Breakdown Jake pointed to the tactical board behind him, where Al Nassr''s 4-2-3-1 formation was drawn out. He tapped the midfield zone with his finger. "We press their midfield. Ot¨¢vio and Al-Khaibari aren''t good under pressure. If we let them dictate the tempo, they''ll pick us apart." He looked toward Daniel Lowe and Elliot Harper, his two central midfielders. "That means you two¡ªevery time they get the ball, you''re on them. Make them uncomfortable. Make them rush. They''ll crack if we don''t let them breathe." Lowe cracked his knuckles. Harper gave a sharp nod. Jake turned to Renan Silva and Leo Rasmussen, his wingers. "Their full-backs are their weak link. Al-Ghannam and Al-Najdi push forward, but they leave space behind. We exploit that." He pointed at Silva first. "Renan, if you get a one-on-one, I don''t want you hesitating. Take him on every single time." Silva smirked, rolling his shoulders. "That''s what I do, boss." Jake''s eyes shifted to Rasmussen. "Leo, same with you. Drive at him. Force him to make a decision." Rasmussen gave a curt nod, his expression serious. "If we win the ball back high, I want us attacking the flanks immediately. No slow build-up¡ªfast, direct, decisive." Finally, he turned to his center-backs. Nathan Barnes. The captain. The leader. Kang Min-jae. Aggressive, composed, relentless. Jake''s voice dropped slightly, his tone turning even sharper. "You already know the job." He didn''t even need to say the name. They all knew who he was talking about. Cristiano Ronaldo. "Stop him. Do whatever it takes." A heavy silence filled the room. The weight of the task settled over them like a storm cloud. Barnes finally exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "We got this, gaffer." Min-jae cracked his neck. "He bleeds like everyone else." Jake allowed himself a small smirk. That was the attitude he wanted. He stepped back, crossing his arms again, letting the room breathe. The moment hung there for a second¡ªthe anticipation, the nerves, the hunger. Then, Jake exhaled. "Let''s see what we''re made of." With that, he turned and walked toward the tunnel. Kickoff was waiting. Chapter 86 - 86: Al Nassr vs. Bradford City PART 1 First Half ¨C The roar of the Mrsool Park crowd was deafening as the two teams stepped onto the pitch. Bright stadium lights illuminated the pristine grass, the humid Riyadh air clinging to the players'' shirts. Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the pitch. This was it. The first real test for his new squad. He glanced at the system overlay in his vision. [Ding! Match Prediction Updated] Al Nassr ¨C 65% Win Probability Bradford City ¨C 30% Win Probability Nothing had changed. They were still the underdogs. But Jake wasn''t interested in probabilities anymore. He turned toward his bench, scanning his players'' faces. Some were eager, some were tense. But none were afraid. Good. The referee blew his whistle. Kickoff. Starting Lineups Al Nassr XI (4-2-3-1): GK: Bento RB: Sultan Al-Ghannam CB: Mohamed Simakan CB: Aymeric Laporte LB: Saud Al-Najdi CM: Ot¨¢vio CM: Abdulrahman Al-Khaibari RW: ¨¢ngelo CAM: Anderson Talisca LW: Sadio Man¨¦ ST: Cristiano Ronaldo (C) Bradford City XI (4-4-2): GK: Emeka Okafor RB: James Richards CB: Nathan Barnes (C) CB: Kang Min-jae LB: Aiden Taylor CM: Daniel Lowe CM: Elliot Harper RW: Renan Silva LW: Leo Rasmussen ST: Lukas Novak ST: Guilherme Costa 6'' ¨C It didn''t take long. Too quick. Too easy. Bradford had barely settled into their shape when the danger unfolded¡ªa moment of hesitation, and Al Nassr punished them. Talisca received the ball in midfield. One touch to control, another to shift his body into space. There was no pressure on him¡ªLowe was a step too late, Harper caught ball-watching. Dangerous. Jake saw it unfolding half a second before it happened. Talisca looked up, his eyes scanning ahead. He wasn''t looking for just any pass. He was looking for one man. And he found him. "Track him!" Jake shouted, but it was already too late. Ronaldo was gone. He peeled away from Barnes'' shoulder, gliding into the pocket of space between the center-backs. A ghost in the box. Barnes twisted his head, realizing the danger¡ªtoo late. Talisca''s foot met the ball, delivering a cross that was nothing short of perfect. It curled through the humid Riyadh air, dipping just beyond Min-jae''s reach. Ronaldo was already airborne. The leap was effortless, his timing immaculate. Min-jae jumped, strained, reached¡ªbut he was never getting there. Ronaldo''s forehead met the ball with crushing power. Bullet header. No hesitation. No wasted movement. The net rippled violently. The stadium exploded. Bradford City 0-1 Al Nassr. Jake exhaled sharply, pressing his lips into a thin line. Six minutes in, and Ronaldo had already reminded them who he was. This was the difference. Barnes stood frozen for a moment, fists clenched, his breathing heavy. He had been tight to Ronaldo just seconds ago. And then he wasn''t. Min-jae shook his head, adjusting his shin pads, muttering under his breath. "Reset! Get your heads up!" Jake barked, clapping his hands loudly. This wasn''t the time to crumble. This was the time to respond. 18'' ¨C Bradford had barely started to find their rhythm when they got hit again. And this time, it was a counterattack. Fast. Ruthless. Clinical. It started with a Bradford corner. Harper delivered a lofted cross into the box, aiming for Novak. The Czech striker rose high, battling with Laporte, but the experienced defender won the aerial duel with ease. The ball dropped near the edge of the box, where Ot¨¢vio reacted first, his first touch perfect, setting himself for a pass before Bradford''s midfield could close him down. Jake saw the danger immediately. "Drop back! Get into shape!" he shouted from the touchline. Too late. Ot¨¢vio looked up and sprayed a pass wide to the left flank¡ªto Man¨¦. Pure danger. The moment the ball reached his feet, Man¨¦ exploded forward, his acceleration instant. James Richards tried to react, stepping up, body low, ready to challenge. It didn''t matter. Man¨¦ glided past him effortlessly, shifting into top speed in a matter of strides. Richards lunged, trying to keep pace¡ªbut he was chasing a shadow. The crowd rose to their feet, a wave of anticipation sweeping through Mrsool Park as Man¨¦ charged down the left flank, the ball glued to his feet. Richards kept running, desperate to recover, but every step Man¨¦ took widened the gap. Thirty yards¡­ twenty¡­ fifteen¡­ Jake clenched his fists. Man¨¦ cut inside at the edge of the box, shifting the ball onto his stronger right foot. Barnes stepped up. Too slow. Curling shot. The ball bent viciously toward the far post, curving over Okafor''s outstretched hands. Top corner. Perfect placement. The net bulged. Mrsool Park exploded again. Bradford City 0-2 Al Nassr. Jake let out a slow breath. Al Nassr were ruthless. One mistake. One moment of transition. And they were punished. On the pitch, Richards slammed his fist into the turf, his frustration boiling over. Barnes jogged toward him, pulling him up. Jake called Richards over. Richards approached, his face red with anger. Jake didn''t yell. Didn''t criticize. "Forget it. Next play. Stay in the game." Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Richards exhaled, jaw still clenched. Then he nodded. Jake could see it. His team was rattled. And they were only eighteen minutes in. 27'' ¨C Tactical Adjustment Jake turned sharply toward Paul Robert, his assistant manager, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "We''re getting torn apart in transition." Robert nodded, arms crossed, eyes locked on the pitch. "They''re playing through us too easily. Ot¨¢vio has too much time on the ball, and Al-Khaibari isn''t even feeling the press." Jake clenched his jaw. He had seen enough. Bradford had spent the last five minutes trying to settle after Man¨¦''s goal, but Al Nassr wasn''t letting them breathe. Every time they won the ball, it was back with Ot¨¢vio or Talisca in seconds. Their midfield was suffocating Bradford''s shape, forcing them to defend deeper and deeper. No. That wasn''t going to work. Jake called over Daniel Lowe and Elliot Harper, his two central midfielders. Lowe jogged over first, sweat dripping from his forehead. Harper followed, shaking his head slightly¡ªhe knew they weren''t getting close enough to their men. "We need to press higher," Jake said, his voice firm. "They''re too comfortable in midfield. Ot¨¢vio and Al-Khaibari are dictating the tempo." Harper exhaled. "Yeah, we''re letting them turn too easily." "Then stop letting them," Jake snapped. He pointed toward Ot¨¢vio, who was once again scanning for a pass, completely unbothered. "The moment they receive the ball, you''re on them. Make them feel you. Make them rush. Force them into mistakes. Got it?" Lowe clenched his jaw. "Understood, gaffer." Jake looked at Harper. "And you? Ready to make them work?" Harper cracked his neck. "Always." The shift was immediate. Bradford''s midfield pushed higher, cutting off passing lanes before Al Nassr could settle. Harper stepped onto Ot¨¢vio''s toes, forcing him to release the ball quicker than he wanted. Lowe shadowed Al-Khaibari, sticking to him like glue, disrupting his passing rhythm. Suddenly, Al Nassr didn''t have the same effortless control in midfield. Bradford started winning second balls, and for the first time, they had possession in dangerous areas. Silva received the ball on the right, spun past Al-Najdi, and surged forward. Rasmussen made a darting run down the left, forcing Al-Ghannam to track back. For the first time in the match, Al Nassr looked slightly unsettled. Jake could see it. 33'' ¨C Bradford had spent the last six minutes pressing higher, forcing mistakes, and disrupting Al Nassr''s rhythm. Finally, it paid off. Harper hounded Ot¨¢vio, forcing a rushed pass out wide. Richards intercepted, nodding the ball forward toward Silva. And suddenly, the space was there. Silva took his first touch on the right flank, near the edge of the final third. Facing him was Saud Al-Najdi¡ªa full-back who had already shown vulnerability in one-on-one situations. Jake leaned forward on the touchline. This was it. Silva vs. Al-Najdi ¨C Silva stopped the ball dead. Al-Najdi hesitated, unsure whether to step forward or hold his ground. Silva shifted his weight¡ªa quick step-over, then another. Then¡ªboom. A sudden, explosive shift inside. Al-Najdi was left behind. The Bradford winger was past him, sprinting into space. Laporte saw the danger and started shifting across¡ªbut Silva wasn''t slowing down. Silva glanced up. Novak was already making a run toward the near post¡ªa perfect poacher''s movement. Silva whipped in a low, driven cross. The ball sliced through the penalty box¡ªand suddenly, Novak was there! First-time strike! Novak connected cleanly, hammering the ball toward goal. For a split second, Jake thought it was in¡ªbut then, out of nowhere¡ª Simakan threw himself in the way. The ball slammed into the defender''s thigh, deflecting awkwardly into the six-yard box. Costa reacted first! The Brazilian striker pounced, stretching a foot out¡ªbut Laporte read it. A last-ditch clearance. The ball sailed out for a corner. Jake clapped loudly on the sideline. Finally. 38'' ¨C And then, just like that¡ªit was over. Bradford had started to grow into the game, pressing higher, winning small battles in midfield. For a moment, it felt like they had found a foothold. Then Talisca got the ball. Halftime Whistle ¨C The referee''s whistle pierced the humid Riyadh air, signaling the end of the first half. For Al Nassr, it was a routine display of dominance. For Bradford, it was a lesson. The scoreboard read 3-0, but it might as well have been a gulf in class. Bradford''s players trudged toward the tunnel, heads down, jerseys soaked with sweat. Some shook their heads in frustration. Others didn''t say a word. James Richards slammed his fist against his palm, cursing under his breath. Barnes walked alongside Min-jae, the two center-backs barely speaking, both knowing they had been exposed. Silva pulled at his shirt, staring at the turf. Rasmussen wiped sweat from his forehead, breathing heavily. This wasn''t League One. This was a different world. Jake''s Observations ¨C Jake followed behind them, his jaw clenched, but his mind sharp. He wasn''t angry. He was watching. Analyzing. Every mistake. Every weakness. Every hesitation. He had seen it all. Barnes and Min-jae losing Ronaldo in transition. Richards getting burned by Man¨¦''s pace. Ot¨¢vio and Al-Khaibari dictating the midfield too easily. Their press breaking down the moment Al Nassr switched the tempo. But he had also seen something else. Silva getting past Al-Najdi. Harper starting to win duels. Novak and Costa beginning to find space. There were gaps to exploit¡ªif they had the courage to do it. Inside the Dressing Room ¨C The dressing room was silent, except for the sound of heavy breathing and water bottles being squeezed. Some players slumped onto the bench, staring at the floor. Others leaned against the wall, hands on their hips, still processing the first half. No one spoke. Jake stood at the front, looking at them. Waiting. Measuring. Then, finally, he exhaled. "Alright." His voice was calm. But firm. Every head turned toward him, eyes weary, faces marked by exhaustion. Jake let the silence hang for a second longer. Then¡ªhe stepped forward. "That''s enough." His voice carried a different weight now. Not frustration. Not anger. Command. "We''re not here to survive. We''re not here to admire them. We''re here to fight. And we''re not doing that." Some players straightened. Others looked at him. "You''ve seen it now. Their quality. Their speed. Their finishing. We''ve been hit. Three times. And it hurts." Jake paused, looking at each player in the eyes. "So what? You think they''re going to take it easy on us? You think they''re done?" No one answered. "If we don''t change something right now, they''ll embarrass us." Still, no one spoke. Jake took a step forward, his voice dropping lower¡ªbut sharper. "You want to walk off this pitch knowing you let them dictate everything? Knowing you backed off? Knowing you gave them too much respect?" Barnes clenched his fists. Jake''s gaze moved across the room. "Or do you want to walk out there and fight?" Silence. Then¡ªHarper nodded. "We fight." Lowe cracked his knuckles. Silva sat up straight. Min-jae adjusted his socks, his jaw tight. Finally, Barnes stood. "What''s the plan, gaffer?" Jake nodded. That was the right question. "Time to fight back." Jake saw it unfold before it even happened. Bradford had pushed up. Too high. Too ambitious. Anderson Talisca stood in a pocket of space just inside Bradford''s half, his posture relaxed, effortless¡ªlike he had all the time in the world. Lowe and Harper rushed toward him. One second. Talisca glanced up. Two seconds. With one smooth, elegant motion, he rolled the ball forward with his left foot and¡ªwithout even looking¡ªclipped a through ball between Barnes and Min-jae. Perfect weight. Perfect timing. The pass sliced through the Bradford defense like a scalpel. And Ronaldo was already gone. Nathan Barnes twisted his head, searching for Ronaldo. Too late. Min-jae sprinted, his legs pumping furiously. Too late. Ronaldo took one touch to control, soft and delicate. One touch to look up. And one touch to gently chip it over Okafor. The ball floated over the Nigerian keeper''s outstretched arms, its trajectory calm, almost lazy¡ªlike Ronaldo had written the script before the game had even begun. It kissed the net. 3-0. The stadium erupted. Jake didn''t even react. What was there to say? They were being schooled. Ronaldo jogged toward the corner flag, a familiar smirk forming on his lips. Then¡ªhe jumped. Arms outstretched. Legs spread wide. "SIIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUU!" The stadium shook as thousands of fans echoed the famous celebration, their voices blending into one deafening roar. Bradford''s players watched in silence, some with hands on their hips, others shaking their heads. On the sideline, Jake stood stone-faced, arms crossed. Not angry. Not even frustrated. Just watching. Absorbing. This was the level. And right now, they weren''t there yet. Chapter 87 - 87: Al Nassr vs. Bradford City PART 2 Halftime Adjustments ¨C The dressing room door swung open, and Jake Wilson stepped out first, leading his players back onto the pitch. The stadium lights burned brighter now, the heat still lingering in the air. The crowd had settled, waiting for the second half, expecting more dominance from Al Nassr. But Jake had other plans. He turned to Paul Robertson, his assistant, and gave a short nod. "We''ve got seven changes. Let''s rotate, but we''re not rolling over." This was a preseason match. The result wasn''t the priority. Getting everyone minutes¡ªand seeing who could step up¡ªwas. Immediate Halftime Subs: Raphael Mensah replaces Leo Rasmussen (More pace on the left). Marco Bianchi replaces Kang Min-jae (Fresh legs in defense) Harper moves forward to disrupt Talisca''s space. Jake clapped his hands. "We win this half. Doesn''t matter what happened before¡ªthis half, we go for it." The referee blew the whistle. Second half underway. 53'' ¨C And finally, a breakthrough. Bradford had started the second half with fire, pressing higher, moving the ball faster, showing a level of aggression that had been missing in the first forty-five minutes. Jake could feel the shift from the touchline. The body language had changed. His players weren''t just reacting anymore¡ªthey were imposing themselves. And then the moment came. Daniel Lowe saw his chance. Al-Khaibari received a pass in midfield, taking an extra second to assess his options. A second too long. Lowe pounced, sliding in with precision, stealing the ball cleanly before Al-Khaibari could turn. The impact echoed through the stadium, a crunching tackle that sent the ball skidding loose. The crowd gasped. The referee let it play. Jake''s eyes flicked to the right. Silva. Space. Go. Silva reacted instantly, sprinting to collect the ball before Al-Najdi could reset. The Al Nassr full-back backpedaled, bracing himself for another one-on-one battle. He had already been beaten a few times tonight. He knew what was coming. Silva slowed down¡ªa quick step-over, then another. Then¡ªa sudden shift of gears. He exploded past Al-Najdi down the right flank, his acceleration electric. Jake leaned forward on the touchline, his eyes locked on Silva''s movement. This time, the Brazilian winger made it to the byline. This time, he had time to pick his cross. Silva whipped in a low, driven ball. Fast. Dangerous. It skidded across the six-yard box, zipping past Laporte before the defender could react. For a split second, it looked like it might flash across goal untouched¡ª But then, a blur of red arrived at the back post. Raphael Mensah. Sliding in. Right place, right time. His outstretched boot met the ball with perfect contact. The net rippled violently. The ball slammed into the goal. Al Nassr 3-1 Bradford City. For the first time, the Bradford bench erupted. Jake heard the roar behind him¡ªhis substitutes leaping to their feet, fists pumping. Mensah pounded his chest, sprinting toward Silva to celebrate. The winger grinned, patting him on the back. Novak ran over, ruffling Mensah''s hair. They had landed a punch. Jake allowed himself a smirk. Not because of the goal. But because of what it represented. They weren''t just here to take part. They were here to fight. Bradford Gaining Confidence The goal changed everything. For the first time all night, the momentum had shifted. The Al Nassr fans, who had been roaring with every attack, sounded quieter now. There was no panic in their ranks, no fear¡ªbut the energy in the stadium had changed. And so had Bradford. The players moved differently. Their shoulders weren''t slumped anymore. Their touches were cleaner. Their passes were sharper. They were growing into the game. Jake could see it. Confidence. Belief. Just minutes after Mensah''s goal, Bradford attacked again. Harper picked up the ball in midfield, looked up, and spotted Novak making a clever run between Simakan and Laporte. A quick, incisive pass. Novak let the ball roll across his body, took one touch to steady himself, and¡ª Bang. A powerful shot, low and hard, aimed toward the bottom corner. Bento reacted late. He dived at full stretch, his fingertips just barely pushing the ball wide. The first real test for the Al Nassr goalkeeper. Novak let out a frustrated sigh, but Jake clapped his hands on the sideline. "That''s it! Keep going!" Bradford weren''t just defending anymore. They were threatening. S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Al Nassr tried to slow the game down, knocking the ball around midfield, attempting to regain control. Ot¨¢vio received a pass near the halfway line¡ªbut Harper was already on him. The Bradford midfielder didn''t give him a second to breathe. One step. Body contact. A nudge just enough to unbalance him. Ot¨¢vio panicked, rushed a pass sideways¡ª Straight to Daniel Lowe. Bradford won possession high up the pitch. Jake nodded approvingly from the sideline. This was what he wanted. Intensity. Relentlessness. Bianchi vs. Ronaldo ¨C In the 66th minute, Al Nassr tried to reassert their dominance. A long diagonal pass from Talisca sent Ronaldo running into space down the left channel. For most 18-year-old defenders, this was a nightmare scenario. A one-on-one with Cristiano Ronaldo. But Marco Bianchi wasn''t backing down. The young Italian adjusted his feet, stayed balanced, and refused to bite on Ronaldo''s signature step-overs. Ronaldo tried to muscle past him, using his upper body strength to create space. But Bianchi stood firm. He didn''t reach, didn''t dive in¡ªhe waited. And when Ronaldo took one touch too heavy, Bianchi stepped in, shoulder-to-shoulder, and muscled him off the ball. The Bradford bench erupted. Ronaldo raised an eyebrow, looking at the young center-back for a brief moment. A silent nod of respect. Bianchi exhaled and played the ball out calmly. A small moment, but a huge one for his confidence. Jake crossed his arms, watching intently. They weren''t backing down anymore. The difference between surviving and competing was showing. They had taken the first half''s lesson. And now? They were starting to punch back. 66'' ¨C Bradford were growing into the game, pressing higher, attacking with more confidence. But Al Nassr were still Al Nassr. They didn''t panic. They absorbed the pressure, stayed compact, and waited. And then, in a flash, they nearly ended the game. Man¨¦ vs. Richards ¨C Bradford had been getting bolder, stepping up the pitch, but that left them vulnerable. Ot¨¢vio, still calm despite Harper''s earlier pressure, switched play with a lofted pass to Man¨¦ on the left. Richards, who had been burned for pace in the first half, took a different approach this time. He didn''t dive in. Didn''t give Man¨¦ the space to sprint past him. But Man¨¦ adjusted. Instead of trying to beat him on the outside, he cut inside sharply, onto his stronger right foot. Danger. Jake clenched his fists. Richards tried to recover, but Man¨¦ had already opened up his body and spotted the run of Talisca. A quick, disguised pass, perfectly weighted. Talisca let the ball roll across his body, setting up the shot with his first touch. Bianchi tried to close the space¡ªbut the Brazilian was too quick. Jake held his breath. Talisca fired. The ball whipped past Bianchi''s outstretched leg¡ª And flew inches wide of the post. Okafor dived, but he never had a chance. For a moment, the stadium fell silent¡ªthen a collective groan from the Al Nassr fans. Talisca put his hands on his head, frustrated. He knew he should have buried that. Jake exhaled sharply. That was too close. He turned to Paul Robertson. "We got lucky." Robertson gave a slight nod. "We won''t survive too many more of those." Jake knew that. They needed to respond. More Substitutions ¨C Jake walked to the sideline, clapped his hands, and called for changes. Tobias Richter replaces Novak (More energy in attack). Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez replaces Harper (Fresh legs in midfield). Lewis Hart replaces Taylor (Defensive rotations). Novak jogged off, shaking his head. He had worked hard but had few clear chances. Harper slapped hands with Ib¨¢?ez, offering a quick word. "Keep pressing them. They''re starting to feel it." Taylor gave a tired thumbs-up to Hart as they swapped places. Jake nodded at them as they ran on. Fresh legs. More intensity. Jake''s Tactical Gamble ¨C At 70 minutes, Jake made a decision. A bold one. They had two choices: Sit deep, accept the loss, and avoid further damage. Or push forward, take a risk, and try to make a real game of it. He chose the second. Jake turned to Richards and Hart, his full-backs. "Push higher. Give Silva and Mensah support out wide." He turned to Ib¨¢?ez and Lowe. "Commit forward. Don''t be afraid to take risks in the final third." Robertson raised an eyebrow. "We''re opening up space behind." Jake nodded. "I know." But if they were going down, they were going down swinging. The players took their positions. Bradford were about to gamble. 75'' ¨C And they got punished. Bradford had gone for it. They had pushed their full-backs higher, committed extra bodies forward, tried to force another opening. But against a team like Al Nassr, one mistake was all it took. Bradford were patiently working the ball around midfield, looking for an opening. Ib¨¢?ez received a pass from Chapman, turned, and tried to thread a quick ball between the lines¡ªbut he rushed it. The pass lacked precision. Ot¨¢vio read it perfectly, stepped in, and intercepted. One touch. Quick release. Straight to Ronaldo. Ronaldo received the ball just past the halfway line. Bianchi and Barnes, knowing how dangerous he was, rushed toward him. A younger player might have forced the shot, might have tried to go solo. But Ronaldo was a veteran. He didn''t need to score¡ªhe needed to kill the game. He glanced up once, saw Man¨¦ making a run on the left, and delivered a perfectly weighted pass into space. Man¨¦ was gone. Richards tried to track him, but there was no catching Man¨¦ in full stride. He took one touch to control at the edge of the box. One glance up. Then¡ªleft foot. Low. Precise. The ball curled past Okafor''s dive, nestling into the bottom corner. Game over. Al Nassr 4-1 Bradford City. Mrsool Park erupted again, fans celebrating as Man¨¦ jogged toward the corner flag, pointing at Ronaldo in acknowledgment. Ronaldo gave him a knowing nod before clapping his hands, turning back toward the halfway line. Just another day at the office. Jake let out a slow breath, nodding slightly. They had taken the risk. And they had paid the price. This was the reality of playing against top teams. One moment of ambition, one pass slightly off target¡ªand the game was gone. He turned toward the bench. Time to finish the game on their terms. 81'' ¨C More Substitutions Jake clapped his hands and signaled for his final two changes. Ethan Walsh replaces Silva (Young academy winger gets experience). Lewis Chapman replaces Lowe (Rotate the midfield). Walsh, just 19 years old, jogged onto the pitch with wide eyes, taking in the massive stadium, the roaring crowd, the presence of global stars. Chapman shook hands with Lowe, taking his place in midfield. This wasn''t about a comeback anymore. This was about finishing strong. Bradford still tried to push forward, still looked for one more goal. And then¡ª 88'' ¨C They got it. Too late to change the result, but not too late to make a statement. Jake watched as his players kept pushing, refusing to let the match die quietly. Even at 4-1 down, they weren''t just seeing out the clock¡ªthey were fighting for every ball. And then, the chance came. Al Nassr, comfortable with their lead, had dropped their tempo slightly, knocking the ball around midfield, seeing the game out. But Ib¨¢?ez wasn''t having it. He saw his moment¡ªstepped in, stuck a foot out, and won the ball off Al-Khaibari. The ball popped loose, bouncing into space. Ib¨¢?ez reacted first, taking a quick touch forward before lifting his head. Bradford had runners. Mensah was already sprinting down the left flank, his speed causing problems again. Ib¨¢?ez didn''t hesitate. One pass, angled wide into space. And suddenly¡ªMensah was in. The Ghanaian winger drove forward at full speed, the ball glued to his feet as he closed in on the box. Al-Ghannam backpedaled nervously. He had already been beaten once for a goal. He knew what was coming¡ªbut he still couldn''t stop it. A sharp cut inside. A sudden burst forward. Mensah created just enough space, then looked up¡ªRichter was arriving at the back post. Simple decision. Simple execution. A quick, low ball rolled perfectly across the six-yard box. And there was Tobias Richter. The German forward stretched out his right foot, meeting the pass with perfect timing. A simple touch. The ball rolled into the empty net. Bradford had their second goal. 4-2. Richter grabbed the ball from the net, jogged back toward the halfway line. No celebration¡ªjust a quiet show of intent. They weren''t here to quit. The referee blew the whistle, and the game was over. Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he watched his players shake hands with the opposition. They had lost. But they had fought. And they had learned more in these 90 minutes than they would in ten League One games. The scoreline told a story. But so did the way they finished. Post-Match Reflections As Jake walked off the pitch, he barely had time to process the game before the media swarmed him. Microphones. Cameras. Questions. The first was exactly what he expected. "Jake, was the high press a mistake?" He barely blinked. "We came here to test ourselves." He shrugged, glancing at the scoreboard. "We learned. That''s all that matters." No frustration. No excuses. Just lessons learned. As the media interviews wrapped up, Jake took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline settle. The game had been a test¡ªa reality check. But also a glimpse of something bigger. And before he left the pitch, there was one thing he had to do. He scanned the field and spotted Cristiano Ronaldo, still on the grass, chatting with a few Al Nassr staff members. Jake didn''t hesitate. As he approached, Ronaldo turned toward him, a small smirk already forming. "Coach," Ronaldo greeted, offering a handshake. Jake shook his hand, then exhaled. "I have to say this¡ªbeen a fan of yours since I was young." Ronaldo grinned. "That makes me feel old." Jake chuckled. "You don''t play like it." Ronaldo nodded. "You don''t coach like you''re new to this either." Jake let that sit for a second, before scratching the back of his head. "Actually, I have a favor to ask." Ronaldo raised an eyebrow. "Go on." "My son, Ethan¡­ he''s your biggest fan. If I don''t bring him back something, I might not be allowed in my own house."** Ronaldo laughed. "That bad?" Jake nodded. "Worse." Without hesitation, Ronaldo pulled his match-worn jersey, and handed it over. "For Ethan." Jake looked down at the jersey¡ªNo.7, still damp with sweat, still carrying the weight of a legend. Ethan was going to lose his mind. "Thanks, Cristiano," Jake said, meaning it Ronaldo patted him on the shoulder. "Keep going, coach. I''ll be watching." Jake smirked. "Hopefully, the next time we meet, I''m managing a Champions League side." Ronaldo gave him a knowing nod. "If you keep pushing, you will be." As Jake walked down the tunnel, he could already hear the murmurs in the media. Bradford had lost. But they had stood their ground. And for Jake Wilson, this was just the beginning. Chapter 88 - 88: Pre-Match Preparations & Tactical Adjustments July 19th, 2024 ¨C Preseason Match 2 King Saud University Stadium, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia Training Adjustments ¨C Jake Wilson didn''t waste a second dwelling on the 4-2 loss to Al Nassr. There was no sulking, no pointless frustration. He wasn''t that kind of coach. Losing was never the problem. The real issue was how they lost. Bradford had gone into the game with ambition, pressing high, attacking with purpose¡ªbut at this level, bravery alone wasn''t enough. Al Nassr had exposed them. Every tactical flaw. Every defensive misstep. Every hesitation. Jake wasn''t angry¡ªhe was learning. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And now, so would his players. Breaking Down the Mistakes The next morning, before the players even set foot on the training pitch, Jake gathered them in the analysis room. The lights dimmed. A video of the Al Nassr match flickered onto the projector screen. Jake stood in front of them, remote in hand, watching their expressions. Some players sat with arms crossed, still frustrated with the loss. Others leaned forward, waiting to see what went wrong. Jake clicked play. Defensive Shape ¨C The footage showed Ronaldo''s second goal. Talisca, deep in midfield, calmly played a perfect through ball between Barnes and Min-jae. Jake paused the screen. "Right here." He pointed at the gap. "Barnes and Min-jae¡ªtoo far apart. No coordination." Min-jae scratched his head, frowning. Barnes exhaled sharply. "We stepped up too early." Jake nodded. "Exactly. We left space behind, and against a player like Ronaldo?" Silence. They all knew the answer. "We stay compact. No unnecessary risks. Defend first." Midfield Pressing ¨C Reckless & Unstructured Next clip¡ªLowe and Harper chasing the ball high up the pitch. Ot¨¢vio turned away from the press effortlessly, sending Man¨¦ sprinting into space. Jake hit pause. "What''s wrong here?" V¨¦lez leaned forward. "Harper''s too high. Lowe''s pressing alone." Jake pointed at the screen. "We pressed as individuals, not as a unit. That''s why they played through us so easily." Harper sighed. "So, what do we do instead?" "Patience." Jake emphasized the word. "We press in a shape. Cut passing lanes. No blind chasing." Harper nodded. Lesson learned. Winger Support ¨C Full-Backs Left Exposed Final clip. Silva and Mensah pushed too high up the pitch. Al-Najdi exploited the space, setting up Man¨¦''s first goal. Jake turned to Silva. "You see it?" Silva ran a hand through his hair. "Didn''t track back fast enough." "It''s not just you." Jake looked at Mensah too. "Both of you¡ªwhen we don''t have the ball, you''re defenders first." They both nodded. They wouldn''t make the same mistake again. The Training Sessions ¨C Fixing the Issues Once the film session ended, Jake led the squad onto the training pitch. Now, it was about action. Defensive Structure Drills ¨C Barnes and Min-jae drilled compact positioning. No unnecessary stepping out. Midfield Pressing ¨C Lowe, Harper, V¨¦lez, and Ib¨¢?ez practiced pressing in a unit, not individually. Winger Tracking ¨C Silva and Mensah spent time defending against overlapping full-backs. They wouldn''t leave their defenders stranded again. After three intense sessions, Jake saw the change. His players moved differently. They weren''t just running¡ªthey were thinking. Smarter. Sharper. More disciplined. And ready to bounce back. System Notification Just before heading to the stadium, the system flashed a new notification. [Ding! System Prediction] Bradford City ¨C 55% Win Probability Rangers ¨C 40% Win Probability Jake exhaled, rubbing his chin. For the first time in preseason, they were favorites. This wasn''t Al Nassr. This was a winnable game. And they needed to win it. Squad Rotation ¨C Testing Depth Preseason wasn''t just about results¡ªit was about testing the squad. Jake made five changes from the Al Nassr match. He wasn''t just resting key players¡ªhe wanted to see who was ready for the season ahead. Bradford City Starting XI (4-4-2): GK: Jack Simmons (Resting Okafor, giving the young backup a chance) RB: James Richards (Retained his spot, needed more defensive discipline) CB: Marco Bianchi (Rewarding his fearless performance vs. Ronaldo) CB: Nathan Barnes (C) (Captain, steadying presence in defense) LB: Lewis Hart (Chance to prove himself ahead of Taylor in the pecking order) CM: Santiago V¨¦lez (First start¡ªJake wanted to see what he could do in midfield) CM: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez (Needed game time to build chemistry with V¨¦lez) RW: Raphael Mensah (Retained his place after his goal vs. Al Nassr) LW: Ethan Walsh (Academy product gets his shot in the first team) ST: Tobias Richter (Earned his place after a strong cameo in the last match) ST: Guilherme Costa (Jake wanted to see if the Brazilian could adapt to his system) Okafor, Min-jae, Lowe, Harper, Silva, and Novak all rested. New midfield pairing of V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez¡ªfirst time playing together. Richter starting up front after impressing as a substitute. Final Instructions ¨C The Saudi Arabian night air was warm, the stadium lights beaming down onto the pitch as the players finished their warm-ups. Inside the away dressing room, Jake gathered the squad. The air felt different from the last match. There was no awe, no nerves. Just focus. Jake stood in front of them, arms crossed. "We''re favorites today." His voice was steady, controlled. He let that sink in for a moment. "That means we control the game. No fear. No rushing. We play our football." His eyes scanned the room. "We pressed too hard against Al Nassr. Got stretched too thin. We don''t do that today." He turned to V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez. "You two¡ªno reckless pressing. Stay disciplined. Move together. We control the midfield." V¨¦lez nodded, adjusting his armband. Ib¨¢?ez cracked his knuckles. Jake turned to Mensah and Walsh. "Stay active. Drop back when needed. Make sure the full-backs have cover." Both wingers nodded. Finally, his eyes landed on Richter. "You wanted your chance. You''ve got it. Now show me you deserve it." Richter exhaled, clenching his fists. "I won''t let you down, gaffer." Jake gave a sharp nod. "Then let''s win this game." Kickoff ¨C The Saudi night air was thick with heat, the floodlights beaming down onto the pristine King Saud University Stadium pitch as Bradford City walked out of the tunnel. This wasn''t a friendly. Not to them. For the fans in the stands, it was just another preseason match. But for Jake Wilson and his players, it was something else. A statement. A response. A test. The loss against Al Nassr had left scars, but not wounds. Lessons, not doubts. Now, it was time to show they had learned. Jake stood near the touchline, arms crossed, his face unreadable. No nerves. No fear. Just business. He wasn''t pacing. He wasn''t shouting. Not yet. This was the kind of game that told a manager what his team was made of. He scanned the pitch, watching how his players moved during the warm-up. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez exchanged quick passes in midfield, the ball zipping between them smoothly. Richter stretched his legs, nodding at Costa¡ªthe young German forward looked locked in. Mensah jogged to the sideline, sharing a quick word with Walsh¡ªboth wingers were ready to prove themselves. Jake exhaled. He had given them the plan. The rest was up to them. Across the pitch, Rangers looked up for it. Their coach barked orders, gesturing wildly as their players huddled together, focused, aggressive. They weren''t here to roll over. They wanted to test Bradford''s resolve. Jake didn''t mind. Let them come. Because tonight, Bradford wasn''t backing down. The referee blew his whistle. Kickoff. Game on. Chapter 89 - 89: RANGERS VS BRADFORD PART 1 Rangers Starting XI (4-3-3 Formation): GK: Liam Kelly Defenders: Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. RB: Dujon Sterling CB: Leon Balogun CB: Clinton Nsiala LB: Jeft¨¦ Midfielders: CM: Mohamed Diomand¨¦ CM: Connor Barron CAM: Nedim Bajrami Forwards: RW: V¨¢clav ?erny ST: Hamza Igamane LW: ¨®scar Cort¨¦s Bradford''s Bright Start ¨C From the opening whistle, Bradford took control. The lessons from Al Nassr were clear¡ªthis time, they weren''t rushing their play. They were patient, methodical. V¨¦lez was the key. The Colombian dictated the tempo from midfield, his touch clean, his passing sharp. Every time he received the ball, he looked forward, scanning for movement. Jake nodded approvingly on the touchline. Bradford weren''t just playing¡ªthey were dictating. Early Chances ¨C From the opening whistle, Bradford played with intent. The lessons from the Al Nassr match were clear in their approach¡ªthey weren''t rushing forward recklessly. Instead, they were moving the ball with purpose, picking their moments carefully. V¨¦lez was everywhere. Dictating play from deep, switching passes effortlessly between the wings, always scanning for an opening. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching his team move as a unit. They had started well. Now they just needed a goal to show for it. 7'' ¨C The first real chance came from Raphael Mensah. V¨¦lez had the ball just inside Rangers'' half, calmly surveying the field. He spotted Lewis Hart making an overlapping run on the left, played it out wide, and instantly demanded the return pass. Hart obliged, laying it back to V¨¦lez, who shifted his weight and clipped a delicate pass forward into space for Mensah. The Ghanaian exploded forward, leaving Sterling backpedaling. Jake leaned forward on the touchline. This was it. Mensah cut inside onto his right foot, curling a shot toward the far post. It looked perfect. For a moment, it seemed like it was bending into the net¡ª Until Liam Kelly reacted. The Rangers keeper dived low, stretching fully to his right, and got just enough fingertips on the ball to tip it wide. The Bradford bench groaned. Mensah stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. V¨¦lez jogged over, clapped him on the back. "Next one goes in." Jake nodded. It was a bright start. 10'' ¨C Bradford weren''t letting up. V¨¦lez was running the game, dictating the tempo, controlling possession with authority. Then, he saw an opening. Rangers were leaving gaps between their center-backs, and V¨¦lez took full advantage. One glance up. One perfect pass. A slicing through ball between Balogun and Nsiala. Jake grinned as the ball split the defense. Costa was through. The Brazilian took one touch, setting himself. Then another¡ªtoo much time. The angle narrowed. He pulled the trigger¡ªbut dragged the shot wide of the post. Jake clenched his jaw. That should have been 1-0. Costa looked up at the sky, frustrated. From the sideline, Jake shouted. "Don''t dwell! Next chance, bury it!" They were dominating, but they needed to be ruthless. 13'' ¨C For all of Bradford''s dominance, Rangers still had quality. And Bajrami reminded them of that. The attacking midfielder picked up the ball in a central position, looked up, and instantly turned away from Ib¨¢?ez with a clever touch. Jake saw the danger immediately. Bajrami threaded a pass through the lines¡ªstraight to Hamza Igamane. Bianchi rushed to close him down, but the striker had already turned¡ªlow shot toward the near post. For a split second, Jake thought it was in¡ª Until Jack Simmons reacted. The young keeper got down well, his fingertips pushing the ball just wide. Rangers won a corner, but it was a warning. They were still dangerous. And Bradford couldn''t afford to waste chances. 15'' ¨C Rangers had been playing on the edge from the start. They were pressing aggressively, snapping into tackles, trying to disrupt Bradford''s passing rhythm. But Jake had seen this kind of approach before. When a team can''t match their opponent technically, they compensate physically. And Rangers were getting frustrated. Bradford were dominating possession, V¨¦lez was controlling the midfield, and every time Rangers tried to press, they were being played around effortlessly. The tension was building. And then¡ªit snapped. Bradford were patiently working the ball through midfield, Ib¨¢?ez dropping deep to collect a pass from Barnes. Baron rushed toward him, but the Argentine calmly turned away, rolling the ball to his other foot. Smooth. Effortless. And then¡ªsmash. Before Ib¨¢?ez could even take his next touch, Connor Barron came flying in. Two feet. Studs up. No control. A brutal collision. Ib¨¢?ez went down hard, rolling onto his back, clutching his ankle. For half a second, there was silence. Then the Bradford bench erupted. Harper and Richards immediately sprinted toward the referee, shouting in protest. Barnes and Bianchi rushed to check on Ib¨¢?ez, who was groaning in pain, wincing as he held his leg. Jake? He didn''t move. He didn''t shout. He didn''t protest. He knew exactly what was coming. The referee didn''t hesitate. He had seen enough. As Barron got up, already knowing what was about to happen, the ref marched straight over to him. No warning. No discussion. Just a flash of red. Rangers were down to 10 men. As Barron trudged off the pitch, shaking his head, Rangers'' manager threw his arms up in frustration. The players protested, but they had no case. Jake finally uncrossed his arms, taking a few steps forward. He looked over at Ib¨¢?ez, who was already sitting up, shaking off the impact. He''d be fine. Tough kid. Jake glanced at Robertson, his assistant. "They''re rattled," he muttered. Robertson nodded. "And we''ve got an extra man. Time to make it count." Jake clapped his hands, calling his players over for a quick adjustment. Bradford were already in control. Now? Now they had a chance to kill the game. Jake''s Tactical Adjustment ¨C Jake didn''t waste time. As Barron''s red card was still being discussed among the Rangers players and their coaching staff, Jake was already making adjustments. He called over Santiago V¨¦lez and Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez, his two central midfielders, as the rest of the team gathered around. His voice was calm but firm. This was their moment. "We don''t force it." He let that settle in for a second before continuing. "Keep moving the ball. They''ll tire themselves out." Rangers, now down to ten men, had two choices¡ªdrop deep and defend for their lives or gamble by keeping their pressing shape. Jake was willing to bet they''d get desperate and try to compensate for the missing man with aggressive chasing. That''s exactly what he wanted. No reckless pressing. No rushed attacks. Just control. V¨¦lez nodded, already picturing how to manipulate Rangers'' midfield shape. Ib¨¢?ez cracked his knuckles, eager to dictate play. Stretching the Field ¨C M Jake then turned to his full-backs, James Richards and Lewis Hart. "Push higher. Stretch their backline." Both nodded. With an extra man, Bradford had no reason to sit back. They would make the pitch as big as possible, forcing Rangers to cover more ground. Hart and Richards would push high, becoming attacking outlets. Mensah and Walsh would cut inside, overloading the central areas. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez would pull the strings, shifting the ball side to side, making Rangers chase. Jake turned back to the whole team. "We move them side to side, we drag them out of position, and then¡ª" he pointed toward Richter and Costa up front "¡ªwe punish them." No forced shots. No rushed passes. Just smart football. They had the advantage. Now they had to use it. 27'' ¨C Then, finally¡ªthey broke through. And as always, Santiago V¨¦lez was at the heart of it. Bradford had been in total control, dominating possession, pinning Rangers back¡ªbut they hadn''t been clinical. Jake could feel the frustration creeping in. They had wasted too many chances, and he knew what that could lead to¡ªa sudden counterattack, one moment of defensive hesitation, and everything could change. But then V¨¦lez took over. The Colombian picked up the ball just inside Rangers'' half, his head already up, scanning for options. Rangers had retreated into a deep, compact block, trying to survive with ten men. Jake watched as V¨¦lez glided forward, smooth and controlled. One touch. Another. Then a sudden acceleration. A quick body feint, shifting away from the first defender. Then another shift, leaving Bajrami chasing shadows. Two players beaten¡ªspace opening up. And that''s when Richter made his move. Richter had been waiting for the moment, hovering on the last defender''s shoulder. When V¨¦lez looked up, the German sprinted into the gap between Balogun and Nsiala. V¨¦lez didn''t hesitate. One touch. One perfectly weighted pass. The ball slid between the Rangers center-backs, taking them completely out of the play. Richter read the pass perfectly, controlling the ball in full stride. Nsiala tried to recover, but he was already beaten. Kelly rushed off his line¡ªclosing the angle fast. But Richter was composed. One look. One decision. A low, precise shot, sliding past the keeper and into the bottom corner. The net rippled. Bradford 1-0 up. The Bradford bench erupted, substitutes jumping to their feet. Richter pumped his fist, roaring in celebration, before being swarmed by his teammates. V¨¦lez? He just jogged over, patted him on the back, and whispered something to him. Jake? He let out a slow breath. About time. One goal down. Now, they needed to finish the job. Bradford had their goal. Now the question was: Would they push for more or settle? Jake already knew the answer. His players did too. They didn''t sit back after Richter''s strike. Instead, they smelled blood. Rangers were wounded¡ªdown a man, low on confidence, sitting deep in their own half. Bradford had a chance to kill the game before halftime. And they went for it. 32'' ¨C The next warning sign for Rangers came from Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez. The Argentine had been quietly pulling the strings in midfield, keeping possession ticking, shifting the ball from side to side. But now, he saw an opening. A loose clearance from Balogun fell to his feet 25 yards from goal. Jake barely had time to react before Ib¨¢?ez stepped into the shot. One touch. Pure strike. The ball soared through the air, dipping late¡ª And skimming just over the crossbar. The Bradford fans groaned, thinking it was in. Ib¨¢?ez let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. Jake gave him a quick nod from the sideline. Right idea. Next time, hit the target. 38'' ¨C Rangers had barely threatened since the red card. They were outnumbered in midfield, struggling to create anything. But football is cruel. One moment is all it takes. And in the 38th minute, they nearly had it. ¨®scar Cort¨¦s, their quickest attacker, had been waiting for a counter. When Nsiala cleared a Bradford cross out of the box, Cort¨¦s reacted first. One touch. Sprint. Space ahead of him. Barnes saw the danger immediately. He turned and chased. Cort¨¦s had a head start¡ªbut Barnes had experience. Jake stood still, watching intently. This was a test. Cort¨¦s entered the box. Barnes closed the gap. Cort¨¦s took the shot¡ªbut Barnes'' presence forced him off balance. Weak effort. Easy save for Simmons. Jake exhaled. It was a reminder¡ªthey were in control, but the game wasn''t over yet. Halftime Whistle ¨C The referee blew for halftime. Bradford walked off, heads high, dominant, but not finished. Jake followed behind, his mind already on the second half adjustments. The scoreline wasn''t enough. They were winning. But they could be better. And he was going to make sure they knew it. Chapter 90 - 90: RANGERS VS BRADFORD PART 2 HalftimeTalk and Adjustments ¨C The dressing room was quiet, save for the sound of heavy breathing and water bottles being squeezed. They were winning. But not well enough. Jake stood in front of them, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room. "We''re winning. But we should be up by three, not one." 52'' ¨C The second half started with intent. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bradford had heard Jake''s message at halftime. No more wasted chances. No more letting Rangers off the hook. They needed to kill the game. And Renan Silva made sure they did. Barely two minutes after coming on, Silva showed exactly why Jake had subbed him in. The Brazilian picked up the ball wide on the right, immediately squaring up Jeft¨¦. The Rangers left-back had already been struggling all game. Now, he was facing fresh legs. Faster legs. Ruthless legs. Silva hesitated for just a moment, fainting a move inside¡ªthen exploded down the wing. Pure pace. Jeft¨¦ had no chance. Silva glided past him, eating up the space and reaching the edge of the box in seconds. Jake leaned forward on the touchline. This was it. Silva glanced up for just a fraction of a second. Richter was making a late run toward the near post, slipping in between Balogun and Nsiala. Silva didn''t hesitate. A perfect cross¡ªwhipped in fast, driven, deadly. The ball curved wickedly into the danger area. And Richter was there. Richter timed his movement perfectly. He rose between the two defenders, powering himself off the ground. Eyes locked. Neck muscles tensed. The ball met his forehead¡ªclean, forceful, unstoppable. Bang. A bullet header, straight past Kelly. The Rangers keeper dived, but he had no chance. The net rippled. Bradford 2-0 up. The Bradford bench erupted, players jumping up in celebration. Silva pumped his fist. Richter roared. Jake? He gave a small nod of approval. This was how they should have been playing all game. Now, no more slip-ups. No more gifts. They had total control. And now, they had to finish the job. His voice was calm, but his tone left no room for argument. The players didn''t look at each other. They looked at him. "We''ve been wasteful," he continued. "We''ve controlled the game, but we''ve let them off the hook. That can''t happen." He let the words settle. No one disagreed. They knew he was right. Tactical Adjustments ¨C "We need to be sharper. Smarter. Faster." Jake turned to the whiteboard, grabbed a marker, and circled three key areas on the tactical setup. Quicker passing ¨C "They''re chasing shadows. Make them work harder. One touch. Move. Shift them side to side until they break." Wider positioning ¨C "Use the full-backs. Stretch them. They''re down a man¡ªwe make the pitch as big as possible." More aggressive pressing ¨C "Do not let them settle. Do not let them breathe. We end this game in the next 15 minutes." He looked at his players again. "No excuses. We execute." Halftime Substitutions ¨C Jake turned toward the bench. It was time to push harder. Silva replaces Mensah ¨C "More direct attacking play on the right. I want you running at their full-back every chance you get." Novak replaces Costa ¨C "More presence in the box. Hold the ball up, bring others into play, and when the ball comes? You finish." Both players nodded sharply. They were ready. Jake scanned the room one last time. "We''re better than 1-0." He took a step forward, his eyes locked on his team. "Now prove it." 68'' ¨C Bradford had been in complete control. For nearly 20 minutes, they had Rangers pinned back, dominating possession, looking like they could score a third at any moment. But football doesn''t work like that. It only takes one mistake for a game to shift. And that mistake came from Marco Bianchi. Rangers had barely threatened since going down to ten men, but they weren''t out of the game. They had been absorbing pressure, waiting for a single opportunity¡ªa long ball, a defensive lapse, anything. And in the 68th minute, they got it. Nsiala, deep inside his own half, launched a hopeful ball forward¡ªthe kind of pass defenders deal with ten times a game. Bianchi read it, stepped forward to intercept¡ªtoo early. And that''s all Igamane needed. The Rangers striker recognized the mistake instantly, spun away into space, and raced toward goal. Jake saw it before it happened. "Drop! Drop!" he shouted from the sideline, but it was too late. Barnes was caught too far to the left, and Igamane was already gone. The entire stadium held its breath as Igamane stormed into the box, the ball at his feet. Bianchi was still scrambling to recover, but the damage was done. Now, it was just Igamane vs. Simmons. The young keeper rushed off his line, arms wide, trying to make himself big. Igamane stayed calm. One touch. One glance up. Then, a low shot, slotted neatly past Simmons into the bottom corner. Goal. Rangers weren''t supposed to be in this game. But now, they were. Bradford 2-1 Rangers. Jake didn''t move. He didn''t slam the dugout, didn''t yell, didn''t throw his hands in the air. He just stood there, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the pitch. Inside? He was fuming. This game should have been over by now. Instead, one lapse in concentration had let Rangers back in. He turned slightly toward the bench, voice low but firm. "Unacceptable. Stay switched on." The players already knew what was coming at full-time. For now, there was only one thing to do. Shut it down. 70'' ¨C Bradford had allowed Rangers back into the game with one lapse in concentration. Now, Jake had a decision to make. Did they keep attacking, risking another counter? Or did they regain control, slow the game down, and kill it off properly? Jake didn''t hesitate. They needed stability. He turned to his bench. The Changes ¨C Daniel Lowe replaces V¨¦lez (More defensive control in midfield). V¨¦lez had been brilliant in possession, but now Jake needed someone to break up Rangers'' momentum. Lowe was the perfect man for the job¡ªcalm, disciplined, always in the right place. Aiden Taylor replaces Lewis Hart (Fresh legs at left-back). Hart had worked hard, pushing forward whenever needed. But now, Rangers were targeting his flank, and Taylor''s fresh legs would help lock it down. Elliot Harper replaces Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez (Pressing energy). Ib¨¢?ez had done well, but the game needed more intensity. Harper would press relentlessly, making sure Rangers had zero time on the ball. Jake''s Instructions ¨C As the substitutes stepped onto the pitch, Jake gave them clear, simple instructions. To Lowe: "Sit in front of the defense. Nothing gets through you." To Taylor: "No unnecessary risks. Defend first." To Harper: "Make their midfield miserable. Don''t let them breathe." The three nodded, locked in. This wasn''t just about seeing out the game. It was about control. They had let Rangers get a lifeline once. It wasn''t going to happen again. Now, it was time to finish strong. 78'' ¨C Bradford had regained control, but Jake wasn''t satisfied with just seeing the game out. He wanted one more. A third goal would kill Rangers off completely¡ªno late drama, no unnecessary tension. And then, Ethan Walsh stepped up. Elliot Harper had only been on the pitch for a few minutes, but he was already doing exactly what Jake had asked of him¡ªpressing aggressively, winning second balls, and keeping the tempo high. Now, he found himself in space, just outside the center circle. He took a breath. Looked up. And then¡ªhe spotted Walsh. The academy winger was making a darting run behind Sterling, breaking into the final third. One pass was all it took. Harper didn''t hesitate. A perfect, slicing through ball¡ªcurved, weighted, begging to be finished. Walsh was through. Walsh controlled the pass in stride, taking one quick touch into the box. Kelly rushed out, trying to close the angle. Sterling was recovering, lunging desperately. But Walsh was calm. He set himself¡ªthen unleashed a strike. Near post. Power. Precision. Goal. Bradford 3-1 Rangers. Walsh froze for a second, staring at the net before the realization hit him¡ªhe had scored. Then came the celebration. The 19-year-old sprinted toward the corner flag, fists clenched, roaring in triumph. His teammates rushed over, surrounding him, ruffling his hair. Jake? He allowed himself a small smile. Walsh had just made a statement. The kid was ready. Final Whistle ¨C Bradford 3-1 Rangers The referee blew his whistle. Bradford had won. Comfortably. Deservedly. But as the players exchanged handshakes and clapped the traveling fans, Jake wasn''t celebrating. Not because they played badly¡ªthey hadn''t. But because they should have won by more. The scoreline looked good. The performance? It could have been better. And he was going to make sure they knew that. Post-Match Reflections ¨C A Step Forward As Jake walked toward the tunnel, he could already see the media waiting. He barely had time to take a breath before the first question came. "Jake, happy with the performance?" He paused, just for a second. Then, a slight smirk. "It was good. But we left goals on the table." No overpraise. No sugarcoating. Just facts. Key Takeaways ¨C Tobias Richter is proving himself. Two goals, clinical finishing and growing confidence . He was making a strong case to be Bradford''s main striker. Renan Silva changed the game. Came off the bench, tormented the defense, and created a goal. A reminder of how dangerous he can be. Ethan Walsh took his chance. Given a shot in preseason, and he delivered. Jake now had another attacking option to consider. Jake glanced at the schedule. Two more preseason games left. And next? Lens. A different challenge. A disciplined, well-organized French side. More lessons to learn. More work to be done. Chapter 91 - 91: LENS VS BRADFORD July 23rd, 2024 ¨C Preseason Match 3 King Saud University Stadium, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia Pre-Match ¨C The humid Saudi air hung thick over the King Saud University Stadium, wrapping itself around the players as they jogged onto the pitch. Floodlights beamed down, illuminating the freshly cut grass as the Bradford City squad began their warm-up routines. There was no nervous energy. No tension. Just focus. Preparation. Determination. But this wasn''t going to be a game decided by energy or intensity. This was going to be a game of patience. RC Lens weren''t like Al Nassr. They didn''t have Ronaldo or Man¨¦ leading the attack, waiting to punish the smallest mistake. They weren''t like Rangers, who came out pressing aggressively, trying to impose themselves. Lens were something else entirely. Structured. Disciplined. Stubborn. A team that would sit deep, defend with everything they had, and wait. Wait for frustration. Wait for hesitation. Wait for one mistake. Jake Wilson stood near the touchline, arms crossed, studying the pitch. He had coached against teams like this before. And he knew exactly how this game would go. Bradford would have possession. They would dominate the ball, control the midfield, push forward. And Lens? They would absorb. Absorb. Absorb. Their backline would drop deep, their midfielders would sit narrow, cutting off passing lanes, forcing mistakes. Possession. Attack. Frustration. Repeat. Jake took a slow breath. They would need patience. Ruthlessness. Precision. Because Lens wouldn''t give them anything. And that''s what worried him. Not the opposition. Not their tactics. But what happens when frustration creeps in? When the players start forcing shots? Ignoring the plan? Playing into Lens'' hands? He couldn''t let that happen. This match wasn''t just about winning. It was about staying in control. From the first whistle to the last. Jake''s Pre-Match Instructions ¨C Inside the dressing room, the squad huddled around the whiteboard. Lens'' formation was drawn out¡ªa 5-4-1 defensive wall. Jake tapped the marker against the board. "They won''t play. They''ll sit back. They''ll defend. They''ll waste time. They''ll make us force it." The players nodded. They knew the type. He turned to the midfielders. "No rushing. Move the ball. Shift their shape. When the gap opens, we take it." To the full-backs: "Overlap. Get forward. They''re not going to press you." To the attackers: "Be ruthless. When you get the chance, score. Because they''re not giving us many." He scanned the room. "We don''t panic. We don''t force it. We break them down." "Let''s go." Bradford walked out of the dressing room, focused, determined. Jake exhaled. This was going to be a long night. First Half ¨C The opening whistle blew. And just as Jake expected¡ªit was all Bradford. Possession. Attack. Frustration. Lens refused to step out of their own half, sitting in their rigid defensive shape, blocking passing lanes, shutting down space. They weren''t here to play. They were here to survive. But Bradford? They were relentless. Early Chances ¨C Bradford started on the front foot. From the opening whistle, they controlled possession, knocking the ball around with purpose and patience. Lens? They sat deep. Their compact 5-4-1 shape barely budged, forming a wall of yellow shirts just outside their penalty area. It was clear from the start¡ªthey weren''t here to play. They were here to survive. 12'' ¨C Bradford had been probing, shifting the ball from side to side, waiting for an opening. And then, Renan Silva created one himself. The Brazilian winger collected the ball on the right, just outside the box. Jeft¨¦ stood between him and goal, positioning himself to block a cross. Silva recognized it instantly. One quick step-over. A shift inside. Now, he was on his left foot, 20 yards out, with half a second of space. That''s all he needed. He curled a beautiful effort toward the far post, aiming for the top corner. The stadium held its breath. The Lens keeper dived at full stretch. Fingertips. Just enough. The ball was pushed wide. Silva ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Jake clapped from the touchline. Right idea. Next time, it goes in. 21'' ¨C Bradford kept coming. Lens kept absorbing. The ball spent more time in their final third than anywhere else. And then, another golden chance. V¨¦lez, calm and composed, found space on the right wing. One quick look up¡ªNovak was in the box, towering over the defenders. V¨¦lez delivered a perfect cross, bending away from the keeper, inviting the header. Novak attacked it, rising highest. Contact. Clean. Powerful. Jake held his breath. The ball dipped¡ªclipped the crossbar. So close. Novak buried his head in his hands. Another near miss. 35'' ¨C Lens had dropped even deeper, barely stepping out of their half. They weren''t pressing. They weren''t even pretending to attack. It was a siege. But with so many defenders camped inside the box, finding a clean shot was impossible. So V¨¦lez tried something different. Bradford recycled possession, passing across the edge of the area. Lens refused to step out. V¨¦lez found himself with space 25 yards from goal. Jake saw it instantly. "Hit it!" V¨¦lez let it fly. The strike was pure. Low, skidding, curling toward the bottom corner. For a split second, it looked like it was in¡ª Inches wide. Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. Bradford Kept Coming. Lens Kept Holding. Three big chances. No goal. Bradford were suffocating them, pressing, winning every second ball. But Lens wouldn''t break. Jake clenched his jaw on the touchline. This wasn''t going to be easy. Halftime ¨C 0-0. Bradford had dominated every aspect of the game¡ªpossession, territory, chances. But the scoreboard? Still empty. The players walked into the dressing room, some shaking their heads, some kicking at the floor, all of them frustrated. They had controlled the first half. Yet, Lens hadn''t broken. Jake stepped inside behind them, closing the door quietly. No yelling. No anger. Because this was exactly what Lens wanted. Jake''s Message ¨C Jake stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, studying them. They were frustrated. That was dangerous. Frustration made players force things. It made them rush attacks, take bad shots, ignore the system. Lens were waiting for that moment. Jake''s voice was calm, controlled. Measured. "They''re hoping we lose patience." He let that sink in. Some players looked down, some nodded. They knew he was right. "We don''t. We keep playing. We keep pushing. We score." He turned to his midfielders. "V¨¦lez, Ib¨¢?ez¡ªkeep moving the ball. Don''t get desperate. Let them chase." To the wingers: "Silva, Walsh¡ªstretch them. You''ll get space eventually." To Novak and Richter: "When the chance comes, take it. You won''t get many." He looked around the room one last time. "Nothing changes." They didn''t need a new plan. They just needed to trust the one they already had. The players nodded, the frustration fading. They knew what they had to do. Second half. Same approach. Same intensity. Finish the job. Second Half ¨C Bradford came out with fire. They had been patient in the first half, probing, looking for gaps. Now? They were relentless. They pushed higher. Pressed harder. Moved the ball quicker. Lens? They dropped even deeper. It wasn''t just defending anymore. It was survival. Their back five became a back seven. Every player behind the ball. Every clearance sent into the sky. Every cross. Blocked. Every shot. Deflected. Every pass into the box. Intercepted. Bradford were camped in Lens'' half, suffocating them, keeping them pinned back. But still¡ªno goal. And then, the missed chances started piling up. 55'' ¨C The moment finally came. V¨¦lez, who had been pulling the strings all game, found himself in space just outside the box. He looked up. There¡ªa gap in the Lens backline. A small window. But enough. One touch. A perfect through ball. Mensah sprinted into it, cutting through the defense like a knife. One-on-one with the keeper. Jake held his breath. Mensah took a touch¡ªtoo heavy. The keeper rushed out¡ªclosed the space. Mensah tried to poke it past him¡ª Saved. The Bradford bench groaned. Mensah stared at the turf, hands on his hips. Jake clenched his jaw. That had to go in. 67'' ¨C Bradford kept coming. Harper, full of energy since coming on, drove forward down the right, skipping past his man. He reached the byline, cut the ball back across goal. Silva was there. Two yards out. A tap-in. He struck it¡ª Blocked. One of Lens'' defenders threw himself in the way, deflecting it out for a corner. Silva looked up in disbelief. Jake turned away, running a hand through his hair. How? How was it still 0-0? 81'' ¨C Lens were barely hanging on. Bradford kept launching attacks, wave after wave. Then, in the 81st minute¡ªone last golden chance. A long ball was cleared poorly, falling straight to Richter inside the box. No one around him. The ball bounced once. Jake saw it¡ªRichter had to hit it first-time. Richter saw it too. He struck it clean. The shot rocketed toward goal. Jake started to celebrate¡ª The keeper palmed it away. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Unbelievable. Richter stood frozen, staring at the keeper in shock. Jake couldn''t believe it. Bradford had done everything right. Everything but score. How was it still 0-0? Jake didn''t have an answer. But he had a bad feeling. Because in football, when you don''t take your chances¡­ It usually ends badly. 90+3'' ¨C And then, the worst-case scenario. The moment every coach dreads. The moment where you do everything right for 90 minutes¡ª And still lose. Lens had barely touched the ball all half. They had been pinned back, defending with everything they had, surviving, clearing, blocking. But they only needed one moment. One mistake. And it came in stoppage time. Bradford had committed everything forward. Taylor had pushed up. Richards was high on the right. Even Lowe and Harper had drifted into Lens'' half. So when Lens finally cleared the ball¡ª It wasn''t just a clearance. It was an opportunity. The ball soared over the midfield, dropping into the empty space behind the backline. Barnes reacted first. He saw it early, stepped forward, trying to cut it off. Jake leaned forward on the touchline. This had to be perfect. But Barnes was too slow. He hesitated for half a second. That was all it took. The Lens forward sensed the hesitation, took off in a full sprint. Barnes was caught in no man''s land. Too far forward to recover. Too late to stop it. Jake could only watch. A two-second decision. A split-second miscalculation. And suddenly¡ªone-on-one with Simmons. The striker closed in fast, ball at his feet. Simmons rushed out, arms wide, trying to make himself big. Jake barely breathed. The stadium held its breath. Then¡ªa low shot. Bottom corner. Simmons dived¡ªbut he wasn''t getting there. The ball hit the net. 0-1. Lens had stolen it. Silence. Then Disbelief. For a second, no one moved. Then, the Lens players erupted in celebration, sprinting toward the corner flag. Bradford? They just stood there. Richter had his hands on his knees, staring at the ground. Silva kicked the air, muttering curses in Portuguese. Barnes just stood frozen, hands on his head. Jake? He didn''t move. He had seen this story before. Dominate. Press. Attack. Miss. And then, lose to the one shot that mattered. Football was cruel like that. And tonight? Bradford had learned that the hard way. Final Whistle ¨C The Lens players erupted. They sprinted toward the corner flag, arms raised, celebrating as if they had won a cup final. For them, it didn''t matter that they had spent 90 minutes defending for their lives. One chance. One goal. Three whistles. Game over. Bradford? They stood frozen. The players didn''t even look at each other. Some bent over, hands on their knees, staring at the ground. Silva muttered something under his breath, shaking his head. Barnes stood near the center circle, motionless, hands still on his head, replaying the moment in his mind over and over. Richter ripped off his captain''s armband, kicked at the turf, muttering a curse. It was the kind of defeat that left a scar. Not because they had been outplayed. But because they hadn''t. Because they had been better. And still lost. Jake? He Just Exhaled. He didn''t slam his hands on the dugout. Didn''t throw his clipboard. Didn''t yell in frustration. Because he had seen this before. Football wasn''t fair. It never had been. Bradford had dominated every minute of the match. Twenty shots. Sixty-five percent possession. Endless pressing. But in the end? None of that mattered. One mistake had decided everything. Jake exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched the Lens players walk off the field, victorious. This was the game. And if his team wanted to win at the highest level? They had to learn how to handle nights like this. Post-Match Reactions ¨C The media swarmed him before he even left the pitch. Reporters with microphones, cameras flashing, the same tired questions waiting for him. "Jake, tough loss. Regrets?" Jake let the question hang for a second. Then, he shook his head. "I''d rather play to win than sit back and settle." No excuses. No complaints about bad luck. Just the truth. Bradford had played the right way. And sometimes, in football, that wasn''t enough. But this was preseason. A lesson now was better than a lesson when it actually mattered. As Jake walked toward the tunnel, he caught the expressions on his players'' faces. The frustration. The disbelief. The hunger. This loss would burn. It would stay with them. And that was a good thing. Because when the season started? No one would stop them. Chapter 92 - 92: BRADFORD VS STOKE CITY July 26th, 2024 ¨C Preseason Match 4 King Saud University Stadium, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia Bradford''s final test before heading back to England. The loss to Lens had been a harsh lesson, but this was the moment to respond. They weren''t just playing to win. They were playing to make a statement. Pre-Match ¨C The air inside the dressing room was tense but focused. The players sat on the benches, some lacing up their boots, others stretching, all waiting for Jake Wilson to speak. He stood at the front, hands in his pockets, scanning the room. This wasn''t about motivation. They already knew what was at stake. They had dominated Lens but walked away with nothing. That wasn''t happening again. Jake let the silence settle before speaking. "We learned. We move on. Now we show what we''re made of." His tone was calm, controlled, but with an edge of expectation. "No excuses today. We finish this preseason strong." The players nodded. They were locked in. The Opposition ¨C This was not going to be another defensive battle. Unlike Lens, Stoke City would attack. They wouldn''t sit back in a low block. They wouldn''t time-waste. They would press, push forward, and test Bradford''s defense from the first minute. And that was exactly what Jake wanted. "This is a Championship-level team," he said, pacing slowly. "They will come at us. They will press. They will challenge us physically. That''s good. That''s what we need." This was the perfect challenge before returning to England. Tactical Adjustments ¨C Jake turned to the tactical board. "We control this game. We dictate the pace. But we don''t sit back and play safe. We go after them." High Pressing ¨C Force Mistakes from Stoke''s Defense Stoke liked to play out from the back, but their center-backs struggled under pressure. Bradford would press aggressively, winning the ball high up the pitch. Fast Transitions ¨C Attack with Speed Stoke''s backline was physical but slow. Novak''s movement and Mensah''s pace would exploit that weakness. "When we win the ball, we don''t hesitate. We go." Aggressive Mentality ¨C No Fear, No Hesitation "We do not sit back. We do not play scared. We attack from the first whistle." Full-backs pushing high, wingers cutting inside, midfielders driving forward. Jake looked around the room. "We dominate this game. We take our chances. We make a statement." The players were ready. Focused. Determined. Tonight, they were not leaving anything behind. First Half ¨C A Ruthless Start Bradford came out like a team with something to prove. The moment the referee blew the whistle, they pushed high, pressed aggressively, and suffocated Stoke''s build-up. Jake had told them to attack from the first second, and they did exactly that. Stoke, a Championship side, expected to dictate the tempo. Instead, they found themselves pinned back, struggling to string two passes together. Bradford''s intensity rattled them. Every time a Stoke player tried to play out from the back, a Bradford shirt was already closing him down. And then, the pressure paid off. 9'' ¨C The mistake came in midfield. Stoke had possession, looking to reset after surviving the first few minutes of pressure. Their midfielder received a pass, took a touch¡ªtoo heavy. Silva pounced. Jake saw it unfolding before anyone else. He leaned forward, eyes locked on the play. Silva stretched out a leg, poked the ball away, and suddenly¡ªBradford were on the attack. The Brazilian didn''t hesitate. One touch forward. A quick look up. Novak was already on the move. Silva didn''t even think. He threaded the perfect pass between the center-backs. Novak timed his run to perfection, breaking free, one-on-one with the keeper. Jake barely blinked. He knew what was coming. Novak took a touch, opened his body¡ªthen slotted it low into the bottom corner. Clinical. Ruthless. The net rippled. Bradford 1-0 up. The Stoke defenders looked at each other, confused, frustrated. They weren''t expecting this. They weren''t expecting a League One side to dominate them from the start. On the touchline, Jake kept his reaction calm. But inside? This was exactly what he wanted. Aggressive. Sharp. Relentless. They had started ruthlessly. Now? They had to keep going. 15'' ¨C Bradford weren''t slowing down. They had stunned Stoke with their aggressive start, and now they could feel the momentum shifting entirely in their favor. Jake had told them before the match: "Attack them. Don''t stop." And that''s exactly what they were doing. This time, the danger came from the left. Raphael Mensah had been lively from the start, stretching the Stoke defense, cutting inside whenever he had space. This time, he picked up the ball just past midfield, running straight at his full-back. Stoke''s right-back was already backpedaling, unsure whether to step up or hold his ground. Jake saw it before it even happened. "Take him on!" he barked from the sideline. Mensah didn''t need the instruction. He feinted left, then pushed the ball right, cutting inside onto his stronger foot. Now, he had space. And in the box? Costa was waiting. Mensah glanced up for just a second, then curled in a perfect cross. It wasn''t a looping, hopeful ball. It was driven¡ªfast, low, dangerous. A cross meant for one thing¡ªa goal. Costa saw it coming. He sprinted to the near post, beating his marker by half a step. One flick. Just enough contact. The ball redirected past the keeper, sneaking in at the near post. 2-0. Bradford Were Flying The net rippled. Costa turned away in celebration, arms outstretched. Mensah ran over, grinning, knowing exactly what he had just created. On the bench, Jake allowed himself a small smirk. This was exactly the response he wanted after the Lens match. They were hungry, aggressive, fearless. But the game was far from over. The goal shook Stoke. They had started the match slowly, sluggishly, but now? They finally realized they were in a real fight. Jake could see it immediately¡ªtheir midfielders started demanding the ball, passing quicker, pushing up. For the first time in the game, Bradford were forced to drop deeper. Jake shouted from the sideline: "Stay compact! No gaps between the lines!" But Stoke were starting to find space. They weren''t panicking. They were a Championship-level side, after all. And now, they were playing like one. Bradford had to be ready. 28'' ¨C It was too easy. Bradford had been in complete control, but football had a way of punishing teams who relaxed¡ªeven for a second. And that''s exactly what happened. Stoke won a corner on the right, their first real chance to get numbers into the box. Jake watched as his team set up to defend. Nathan Barnes, Bradford''s defensive leader, took his position, marking Stoke''s main striker. The delivery came in¡ªa fast, inswinging ball. Barnes was caught flat-footed. For a brief moment, he lost his man. That was all it took. The Stoke forward leapt highest, towering over everyone. Powerful header. The ball flew past Okafor and into the net. 2-1. Jake clenched his jaw. A cheap goal to concede. A lapse in concentration. He could already see Barnes shaking his head, angry with himself. "Forget it," Jake called out. "We go again." And Bradford didn''t waste time dwelling on the mistake. 32'' ¨C The best teams don''t panic after conceding. They hit back. Immediately. And that''s exactly what Bradford did. It started with Santiago V¨¦lez. The Colombian midfielder had been outstanding all preseason, and he stepped up again. Stoke were trying to build from the back, passing between their center-backs. V¨¦lez saw the chance. He sprinted forward, pressed aggressively, and stole the ball right off Stoke''s midfielder. One touch¡ªIb¨¢?ez was already moving. A quick one-two between the midfielders, pulling Stoke''s defense out of shape. Then¡ªthe pass. V¨¦lez lifted a perfect, lofted ball over the top, splitting the defense in half. Novak was gone. He watched the ball drop out of the sky, timing his movement flawlessly. One touch to bring it down. One glance up. One swing of his right foot¡ª Bang. A thunderous strike past the keeper. 3-1. The net bulged. The bench erupted. And on the touchline, Jake clapped once. This was what he wanted. Mistakes were inevitable. How you responded to them mattered more. Bradford had answered in four minutes. They were not letting Stoke back into this game. Halftime Score: Bradford 3-1 Stoke City As the referee blew for halftime, Jake walked toward the tunnel without saying a word. His team had been dominant. But he knew this game wasn''t over yet. One more goal, and they could kill it completely. And that''s exactly what he planned to tell them. Second Half ¨C The players sat in the dressing room, catching their breath, wiping sweat off their faces. They were winning. Comfortably. But Jake Wilson wasn''t satisfied. He stood in front of them, hands on his hips, his gaze sharp. This wasn''t the time for praise. Because praise led to complacency. And complacency cost teams games. He let the silence linger for a moment before speaking. Jake''s Halftime Talk ¨C "We don''t slow down. We kill the game." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "They will come out flying in the second half. They have nothing to lose. If we switch off, if we think this game is over, we let them back in. And I won''t accept that." His eyes moved across the room, locking onto each player. "We''ve controlled them. We''ve dominated them. But domination means nothing if we don''t finish the job." A few nods. Novak wiped his face with a towel, his expression locked in. "Keep pressing. Keep attacking. Make them uncomfortable." To the midfielders: "No lazy passes. No careless giveaways. V¨¦lez, Ib¨¢?ez¡ªkeep dictating the tempo." To the wingers: "Silva, Mensah¡ªstretch them. Their full-backs are tired. You beat them once, you beat them again." To the backline: "Stay locked in. No sloppy mistakes. No free goals. They don''t get back into this game." He took a step back, scanning their faces. "We don''t stop at three goals." "We don''t sit back and defend." "We go out there, and we finish this properly." There was no need for more words. They knew what he wanted. They knew what they had to do. Jake turned toward the door. "Let''s end this." 50'' ¨C Bradford came out of halftime exactly as Jake demanded¡ªaggressive, relentless, hunting for more goals. They weren''t protecting a lead. They were burying Stoke. And it took just five minutes to do it. Silva Creates ¨C Novak Finishes It started on the right flank. Renan Silva picked up the ball near the halfway line, facing a one-on-one with Stoke''s left-back. But Silva wasn''t interested in slowing things down. He dropped his shoulder and exploded past his man, driving into space with raw pace. Stoke''s defenders rushed toward him, desperate to close him down. And that''s when Silva made his move. Instead of cutting inside for a shot, he looked up and spotted Novak drifting free inside the box. A quick cutback¡ªfast, low, curling into the danger zone. And there was Novak. Perfectly positioned. Ready. He stepped into the ball and struck it first-time. No hesitation. No wasted movement. Just pure, clinical finishing. The ball ripped into the back of the net. Hat-trick. Game over. Novak roared in celebration, arms outstretched. His teammates swarmed him. On the touchline, Jake gave a single, sharp nod. This was exactly how they needed to play. Ruthless. Efficient. Unstoppable. But the game wasn''t over yet. Stoke Tries to Fight Back Again At 4-1 down, Stoke had no choice. They started throwing more bodies forward, trying to salvage something. For the first time all game, Okafor was truly tested. 53'' ¨C A slick passing sequence cut through Bradford''s midfield. The shot from the edge of the box was hard and low¡ªbut Okafor reacted quickly, pushing it wide. 58'' ¨C A dangerous cross forced Barnes to clear awkwardly. The rebound fell to a Stoke player, who fired¡ªOkafor saved again. Bradford held firm. But then, a moment of complacency. 61'' ¨C The ball came out of nowhere. Stoke had been pushing forward but weren''t creating clear chances. Then¡ªone long-range strike. Their midfielder picked up the ball 35 yards from goal. Nobody closed him down fast enough. He took a touch, looked up, and unleashed a rocket. Okafor was caught slightly off his line. He scrambled, stretched¡ªbut couldn''t reach it. Goal. 4-2. Jake shook his head. That shouldn''t have happened. "Stay sharp!" he barked from the sideline. "No more gifts!" Bradford were still in control. But they had to finish strong. 75'' ¨C Stoke''s small spark of hope? Extinguished. And it started with Guilherme Costa. Costa had been everywhere in attack¡ªscoring, pressing, setting up chances. Now, he turned provider. He picked up the ball at the edge of the box, holding off his marker, waiting for support. And then, he saw Mensah making a late run into space. A perfectly weighted pass¡ªinto his path. Mensah didn''t hesitate. One touch. A rocket into the top corner. The keeper didn''t move. The ball crashed into the net. 5-2. Stoke''s defense collapsed. Their heads dropped. And Bradford? They knew they had won. Jake turned to the bench. "That''s how you finish a game." Bradford had made their statement. Now, it was time to go home. Final Whistle ¨C The referee blew the whistle. Game over. Bradford hadn''t just won. They had dominated a Championship-level team. This wasn''t a scrappy underdog victory. This was a team that played with confidence, precision, and ruthlessness. From the first whistle, they had controlled the tempo, dictated play, and punished every weakness Stoke showed. Novak''s hat-trick. A striker in top form, sharp, clinical, and full of confidence. Costa and Mensah shining. The attacking movement was fluid, dynamic, dangerous. Bradford looked ready for the season ahead. As the players walked off the pitch, there was no exhaustion¡ªonly energy. They knew what they had just done. They had sent a message. Post-Match Reactions ¨C Jake Wilson walked toward the tunnel, calm as ever. He wasn''t celebrating. Not because he wasn''t pleased¡ªhe was. But because this was the standard. This was how Bradford should be playing every single week. And they weren''t even at their best yet. Media Question: "Jake, was this the perfect response to Lens?" Jake stopped, turned to face the reporters. He didn''t even think before answering. "It wasn''t about a response. It was about proving who we are." No over-explaining. No dragging it out. Just a simple, confident truth. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. This wasn''t about making up for a frustrating loss. It was about showing that Bradford City were not a small club anymore. They weren''t just some lower-league team trying to survive. They were coming back to England as contenders. And when the season started? They weren''t just going to compete. They were going to dominate. Chapter 93 - 93: Return to England & Squad Hierarchy Established August 2nd, 2024 ¨C Training & Team Meeting Bradford City Training Ground, England Bradford City had returned home. After weeks in Saudi Arabia, testing themselves against elite opposition, they were back where it all mattered. The real work started now. First Full Team Meeting ¨C The dressing room was silent. No music. No chatter. Just the soft sounds of boots being adjusted, of tape being wrapped around ankles, of deep breaths being taken. Some players sat back, arms crossed, waiting. Others stretched, rolling out their muscles, their minds already locked in. But every single one of them was listening. Because when Jake Wilson stood at the front of the room, it wasn''t just another speech. It wasn''t a casual team talk. It was a statement of intent. This wasn''t about hoping for a strong season. This was about demanding it. Jake took his time, letting the weight of the moment settle. His eyes moved across the room, taking in each player¡ªthe veterans, the rising stars, the new signings. Then, finally, he spoke. Jake''s Message ¨C Jake let his words hang in the air, his voice steady, his expression unreadable. "Last season, we proved people wrong." It wasn''t just a statement. It was a fact. Bradford had been written off before a ball was even kicked. Too inexperienced. Too small. Not enough depth. And yet, they had defied every expectation. "We fought our way up. We played our football. We showed we belong." His eyes scanned the room, locking onto every player. "This season? We do more than belong." His tone sharpened, his words carrying an undeniable weight. "We win this league." He folded his arms, letting that sink in. "No playoffs. No drama. We go up as champions." A murmur rippled through the squad. Some players nodded, the confidence already there. Others sat up straighter, absorbing the message. But no one was surprised. They expected this. They weren''t just a team fighting for promotion. They were a team built to win it outright. "Automatic promotion. That''s the goal. That''s the standard." Jake took a step forward, his voice unwavering. "And we don''t just stop there." His gaze flicked toward the experienced players¡ªBarnes, Harper, Novak. "The EFL Cup. The FA Cup. Every match we play, we compete." They weren''t here to just focus on the league. They were here to make a statement everywhere. He paused, letting the words settle. Then, his lips curled into a smirk. "If anyone in here doesn''t believe we can do that¡ª" he gestured to the exit, "there''s the door." Silence. The air in the room felt heavier, charged with something unspoken. No one moved. No one even thought about moving. That was the answer he wanted. They weren''t just here to play another season. They were here to take over. Establishing the Squad Hierarchy- Jake turned to the whiteboard, where the full squad list was already written out. But this wasn''t just about names on a board. This was about leadership. Responsibility. Expectations. And now? Now, he was making things official. He picked up the marker, underlined three words at the top. Captain. Vice-Captain. Key Players. Then, he turned back to the squad. "You earn your place in this team. Nothing is given. But these are the players who will set the standard. The ones who lead by example. The ones who drive us forward." He pointed to the board. Captain: Nathan Barnes The leader of the backline. Vocal. Respected. Tough. He wasn''t just a strong defender¡ªhe was the kind of player who set the tone in every match. "Barnes is our captain." Jake said firmly. "He''s the voice on the pitch. When things get tough, he''s the one keeping us together." Barnes nodded once, expression unreadable. But inside? He was ready. Vice-Captain: Elliot Harper The engine of the midfield. Relentless. Consistent. A player Jake trusted completely. "Harper is our vice-captain." Jake continued. "Not just because of his experience, but because he leads by example. He drives the team forward every single game." Harper gave a small nod, but his jaw was clenched. He didn''t need the armband to know his role. But now? It was his responsibility. Key Players ¨C Jake tapped the marker against the board. "These are the players we build around. The ones who will take us to the next level." Lukas Novak ¨C The goal scorer. The man who could fire them to promotion. Santiago V¨¦lez ¨C The midfield maestro. The one who made everything tick. Renan Silva ¨C The winger who could change a game in a second. Guilherme Costa ¨C The striker who could turn half-chances into goals. Jake''s gaze swept across the room. "You''re the ones the team will look to when things get tough. You''re the ones who will make the difference." Novak gave a small smirk. V¨¦lez leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. Silva cracked his knuckles. They knew their importance. Now, it was about proving it. Breakout Potential ¨C Jake moved to the next section. "These are the players knocking on the door. The ones who will break through this season." Raphael Mensah ¨C His pace and directness made him a serious threat. Marco Bianchi ¨C Young, fearless, and already holding his own in defense. Tobias Richter ¨C A natural finisher. A player on the verge of something special. Jake turned back to the squad. "You might not have the experience of some of the others, but that doesn''t matter." "If you prove yourself, if you perform, you''ll play. Simple as that." Mensah sat up straighter. Bianchi nodded. Richter clenched his fists. They weren''t waiting for their chance. They were ready to take it. Jake''s Final Words ¨C Jake capped the marker and set it down. Then, he faced the squad one last time. "This is our spine. This is our identity." He let the words settle. No one argued. No one disagreed. Because they all knew¡ªthis was the team that would take them to the next level.Final Tactical Adjustments Before the Season Opener The first match of the season was only days away. Jake stood at the tactics board, marker in hand, running through the final details. They had tested themselves in preseason. They had faced different styles, different challenges. Now, it was about fine-tuning. Making sure they were ready to dominate from day one. High-Intensity Pressing ¨C "We don''t sit back. We dictate the game." Jake pointed to the midfield and forward lines. "Every time the opposition has the ball, we make them uncomfortable. We press high, we force mistakes, and we take control." The goal was simple¡ªwin the ball back as quickly as possible. Harper and V¨¦lez would lead the midfield press. Silva and Mensah would cut off passing lanes out wide. Novak and Costa? They would hunt down defenders, forcing rushed clearances. This wasn''t about just chasing the ball. It was calculated. Relentless. Organized. They weren''t just going to play in League One. They were going to own it. Fluid Attacking Rotations ¨C Jake drew arrows on the board, mapping out the attack. "We do not stand still. We move. We create space. We pull defenders out of position." Novak and Costa weren''t just two strikers waiting for service. They would interchange, drag defenders around, and create chaos. Silva and Mensah? They wouldn''t just stick to their wings. They would cut inside, overload central areas, stretch the defense. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez would dictate the tempo, feeding them at every opportunity. This was about attacking with intelligence. About being unpredictable. The opposition wouldn''t know where the next threat was coming from. And that was exactly how Jake wanted it. Defensive Stability ¨C Jake turned to the backline. "Aggressive, but disciplined. We do not make mistakes." Barnes and Bianchi would be the backbone. Barnes, the captain, the organizer, the leader. Commanding the defense, keeping the structure. Bianchi, young but fearless. Winning duels, stepping up when needed. Richards and Taylor at full-back would push forward when possible, but never recklessly. And behind them all? Okafor. "You control the box. You keep us in the game when needed." Jake looked around the room. This team wasn''t just talented. It was built to win. The First Match ¨C As the final cones were collected, the last passes struck, and the session wrapped up, Jake took a moment to check the fixture list. The season was here. The first match? Reading. Jake exhaled slowly. And suddenly, this match had more meaning. It wasn''t just any season opener. It was against the player he had sold last year. James Holbrook. A player with talent, with ability¡ªbut who never fit Jake''s system. Holbrook had wanted to be the star. The centerpiece. The player Bradford City built around. But Jake hadn''t seen it that way. He needed players who would buy into the system. Who would sacrifice personal glory for the good of the team. Holbrook? He wanted the spotlight. And when he didn''t get it, he wanted out. So, Jake let him go. Now? Holbrook had landed at Reading. A club with bigger resources, a stronger squad. A club that, like Bradford, had ambitions of promotion. Jake knew exactly what was coming. Holbrook would want revenge. He would want to prove that Jake had made a mistake. That he should have been the player leading Bradford to League One glory. Jake smirked. "Let''s see who proves a point first." LEAGUE TABLE # Team P W D L GF GAb GD Pts 1 Barnsley 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 Birmingham City 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 Blackpool 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4 Bolton Wanderers 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 5 Bradford City 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 6 Bristol Rovers 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 7 Burton Albion 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 8 Cambridge United 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 9 Charlton Athletic 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 10 Crawley Town 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 11 Exeter City 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 12 Huddersfield Town 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 13 Leyton Orient 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 14 Lincoln City 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 15 Northampton Town 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 16 Peterborough United 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 17 Reading 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 18 Rotherham United 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 19 Shrewsbury Town 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 20 Stevenage 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 21 Stockport County 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 22 Wigan Athletic 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 23 Wrexham 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 24 Wycombe Wanderers 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Chapter 94 - 94: Pre-Match: Press Conference, System Prediction & Tactical Preparation August 9th, 2024 ¨C One Day Before Kickoff Bradford City Training Ground Press Conference ¨C Jake Wilson stepped into the media room, his entrance met with the familiar clicks of cameras and murmurs of anticipation. The first press conference of the League One season. The room was packed¡ªlocal journalists, national outlets, even a few international reporters curious about Bradford''s rise. But the attention wasn''t on Bradford City''s title ambitions. It wasn''t on their preseason dominance, their squad depth, or their tactical evolution. It was on one man. James Holbrook. The midfielder Jake had sold last season. The player who had once worn the captain''s armband at Bradford. The player who had wanted to be the star. But when Jake arrived at the club, he saw things differently. Holbrook was talented¡ªbut he didn''t fit. He wanted everything built around him. And Jake? Jake wanted a team, not a one-man show. Now? Holbrook had his fresh start at Reading. And fate had lined it up perfectly¡ªhis first game with his new club? Against Bradford City. Jake reached the podium, adjusted the microphone. Before he could even settle in, the first journalist fired off the inevitable question. "Jake, your first game of the season is against Reading¡ªand James Holbrook. Do you have any regrets about selling him?" Jake barely blinked. His response was instant. "No." The room went silent. The journalist waited. Expected him to elaborate, soften his stance, maybe add some pleasantries. But Jake didn''t. So, the journalist pushed further. "But surely you expect him to want to prove a point against you?" Jake finally leaned forward, his expression unreadable. His gaze swept across the room, calm, composed, completely unaffected. "That''s up to him. My job is to focus on the players I have, not the ones who left." His tone was measured, controlled. No bitterness. No disrespect. No headline-worthy soundbites. Just a simple truth. Bradford City had moved on. Holbrook? He was just another opponent now. There was a brief pause before the room came alive again. A few reporters whispered to each other. They wanted more. But Jake had given them nothing to work with. No grudge match narrative. No petty digs. Just a manager who had made a decision and stood by it. Another journalist tried a different angle. "Do you think Holbrook will be extra motivated to face Bradford?" Jake exhaled slightly, then shrugged. "That''s up to him. Every player should be motivated for every game. If he needs extra motivation, that''s his problem." More silence. More notes scribbled. Jake had effectively shut the topic down. And that''s exactly how he wanted it. The next question came, shifting the focus. "So, what should we expect from Bradford this season?" Jake relaxed slightly. This? This was the question he wanted. Now, he could talk about his team. His players. His vision. Holbrook''s story had already ended. Bradford''s? It was just getting started. The journalists moved on, shifting their focus to what really mattered¡ªBradford City''s ambitions. Jake had made it very clear from day one¡ªhe wasn''t here just to compete. He was here to win. And now? Now, the media wanted to know if that confidence came with a cost. A reporter near the front, notepad in hand, leaned forward. "Jake, you''ve been very vocal about wanting automatic promotion. Does that put extra pressure on your squad?" Jake smirked slightly, leaning back in his chair. His response was immediate. "Pressure? No. Expectations? Yes." A few journalists exchanged glances. Jake locked eyes with the reporter, his expression unwavering. "We know what we''re capable of. We don''t shy away from it. We want to win the league. Simple as that." No hesitation. No walking back his previous statements. No "We''ll take it one game at a time" clich¨¦s. Just pure confidence. The Media Pushes Further The journalist wasn''t finished. "But League One is a long, grueling season. Plenty of teams will be fighting for those top two spots. What makes you so sure Bradford can do it?" Jake tilted his head slightly, considering the question. Then, he spoke with the same conviction as before. "Because we built this team to win." He gestured subtly as he continued. "We have depth. We have quality. We have a squad that understands how to dominate games, not just survive them." Another pause. Another slight smirk. "And if we do what we''re supposed to do? No one in this league stops us." The room stayed quiet for a second. Jake had just put a target on Bradford City''s back. And he didn''t care. Setting the Mentality ¨C A different reporter, voice more cautious, spoke up. "But if you fall short¡ªif you don''t get promoted¡ªwould you consider it a failure?" Jake''s jaw tightened slightly. His response was measured, but firm. "Yes." The word hung in the air. There was no "We''ll see how the season plays out." No "We''ll reassess our goals in a few months." Just one simple truth. Bradford City was playing for promotion. Nothing less. Final Thoughts ¨C The last few questions came and went, mostly focused on the upcoming Reading match. But as the press conference wrapped up, one thing was clear¡ªJake Wilson wasn''t hiding from anything. Bradford wasn''t just hoping for success. They were expecting it. And if that put extra weight on their shoulders? So be it. Because Jake didn''t just want to win League One. He wanted to own it. System Prediction & Tactical Analysis Later that evening, back in his office, Jake Wilson sat at his desk, the soft glow of his laptop screen illuminating the room. The preseason was over. The talking was done. Now, it was time for results. He clicked open the system screen, his eyes immediately scanning the data as a familiar notification popped up. [Ding! System Prediction] Reading Win Probability: 35% Bradford Win Probability: 55% Draw Probability: 10% Jake exhaled slowly, a small smirk forming. Favorable odds. But he knew better than to put too much stock in numbers. Football wasn''t played on percentages. It was played on the pitch. And Reading wouldn''t just hand them the win. They would fight. They would scrap. They would try to turn this game into a battle, especially with Holbrook leading them. Jake leaned forward, eyes narrowing as the system tactical report loaded. [System Tactical Report] Reading''s Strengths ¨C Where They Could Hurt Bradford Holbrook''s Creativity ¨C If given space, he could dictate the tempo and unlock defenses with his passing. Set-Piece Threat ¨C Their center-backs were dominant in the air, making them dangerous from corners and free kicks. Compact Midfield ¨C Reading''s midfield stayed disciplined and organized, making it tough to break through the center. Jake rubbed his chin. None of this was surprising. Reading would try to slow the game down, control possession, and feed Holbrook as much as possible. They would play safe, structured football. But if Bradford dictated the tempo early? If they rushed Reading into mistakes? The game would swing in their favor. Tactical Approach ¨C Jake walked into the team meeting room, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. His coaching staff and analysts were already gathered, notes spread out, tactics drawn on the whiteboard. At the front, Paul Robert, his assistant, stood by the tactics board, arms folded. Jake didn''t wait. He stepped forward, voice firm, direct. "We control the tempo. We press them out of the game. We punish their mistakes." His words were measured, but his intent was clear. This wasn''t just about winning. This was about dominating. Jake picked up a marker, turning to the board. The Game Plan Exploit the Flanks Silva and Mensah would target Reading''s full-backs, who struggled under pressure. One-on-one situations. Direct runs. No hesitation. "Make them panic. Make them uncomfortable." Press Aggressively Harper and V¨¦lez would be tasked with hunting Holbrook down. They wouldn''t let him dictate play, wouldn''t let him get comfortable. "He wants time on the ball? He won''t get it." Fast Transitions Novak and Costa would constantly make runs in behind Reading''s slow center-backs. Every turnover? An opportunity to strike. "They can''t handle speed. We exploit that." Jake turned back to his staff. His gaze was sharp, unwavering. "This is how we win." No doubts. No second-guessing. Just pure execution. Tomorrow, Bradford City would step onto the pitch knowing exactly what they needed to do. And Reading? They wouldn''t be ready for what was coming. Media & Fan Reactions ¨C Later that night, as Jake finally got home, he checked his phone. Social media was buzzing. The press conference had sparked a reaction. The media ran headlines dissecting his confidence. ???? "Jake Wilson: No Regrets Over Holbrook Sale ¨C ''We Focus on Our Players.''" ???? "Bradford Boss Makes Bold Title Claim ¨C ''We Expect to Win.''" But what really mattered? The Fan Caf¨¦. The heart of Bradford''s supporters. Jake scrolled through the messages. "That''s our gaffer. No nonsense. Just business." "I love that he doesn''t give Holbrook the attention he wants. We''ve moved on." "Wilson is building something special. I believe in this team." Jake smirked slightly. They got it. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Tomorrow? They''d see it for themselves Chapter 95 - 95: HOLBROOK VS BRADFORD August 10, 2024 ¨C League One Matchday 1 Select Car Leasing Stadium ¨C Reading vs. Bradford City The sun hung low over the stadium as Bradford City stepped onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd welcoming the start of a new season. Jake Wilson stood near the touchline, arms crossed, watching as his players took their positions. Across from him, Reading''s coach paced nervously, adjusting his tie. And in the center of it all? James Holbrook. The former Bradford midfielder stood tall, rolling his shoulders, his eyes scanning the opposition. He wanted this game. He wanted revenge. Jake? He wanted to win. Starting Lineups Reading XI (4-3-3 Formation) GK: Joe Lumley RB: Andy Yiadom CB: Nelson Abbey CB: Tom McIntyre LB: Nesta Guinness-Walker CM: James Holbrook CM: Lewis Wing CM: Mamadou Loum RW: Kelvin Ehibhatiomhan ST: Sam Smith LW: Femi Azeez Bradford City XI (4-4-2 Formation) GK: Emeka Okafor RB: James Richards CB: Nathan Barnes (C) CB: Marco Bianchi LB: Aiden Taylor CM: Santiago V¨¦lez CM: Elliot Harper (VC) RW: Renan Silva LW: Raphael Mensah ST: Lukas Novak ST: Guilherme Costa Jake''s message was clear before kickoff. "Set the tone early. No slow starts. We take control from the first whistle." And when the referee blew his whistle? Bradford followed the plan perfectly. First Half ¨C From the opening minute, Bradford pressed aggressively. Reading tried to build through midfield, feeding Holbrook the ball. But every time he turned, Harper or V¨¦lez was there, pressing him, cutting off passing lanes. By the fifth minute, Holbrook had already given the ball away twice under pressure. Jake nodded from the sideline. Exactly as planned. 8'' ¨C It started with V¨¦lez. The Colombian midfielder, calm and composed in possession, received the ball just inside Reading''s half. One touch to control. One glance up. And then¡ªhe moved. He glided past his marker effortlessly, his quick feet and balance making it look easy. James Holbrook lunged in, trying to close him down¡ªtoo late. V¨¦lez dipped his shoulder, shifting away from the challenge, and suddenly, he had space. He lifted his head again, scanning the pitch. And that''s when he saw it. Novak. Already on the move. Reading''s defensive line was caught just a fraction too high¡ªthe gap was there. V¨¦lez didn''t hesitate. A perfectly weighted pass, slicing through the heart of Reading''s defense. Novak, sharp as ever, timed his run to perfection, ghosting between the center-backs. A split-second hesitation from McIntyre¡ªand that was all Novak needed. One-on-one with the keeper. Lumley rushed forward, trying to close the angle. But Novak was ice-cold. One touch to settle. One touch to finish. A smooth, clinical strike, rolled calmly into the bottom corner. Bradford 1-0 up before Reading had even settled. The away fans erupted. The Reading defenders looked at each other, stunned. Holbrook? He stood frozen, hands on his hips. And on the touchline, Jake barely reacted. He just turned to Paul Robert, his assistant, and nodded. "That''s how we start a season." For the next twenty minutes, Bradford dominated possession. Silva and Mensah terrorized Reading''s full-backs, cutting inside, driving at defenders, forcing mistakes. Reading looked uncomfortable. They couldn''t get out of their own half. And then, Bradford struck again. 24'' ¨C This was pure Silva. The Brazilian received the ball on the right wing, close to the touchline, with Guinness-Walker in front of him. Reading''s left-back had been struggling all game, but now he was in the worst possible situation¡ªone-on-one against Bradford''s most dangerous dribbler. Silva slowed down. He let the ball roll under his studs. Guinness-Walker held his stance, waiting, trying not to dive in. Then¡ªburst of pace. Silva feinted right, like he was about to sprint down the wing. Guinness-Walker bit, shifting his weight¡ªtoo late. Silva cut inside, taking one step, then another, gliding past his marker like he wasn''t even there. Now he had space. Now he had options. The defenders backed off, terrified of a pass into the box. But Silva wasn''t looking to pass. He shifted the ball onto his left foot¡ªhis stronger foot. One step. Two steps. Then¡ªpure technique. A curling shot, hit with perfection, bending toward the top corner. Lumley reacted late, scrambling across his goal, diving at full stretch. But it was pointless. The ball kissed the inside of the post and dropped into the net. 2-0. The away end erupted. Silva sprinted to the corner flag, arms outstretched, soaking in the moment. And on the other end of the pitch? Reading''s players looked shattered. Bradford''s game plan was working to perfection. Holbrook? He was a ghost. Every time he got the ball, white shirts swarmed him. Every time he tried to turn, Harper was there, pressing him into mistakes. The frustration was building. By the 35th minute, it boiled over. Holbrook received a simple pass, but his first touch was sloppy. V¨¦lez pounced instantly, stealing the ball away. Holbrook, already fuming, lunged in late¡ªrash, reckless, desperate. V¨¦lez went down under the challenge. The referee immediately blew his whistle. Yellow card. Holbrook stood there, breathing heavily, his jaw clenched. Jake, standing on the touchline, simply smirked. Holbrook was losing his head. And Reading? They were losing the game. Reading had no answers. Their only real chance came in the 41st minute, when a lofted cross found Sam Smith inside the box. The striker rose above Bianchi, powering a header toward the bottom corner. But Okafor reacted brilliantly, diving low to his right, parrying the ball away. It was the only real save he had to make in the first half. The whistle blew for halftime. Bradford in complete control. Halftime Score: Reading 0-2 Bradford City Second Half ¨C The dressing room wasn''t loud. No wild celebrations. No overconfidence. Just focused determination. Bradford was winning¡ªbut Jake wasn''t satisfied. He stood in front of his players, arms crossed. His voice was calm but firm. "No complacency. We keep playing our football." He scanned the room, making sure they understood. "Reading will come out desperate. They''ll press harder, push more bodies forward. That''s good for us. We don''t panic. We use it." He pointed at Silva and Mensah. "Keep stretching them wide. They''re already struggling. Make them suffer." Then, to V¨¦lez and Harper. "Holbrook''s frustrated. Keep pressing him. Don''t let him breathe." And finally, to Novak and Costa. "Kill the game. Next goal ends this." No dramatic speech. No overcomplication. Just a simple demand¡ªfinish the job. Reading''s Adjustments ¨C As the teams walked back onto the pitch, Reading''s coaching staff scrambled. They made two substitutions, trying to shift the game in their favor. Lucas Jo?o replaced Sam Smith ¨C More physicality up front, hoping to bully Bradford''s center-backs. Charlie Savage replaced Mamadou Loum ¨C Fresh legs in midfield, looking to create chances. Reading''s intent was clear. They weren''t sitting back anymore. They were throwing everything forward, trying to force their way back into the match. But it didn''t matter. Bradford were ready. From the moment the whistle blew for the second half, they resumed their relentless press. Reading couldn''t breathe. Every pass? Chased down. Every touch? Under pressure. Every attempt to build an attack? Shut down before it even started. Jake stood calmly on the touchline, watching. This was exactly how he wanted them to play. They weren''t just winning. They were dominating. 56'' ¨C Reading was unraveling. Their second-half aggression had left them vulnerable. Bradford pressed relentlessly, forcing mistakes¡ªand in the 56th minute, they got their reward. A harmless back pass¡ªor at least, that''s what Nelson Abbey thought. With Novak closing in fast, the young defender hesitated for just a second. Too long. His touch was too soft, too weak, too slow. The ball rolled toward Lumley¡ªbut never reached him. Costa pounced. The Brazilian exploded forward, reading the mistake before Abbey could react. One step. Two steps. Suddenly, he was in. Lumley rushed out, arms wide, eyes locked on the ball. Costa? Cool as ice. One touch to control. A quick glance up. Then¡ªclinical execution. A low, driven strike into the bottom corner. Lumley dived¡ªtoo late. The net rippled. 3-0. Game over. Costa didn''t celebrate right away. He just stood there for a moment, arms stretched, soaking in the moment. Then¡ªhe turned, pumping his fist toward the away fans. The Bradford supporters erupted, chanting his name. On the other side of the pitch? Reading''s players looked finished. Abbey stood frozen, hands on his head. Holbrook kicked the turf in frustration. Jake Wilson? He didn''t even smile. He just turned to Paul Robert and said: "Told you we''d punish them." 65'' ¨C Jake Wilson didn''t believe in unnecessary risks. At 3-0 up, with Reading committing more bodies forward, he reshaped the team to control the final stretch. The game was won¡ªbut there was still an opportunity to make a statement. From the touchline, he signaled for changes. Tobias Richter replaces Novak ¨C Fresh legs up front, pressing Reading''s tired defenders. Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez replaces Harper ¨C More control in midfield, ensuring Reading never found their rhythm. Lewis Hart replaces Taylor ¨C Defensive reinforcement, keeping things secure on the left flank. Paul Robert, his assistant, leaned in. "You''re not shutting up shop?" Jake shook his head. "No. We''re finishing this properly." And that meant not sitting back. Not inviting pressure. Bradford kept playing forward. Reading kept pushing desperately, trying to salvage something. And that''s when they made their final mistake. 79'' ¨C Reading had finally worked their way upfield, pushing players forward, searching for a consolation goal. Then¡ªdisaster. A sloppy pass from Holbrook. Intercepted. Ib¨¢?ez, fresh off the bench, read it perfectly and immediately sent the ball wide to Silva. Reading''s defenders were out of position. And Silva? He had open space to attack. The Brazilian accelerated down the right wing, eating up ground with every stride. The Reading bench screamed for their players to get back, but Silva was already deep in their half. As a defender lunged in, he cut inside sharply, skipping past the challenge. One look up. He saw Richter ghosting into the box, arriving late. The perfect pass¡ªcut across the face of goal. Richter didn''t need to break stride. One touch. Calm. Precise. Low into the bottom corner. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 4-0. A statement goal in a statement win. Reading Were Broken. Bradford Were Ruthless . The Select Car Leasing Stadium fell silent. Reading fans began filing out. Holbrook stood still, hands on his hips, staring at the ground. Jake turned back to the bench, arms crossed. This was exactly how he wanted the season to start. Final Whistle ¨C The referee finally ended Reading''s misery. Full-time: Bradford 4-0 Reading. A perfect start. As Jake walked toward the tunnel, the media already swarmed him. "Jake, was this about proving Holbrook wrong?" He didn''t hesitate. "No. We focus on our players, not the ones who left." This wasn''t about old stories. This was about what came next. Bradford City had sent a message to the rest of League One. And the league? They''d better be ready. Chapter 96 - 96: EFL Cup First Round: A Dominant Start August 14, 2024 ¨C Valley Parade Bradford City vs. Crawley Town The floodlights glowed over Valley Parade as the players stepped onto the pitch. A cup match under the lights¡ªthe start of another journey. Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching his squad warm up. This wasn''t just another game. This was the EFL Cup. A competition where lower-league clubs had the chance to test themselves against the elite. And for Jake? It was a chance to build momentum. The message to his team was clear. "We don''t ease into this. We don''t give them hope. We set the tone from the first whistle." The players understood. Bradford wasn''t here to just participate. They were here to win. Pre-Match & Tactical Setup Jake Wilson knew how to approach cup competitions. Rotation was necessary, but momentum mattered more. The squad was strong enough to handle Crawley Town, but complacency? That was the real danger. So, six changes. Fresh legs, but the same intensity. Starting XI ¨C Bradford City (4-4-2 Formation) Goalkeeper: Jack Simmons The young shot-stopper was given a chance to prove himself. Right-Back: Julian Rojas Quick, composed on the ball, and looking to stake his claim as the first-choice right-back. Center-Back: Marco Bianchi Young, fearless, and improving with every game. Center-Back: Nathan Barnes (C) The leader. The voice at the back. His job? Keep the defense locked in. Left-Back: Lewis Hart A natural center-back, but Jake trusted him to handle defensive duties on the left. Central Midfield: Santiago V¨¦lez The maestro. Everything ran through him. Central Midfield: Elliot Harper The engine. Covered every blade of grass, kept the press alive. Right Midfield: Renan Silva Explosive, unpredictable, and the most dangerous man on the pitch. Left Midfield: Raphael Mensah Direct, fast, and constantly looking to cut inside and create. Striker: Tobias Richter S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A finisher. Lethal in front of goal, waiting for his moment. Striker: Guilherme Costa Poacher mentality. If there was a loose ball in the box, it was his. Tactical Approach ¨C Jake stepped up to the tactics board, his coaching staff gathered around. He kept it simple. Direct. Clear. "Control the tempo." V¨¦lez and Harper were the heart of this team. If they dictated the game, Crawley wouldn''t get a touch. "Stretch the play." Silva and Mensah were two of the fastest players on the pitch. Their job? Stay wide, pull defenders out of position, and create space. "Early aggression." No easing into the game. Press high, force mistakes, and score before Crawley could settle. Jake turned to the squad, his expression serious. "We are the better team. But we prove it on the pitch, not in the lineup." The system prediction had Bradford as heavy favorites. But football wasn''t won on statistics. It was won by executing the plan. And they were about to execute it perfectly. First Half ¨C Fast Start, Instant Control From the moment the referee blew his whistle, Bradford City imposed themselves. They didn''t just control the ball. They dominated the rhythm of the game. V¨¦lez and Harper dictated the tempo, moving Crawley''s midfield around like pieces on a chessboard. Bradford knocked the ball around with confidence, forcing Crawley to retreat deeper and deeper. Within the first five minutes, Silva had already embarrassed his marker twice¡ªa quick step-over, a burst of acceleration, and a cross whipped dangerously into the box. Crawley scrambled to clear, but it was only a matter of time. The pressure kept building. A half-chance for Mensah, a curling shot from V¨¦lez that forced the goalkeeper into action. Then¡ªthe breakthrough. 12'' ¨C V¨¦lez. The Colombian playmaker picked up the ball just inside Crawley''s half, lifting his head, scanning the pitch. He spotted the opening. A small gap between Crawley''s center-backs. A moment of hesitation. And in that moment¡ªRichter moved. The young striker darted between the defenders, perfectly timing his run. V¨¦lez didn''t hesitate. A perfectly weighted pass, curled into the space behind the backline. It cut Crawley''s defense apart. Richter ghosted in behind, his first touch immaculate, setting himself up in stride. The keeper rushed out, arms spread wide. But it was too late. Richter stayed ice-cold, picked his spot, and calmly slotted the ball into the bottom corner. Bradford 1-0 up. No wild celebrations. No over-the-top reactions. Just pure execution. Jake clapped from the touchline, turning to Paul Robert, his assistant. "That''s how you take control of a game." And Bradford was just getting started. Bradford Relentless ¨C Bradford refused to slow down. Every attack was sharper, every pass more precise. Crawley were already pinned back, but now, they were barely holding on. The warning signs were everywhere. In the 20th minute, Costa came within inches of making it two. Harper, dictating play in midfield, clipped a delicate pass over the defense. Costa took it in stride, shrugged off his marker, and fired toward goal. The Crawley keeper reacted just in time, diving at full stretch to tip it wide. Bradford kept coming. Mensah was tormenting the left-back, cutting inside, weaving past defenders, testing the keeper with a low drive. Crawley''s defense was cracking. And in the 30th minute, it finally broke. 30'' ¨C Harper felt the game slowing for just a second¡ªa moment of hesitation from Crawley. That was all he needed. He shifted his weight, let the ball roll across his body, then whipped a lofted pass over the top. It wasn''t just a hopeful ball. It was calculated. Precise. Perfectly arced. The Crawley defense turned in panic, scrambling. But Mensah? He was already gone. The winger timed his movement perfectly, ghosting in behind as if he had seen the pass before it even left Harper''s boot. The ball dropped just inside the penalty area, bouncing once. The keeper hesitated, unsure whether to come or stay. The defender closest to Mensah lunged, but it was too late. He didn''t let it bounce twice. One step. One crisp, first-time volley. Pure connection. The ball rocketed past the keeper, smashing into the back of the net before anyone could react. 2-0. Valley Parade exploded. Mensah wheeled away in celebration, arms outstretched, grinning. His teammates rushed to him, slapping his back, ruffling his hair. On the touchline, Jake turned to Paul Robert. No emotion, just purpose. "We end this before halftime." Robert nodded. Bradford were in control. Halftime Score: Bradford 2-0 Crawley Town As the players jogged off, Crawley looked defeated. Bradford had been ruthless. And Jake? He wanted more. Second Half ¨C Bradford stepped back onto the pitch with complete control. There was no need to force the issue. No need for reckless aggression. This was about maturity¡ªclosing the game on their terms. Jake made his adjustments early: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez replaced V¨¦lez ¨C A composed presence in midfield to control the game. Lukas Novak replaced Costa ¨C A more physical striker to hold up play and bully defenders. Crawley, knowing this was their last chance to salvage something, threw bodies forward. It was a gamble. One that backfired instantly. 63'' ¨C Crawley''s midfield had been under siege all game. They were exhausted, their legs heavy, their passes sluggish. Harper sensed it. As soon as Crawley''s number six hesitated on the ball, Harper lunged in. A crunching tackle¡ªclean, but ruthless. The ball spilled loose. Novak was already moving. Harper reacted instantly, toe-poking a short pass into space. Novak took over. One touch to control. A flick past the scrambling defender. Now it was just him and the keeper. No hesitation. A thunderous shot, struck low and hard, drilled past the outstretched gloves before the keeper could even react. The net bulged. 3-0. Crawley''s resistance was over. Novak turned, jogging back toward midfield without celebration¡ªjust purpose. Bradford''s bench didn''t explode in cheers. They expected this. On the touchline, Jake''s arms remained crossed. He called out one last instruction. "Don''t stop playing." Because this wasn''t just about winning. It was about setting the standard for the entire season. Final Whistle ¨C The referee raised the whistle to his lips. A sharp blast. Bradford 3-0 winners. No late drama. No unnecessary stress. Just control from start to finish. Crawley''s players walked off shaking their heads, defeated. Bradford''s? They barely looked tired. Novak jogged over to Jake, wiping sweat from his brow. "Felt too easy," he muttered. Jake didn''t respond immediately. He just glanced up at the scoreboard¡ª3-0. Exactly how it should have been. The Walk to the Tunnel As the players clapped toward the home fans, Jake took his time heading toward the tunnel. The atmosphere inside Valley Parade wasn''t just celebratory. It was expectant. They had seen great football. They had seen a team in control. And they were starting to believe this wasn''t just another cup run. This could be something more. Jake didn''t bask in it. There were bigger games ahead. But still¡ªthis team was starting to make people take notice. Post-Match Press Conference ¨C The media room was buzzing by the time Jake sat down. The first question was predictable. "Jake, is this the start of a deep EFL Cup run?" He smirked, adjusting the microphone. "One game at a time. But we don''t play in these competitions to lose." No arrogance. No big promises. Just the truth. Bradford were here to compete. Another journalist leaned forward. "You rotated the squad today but still dominated. Does this show your team''s depth?" Jake nodded. "That''s the point of having a squad. It''s not just about eleven players¡ªit''s about twenty. Everyone is ready to step up." Another hand went up. "You''ve been vocal about challenging in multiple competitions. Does a win like this reinforce that belief?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "We have high standards. Whether it''s the league, the cup, or a training session, the expectation doesn''t change. We show up, we perform, and we win." No excuses. No lowered expectations. This team was built to compete. And anyone who didn''t believe that? They would soon. Jake stood up, nodded to the room, and walked out. There was nothing else to say. Chapter 97 - 97: League Domination: Four Wins, Four Statements Bradford''s focus shifted back to the league. The EFL Cup was important, but Jake had made it clear from the start¡ªautomatic promotion was the priority. No playoffs. No last-day drama. They were going up as champions. And in their first month of League One football, Bradford played like a team that belonged at the top. Match 2 ¨C Charlton Athletic Charlton wasn''t just another opponent. They were one of the favorites for promotion¡ªa team with experience, a club that knew what it took to compete at the top of League One. For Bradford, this was their first real test of the season. The opening minutes set the tone. Charlton pressed aggressively, closing down V¨¦lez and Harper, trying to cut off Bradford''s supply lines. It was a scrappy, physical battle, neither side willing to give an inch. But Bradford stayed composed. They moved the ball patiently, waiting for the right moment to strike. And in the 27th minute, they found it. Silva picked up the ball on the right, took on his marker, and drove into the box. A sharp cut inside. A quick one-two with Costa. Then, a low, clinical finish into the bottom corner. 1-0. Charlton didn''t back down. They kept pushing, kept looking for a way back¡ªand early in the second half, they found one. A corner swung into the box, a scramble, and a close-range finish. 1-1. For the first time this season, Bradford were under pressure. Could they respond? 74th minute. Ib¨¢?ez, with space in midfield, spotted Novak making a run behind the defense. A perfectly weighted pass. Novak took one touch, steadied himself, and slotted it past the keeper. 2-1. A moment of quality. A moment that sealed the game. Charlton fought until the final whistle, but Bradford''s defense held firm. It wasn''t their prettiest win. But it was the kind of win that proved they could handle tough games. Full-Time: Charlton 1-2 Bradford City Match 3 ¨C Cambridge United Back at Valley Parade, Bradford had one objective¡ªcontrol the game from the first whistle. And that''s exactly what they did. From the opening minutes, Cambridge struggled to get a foothold. Bradford''s passing was crisp, movement sharp, pressing relentless. The breakthrough came inside 10 minutes. Silva, dancing past his marker on the right, whipped in a dangerous low cross. Costa, positioned perfectly, tapped it in from close range. 1-0. Bradford never let up. They controlled possession, moved the ball with ease, and suffocated Cambridge''s attempts to counter. Into the second half, Silva turned from provider to scorer. A quick cut inside, a shift onto his left foot¡ªthen a curling effort into the top corner. 2-0. Cambridge had no answer. And in the closing stages, Mensah put the game to bed. A burst of acceleration down the left, beating his man for pace¡ªthen a thunderous strike past the keeper. 3-0. Bradford never looked in danger. They dominated every aspect of the game. And most importantly? The first clean sheet of the season. A performance that sent a message¡ªBradford weren''t just winning. They were in control. Full-Time: Bradford 3-0 Cambridge United Match 4 ¨C Bristol Rovers This was Bradford''s toughest test so far¡ªnot because Bristol Rovers were dominant, but because everything felt like a battle. From the opening whistle, the game was disjointed, physical, and frustrating. And in the 14th minute, Bradford paid the price for a slow start. A miscommunication between Barnes and Bianchi allowed Bristol Rovers through on goal. One pass. One finish. 1-0. For the next 50 minutes, Bradford hammered away at the Rovers'' defense. Silva twisted and turned on the right, but his cutbacks were blocked. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mensah got into dangerous positions, but his shots were crowded out. Costa saw a close-range effort somehow cleared off the line. It felt like one of those nights. Then¡ªa moment of brilliance. In the 71st minute, Bradford finally found an opening. Harper laid the ball off to Ib¨¢?ez, standing 30 yards out. One touch. One quick glance at goal. Then¡ªa thunderous strike. The ball soared past the keeper, smashing into the top corner. 1-1. Valley Parade erupted. Bradford had their equalizer. But Jake wasn''t interested in a draw. He pushed his team forward for one final push. 90th minute. Bradford piled bodies into the box. Silva, isolated on the right, took on his man¡ªone last time. A deep, floated cross into the penalty area. And Richter? He launched himself forward. A diving header, full commitment, full power. The ball crashed into the back of the net. 2-1. Bradford stole all three points. Rovers collapsed to the ground. Jake just turned to the bench, nodding. Winners find a way. Full-Time: Bristol Rovers 1-2 Bradford City Match 5 ¨C Exeter City (4-0 Win, Home) By now, Bradford looked unstoppable. Jake rotated the squad heavily, resting key players after a demanding run of games. But even with a fresh lineup, the level didn''t drop. From the opening whistle, Bradford dictated everything. Exeter never had a chance to settle. Bradford''s Rotated XI (4-4-2) Goalkeeper: Jack Simmons Right-Back: Julian Rojas . Center-Back: Marco Bianchi Center-Back: Noah Fletcher Left-Back: Lewis Hart Central Midfield: Daniel Lowe Central Midfield: Elliot Harper . Right Midfield: Ethan Walsh Left Midfield: Raphael Mensah Striker: Tobias Richter Striker: Guilherme Costa Bradford started on the front foot, pinning Exeter back immediately. The visitors struggled to get out of their own half. Bradford''s pressing was relentless. And within eight minutes, they had the lead. 8'' ¨C Lowe won the ball in midfield, muscling past his man. A quick pass to Harper, who threaded a perfectly weighted through ball between the center-backs. Richter, sharp as ever, peeled away from his marker, took a touch¡ªthen slotted past the keeper. 1-0. Exeter''s defenders looked at each other, frustrated. Bradford weren''t letting up. Bradford continued to move the ball at speed, stretching the defense. Mensah was electric on the left, driving at his full-back every chance he got. Exeter''s midfield couldn''t cope with Lowe''s aggression and Harper''s vision. And in the 27th minute, they struck again. 27'' ¨C This time, it was individual brilliance. Rojas swung in a cross from deep, curling toward the far post. Mensah ghosted in behind his marker, bringing it down on his chest. One quick shift onto his right foot¡ªthen a rifled shot into the top corner. 2-0. Exeter''s heads dropped. Bradford were cruising. Second Half ¨C Finishing the Job Jake made changes early: Charlie Benson replaced Harper ¨C Fresh energy in midfield. Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez replaced Lowe ¨C More control in possession. Santiago V¨¦lez replaced Walsh ¨C Keeping the midfield sharp. Bradford lowered the tempo, controlling the game with ease. Exeter chased shadows. Then, just past the hour mark¡ªBradford ended it. 63'' ¨C Ib¨¢?ez, fresh off the bench, picked out Richter with a perfectly floated pass. Richter brought it down, shielded the ball, and backheeled it into Costa''s path. The striker didn''t hesitate. A quick snapshot¡ªlow, hard, past the keeper. 3-0. Game over. With the match winding down, Bradford won a corner in the 82nd minute. Ib¨¢?ez delivered an outswinging cross, and Noah Fletcher rose highest. A towering header. A debut goal. 4-0. A commanding victory. Full-Time: Bradford 4-0 Exeter City Jake walked off the pitch with zero complaints. A fully rotated squad. The same dominance. Bradford weren''t just winning. They were showing that no matter who played, the level never dropped. Jake''s Reflection ¨C Four league games. Four wins. But it wasn''t just about the results. Bradford had shown different ways to win. Grinding out tough battles (Charlton, Bristol Rovers). Dominating with pure quality (Cambridge, Exeter). Defensive improvements¡ªfewer mistakes, more control. Novak stepping up as the main goal scorer. Top of the league. The momentum was real. The belief was growing. But next? A completely different challenge. The EFL Cup. Fulham. A Premier League-level squad, filled with top-tier talent. And even more personal for Jake¡ªthis was Saidi''s new team. The defender he once relied on at Bradford. Now? An opponent standing in their way. Jake leaned back in his office chair, scanning the upcoming fixture list. This next game? It would show just how far they''d come. Chapter 98 - 98: Pre-Match Preparations – A Different Kind of Test The night before the match, Jake Wilson sat in his office, scrolling through scouting reports and tactical breakdowns. This wasn''t like any other game. Fulham weren''t a League One side. They weren''t even a Championship team. They were Premier League opposition. A team that had been battling at the highest level for years. A team with Premier League resources, Premier League players, and Premier League expectations. But that didn''t mean they were unbeatable. Jake leaned forward, watching the system''s analysis load on his laptop screen. System Prediction:Bradford Win Probability: 30%Fulham Win Probability: 60%Extra Time/Penalties: 10% He exhaled slowly. That didn''t mean anything. Predictions were just numbers. Football was played on the pitch. Paul Robert, his assistant, walked in, dropping a folder onto Jake''s desk. "They''ve rotated heavily. Maybe they think they can walk through this one." Jake skimmed through the lineup. It was still strong. Even Fulham''s second-choice players were better than most starters in League One. Then, he saw a familiar name. Saidi. The defender who had once been a pillar of Bradford''s backline. Now, he was standing in their way. Jake tapped his fingers on the desk. "They''re expecting us to sit back and take the pressure." Paul smirked. "Are we?" Jake didn''t answer immediately. He turned to the tactics board, where he had mapped out two potential approaches. One was cautious, a deep defensive block, absorbing pressure and hoping to strike on the counter. The other? More aggressive. Riskier. Jake stared at the board for a long moment. Then, he grabbed the marker and made his decision. "We test them first. We see if they''re as comfortable as they think." The Tactical Plan ¨C Breaking Fulham''s Shape Jake gathered the squad before training. The usual energy was there¡ªfocused, ready¡ªbut he could tell they knew this was different. "This is a Premier League team," he started, pacing in front of them. "They expect to control the game. They expect us to panic. To sit back. To hope we survive." He let the words settle, then shook his head. "That''s not how we play football." He turned to the tactics board and started breaking down the plan. Fulham''s StrengthsPremier League-Level Quality Faster, stronger, more technical players.Used to playing at a much higher intensity.Defensive Stability Saidi led the backline¡ªphysical, dominant in aerial duels, composed on the ball.They rarely conceded sloppy goals.Midfield Control Experienced playmakers who dictated the tempo.They would keep the ball and try to suffocate Bradford with possession.Fulham''s WeaknessesOverconfidence A rotated squad suggested they believed they could win without their best players.If Bradford disrupted their rhythm early, cracks could appear.Exposed Wide Areas Their full-backs were more comfortable attacking than defending.Silva and Mensah could get in behind if given space.Lack of Urgency in Attack They relied on methodical build-up play, rather than direct, fast transitions.If Bradford kept a disciplined shape, Fulham could struggle to break them downJake''s Tactical Adjustments ¨C The Plan to Win Jake turned back to the tactics board, his marker gliding across the surface as he laid out the final instructions. This wasn''t just about competing with Fulham. It was about beating them. First 20 Minutes ¨C Press High They weren''t going to sit back and invite pressure. Not at the start. Bradford would go after Fulham immediately, force mistakes, make them uncomfortable. Novak and Costa would press the center-backs aggressively, cutting off passing lanes.V¨¦lez and Harper would push high, disrupting Fulham''s midfield rhythm.The full-backs would stay aggressive, stepping up to stop wide deliveries before they developed. "Don''t let them settle," Jake said, underlining it on the board. "Make them react to us." This wasn''t about chaos¡ªit was about controlled aggression. If the press worked, Bradford could catch them off guard early. If it didn''t? They would shift gears. After 20 Minutes ¨C Drop Into Shape If Fulham survived the opening wave of pressure, Bradford would adjust. The midfield would sit deeper, closing passing lanes.The full-backs would tuck in, making the defensive block tighter.The strikers would hold their shape, only pressing when the opportunity was right. "They can have the ball," Jake said, tapping the board. "But they won''t have space." This wasn''t about parking the bus. It was about forcing Fulham to play in areas where they weren''t dangerous. Bradford had the discipline to frustrate them. And the patience to wait for the moment to strike. Key Battle ¨C Attacking the Wings Jake turned to Silva and Mensah, pointing at Fulham''s full-backs. "That''s where we hurt them." Fulham''s wide defenders were good going forward¡ªbut defensively? They could be exposed. Silva and Mensah had the license to attack freely.If the ball was switched quickly, they would isolate the full-backs one-on-one.Their job wasn''t just to beat their man¡ªit was to drag defenders out of position. "Stretch them. Pull them wide. Make them uncomfortable." If Fulham''s full-backs hesitated, Bradford would punish them. Stopping Saidi ¨C The Former Ally Turned Opponent Jake didn''t need to tell the squad who was at the heart of Fulham''s defense. They already knew. Saidi had been their leader last season. The rock at the back. The one who never lost his battles. And now? Now, he was standing in their way. Jake folded his arms. "Saidi knows us. He knows our tendencies." A few players exchanged glances. They had trained with him. Played with him. They knew what he was capable of. "So we change them," Jake continued. No predictable movements. If Novak always checked inside, now he''d spin in behind.No easy duels. If Saidi wanted to dominate aerially, Bradford would keep the ball on the ground.No fear. They would go at him, make him uncomfortable, test him in ways he wasn''t expecting. Because no matter how good he was, he wasn''t unbeatable. And Jake planned to prove it. Final Preparations ¨C The Mental Battle The floodlights cast long shadows across the pitch as the final whistle blew on training. The session had been sharp, intense¡ªbut that wasn''t what mattered now. Jake stood at the edge of the field, watching as his players jogged through their cooldown routine. No wasted movement. No signs of nerves. This wasn''t the same squad he had taken over seasons ago. They had grown. They had evolved. But tomorrow? Tomorrow was different. A Premier League opponent. A team with more experience, more resources. More expectations. And Jake knew matches like this weren''t won on ability alone. They were won in the mind. As the players huddled together, stretching, hydrating, shaking out tired legs, he walked toward them¡ªnot with a speech, but with a reminder. His voice was steady. Measured. "Tomorrow, they''ll test us. They''ll push us. And when we push back, they''ll expect us to break first." He scanned their faces, making sure they understood. "Because that''s what teams like Fulham think. That''s what they assume when they play a club like us." A pause. He let the words settle, let the weight of them sink in. "But we don''t break." It wasn''t a question. It wasn''t a plea. It was fact. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, players began nodding. Some clenched their fists. Others exchanged glances. No hesitation. No doubt. This wasn''t a squad that hoped they could compete. They expected to. Jake met their eyes one last time before turning on his heel. His job was done. Tomorrow, it was up to them. Media Duties ¨C The Questions Everyone Wanted Answers To The next morning, Jake stepped into the press room. It was packed. The biggest media presence since he''d taken over. Cameras flashed. Reporters leaned forward. They weren''t here for just another League One manager. They were here because Bradford was about to face a Premier League club. And they wanted headlines. The first question came immediately. "Jake, this is your biggest game as Bradford manager. Do you believe your team is ready for this level?" Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake smiled slightly. "We''ll find out soon enough, won''t we?" A few chuckles, but the next question was sharper. "Fulham''s squad is far stronger on paper. Realistically, how do you approach a game like this?" Jake''s expression didn''t change. "Football isn''t played on paper. If it was, we wouldn''t be here." A shift in the room. A few knowing glances exchanged. Then, the question he''d been expecting. "Saidi played a key role for you last season. Now, he''s on the other side. How do you plan to deal with him?" Jake leaned forward slightly. "Like every other opponent." No unnecessary emotion. No distraction. Just another challenge to overcome. A few more questions followed, but Jake''s demeanor never shifted. He wasn''t here to entertain. He was here to win a football match. And when he left the press room, his mind was already on kickoff. Chapter 99 - 99: EFL Cup Battle vs. Fulham EFL Cup Second Round ¨C August 27th, 2024 Valley Parade, Bradford The lights at Valley Parade shone brighter than ever. The air buzzed with anticipation. Bradford City had faced Premier League opposition before, but tonight felt different. This wasn''t about proving they belonged. This was about proving they could win. On the other side stood Fulham¡ªestablished, experienced, and expected to dominate. But expectations meant nothing once the whistle blew. For Jake Wilson, it wasn''t just about facing a top-flight club. It was about facing a former player¡ªSaidi. The defender he once trusted to lead Bradford''s backline. Now? He stood in the way. Jake adjusted his jacket and glanced toward the tunnel. No nerves. Just focus. This was a battle. And he had every intention of winning it. Starting XIsBradford City (4-4-2): GK: Emeka Okafor RB: James Richards CB: Nathan Barnes (C) CB: Kang Min-jae LB: Aiden Taylor CM: Elliot Harper CM: Santiago V¨¦lez RW: Renan Silva LW: Raphael Mensah ST: Lukas Novak ST: Guilherme Costa Fulham (4-2-3-1): GK: Bernd Leno RB: Kenny Tete CB: Saidi CB: Calvin Bassey LB: Antonee Robinson CDM: Jo?o Palhinha CDM: Harrison Reed RW: Harry Wilson CAM: Tom Cairney LW: Willian ST: Rodrigo Muniz First Half ¨C Frustrating Fulham Fulham played with intent from the first whistle, dictating possession with crisp, confident passing. Bradford, however, refused to panic. They dropped into their defensive shape, staying compact, forcing Fulham to work for every inch of space. The first warning came early. In the 10th minute, Tom Cairney found himself in a pocket of space between the lines. A simple feint sent V¨¦lez the wrong way, and before anyone could react, he slid a perfectly weighted ball through the heart of the defense. Rodrigo Muniz peeled off Min-jae''s shoulder, taking a sharp first touch to set himself. The striker drove a low shot toward the far corner. For a split second, Valley Parade fell silent. Then¡ªOkafor sprang into action, diving low to his right, fingertips stretching just enough to push the ball past the post. Jake barely moved on the touchline, but his mind was racing. That was too easy. He turned to Paul Robert. "We''re letting Cairney dictate too much. Tighten up." The message was relayed, and Bradford adjusted. V¨¦lez and Harper pressed more aggressively, cutting off passing lanes. Min-jae and Barnes stayed tighter to Muniz, denying him space to turn. Fulham kept probing, their full-backs pushing forward, trying to overload the flanks. Palhinha and Reed cycled the ball, waiting for a gap to appear. But Bradford''s discipline never wavered. Every time Fulham thought they had found a way through, a white shirt was there¡ªblocking, intercepting, forcing them to reset. Then, in the 35th minute, came the biggest scare. Harry Wilson, quiet until now, received the ball on the right wing. He shifted his weight, hesitated just long enough to draw Taylor in, then darted inside, onto his favored left foot. A yard of space was all he needed. Wilson unleashed a vicious, swerving effort from 25 yards. Okafor barely reacted. The ball curled wickedly through the air¡ªthen smacked against the upright with a brutal thud. For a split second, the entire stadium seemed frozen. The rebound dropped into the six-yard box. Willian pounced, swinging a boot at the loose ball. Min-jae threw himself across, sliding in with everything he had. A crunching block. The ball ricocheted away, cleared by Barnes before anyone in a Fulham shirt could react. A massive escape. Jake exhaled, rubbing his chin. They were holding firm. But for how long? Halftime: 0-0 ¨C As the whistle blew, Bradford jogged off, breathing heavily. They had survived the first half. But survival wasn''t enough. In the dressing room, Jake didn''t shout. He didn''t need to. "They had one real chance. That''s it." He scanned the room, locking eyes with each player. "They expect us to get tired. They expect us to fold." A pause. "We don''t." Then, he turned to Silva and Mensah. "This half is yours. Take them on. Make them uncomfortable." The message was clear. They had defended long enough. Now, they needed to attack. Second Half ¨C Bradford returned from the break with a different mindset. The first half had been about survival. Now, it was about taking the fight to Fulham. Jake''s instructions were clear¡ªpush higher, press harder, and force Fulham onto the back foot. And it nearly worked within minutes. 47'' ¨C Aiden Taylor intercepted a loose pass near the halfway line, immediately setting Bradford forward. Ib¨¢?ez took one touch, then fired a diagonal pass into space for Mensah. The Ghanaian winger didn''t hesitate. With a burst of acceleration, he skipped past Tete, cutting inside onto his right foot. One step. Two steps. Then, he unleashed a fierce shot toward the near post. The ball rocketed toward goal, swerving dangerously. Leno reacted late¡ªbut managed to get a strong hand on it, parrying it wide. Jake muttered under his breath. That was the moment. That was the kind of chance they needed to take. But the shift was clear¡ªFulham weren''t as comfortable anymore. The Tactical Shift ¨C Fresh Legs, More Pressure By the hour mark, Jake had seen enough. Fulham were still probing, but their backline wasn''t as composed under pressure. It was time to introduce more energy. Jake turned to his bench. Tobias Richter replaced Costa ¨C A more mobile, aggressive striker to press Fulham''s defense. Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez replaced Harper ¨C A more dynamic midfielder to disrupt Fulham''s passing lanes. The changes had an instant impact. Ib¨¢?ez pressed relentlessly, snapping into tackles, forcing hurried passes from Palhinha and Reed. Richter was a constant nuisance, chasing down every loose ball, forcing Saidi and Bassey to clear under pressure. Bradford''s intensity was rising. But Fulham still had their quality. And in the 67th minute, they reminded everyone of it. 67'' ¨C For the first time in the second half, Fulham found space. A clever give-and-go between Willian and Muniz sliced through the Bradford midfield. Min-jae and Barnes were a step too slow to react¡ªMuniz was through. The Brazilian took one touch into the box. One-on-one with Okafor. Jake didn''t move. The crowd held its breath. Muniz struck it clean, aiming low toward the bottom corner. Okafor read it perfectly. He sprang to his right, strong right hand outstretched¡ª A stunning save. The ball deflected away, but danger still loomed. Cairney rushed onto the rebound, looking to bury it¡ª But before he could pull the trigger, Richards slid in with a perfectly timed block, sending the ball out for a corner. Valley Parade erupted. Okafor punched the air, roaring in frustration and adrenaline. Jake exhaled slowly. They had survived. But just when it felt like Bradford had turned the momentum back in their favor¡ªcontroversy struck. 75'' ¨C It happened in an instant. Fulham had committed numbers forward for a corner, their defenders momentarily exposed. Bradford didn''t hesitate. Harper won the aerial duel, heading the ball clear to Silva, who took off down the right flank. The winger glanced up once, spotting Novak making a diagonal run between Bassey and Saidi. Perfect timing. Silva slid a perfectly weighted through ball into the open space. Novak latched onto it, his first touch pushing the ball into the box. Then¡ªimpact. Saidi lunged in. His boot clipped Novak''s ankle as the striker stretched to control the ball. Novak went down. Valley Parade erupted. Bradford''s bench shot to their feet. Jake didn''t move. Arms crossed, jaw clenched. The referee hesitated. For a second, it looked like he might blow the whistle. But he didn''t. He waved it off. No penalty. Novak pounded the ground in frustration. Barnes ran up to the referee, arms outstretched. V¨¦lez and Silva joined him, voices raised. Jake still didn''t move. He just turned slightly, looking at the fourth official. Silent fury. The game continued. Full-Time: 0-0 ¨C Extra Time Needed The match had been brutal. Fulham had possession. Bradford had resilience. Now, it came down to 30 more minutes. The players bent over, hands on knees, catching their breath. The tempo, the intensity¡ªit had taken its toll. Jake walked onto the pitch as they regrouped. He didn''t need a speech. Just a reminder. His voice was low. Steady. "This is where we finish them." The players nodded. No hesitation. No doubt. They had fought for 90 minutes. Now, they had 30 more to make it count. Extra Time ¨C Fatigue crept into every movement. Fulham, once sharp, now looked sluggish. Their passes weren''t as crisp. Their reactions a half-second slower. Jake saw it immediately. It was time to strike. Lewis Hart replaced Taylor ¨C Fresh energy at left-back, ensuring defensive stability. Charlie Benson replaced V¨¦lez ¨C Extra legs in midfield, pressing Fulham''s tiring playmakers. Then¡ªBradford pounced. 102'' ¨C It started in midfield. Benson, still fresh, saw Palhinha take an extra touch and pressed hard. The Fulham midfielder hesitated¡ªjust for a second. Benson lunged in, knocking the ball loose. Ib¨¢?ez read it perfectly. One step. A quick interception. Then, without hesitation, he turned and threaded a piercing pass through the lines. Richter was already moving. He read it before anyone else. A perfect diagonal run between Saidi and Bassey, ghosting into space. The ball arrived at his feet, just inside the box. One touch to control. One touch to strike. Low. Driven. Precise. Past Leno. Into the net. Valley Parade erupted. The ground shook with noise. Richter sprinted toward the corner flag, arms stretched wide, teammates swarming him. Jake clenched his fists on the sideline. No celebration. Just focus. Now, they had something to protect. Final Moments ¨C The last 15 minutes felt like an eternity. Fulham had nothing to lose. They threw everything forward, flooding Bradford''s box with crosses, set-pieces, and desperate long balls. Bradford weren''t just defending anymore. They were surviving. 107'' ¨C Tom Cairney, still searching for a moment of magic, found space outside the box. One quick shift onto his left foot. A curling effort, dipping dangerously toward the top corner. Okafor saw it late¡ªbut reacted instantly. A full-stretch dive, fingertips just enough to tip it over the bar. Valley Parade exhaled. Jake didn''t react. He just pointed at Okafor. "Stay switched on." Fulham weren''t done. 115'' ¨C A floated cross from Willian found Muniz at the near post. The striker angled his header toward the far corner¡ªbeyond Okafor''s reach. It was going in. Then¡ªBarnes. Out of nowhere, the captain flung himself across, throwing his body in the way. The ball slammed against his chest, ricocheting away. Muniz screamed for handball. The referee shook his head. Jake turned to Paul Robert. "They''re throwing everything at us." Paul nodded. "Yeah. And they still can''t break us." Bradford were bending. But they weren''t breaking. Final Whistle ¨C Bradford 1-0 Fulham The referee''s whistle cut through the roar of Valley Parade. Bradford had done it. Again. For the second year in a row, a Premier League opponent had walked in expecting to dictate the game¡ªonly to leave with nothing. The players collapsed to the turf, exhausted, drained, but victorious. Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he looked across the pitch. Okafor, arms raised, soaking in the moment. Barnes, fists clenched, roaring at the crowd. Richter, still buzzing, mobbed by teammates. The noise inside Valley Parade was deafening. Jake allowed himself the smallest of smirks. Not bad. Post-Match Reactions ¨C Another Upset, Another Statement The press room was full. Reporters jotted down notes, cameras flashed, microphones were angled toward him. Jake sat down, calm, composed. He had been here before. "Jake, another Premier League team knocked out. Did you expect this performance?" He didn''t hesitate. "I expect my team to show up in every game. That''s what they did." No arrogance. No unnecessary praise. Just a fact. Another journalist leaned in. "Do you think Fulham underestimated you?" Jake shrugged. "That''s a question for them. We didn''t care about their expectations¡ªwe focused on ours." Saidi''s Respect After the press conference, as Jake walked toward the tunnel, he spotted Saidi waiting for him. The former Bradford defender, now a Fulham regular, shook his head with a small smile. "You''re building something special here." Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. There was no bitterness. No excuses. Just respect. Jake met his gaze and nodded. "We''re just getting started." No need for anything more. Bradford advanced. And the football world was starting to take notice. Chapter 100 - 100: League Domination & Takeover Rumors Match 1: Huddersfield Vs Bradford (September 7, 4, 2024 ¨C Away) Huddersfield came into the match with a point to prove. Relegation had wounded them, and their fans demanded a response. From the first whistle, they played with an edge¡ªaggressive pressing, quick transitions, and a hunger that screamed desperation. Bradford had to weather the storm early. In the fifth minute, a dangerous cross from Huddersfield''s right-back looped toward the back post. Their striker leaped, nodding the ball down¡ªforcing Okafor into a sharp reaction save. He got a fingertip to it, pushing it wide before Barnes cleared the danger. Jake stood calmly on the touchline, watching. He''d seen teams like this before¡ªtoo eager, too reckless. They couldn''t sustain this energy. Bradford stayed composed, absorbing the pressure without panic. Then, the shift began. V¨¦lez started finding pockets of space, dictating play. Harper dropped deeper, connecting passes. Huddersfield''s press slowed. The gaps began to appear. And in the 32nd minute, Silva struck. It started with V¨¦lez, who read the play before it even developed. Anticipating a loose touch from Huddersfield''s midfield, he pounced¡ªstealing possession and instantly driving forward. Silva saw it happening and was already on the move. V¨¦lez''s pass was perfect, cutting through the retreating defenders like a scalpel. Silva took it in stride¡ªone touch to steady himself, another to rifle the ball low into the far corner. 1-0. The home crowd fell silent. The air shifted. Huddersfield had thrown everything at Bradford in the opening half-hour, but now they had nothing left. Their press faded. Their confidence drained. Bradford smelled blood. The second half was complete control. Huddersfield tried to respond, but their attacks became predictable¡ªhopeful long balls, rushed passes, shots from distance. Barnes and Min-jae were unshakable at the back, cutting out every threat before it materialized. Then, in the 67th minute, Costa put the game to bed. Harper, as composed as ever, received the ball in midfield and immediately spotted Costa peeling away from his marker. The pass was weighted to perfection, splitting the defense. Costa took a touch to evade the onrushing keeper, then coolly slotted the ball into the empty net. 2-0. Huddersfield had no answer. The final 20 minutes were a formality. Bradford dictated possession, managed the tempo, and saw out the win with professional ease. Three points. Another clean sheet. A perfect start to the month. Match 2: Bradford vs Bolton (September 14, 2024 ¨C Home) Bolton didn''t come to play pretty football. They came to disrupt, to frustrate, to make the game a battle rather than a contest. From the opening minutes, their game plan was clear¡ªpress hard, foul often, and never let Bradford settle. And it worked. Bradford struggled to find any kind of rhythm. Every time V¨¦lez received the ball, a Bolton midfielder was right on him. Harper barely had a second to look up before being clipped from behind. Silva and Mensah were double-marked out wide. It was messy, physical, and exactly the kind of game Bolton wanted. Then, Novak changed everything. 21'' ¨C For the first time all game, Silva found space on the right. He whipped in an early cross, more hopeful than precise. Novak still made something of it. With a defender draped over him, he twisted in mid-air, contorting his body to get just enough on the ball¡ªglancing it past the keeper and into the far corner. A goal from nothing. 1-0. Bolton didn''t panic. They stuck to their approach, turning the game into a scrap. Just before halftime, their persistence paid off. 39'' ¨C A deep free-kick was floated into the box. Barnes won the first header, but the ball pinballed between bodies. Min-jae tried to clear, but the ball deflected off a Bolton striker''s shin and rolled agonizingly over the line. A scrappy goal for a scrappy team. Jake didn''t overreact. He simply adjusted. Halftime Adjustments: Mensah was pushed higher to pin back Bolton''s full-back.V¨¦lez and Harper were told to move the ball quicker, one-touch passes to avoid the constant pressure. The impact was immediate. 53'' ¨C Richards burst forward down the right, finally finding space. His driven cross was low, powerful, and precise. Novak attacked it with purpose, arriving at the near post to fire a first-time strike into the roof of the net. Bolton were stunned. Their physicality was no longer an advantage. Now, they were chasing, stretched, struggling to keep up. Bradford controlled the rest of the match, managing possession and picking their moments. Then, in stoppage time, Mensah finished them off. 90+2'' ¨C A counterattack. Mensah received the ball on the left, drove at the exhausted Bolton right-back, then cut inside onto his stronger right foot. He didn''t hesitate. A curling shot bent around the keeper, nestling perfectly into the top corner. Game over. Another win. Another lesson learned. Match 3: Northampton vs Bradford (September 21, 2024 ¨C Away) This was control at its finest. Unlike the battles against Huddersfield and Bolton, there was no real fight here. No resistance. No unpredictability. From the moment the referee blew the whistle, there was only one team in charge. Bradford dictated everything¡ªpossession, tempo, territory. Northampton tried to press, but they were chasing shadows. Every pass, every movement from Jake''s side was precise, calculated. V¨¦lez controlled the midfield like a conductor, orchestrating attacks, pulling Northampton apart with his passing range. The backline? Unshakable. Barnes and Min-jae weren''t just defending¡ªthey were suffocating Northampton''s forwards, cutting off every run, stepping in before attacks could even materialize. Bradford just needed a goal. And in the 40th minute, they found it. 40'' ¨C Mensah, lively as ever, received the ball on the left, squared up his defender, then drove inside with a quick burst of acceleration. He unleashed a fierce shot toward the bottom corner¡ªparried away by the goalkeeper. But Costa was lurking. Right place, right time. He reacted first, smashing the rebound into the net before the keeper could recover. 1-0. Northampton''s resistance had been thin before¡ªnow, it was crumbling. In the second half, Bradford pressed forward with the same precision, looking for the goal that would kill the game. It came from a set piece. 61'' ¨C Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A corner from Harper, curling toward the penalty spot. Novak, marked but undeterred, rose above everyone¡ªhis header powerful, downward, unstoppable. 2-0. From there, it was routine. Bradford slowed the game down, passed Northampton into exhaustion, and saw out the match with ruthless efficiency. Another clean sheet. Another dominant win. Match 4: Bradford Vs Wigan (September 28, 2024 ¨C Home) The toughest game of the month. Not because Wigan were better, not because they created more chances, but because they refused to let Bradford play. From the first whistle, they disrupted everything. Every pass had pressure. Every dribble had a body in the way. Every second ball was a battle. They didn''t care about momentum or form. They came with a plan¡ªto frustrate, to waste time, to drag the game into a war of attrition. And for 80 minutes, it worked. Bradford controlled possession but couldn''t find a way through. Every cross was cleared. Every shot was blocked. Every attempt to force the game open was shut down. Wigan''s defensive wall held firm. Jake didn''t panic. He watched. He waited. He trusted. Then, in the 82nd minute, patience paid off. 82'' ¨C Goal! Raphael Mensah (1-0 Bradford) It was a rare moment of space. For the first time all game, Mensah found himself with a yard of room outside the box. Harper played the ball into his feet. A quick shift onto his stronger right foot. Then, a strike. Clean. Venomous. The ball rocketed past the Wigan keeper, crashing into the top corner. He didn''t even move. Valley Parade erupted. Jake simply exhaled. One chance. One moment. That was all it took. Bradford saw out the remaining minutes without issue. A perfect end to a perfect month. The Takeover Rumors ¨C Chaos Off the Pitch By the next morning, the focus had shifted. Bradford''s unbeaten start? The dominant wins? The growing momentum? None of that mattered anymore. Because football wasn''t the main story. Ownership was. BREAKING: REPORTS EMERGE OF A POTENTIAL BRADFORD CITY SALE. No confirmation. No official word from Henry Lowe. Just speculation. Just whispers. Just enough to set everything on fire. And that was all it took. The Fan Caf¨¦ exploded. ¡ª "Why now? We''re finally building something!" ¡ª "Who''s buying? Is it local or foreign money?" ¡ª "This is a distraction we don''t need!" Panic. Uncertainty. The kind of chaos that could destabilize a club. Jake saw the headlines. Heard the rumors. But no call came from the chairman. No emergency meeting. No behind-the-scenes discussion. Nothing. Which meant, for Jake, it wasn''t real. Until Henry Lowe spoke, until a decision was made, this was just noise. And Jake Wilson didn''t care about noise. He cared about football. He cared about winning. So while the media speculated, while the fans argued, while the club waited for answers¡ª Jake turned his focus to the next match. Because up next? The biggest test yet. Leeds United. A rivalry. A fight. And a chance to prove, once again, that Bradford City wasn''t a team to be taken lightly. Chapter 101 - 101: Pre-Match Analysis & Press Conference The Press Conference ¨C Fueling the Rivalry The media room was packed, buzzing with anticipation. Cameras flashed, microphones were positioned, and journalists wasted no time getting straight to the point. "Jake, how does it feel to face a rival like Leeds in a knockout game?" Jake leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. "It''s football," he said simply. "These games are for the fans. But for us? It''s just another match we have to win." There was no excess emotion. No dramatic buildup. Just a cold, matter-of-fact truth. The reporters weren''t satisfied. "Do you see this as a test of where Bradford stands against higher opposition?" Jake smirked slightly. "We don''t need tests. We know who we are." There was no arrogance in his tone¡ªjust certainty. Another journalist tried a different angle. "Leeds are Championship-level, packed with experience. Do you think your squad is ready for this level of intensity?" Jake folded his arms. "I guess we''ll find out, won''t we?" A few murmurs rippled through the room. He wasn''t giving them the nervous underdog story they were fishing for. "What''s your message to the fans ahead of this game?" Jake''s eyes locked on the reporter. His answer was simple. "Be loud." No long speeches. No overcomplicated analysis. The fans already knew what this game meant. The press conference ended shortly after, but outside, the city was already alive with debate. This was more than a cup tie. This was a war for bragging rights. System Prediction & Tactical Planning ???? System Prediction: Leeds (60%) vs. Bradford (35%) sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The odds were against them. Jake barely glanced at the numbers on his screen. The system had its calculations, its percentages, its cold, logical assessments. But this match wasn''t about logic. It wasn''t about league positions or squad value. This was about rivalry. The kind of game where the form book meant nothing. Where momentum could swing in an instant. Where one tackle, one moment of brilliance, one mistake, could define everything. Jake had seen it before. He''d played in them, coached in them. These weren''t normal games. They lived in their own world¡ªfueled by history, pride, and pure, raw emotion. So while the system calculated probabilities, Jake focused on the only numbers that mattered. Eleven against eleven. Ninety minutes. One winner. Leeds'' Strengths & WeaknessesLeeds'' Strengths: Blistering Pace in Attack Leeds didn''t just counterattack¡ªthey exploded forward. Daniel James and Wilfried Gnonto could turn a loose ball into a goal-scoring chance in seconds. They thrived in chaos, feeding off defensive hesitation. One misplaced pass, one second of indecision, and they were already gone, racing down the flanks, stretching the opposition, forcing defenders to scramble. Aerial Threat Joe Rodon and Pascal Struijk weren''t just tall¡ªthey were dominant. Every set piece, every long throw, every deep cross into the box was a danger. They didn''t just win headers; they attacked them, making it a nightmare for teams that weren''t switched on defensively. Leeds had scored plenty of goals this season from second balls, knocking it down for runners like Summerville and Piroe to pounce. Big Game Experience Leeds had been here before. Their squad was filled with players who had battled in the Premier League, fought through promotion races, and played under the brightest lights. Pressure didn''t shake them. High-stakes matches didn''t rattle them. They knew how to manage moments, how to slow the game when needed, how to impose themselves when the tide turned in their favor. Leeds'' Weaknesses: Overcommitted Pressing Leeds pressed relentlessly, hunting in packs, suffocating teams before they could build out from the back. But when that press was beaten? They were exposed. Their aggressive defensive line meant massive gaps in behind, spaces that could be exploited with the right movement and quick transitions. One sharp pass through midfield, one winger making a diagonal run, and suddenly, Leeds were scrambling. Full-Backs Under Pressure Their attacking intent left their full-backs vulnerable. Luke Ayling and Sam Byram loved to push forward, but in one-on-one situations, they struggled. When forced into isolated defensive duels, they were beatable¡ªespecially against wingers with pace and directness. If Silva and Mensah got the ball in space, Leeds'' defense could be stretched to its breaking point. Midfield Gaps Under Pressure Ethan Ampadu and Glen Kamara were strong defensively, but they weren''t the most comfortable under pressure. If Bradford could close them down quickly, deny them time on the ball, force them into rushed decisions, the entire Leeds buildup would suffer. V¨¦lez and Harper would be key¡ªif they dictated the tempo, if they moved the ball faster than Leeds could react, then the visitors would be forced to chase shadows. Jake had seen all of this before. Leeds were dangerous, but they weren''t invincible. They had weaknesses. And if Bradford executed the plan perfectly, those weaknesses would be exposed. Jake''s Tactical Blueprint High Press from the Start Leeds thrived on control. They wanted time to build, to dictate play, to impose themselves early. Jake''s plan? Take that comfort away. From the first whistle, Bradford would press high, closing passing lanes, forcing errors. Novak and Costa would harass the center-backs. V¨¦lez and Harper would step up aggressively, denying space for Ampadu and Kamara to dictate from deep. Leeds wouldn''t be allowed to settle. Every pass would be rushed. Every decision under pressure. Stretch the Field Silva and Mensah weren''t just there to create¡ªthey were there to disrupt. Leeds'' full-backs loved to push forward, but that left them vulnerable. Bradford''s wingers would stay wide, hugging the touchline, ready to break the moment possession turned over. Jake wanted them driving at defenders, forcing one-on-one situations. If Leeds'' full-backs hesitated¡ªjust for a second¡ªBradford would be in behind. Target the Midfield Battle Leeds'' midfield was physical, but that didn''t mean they were unbeatable. V¨¦lez and Harper weren''t just there to compete¡ªthey were there to dominate. Quick, precise passing. One-touch movement. Dragging Ampadu and Kamara out of position, forcing them into uncomfortable duels. If they could control the tempo, Leeds would be forced into reactive football, chasing shadows instead of dictating the game. Jake stood over the tactics board, his voice measured but firm. "Every mistake they make, we punish. No second chances." The message was clear. Leeds had weaknesses. Bradford had the plan. Now, it was about execution. Final Training Session ¨C The Mentality Check Bradford''s final training session wasn''t just about movement patterns and defensive shape¡ªit was about steel, about conviction. The floodlights cast long shadows across the pitch as players moved with a sense of purpose. Every pass was crisp. Every sprint was sharp. No one was going through the motions. This wasn''t a routine session. It was preparation for war. Jake stood at the edge of the pitch, arms crossed, watching. He didn''t need to shout. He didn''t need to push them harder. They knew what was coming. They could feel it in the air. Leeds weren''t just another opponent. This wasn''t just another cup match. It was personal. By the time the session wrapped up, the players gathered in a tight huddle, sweat dripping, breath still heavy. Jake took a step forward, his voice calm but firm. "We don''t fight for history," he said. "We fight for today." No theatrics. No long speeches. Just a single sentence that hung in the air. Silence. Then slow nods. No one needed more. As they walked off the pitch, there was no joking, no casual conversations, no relaxed banter. Only focus. Because tomorrow night, Valley Parade wouldn''t just host a football match. It would host a battle. Chapter 102 - 102: The Match – A War on the Pitch( BRADFORD VS LEEDS) Starting Lineups & Tactical SetupBradford City (4-4-2) GK: Emeka Okafor RB: James Richards CB: Nathan Barnes (C) CB: Kang Min-jae LB: Aiden Taylor CM: Elliot Harper CM: Santiago V¨¦lez RW: Renan Silva LW: Raphael Mensah ST: Lukas Novak ST: Guilherme Costa Leeds United (4-2-3-1) GK: Illan Meslier RB: Luke Ayling CB: Joe Rodon CB: Pascal Struijk LB: Sam Byram CDM: Ethan Ampadu CDM: Glen Kamara RW: Daniel James CAM: Crysencio Summerville LW: Wilfried Gnonto ST: Joel Piroe First Half ¨C The atmosphere inside Valley Parade was deafening, but Leeds were unfazed. From the first whistle, they pressed with ruthless intensity, forcing Bradford into rushed decisions. Passes were misplaced. Possession was sloppy. Every Bradford touch seemed to come with a Leeds player closing in like a predator sensing weakness. 8'' ¨C Daniel James burned down the right flank, his electric pace leaving Taylor behind. He cut inside, curling a dangerous cross toward Piroe. The Leeds striker lunged forward, meeting it with a glancing header. Okafor reacted. A diving save, fingertips pushing the ball just past the post. Bradford had survived¡ªbut just barely. Then, in the 18th minute, they weren''t so lucky. 18'' ¨C It started deep in Leeds'' own half. Ampadu, aggressive and alert, stepped in on V¨¦lez, winning the ball cleanly with a crunching challenge. The ball spilled to Summerville, who barely needed a second to assess his options. Bradford had been caught high up the pitch. One quick turn, one perfectly weighted pass¡ªSummerville released Gnonto in behind. Min-jae tried to recover, but Gnonto was already gone, accelerating past him with blistering speed. The Valley Parade crowd sucked in a breath as he entered the box. One touch. One shot. Low. Clinical. Past Okafor. Silence. For a brief moment, Valley Parade stood still. Then, the boos rained down. The hostility, the frustration¡ªit all poured out from the stands, cascading onto the pitch as Leeds players celebrated in front of the home fans. Jake didn''t flinch. He had expected this. Now, it was about how they responded. Bradford''s Response ¨C Bradford didn''t panic. Instead, they adjusted. Harper and V¨¦lez slowed the game down, dictating possession. Instead of forcing attacks, they moved the ball with patience, making Leeds chase. The momentum started shifting. 27'' ¨C Close Call! Silva danced past Byram on the right flank, cutting into the box before delivering a low cross. Novak met it, striking first time¡ªbut Meslier was sharp, diving low to parry it away. Bradford were knocking. 34'' ¨C Another Chance! Mensah, isolated on the left, decided to take matters into his own hands. He faked outside, then burst inside, curling a shot toward the top corner. It looked destined for the net. But Meslier got the slightest touch, tipping it onto the crossbar before Struijk cleared the danger. Jake clenched his jaw. They were close. But close wasn''t good enough. Then, just before halftime¡ªfinally¡ªa breakthrough. 40'' ¨C V¨¦lez started it. A sharp interception in midfield, reading Kamara''s pass before it even left his boot. One touch forward. Then another. Then a perfectly timed ball to Silva on the right. Silva didn''t hesitate. He cut inside, dancing through two challenges, dragging defenders out of position. Then¡ªjust as it seemed like he''d take the shot himself¡ªhe squared it across the box. Novak arrived. A single touch. A ruthless strike. The net rippled. Valley Parade erupted. Novak turned away, pounding his chest as he sprinted toward the corner flag, roaring in celebration. Bradford had struck back. And this match was just getting started. Second Half ¨C Chaos Unleashed The match turned ugly. Every tackle came with extra venom. Every duel became a personal battle. Bradford''s players weren''t backing down, and Leeds didn''t know how to handle it. 47'' ¨C Tempers Flare Novak pressed Rodon aggressively, forcing a panicked clearance. The ball barely left Leeds'' half before Richards won it back, recycling play instantly. Rodon, still frustrated from the press, left a late shove on Novak. Novak turned, stepping toward him. Words were exchanged. Shoves followed. The referee sprinted in, separating them before it escalated further. Both players received a warning, but the tone was set¡ªthis was war. 53'' ¨C Mensah Taken Out ¨C More Yellows Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mensah broke forward, beating Ayling with a quick burst of pace. Just as he looked set to deliver a cross, Ampadu came flying in¡ªlate, reckless, clattering into him. Valley Parade roared for a red card. The referee hesitated. Then¡ªyellow. Bradford''s bench erupted in protest, but the decision stood. The game was slipping from the official''s control. Then came the moment that changed everything. 60'' ¨C Kamara, already carrying a yellow, lost patience. A reckless lunge¡ªstuds up, high, catching V¨¦lez late. V¨¦lez went down, grimacing in pain. The Bradford bench jumped to their feet. Valley Parade demanded justice. The referee wasted no time. Straight red. Leeds'' players swarmed the official, furious. The protests were loud, but the decision wasn''t changing. Kamara walked off, shaking his head. Bradford had the advantage. Now, it was about making it count. Jake''s Tactical Shift Jake wasted no time. "Push them back," he told his wingers. Silva and Mensah hugged the touchlines, stretching the already weakened Leeds backline. V¨¦lez dropped deeper, dictating the tempo, spraying passes left and right, making Leeds chase shadows. They were retreating now, holding on, absorbing wave after wave of pressure. Jake saw his moment. 65'' ¨C Substitutions Tobias Richter replaced Costa ¨C More pace in attack. Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez replaced Harper ¨C Extra energy in midfield. Bradford''s intent was clear. Relentless pressure followed. Leeds barely escaped their own half, clearing desperately, defending deeper and deeper. 79'' ¨C Leeds were rattled. Exhausted. Every clearance was rushed, every pass under pressure. Bradford smelled blood. And V¨¦lez was the first to strike. As Struijk attempted a sideways pass to Ampadu, V¨¦lez stepped in, cutting it out cleanly. One touch to settle. One glance up. Richter was already on the move. The pass was perfect¡ªthreaded through the heart of the Leeds defense. Richter sprinted onto it. First touch immaculate. Second touch¡ªa composed finish past Meslier. Valley Parade erupted. Bradford had turned the game around. Now, they had to hold on. Final Moments ¨C Leeds, desperate, threw everything forward. Bradford defended with their lives. 88'' ¨C Leeds'' Last Chance A deep cross. Piroe rose highest, nodding it toward goal. Okafor reacted instantly, palming it away with a stunning reflex save. The ball fell to Summerville. Barnes slid in with a heroic block. Still 2-1. Jake clenched his fists on the touchline. Almost there. 90+5'' ¨C Full-Time Whistle The referee''s whistle finally blew. Valley Parade erupted. Bradford had done it. But the night wasn''t over. Post-Match Chaos ¨C Novak, still riding the adrenaline, turned toward the Leeds bench. He didn''t say a word. He just stood there, arms outstretched, grinning. That was enough. A Leeds defender snapped, shoving Novak in the chest. Novak didn''t back down. He stepped forward, standing his ground. More players rushed in. Pushing. Shouting. Chaos. Security stormed the pitch. It took five minutes to calm the situation. When the dust settled, the referee called both captains over. His decision: Red card for Novak. Red card for the Leeds defender. The celebrations continued, but the night had turned ugly. Jake exhaled, rubbing his temples. They had won, but at a cost. Post-Match Press Conference ¨C The media room was packed, the air thick with tension. The match had ended, but the chaos lingered. Reporters weren''t just here for a breakdown of the game. They wanted answers. The first question came instantly. "Jake, thoughts on the chaos at the end?" Jake leaned forward slightly, his face unreadable. "It''s a derby. Things happen." No excuses. No dramatics. Just the reality of what had unfolded. The reporters pressed on. "Leeds'' manager claims the red card ruined the game. Your response?" Jake didn''t blink. "We were the better team before the red card, and we were the better team after it." The Leeds manager had been vocal in the post-match interview, fuming about the officiating. "The referee cost us the game. The red card changed everything," he had claimed. But Jake wasn''t interested in what-ifs. "The red card wasn''t why we won," he added. "We won because we took our chances. Simple as that." Then came the inevitable question about Novak''s dismissal. "Novak''s celebration sparked the late chaos. Do you think he went too far?" Jake exhaled through his nose, measuring his words. "Emotions were high. These are the kind of games where players live for the moments. It got heated. It happens." Novak himself had already addressed it in the tunnel. When asked about the incident, his answer had been as blunt as ever. "They were talking all game. I gave them something to talk about." A few chuckles rippled through the press room. One final question. "Jake, this is another upset. Another win against a bigger club. What does this say about your team?" Jake folded his arms. "They tried to bully us," he said simply. "We didn''t blink." Bradford City had advanced. Leeds had been beaten. Another cup upset. Another statement made. And a rivalry that had just been reignited. Chapter 103 - 103: The Ghost of Kaiserslautern Jake Wilson sat in his office, staring at the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. He had done this search a hundred times in his mind but never had the nerve to actually type it out. But tonight was different. His hands moved on their own. "Ethan Carter, Kaiserslautern, death." The results loaded instantly. The headlines felt like a punch to the gut. "One Year Since the Loss of Ethan Carter ¨C Kaiserslautern''s Unfinished Story." "A Manager''s Last Victory: The Night That Took Ethan Carter." "Remembering The Cursed Manager: Fans Gather to Honor Carter''s Legacy." Jake leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He knew this day would come¡ªthe day he would finally confront his past, acknowledge the man he used to be. But knowing and facing it were two different things. A memorial. They were holding a memorial for him. For Ethan Carter. For the man he used to be. Jake clicked on one of the articles. The screen filled with a familiar sight¡ªthe entrance of the Fritz-Walter-Stadion, bathed in candlelight. A massive banner hung over the gates, his old face staring back at him. His old club, FC Kaiserslautern, was organizing the ceremony. Former players, staff, and fans were expected to attend. They would gather to honor the man they had spent years ridiculing¡ªthe manager they had once labeled a failure. For a decade, Ethan Carter had been a joke. The man who couldn''t win. The man who never lived up to expectations. Now, he was a tragedy. Jake''s hands curled into fists. Why now? Why did it take dying for them to see his worth? He should leave it alone. Ignore it. Move forward. Focus on Bradford. But he couldn''t. His past wasn''t finished with him. Jake booked a flight to Germany that night. The air in Kaiserslautern was as he remembered¡ªcold, sharp, familiar. The city hadn''t changed, but Jake had. He walked the streets with a sense of uncanny detachment. The old buildings, the faint scent of fresh bread from the bakery at the corner of the street, the constant sound of the tram moving through the city, it was all the same. And yet, everything felt different. It had been over a year since Ethan Carter had died, and for the people here, that was all he was now. A memory. A story. A name attached to a tragic night. Jake kept his hood up, his hands in his pockets, as he made his way toward the stadium. He knew the path well, even though his body had never walked it before. The closer he got, the heavier his steps became. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Candles flickered at the entrance of the Fritz-Walter-Stadion, their soft glow reflecting in the eyes of those gathered. Fans stood in clusters, some quietly murmuring, others simply staring at the large banner draped over the entrance. It bore Ethan Carter''s face¡ªhis old face. The same tired eyes, the same furrowed brow. A face he had left behind. Scarves had been tied to the gates. Flowers lay beneath the banner, alongside notes written in German. Some were messages of thanks. Others, apologies. "You deserved better." "Gone too soon." "Danke f¨¹r alles, Carter." Jake stayed at the back, hidden in the shadows, watching. A former player stepped forward to speak, his voice thick with emotion. "He wasn''t perfect. But he believed in us when no one else did." Jake''s throat tightened. They were talking about him. And yet, they weren''t. His eyes scanned the small crowd until they landed on a familiar face. Markus Reinhardt¡ªhis old assistant. His hair had more gray in it now. He looked older, heavier, burdened. Markus stepped up to the microphone, clearing his throat before speaking. "He never got to celebrate that victory," Markus said, his voice cracking. "But that night, for the first time, Ethan Carter wasn''t a joke. He was a winner. And that''s how we should remember him." Jake swallowed hard, looking away. The emotions clawed at his chest, threatening to spill over. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain still. They had spent years doubting him, mocking him. But now, when he was gone, they finally saw him for who he had been. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was easier to love the dead. After the ceremony, he didn''t head to a hotel. He took a taxi to a small house on the outskirts of town. His grandmother''s house. The place Ethan Carter had always considered home, long after everything else in his life had crumbled. Jake stood at the edge of the driveway, staring at the familiar structure. It looked smaller than he remembered. The paint on the shutters was peeling. The garden, once carefully tended, had started to grow wild. And there, sitting on the porch, bundled in a thick coat, was her. She sat with a steaming cup of tea, hands wrapped around it for warmth. Her gaze was distant, lost in the sky, as if searching for something¡ªsomeone¡ªshe had long since lost. Jake hesitated before stepping forward. "Excuse me," he said softly. Her head turned. Eyes¡ªold, wise, and endlessly kind¡ªlanded on him. "Yes?" Jake forced a small smile. "I¡­ I was a friend of Ethan''s." Her expression changed instantly. Her lips parted slightly, then closed again as she studied him. "You knew my grandson?" Jake nodded. "Yes. I just¡­ I wanted to make sure you were okay." She let out a soft breath, setting her cup down with slightly trembling fingers. "People don''t ask about me much anymore. Only when the anniversary comes." Jake swallowed the lump in his throat and sat beside her, clasping his hands together. "He talked about you a lot." A gentle smile touched her face. "Ethan was a stubborn boy. But he had a good heart. A hard life, but a good heart." Jake inhaled sharply, his chest tightening. "He really did." The afternoon passed in quiet conversation. Jake helped around the house¡ªfixing a loose step on the porch, carrying groceries, adjusting a leaky faucet. She told stories. Stories he already knew. Stories he had lived. He listened to them anyway, laughed at memories that still burned, pretended to be someone else while sitting in the only place that had ever truly felt like home. It was both comforting and agonizing. She never suspected. Never questioned. To her, he was just a kind stranger who had cared about her grandson. And for now, that was enough. As night fell, Jake stood at her door, feeling heavier than ever. She studied him for a long moment before speaking. "You remind me of him." Jake''s breath caught. She smiled, faint but certain. "You have his eyes. The same sadness." His hands clenched at his sides. "Maybe he just had a lot to regret." Her gaze softened. "No. He had a lot to be proud of." Jake held her stare, feeling something deep inside him crack, something he wasn''t sure he could fix. For the first time that day, he allowed himself to smile. "Thank you," he murmured. She reached out and patted his hand gently. "Take care of yourself, young man. And if you ever find yourself in town again¡­ my door is always open." Jake nodded, turned, and walked away. The flight back to England was quiet. He sat by the window, staring at the sky, the weight of his past pressing down on him. As the plane took off, a single tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away before anyone could see. Ethan Carter was dead. But Jake Wilson still had a future to build. And he wouldn''t waste it. Chapter 104 - 104: League Form - Continuing the Domination The October fixture list was supposed to be a test. Five matches. A relentless schedule. Different tactical battles. Some teams would try to outplay them. Others would sit deep, frustrate, waste time, and look for a lucky moment. Bradford handled them all. They didn''t just win. They imposed themselves. Controlled matches. Adapted to every scenario. Found different ways to break teams down. Some games were dominant, free-flowing performances where Bradford overwhelmed their opponents. Others? Hard-fought victories. Matches where they had to be patient, grind through resistance, and take their chances when they came. No matter the challenge, the result was always the same. Three points. Another win. Another step closer to promotion. The message was clear¡ªno one could stop them. Match 1: Lincoln City vs Bradford (October 1, 2024 ¨C Away) Lincoln didn''t come to play football. They came to disrupt. They pressed hard, made every challenge a physical battle, and slowed the tempo at every opportunity. If they couldn''t beat Bradford, they would make sure they suffered for every inch of space. For 30 minutes, it worked. Lincoln''s midfield sat compact, forcing V¨¦lez and Harper to recycle possession rather than dictate play. Every time Silva or Mensah tried to break forward, a Lincoln defender was there, cutting off the run, forcing a back pass. But games like these weren''t won by patience alone. They needed a moment of quality. And in the 34th minute, V¨¦lez delivered it. 34'' ¨C A half-second of hesitation from a Lincoln defender. That was all V¨¦lez needed. A perfectly weighted through ball, threaded between two defenders, cutting Lincoln''s backline wide open. Novak was already in motion. His first touch was immaculate, taking the ball into his stride. One-on-one with the keeper. No doubt in his mind. Low. Ruthless. Back of the net. Bradford had broken the deadlock. Lincoln''s defensive shape collapsed with it. The second half was a different game. Bradford had control. Total control. Lincoln no longer pressed with the same intensity. The spaces started appearing. Silva found more of the ball, drifting into central areas, linking up with V¨¦lez and Harper. Then, in the 67th minute, he finished the job. 67'' ¨C A free-kick. 25 yards out. Silva stood over the ball, eyes locked on the top corner. The whistle blew. One step. Then another. A perfectly struck shot. The ball curled over the wall, dipping viciously at the last moment. The Lincoln keeper dived. Too late. The net rippled. Bradford fans erupted. The game was over. Lincoln knew it. The final 20 minutes passed with no resistance. Another win. Another clean sheet. Another reminder that this team was built for promotion. Match 2: Bradford vs Stockport County (October 5, 2024 ¨C Home) A packed Valley Parade. A rotated squad. Same Bradford dominance. With a long season ahead, Jake made wholesale changes¡ªresting key players and giving others a chance to shine. Jack Simmons stepped into goal, Noah Fletcher replaced Barnes in defense, and in midfield, Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez partnered Lewis Chapman. Out wide, Leo Rasmussen and Ethan Walsh were handed rare starts. But there was no drop in quality. From the opening whistle, Bradford suffocated Stockport. Passes zipped through midfield. Runs were sharp. The tempo was relentless. And in the 14th minute, they broke through. 14'' ¨C It started with Mensah, who had been a nightmare for Stockport''s right-back. A burst of acceleration, a drop of the shoulder, and he was gone, racing to the byline before cutting it back across goal. Costa, instinctive as ever, ghosted between the center-backs and tapped in from six yards. A simple finish. A ruthless start. Stockport, to their credit, responded. They didn''t crumble. They regrouped, tightened up, and fought back. And in the 33rd minute, they found a way through. A deep free-kick was sent into the box. Fletcher rose to clear it, but the ball bounced awkwardly. In the scramble, a Stockport forward reacted quickest, bundling it home from close range. 1-1. For the first time, Valley Parade went quiet. Jake didn''t react. He simply watched. How would his rotated side respond? Second Half ¨C Taking Back Control Bradford emerged after the break with renewed purpose. The passing was sharper. The pressing was relentless. Ib¨¢?ez and Chapman started dominating midfield, shifting the ball quickly and dragging Stockport out of position. Then came the moment of brilliance. 55'' ¨C A loose ball rolled toward V¨¦lez 30 yards out. Most players would look to pass. He had other ideas. One step forward. A clean, rising strike. The ball soared through the air, swerving past the outstretched keeper, crashing into the back of the net. Valley Parade exploded. V¨¦lez didn''t celebrate. Just a nod, a quiet smirk. Job not done. Stockport had no response. They had spent everything keeping up in the first half. Now? Now, they were chasing shadows. Jake made his final changes¡ªbringing on Tobias Richter for Costa and Daniel Lowe to tighten midfield. Bradford controlled the final 20 minutes, dictating tempo, forcing Stockport to play at their pace. Then, in stoppage time, they ended it. 90+2'' ¨C A classic counterattack. Ib¨¢?ez won the ball in midfield, played it forward to Richter, who drew in the last defender before sliding a pass across to Novak. The Czech forward didn''t hesitate. One touch. One powerful finish. Game over. Full-Time: Bradford 3-1 Stockport County. A rotated squad. Same dominance. Another three points. Match 3: Crawley Town vs Bradford (October 12, 2024 ¨C Away) The toughest game of the month. Crawley defended deep, played physical, and wasted time at every opportunity. They made life miserable for Bradford''s midfield, shutting down space and forcing sloppy passes. Then, a disaster¡ªCrawley took the lead in the 48th minute after a rare defensive lapse. For the first time in weeks, Bradford trailed. Jake didn''t panic. He made instant changes, pushing Silva into a free role and bringing on Richter. The response? Immediate. Novak equalized in the 65th minute, bundling home a scrappy goal after a goalmouth scramble. Then, in the 88th minute, V¨¦lez delivered the moment of the match¡ªa lofted pass over the top, finding Silva in space. Silva controlled it on his chest, took a breath, then lashed it into the top corner. Bradford escaped with a win. And Jake''s fist pump at full-time said everything. Match 4: Bradford vs Leyton Orient (October 19, 2024 ¨C Home) This wasn''t just a routine league game. It was a chance to see the future. Jake completely overhauled the squad, resting nearly every senior player and giving the academy boys their moment. A gamble? Maybe. But these were the kinds of games where young talent had to prove themselves. Bradford''s Major Rotations for This Match Jack Simmons (Goalkeeper) ¨C Given a rare start in place of Okafor. Noah Fletcher & Marco Bianchi (Center-Backs) ¨C The young duo paired together for the first time. Lewis Hart & Julian Rojas (Full-Backs) ¨C More academy blood in the defensive line. Lewis Chapman & Santiago V¨¦lez (Midfield) ¨C Chapman was given the armband, V¨¦lez told to dictate the tempo. Leo Rasmussen & Ethan Walsh (Wingers) ¨C A full academy wing partnership. Tobias Richter & Diego Castell¨®n (Strikers) ¨C Both needed minutes, especially Castell¨®n, who was still working his way back to form. No Novak. No Silva. No Mensah. No Harper. This was the next generation''s time to shine. First Half Leyton Orient set up deep, expecting an easy night against an inexperienced Bradford side. They were wrong. Bradford came out flying, pressing aggressively, moving the ball quickly. V¨¦lez, despite being just 18, looked like a seasoned veteran, dictating the tempo, spraying passes across the pitch. Then, in the 8th minute, Bradford struck. Harper wasn''t even supposed to play in this match. Jake had planned to rest him completely. But a minor injury to Ib¨¢?ez forced him into action at the last second¡ªand he made the most of it. A slick passing move saw V¨¦lez and Chapman work the ball upfield before Harper drove forward and unleashed a thunderous strike from 20 yards. The net rippled violently. The Valley Parade crowd erupted. The kids weren''t just here to take part. They were here to dominate. Leyton Orient barely had time to recover before they were punished again. This time, it was pure striker''s instinct from Richter. A floated free-kick from Chapman into the box led to chaos¡ªthe ball bouncing awkwardly off a defender. Richter, always alert, reacted first, smashing home from close range. 2-0. Bradford were in complete control. Leyton Orient had no answer. Second Half ¨C The Academy Takes Over The second half was about game management and finishing the job. Bradford slowed the tempo but still looked dangerous every time they broke forward. Then came the goal everyone in the stadium wanted. The 19-year-old Danish winger Leo Rasmussen had been waiting for this moment. He had watched Silva and Mensah dominate all season, biding his time. And in the 64th minute, he delivered. Cutting inside from the left, he skipped past one defender, then another, then unleashed a curling effort that sailed into the far corner. A dream goal. His celebration? Falling to his knees, fists clenched, overwhelmed by the moment. The Valley Parade crowd gave him a standing ovation. Jake, watching from the touchline, just smiled. The next generation was here. Just when it seemed like the match would finish quietly, another academy graduate made his mark. Walsh, playing on the right after Rasmussen was subbed off, picked up a loose ball just outside the box. One touch to control. One quick look up. Then¡ªa driven shot that squeezed past the keeper''s near post. 4-0. Another academy goal. Another statement victory. Full-Time: Bradford 4-0 Leyton Orient The kids didn''t just survive. They thrived. This wasn''t just three points. This was a glimpse into the future. Match 5: Shrewsbury Town vs Bradford (October 26, 2024 ¨C Away) A defensive grind. Shrewsbury parked the bus, refusing to let Bradford play. They defended in numbers, wasted time, and waited for set-piece opportunities. Jake remained patient. The breakthrough came in the 74th minute¡ªCosta peeling off his marker, receiving a sharp pass from V¨¦lez, and smashing it into the net. Bradford shut the game down. Another 1-0 masterclass. Another clean sheet. League Table ¨C Bradford On Top By the end of October, the table wasn''t even close. Bradford City ¨C 14 Wins, 0 Draws, 0 Losses ¨C 42 Points ¨C GD +31Barnsley ¨C 10 Wins, 2 Draws, 2 Losses ¨C 32 PointsBirmingham ¨C 9 Wins, 3 Draws, 2 Losses ¨C 30 PointsBlackpool ¨C 9 Wins, 2 Draws, 3 Losses ¨C 29 PointsPeterborough ¨C 8 Wins, 3 Draws, 3 Losses ¨C 27 Points Bradford had opened a 10-point gap. Their goal difference was better than anyone''s total goals conceded. This wasn''t just promotion form. This was historical dominance. Press Conference ¨C "Is Bradford Too Good For League One?" The room was packed. Cameras rolled. Journalists didn''t hold back. "Jake, 14 wins in 14 games. 38 goals scored. Seven conceded. Is it fair to say Bradford is too good for this league?" Jake smirked slightly, leaning into the mic. "I don''t deal in ''too good.'' We play football. We win games. That''s the job." A follow-up came instantly. "The Championship is already being discussed. Do you feel like your team belongs there already?" Jake shook his head. "We haven''t won anything yet. The moment you start thinking about next season, you lose focus on this one." Another reporter jumped in. "With all due respect, you''re on pace for 100+ points. If this isn''t Championship quality, what is?" Jake''s expression remained unreadable. "Let''s talk again in May." Media Reaction ¨C The Debate Begins Sky Sports Debate Panel: "Is this the most dominant League One team ever?" "Jake Wilson has built a machine. Nobody in this league is on their level." "They''re playing Championship-level football already." BBC Football Report: "If Bradford keeps this up, we could be witnessing history." "Their attacking numbers are ridiculous." "This isn''t a promotion battle¡ªit''s a coronation." Fan Caf¨¦ Explodes ¨C "We''re Going Up!" Bradford''s online fan community was on fire. "14 WINS OUT OF 14!!! We''re going to walk this league!" "We might be the best League One team ever. Just give us the trophy now." "Forget promotion¡ªwe need to prepare for the Championship NOW!" "I trust Jake, but I hope we don''t get complacent. Still a long way to go." Some fans even joked about setting point records. Others? They were already thinking bigger. "Premier League in two years?" For Jake Wilson, it was just noise. They hadn''t won anything yet. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And next? A bigger challenge awaited. A Premier League opponent. Arsenal. Bradford had already taken down Fulham. They had beaten Leeds. Now, they were about to face their toughest test yet. And Jake Wilson was ready. Chapter 105 - 105: Pre-Match Analysis & Build-Up The Biggest Test Yet Bradford had faced Premier League opposition before. They had beaten Fulham. They had survived the war against Leeds. But this? This was Arsenal. Not just another Premier League side¡ªone of England''s elite. A club that played Champions League football, a team filled with international stars who had competed at the highest level. A club that expected to win. Jake sat in his office, eyes fixed on his laptop screen, watching Arsenal''s latest match. He had already seen it twice, but this time, he focused on the details. The subtle movements. The patterns that weren''t obvious at first glance. Arsenal''s passing was crisp, their off-the-ball movement constant. They didn''t allow opponents to settle, suffocating them with relentless pressing. If a team tried to play out from the back, Arsenal swarmed them like a pack of wolves. If a team sat deep, they picked them apart with patience, working the ball from side to side, waiting for a mistake. Jake exhaled, leaning back in his chair. They were a machine. Efficient. Ruthless. Designed to win. But machines had faults. Tiny malfunctions. And sometimes? Machines broke. Jake Wilson intended to find the cracks¡ªand shatter them. Press Conference ¨C Facing Arsenal The press room was packed beyond capacity. This wasn''t just the usual mix of local and national reporters¡ªthere were journalists from Sky Sports, BBC, and even international outlets. Cameras flashed, microphones crowded the table, and every seat was filled. Bradford''s cup run had already turned heads, but now? Now they were a story. The moment Jake sat down, the questions came fast. "Jake, you''ve already beaten two Premier League sides in this competition. But this is Arsenal. A top-four club, a team playing in the Champions League. Does this feel like a different challenge?" Jake met the journalist''s gaze, unfazed. "Every opponent presents a different challenge. But every game has a winner. We plan on being that winner." A few reporters chuckled. Others scribbled notes, already shaping their headlines. "Arsenal''s manager said you deserve credit for your run, but that, ultimately, this is where it ends. Any response?" Jake allowed himself a small smirk. "If football was that predictable, we wouldn''t need to play the game." The room buzzed. Another reporter jumped in. "Are you preparing for this game differently compared to Fulham and Leeds?" Jake nodded slightly. "Arsenal demand a different kind of approach. They play at a higher tempo, with more movement, more layers to their attack. But the core of our preparation stays the same¡ªstudy them, find their weaknesses, and execute." A Sky Sports journalist leaned forward. "Most clubs at your level would sit deep and try to frustrate Arsenal. Are you planning to take a more aggressive approach?" Jake''s expression didn''t change. "We respect Arsenal''s quality. They''re an elite side. But we don''t play scared. We don''t park the bus and hope for a miracle. We play our football." The room fell silent for a second. It wasn''t arrogance, it wasn''t bravado¡ªit was just a statement of fact. Bradford weren''t here to survive. They were here to compete. "Final question," a reporter from BBC said. "A lot of people see this as the end of the road for Bradford in this competition. Do you?" Jake sat back, adjusting the microphone slightly. "We''ll see after 90 minutes." The press conference ended, and as Jake walked out, he could already see the headlines writing themselves. Bradford City weren''t just happy to be here. They were coming for Arsenal. Breaking Down Arsenal ¨C Strengths & Weaknesses The tactics room was silent except for the hum of the projector as footage played on the screen. Arsenal''s latest matches. Patterns of movement. Pressing triggers. Defensive gaps. Jake stood at the front, arms crossed, watching intently. He had faced Premier League teams before¡ªbut this was different. This was Arsenal. He turned to his coaching staff, voice calm but firm. "We''re not just here to survive. We''re here to find a way through them." The staff nodded. The breakdown began. Arsenal''s Strengths Elite Technical Ability ¨C Arsenal''s midfield wasn''t just good¡ªit was world-class. ?degaard pulled the strings with his vision, Rice provided the defensive shield, and Jorginho dictated the tempo with his precise passing. If Bradford let them settle, they''d be forced to chase shadows. Overlapping Full-Backs ¨C Tierney and Tomiyasu weren''t traditional full-backs. They operated more like auxiliary wingers, stretching defenses and creating overloads in wide areas. If Bradford didn''t track their runs, Arsenal would have a field day. Ruthless Finishing ¨C Martinelli, Trossard, and Sterling didn''t waste chances. Give them space, and they''d punish even the smallest mistake. They weren''t the kind of players to need five shots to score. One was enough. Jake paused the video, showing an Arsenal attack in full flow. "This is what happens when you sit too deep. They move the ball too fast, drag defenders out of position, and before you know it¡ªgoal." His staff exchanged glances. They already knew Arsenal''s strengths. Now, they had to find their weaknesses. Arsenal''s Weaknesses Vulnerable in Transition ¨C Arsenal''s high press was relentless, but it had a flaw. They pushed so many players forward that if the first press was broken, they were wide open. If Bradford played through the pressure quickly, they could attack with numbers. Set-Piece Frailty ¨C For all their technical brilliance, Arsenal weren''t the most physical team. Saliba was dominant in the air, but beyond him, they could be bullied on corners and free-kicks. Second-String Chemistry ¨C Rotation was Arsenal''s biggest double-edged sword. Their squad depth was immense, but not all of these players started together regularly. They weren''t always in sync. Against a disciplined, well-drilled side, that lack of chemistry could be exposed. Jake let the analysis settle before speaking again. "They''ll press us like hell," he said, tapping the screen. "But if we break that first line? We''re in." His staff nodded. The plan was taking shape. Now, all that was left was execution Jake''s Tactical Blueprint ¨C The Plan to Break Arsenal The meeting room was tense, but not with fear. With focus. The coaching staff sat around the tactics board, players leaning forward in their seats. Every detail mattered now. This wasn''t just about matching Arsenal. It was about exposing them. Jake picked up a marker and circled three key areas on the board. "Everything we do has to be disciplined," he began. "They''ll have possession. They''ll probe. They''ll try to drag us apart. We don''t let them." S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 1. Compact Defense ¨C Control the Spaces "Barnes, Min-jae¡ªthis starts with you." Bradford''s center-backs weren''t just defenders tonight. They were the foundation. Arsenal''s attack revolved around movement, quick interchanges, and passing triangles designed to pull defenses apart. Barnes and Min-jae had one job¡ªstay disciplined. No reckless challenges. No unnecessary step-ups. Arsenal thrived when defenders were drawn out of position. If ?degaard or Rice found a pocket of space, they had to be shadowed, not lunged at. "If they get between the lines, don''t panic," Jake instructed. "Delay. Disrupt. Buy time for midfield to recover." Richards and Taylor, the full-backs, had to be aware too. Arsenal''s wingers loved to cut inside, dragging defenders away for the overlapping full-backs. "We don''t bite on the first move. We track runners. We defend as a unit." 2. Exploit the Flanks ¨C Silva and Mensah Must Stretch Arsenal Jake underlined the wide areas on the board. "Tierney. Tomiyasu." He tapped their names. "They love to bomb forward. But that leaves gaps." Silva and Mensah weren''t just attacking threats tonight. They were Arsenal''s biggest headache. "They''ll expect us to sit deep and let them control the flanks. We''re not doing that," Jake continued. "Every time we win the ball, it goes wide immediately. I want Silva and Mensah isolating their full-backs one-on-one. If we stretch them, we open up space inside for Novak and V¨¦lez." The wingers nodded, understanding the assignment. This wasn''t a game for half-measures. If they had space, they were taking on their man. 3. Counterattack Threat ¨C Novak and Richter Must Capitalize on Every Mistake Jake walked over to Novak and Richter, who sat side by side. "Tonight isn''t about volume," he told them. "It''s about efficiency." Bradford wouldn''t get 20 chances against Arsenal. They might get five. Maybe even fewer. "But when they come?" Jake''s voice hardened. "You finish them." Arsenal would press high, throwing bodies forward. The moment they lost the ball, they''d scramble to recover¡ªbut that moment of transition was where they were vulnerable. Richter''s speed. Novak''s positioning. V¨¦lez''s ability to pick a pass. That was the key. "Every transition has to be deadly," Jake reinforced, his eyes scanning the room. "One mistake from them, and we punish." The players nodded. They had their roles. They had their orders. Now, it was about execution. Final Training Session ¨C Locked In The atmosphere was different. No one was joking around. No lighthearted banter. Just focus. Every passing drill was sharp. Every sprint carried extra purpose. Jake watched from the sideline, arms crossed. He didn''t need to say much. They knew what was at stake. At the end of the session, he gathered them in a huddle. "We''ve heard it all," he said. "They think we''re a nice little story. That this is where it ends." He let the words hang in the air. "Tomorrow, we show them otherwise." No one spoke. No one needed to. Bradford City was ready. Chapter 106 - 106: BRADFORD VS ARSENAL Starting Lineups & Tactical Setup Bradford City (4-4-2) GK: Emeka Okafor RB: James Richards CB: Nathan Barnes (C) CB: Kang Min-jae LB: Aiden Taylor CM: Elliot Harper CM: Santiago V¨¦lez RW: Renan Silva LW: Raphael Mensah ST: Lukas Novak ST: Tobias Richter Tactical Plan: Stay compact, absorb pressure early.Attack Arsenal''s high line with quick transitions.Set-pieces could be the key against Arsenal''s frail defensive structure. Arsenal (4-3-3) GK: David Raya RB: Takehiro Tomiyasu CB: William Saliba CB: Gabriel Magalh?es LB: Kieran Tierney CM: Declan Rice CM: Jorginho CAM: Martin ?degaard RW: Bukayo Saka LW: Gabriel Martinelli ST: Kai Havertz Arsenal''s Approach: Control possession and wear Bradford down.Use overlapping full-backs to create width.High pressing to suffocate Bradford''s buildup play. Kickoff ¨C The moment the referee blew his whistle, Arsenal fell into their rhythm. Quick, sharp passes. Calm control. The effortless swagger of a team that had done this a thousand times before. This was supposed to be routine. Bradford weren''t here to be routine. From the opening moments, Jake''s team made their intentions clear. This wasn''t going to be a 90-minute training session for Arsenal. Every time Arsenal''s defenders had the ball, Novak and Richter hounded them, cutting off passing lanes, forcing them sideways instead of forward. In midfield, V¨¦lez and Harper didn''t just sit back¡ªthey stepped up, snapping into tackles, pressing aggressively, refusing to give Arsenal''s creators time to breathe. The first warning came in the 6th minute. Arsenal, playing out from the back, tried to work it through the middle. Declan Rice, usually so composed, took one extra touch. Harper was on him instantly, robbing possession and sliding the ball wide to Silva. Silva darted past Tomiyasu, surged into the box, and fired a low cross toward Richter. A last-ditch clearance from Saliba saved Arsenal, but it was a message. Bradford weren''t scared. And in the 12th minute, Arsenal learned that the hard way. 12'' ¨C It started with a mistake. Arsenal had possession in midfield, moving the ball side to side, looking for an opening. Jorginho, usually a metronome in these situations, delayed for half a second too long. V¨¦lez pounced. He read it, pressed aggressively, and nicked the ball away before Jorginho could react. Instantly, he turned and played a perfect first-time pass forward, splitting Arsenal''s defensive line in an instant. Novak was already on the move. Gabriel stepped up, trying to recover, but Novak had the momentum. He powered past, the ball at his feet, one-on-one with Raya. Time slowed. One touch. A second to steady himself. Then¡ª A ruthless low strike, drilled into the bottom corner. The net rippled. Valley Parade exploded. Jake barely reacted on the touchline, just a subtle nod. His players weren''t celebrating like they had pulled off a miracle. They knew what this was. Planned. Executed. Deserved. Arsenal had expected an easy night. Now, they had a fight. Arsenal''s Response ¨C Arsenal''s reaction was immediate. The early goal had embarrassed them, and they weren''t going to let it happen again. They pressed harder, passed with more urgency, and pushed more bodies forward. ?degaard dropped deeper, trying to escape the suffocating press and dictate the tempo from midfield. Every time he found space, Lowe or Harper was already closing him down, refusing to let him breathe. Arsenal had the ball. But they weren''t hurting Bradford. Their possession lacked penetration. Their build-up was cautious, almost nervous. Then, in the 22nd minute, Arsenal finally produced their first real chance. Kai Havertz, frustrated with the lack of service, drifted wide to collect the ball. A quick exchange with Saka saw him drive into the box, shifting past Richards before cutting inside. For a split second, it looked like he had created the angle. Then¡ªMin-jae. The South Korean center-back stepped in with perfect timing, blocking the shot just as Jesus pulled the trigger. The ball deflected wide for a corner, and Valley Parade roared its approval. Arsenal were playing. But they weren''t in control. And in the 34th minute, Bradford punished them again. 34'' ¨C A free kick. 25 yards out. A dangerous angle. Silva stood over the ball, scanning the box. Bradford''s aerial threats¡ªBarnes, Min-jae, and Novak¡ªlined up against Arsenal''s defenders, waiting for the delivery. Jake stood still on the touchline, watching intently. Set pieces were Arsenal''s weakness. They knew it. Bradford knew it. Now, it was time to exploit it. Silva delivered the ball with precision¡ªwhipped with pace, curling toward the near post. Barnes attacked it. Saliba, normally dominant in these situations, misjudged the flight for a fraction of a second. That was all Barnes needed. The Bradford captain rose above him, muscles tensed, eyes locked on the ball. Then¡ªcontact. A bullet header, sent crashing into the top corner. Raya barely moved. 2-0. Bradford''s bench erupted. The fans inside Valley Parade couldn''t believe it. On the pitch, Arsenal players turned to each other in disbelief. This wasn''t part of the plan. They weren''t just losing¡ªthey were being outplayed. The halftime whistle blew moments later. Jake walked down the tunnel with his hands in his pockets, his face unreadable. His team was halfway there. But Arsenal weren''t going to go quietly. Second Half ¨C The moment the second half kicked off, Arsenal''s intensity skyrocketed. Gone was the sluggish, half-paced passing. Now, they moved with urgency, throwing bodies forward, desperate to claw their way back into the game. Bradford felt the shift immediately. ?degaard no longer drifted deep¡ªhe stayed high, linking with Jesus and Martinelli. Arsenal''s full-backs, Tierney and Tomiyasu, pushed even further up, pinning Silva and Mensah into defensive positions. Bradford were forced deeper, their defensive block compact but under siege. Every clearance felt like a temporary relief rather than a solution. Min-jae and Barnes stood firm, throwing themselves in front of everything¡ªblocking shots, cutting out crosses, winning headers under relentless pressure. Okafor made a stunning save in the 52nd minute, diving low to his right to push away a curling strike from ?degaard. But Arsenal were relentless. And in the 57th minute, the breakthrough came. 57'' ¨C Arsenal had been knocking. This time, the door broke open. A sharp one-two between ?degaard and Saka carved through Bradford''s defensive shape, the kind of intricate play Arsenal had been searching for all game. Saka''s first touch was immaculate, shifting the ball past Taylor and into the box. Bradford''s backline scrambled, but the damage was already done. Saka lifted his head, saw the run, and rolled the ball across the face of goal. Havertz arrived unmarked. A simple tap-in. 2-1. The Emirates erupted. The belief was back. Arsenal players sprinted back to their positions, feeding off the momentum. The urgency in their movement, the hunger in their eyes¡ªthis wasn''t the same team that had underestimated Bradford in the first half. Now, they were hunting. Bradford had to hold on. 64'' ¨C Bradford had been holding firm, their defensive wall absorbing Arsenal''s relentless attacks. But against a team of this quality, the dam could only hold for so long. Martinelli, quiet for most of the game, finally found his moment. Bradford had kept him contained, forcing him into tight spaces, denying him the room to run. But in the 64th minute, Arsenal shifted the ball quickly from right to left, stretching Bradford''s shape just enough. ?degaard spotted the movement, threading a pass into Martinelli''s path. One quick cut inside, one drop of the shoulder, and he was past Richards. Min-jae lunged in to close the angle¡ªtoo late. Martinelli shifted onto his right foot and unleashed a vicious, curling strike toward the far corner. Okafor dived, stretching full length. No chance. The ball kissed the post on its way in. 2-2. Valley Parade fell into a nervous silence. Arsenal had done it. From 2-0 down, they had clawed their way back. On the touchline, Jake remained still, arms crossed, eyes locked on the pitch. His players looked toward him, searching for direction, for belief. His response? A single nod. They had taken Arsenal to war. Now, it was a battle of endurance. Could they respond? 76'' ¨C Bradford needed something. Anything. Arsenal had taken control of the second half, suffocating them, forcing them deeper and deeper. Every clearance felt like a temporary solution rather than an escape. Then, out of nowhere, Arsenal gifted them a way back. It started with Silva. Bradford hadn''t seen much of the ball in Arsenal''s half, but Silva made the most of his rare moment in space. Sprinting down the right wing, he caught Tomiyasu flat-footed, burning past him before whipping a dangerous cross into the box. Novak, always alive to the situation, made his move. Gabriel climbed for the header, but his timing was all wrong. His arm swung backward, catching Novak clean in the face. The Bradford striker went down. The whistle blew. For a second, no one moved. Then, the referee pointed to the spot. Valley Parade erupted. Arsenal''s players swarmed the official, furious, shouting in protest. Gabriel waved his arms, insisting it was accidental. Saliba shook his head in disbelief. Raya stood by the goal, gesturing that Novak had gone down too easily. None of it mattered. The referee wasn''t listening. The decision was made. Novak picked up the ball, walked toward the spot, and placed it down. The stadium held its breath. He took a step back, exhaled, and locked eyes with Raya. The Arsenal keeper bounced on his line, trying to play mind games, trying to make Novak hesitate. It didn''t work. Novak took his run-up¡ªcalm, measured. Then, with ice in his veins, he slotted the ball low and hard into the bottom corner. Raya guessed wrong. 3-2 Bradford. The stadium shook. Players mobbed Novak, fists pumping, fans roaring, the noise drowning out everything else. But on the touchline, Jake didn''t celebrate. No fist pumps. No wild reactions. Instead, he turned to his bench. Time to lock this game down. 78'' ¨C Defensive Changes Jake didn''t wait. The moment the ball hit the net, he turned to his bench. Bradford had the lead. Now, they had to protect it. Three quick substitutions. Lewis Hart replaced Mensah ¨C Defensive reinforcement on the left, ensuring Arsenal''s wingers had no space. Noah Fletcher replaced Harper ¨C Fresh legs in defense, adding height and physicality for the final push. Daniel Lowe replaced V¨¦lez ¨C A deeper midfield presence to disrupt Arsenal''s passing lanes. Bradford dropped into a compact shape. The pressing stopped. The game plan shifted. This wasn''t about scoring anymore. This was about survival. Final Moments ¨C Holding the Line Arsenal threw everything forward. ?degaard clipped dangerous balls into the box. Saka and Martinelli fired in crosses. In the 88th minute, a moment of pure panic¡ªHavertz found himself free in the box. His shot was destined for the bottom corner. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But Okafor, the ever-reliable wall, flung himself across goal, tipping it wide. Bradford refused to break. 90+5'' ¨C The whistle blew. Bradford 3-2 Arsenal. The stadium erupted. Jake Wilson clenched his fists. Another Premier League giant had fallen. Post-Match ¨C A Statement Win The final whistle blew. Bradford players collapsed to the ground, drained, exhausted, victorious. Arsenal stood frozen, hands on hips, staring at the scoreboard in disbelief. Bradford City 3-2 Arsenal. It wasn''t a fluke. It wasn''t luck. It was another giant slain. The media reaction was instant. Media Frenzy The football world had seen cup upsets before, but this? This was something different. Pundits debated it on live broadcasts. Analysts dissected every moment. Social media exploded. Sky Sports ¨C "How is this happening? Jake Wilson has built something special." BBC Sport ¨C "League One team? They don''t play like one." The Athletic ¨C "Bradford City are rewriting the script of English football." The headlines flooded in. "Wilson''s Underdogs Stun Arsenal!" "Bradford City ¨C More Than Just A Cup Story!" "Premier League Clubs On Notice ¨C Don''t Underestimate This Team!" Jake had taken his squad from League One to the center of the football world. And the pressure was only growing. Press Conference ¨C Bradford Are No Longer Underdogs The press room was packed, every major outlet desperate to get a word from the man behind the madness. The first question came fast. "Jake, you''ve now beaten Fulham, Leeds, and Arsenal. Is Bradford bigger than League One?" Jake smirked. No hesitation. No false modesty. "We don''t worry about labels. We just play football." A few chuckles rippled through the room. Some reporters exchanged knowing glances. This wasn''t the answer of a man caught up in the moment. It was the answer of a man who believed every word he said. "Arsenal dominated possession, but you still found a way to win. Was that always the plan?" Jake leaned forward. "Possession doesn''t win games. Goals do. We knew where their weaknesses were. We knew how to hurt them. And we did." There was no arrogance in his voice¡ªjust certainty. "Does this win change your expectations for the season?" Jake shrugged. "Expectations don''t win games either. Hard work does." The press had been hoping for a dramatic statement. They didn''t get one. Bradford weren''t dreaming. They weren''t getting ahead of themselves. They were just doing what they did best¡ªwinning. Fan Caf¨¦ Explodes ¨C "We''re Giant Killers!" Back in Bradford, the fans weren''t as measured. The online forums were chaos. "We''ve beaten Fulham. We''ve beaten Leeds. We''ve beaten Arsenal. WHO''S NEXT?" "Jake Wilson is cooking something special!" "This man better be in the Championship next season¡ªor even higher!" "I don''t care what anyone says. We''re going all the way!" "Premier League in two years? Why not?" The belief wasn''t just in the squad anymore. It was in the city. Bradford had done the impossible again. And now? The whole country was watching. Chapter 107 - 107: BRADFORD VS PORT VALE Bradford''s Starting XI vs. Port Vale (FA Cup First Round) Formation: 4-3-3 Goalkeeper: Jack Simmons (20) ¨C Given a rare start, tasked with organizing a young backline. Defenders: Juli¨¢n Rojas (21) ¨C Returning from loan, eager to prove himself at right-back. Marco Bianchi (18) ¨C Aerially dominant, making his first FA Cup start. Noah Fletcher (22) ¨C Physically imposing, tasked with leading the young defense. Lewis Hart (20) ¨C Versatile defender, providing stability at left-back. Midfielders: Daniel Lowe (27) ¨C The veteran anchor, guiding the youngsters. Santiago V¨¦lez (18) ¨C Dynamic playmaker, responsible for creativity. Lewis Chapman (24) ¨C Workhorse midfielder, tasked with breaking up play. Forwards: Leo Rasmussen (19) ¨C Electric winger, looking to impress on the left. Tobias Richter (21) ¨C Clinical forward, leading the line. Ethan Walsh (19) ¨C Academy graduate, playing wide on the right. This was the next generation''s moment. And they were about to seize it. First Half- The FA Cup had its magic. And for Jake Wilson, this match against Port Vale wasn''t just about progression¡ªit was about trust. Bradford''s starting lineup featured academy graduates and squad players who had barely seen game time all season. No Novak. No Harper. No Barnes. Instead, it was a chance for the young talents to step up, to show that they weren''t just prospects, but real players ready to contribute. Jake had made it clear in training¡ªthis wasn''t a throwaway game. It was a test. A chance to prove that when the moment came, these players wouldn''t just fill in, but thrive. Port Vale, a solid League Two side, sensed an opportunity. Facing a heavily rotated Bradford side, they pressed high, determined to test the inexperience in Jake''s lineup. The opening ten minutes were scrappy¡ªmisplaced passes, heavy touches, and nervous moments. Jack Simmons had to be sharp early, tipping a long-range shot over the bar. Bianchi and Fletcher, playing together for the first time, had to scramble more than once to clear loose balls. The midfield lacked composure, with Chapman and V¨¦lez misplacing simple passes under pressure. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching. No shouting. No panic. Just observation. He had expected this. Young players needed time to settle. And then¡ªjust as he predicted¡ªit clicked. Suddenly, Rasmussen and Walsh started combining down the left. V¨¦lez and Chapman found their rhythm in midfield. Lowe, the only senior presence, began dictating the tempo, calming the team down. The nervous energy faded. The kids took over. Bradford started passing with confidence, moving with purpose, controlling the game rather than reacting to it. Port Vale''s early pressure vanished, replaced by the sight of them chasing shadows. And when the first goal came? It was a thing of beauty. 12'' ¨C It started in midfield. V¨¦lez, the youngest player on the pitch at just 18, received the ball under pressure. A Port Vale midfielder lunged in, hoping to rattle the teenager, but V¨¦lez barely seemed to notice. With a quick shift of weight, he rolled the ball away from the challenge, spinning into space. The second challenge came almost instantly¡ªPort Vale weren''t letting him breathe. But V¨¦lez was already thinking ahead. A delicate touch took him past the incoming defender, and before the third could close him down, he slid a perfectly weighted pass wide to Rasmussen. The Danish winger barely hesitated. He wanted this. Driving forward, he locked eyes with the full-back. Feint to the right. A quick dip of the shoulder. Then¡ªexplosion. A sharp burst inside onto his right foot. The defender stumbled slightly, caught by the change of direction. Inside the box, Tobias Richter was lurking, ready for the cross. Chapman was making a late run from midfield. The Port Vale defenders tensed, expecting the ball to be whipped into the danger area. But Rasmussen had other ideas. Instead of delivering, he cut the ball back toward the edge of the area, rolling it perfectly into the path of Ethan Walsh. The teenager had a second to think. Just one. One touch to control. One to set himself. Then¡ªhe struck. The ball curled beautifully, whipping past the outstretched fingertips of the goalkeeper, bending away and nestling into the far corner. The net rippled. For a moment, Valley Parade stood still. Then, the eruption. 1-0. Walsh didn''t sprint away in celebration. No wild gestures. No knee slides. Just a simple point toward Rasmussen, acknowledging the assist. Then, he jogged back to his position, eyes locked on Jake. Jake? He didn''t move. Didn''t react. Just smirked. The academy boys weren''t here to survive. They were here to dominate. 27'' ¨C Port Vale weren''t rolling over. Despite the early setback, they regrouped, pushing forward in search of an equalizer. They managed to test Simmons twice¡ªfirst with a speculative shot from outside the box that the young keeper handled comfortably, then with a dangerous low cross that Fletcher had to slide in and clear. Bradford''s teenage defense was being asked questions. They had all the answers. Fletcher was a rock¡ªwinning every aerial battle, tracking every run. Beside him, Bianchi was calm, assured, stepping in at the perfect moments to snuff out attacks. The two had never played together before, but you wouldn''t have known it. Then came Bradford''s turn to strike again. A corner, won after Walsh''s dangerous run forced a last-ditch block. Chapman jogged over to take it. He glanced toward the box, saw his targets. Bianchi, standing at the back post, was calling for it. Chapman delivered¡ªa perfect, whipped ball toward the far post. Bianchi launched himself into the air, towering over his marker. At 6''3", with a natural instinct for timing his jumps, he looked unstoppable. The connection was flawless. A bullet header. Straight down, bouncing just in front of the keeper, making it impossible to react. The net bulged. 2-0. For a second, silence from the Port Vale defenders. They had no chance. No way to stop it. Bianchi, unfazed, turned and jogged back into position, fist clenched. No wild celebrations, no screaming into the crowd. Just focus. Just business. Jake watched from the touchline, nodding slightly. That was the mentality he wanted. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. This team was playing like professionals. Second Half ¨C Port Vale came out with desperation, pressing higher, pushing more bodies forward. They had no choice. At 2-0 down, they needed a response. But in doing so, they walked straight into Bradford''s trap. The spaces that hadn''t existed in the first half suddenly opened up. Gaps between the lines. Wide channels left exposed. And that was where Bradford thrived. Chapman and V¨¦lez took control in midfield, moving the ball quickly, exploiting every gap. Rasmussen and Walsh stayed wide, stretching the pitch, forcing Port Vale''s full-backs into uncomfortable positions. And Tobias Richter? He was waiting. 48'' ¨C Port Vale had come out determined to claw their way back into the match, pushing higher up the pitch, committing more men forward. But in doing so, they left themselves exposed. And Daniel Lowe was too experienced to let it slide. A sloppy touch in midfield. Lowe saw it a second before it happened. He stepped in, reading the play like a seasoned veteran, muscling his opponent off the ball with ease. No foul, no hesitation¡ªjust dominance. He didn''t waste time dwelling on his win. One quick glance up. Richter was already moving. Lowe threaded a pass through the middle¡ªperfectly weighted, perfectly timed¡ªbypassing two defenders in an instant. Richter took it in stride, his first touch immaculate, setting himself up just inside the box. The Port Vale keeper rushed out, trying to close the angle. Richter didn''t blink. A quick feint with his right foot sent the keeper leaning the wrong way¡ªjust a split-second hesitation. That was all he needed. With his left foot, Richter calmly rolled the ball past him into the bottom corner. 3-0. Port Vale''s resistance shattered completely. Game over. But Bradford weren''t finished yet. 66'' ¨C Port Vale were finished. Their midfield had stopped tracking back, their defenders were scrambling, and their attacks were reduced to hopeful long balls that Bradford dealt with effortlessly. But Leo Rasmussen? He was just getting started. A loose pass from Port Vale''s right-back rolled toward the center circle. V¨¦lez reacted first, flicking it forward with a quick touch¡ªright into Rasmussen''s path. The Danish winger didn''t hesitate. One explosive touch forward. Then another. The first challenge came almost immediately¡ªa desperate lunge from a Port Vale midfielder trying to slow him down. Rasmussen skipped past it effortlessly, barely breaking stride. Another defender rushed in, angling his body to force him wide. Rasmussen dipped his shoulder, feinted left¡ªthen ghosted right, cutting inside and leaving his marker lunging at air. The crowd at Valley Parade was on its feet now. One defender left. The last man stepped up, arms out, trying to block his path. But Rasmussen had already seen it. He pushed the ball past him with the outside of his boot, leaving the defender reaching for nothing but shadows. Now, he was in the box. Now, it was just him and the keeper. A small pause. A quick shift to his right foot. Then¡ªbang. A low, ruthless strike. The ball zipped past the goalkeeper, smacking the inside of the post before nestling into the net. 4-0. Rasmussen didn''t celebrate wildly. Just a slow jog toward the corner flag, nodding to himself, as if confirming what he already knew. He belonged here. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching. No wild reaction. Just a firm nod. The next generation wasn''t just knocking on the door. They were kicking it down. 81'' ¨C Port Vale had nothing left. No fight. No structure. No belief. Bradford''s relentless pressing had broken them apart, piece by piece. And in the 81st minute, the final blow came¡ªnot from a dazzling run, not from a perfectly executed counterattack, but from pure, unforced panic. A simple back-pass from Port Vale''s right-back¡ªlazy, under-hit, and blind. Lowe saw it before anyone else. Despite being the deepest-lying midfielder, the veteran reacted like a seasoned striker. One sharp step forward. Then another. The Port Vale keeper scrambled off his line, realizing the danger too late. Lowe got there first. One touch to control. One quick glance up. Then, without hesitation, he slotted it past the helpless goalkeeper. 5-0. No celebration. No wild reactions. Lowe just smirked slightly as he jogged back, shaking his head. Because even he knew¡ªthis wasn''t his moment. This was about the kids. Jake, standing on the touchline, allowed himself the smallest of smiles. The future of Bradford City had just put on a show. Full-Time ¨C Port Vale 0-5 Bradford. The boys had done more than just win. They had sent a message. As the final whistle blew, the pundits had their talking points. Bradford''s depth? Real. Jake''s trust in youth? Paying off. The first-team regulars watching from the stands? They had competition now. And Jake Wilson? He just turned and walked down the tunnel. Another win. Another step forward. Bradford City was only getting stronger. Chapter 108 - 108: A New Life Begins – Jake’s Daughter is Born Jake Wilson had just finished shaking hands with his players when his phone buzzed in his pocket. At first, he ignored it. One of the coaching staff was speaking to him about the match¡ªabout how the academy boys had stepped up, about how bright the future looked. About how this win, a dominant 5-0 display, was proof that Bradford''s system was working. Then, it buzzed again. And again. Something in his chest tightened. He pulled the phone out, barely glancing at the screen before unlocking it. A single message. Short. Urgent. "She''s in labor." Jake didn''t think. Didn''t hesitate. Didn''t stop to answer the questions thrown his way when he turned and walked off. His mind, always calculating, always analyzing, emptied in an instant. He was already dialing a taxi, already moving through the tunnel, already gone. Everything else¡ªthe win, the press, the post-match breakdown¡ªmeant nothing now. Bradford had won 5-0. The headlines would write themselves. The academy had proven its worth. None of it mattered. Because something far more important was waiting for him. The Race to the Hospital The drive felt like the longest of his life. His knee bounced restlessly. His hands clenched into fists. The streets of Bradford blurred past the taxi window, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. He wasn''t used to this kind of anxiety. He could handle a penalty shootout. He could handle tactical battles against Premier League giants. He could handle the pressure of thousands watching his every move. But this? This was different. His wife was at the hospital. His daughter¡ªhis first child¡ªwas about to be born. And he wasn''t there yet. The thought sent a fresh wave of urgency through him. "Faster," he muttered to the driver. "We''re already pushing it, mate," the man replied, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "You got somewhere important to be?" Jake exhaled sharply. "Yeah." The driver must have seen something in his face because he nodded and pressed down on the gas. The moment they reached the hospital entrance, Jake threw some cash onto the seat and bolted out before the car even fully stopped. Inside, he barely heard the receptionist''s instructions, barely noticed the people in the waiting area, barely thought about anything except getting there in time. A nurse met him at the maternity ward doors. "Wilson?" He nodded, breathless. "She''s in active labor. You made it just in time." His stomach clenched. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen. Then, he pushed forward. The Most Important Moment of His Life The room was a blur of movement. Nurses. Doctors. The steady beeping of monitors. The dim, sterile lighting overhead. And in the center of it all¡ªher. His wife. Sweat on her forehead. Hands gripping the hospital bed. Eyes finding his the moment he stepped inside. "Jake," she breathed, exhausted but relieved. "I''m here," he said, moving to her side instantly, taking her hand in his. "I''m here." No tactics. No calculations. No analyzing the next move. Just being there. The minutes stretched into hours. Time lost meaning. It was just her breathing, her pain, her determination. And his hand in hers, unwavering, unshakable. Then¡ª A cry. A small, fragile, beautiful sound. And just like that, the world changed. Jake had experienced adrenaline before. Had experienced euphoria before. But nothing¡ªnothing¡ªcame close to this moment. He stared, eyes wide, as the doctor carefully lifted the tiny, wriggling newborn. A baby girl. His baby girl. He felt his chest tighten, his breath catch. His entire body locked up, the way it did in those split seconds before a crucial penalty. Then, suddenly, she was in his arms. Small. Warm. So unbelievably light. His fingers trembled as they traced over her delicate features. She barely opened her eyes, tiny hands curling weakly against his chest, her breathing soft and steady. Jake exhaled slowly, his world narrowing to just her. His wife, exhausted but watching him carefully, whispered, "What should we name her?" Jake barely heard her at first. His mind was lost in the moment. But as he looked down at the tiny girl in his arms, the answer came naturally. Something deep in his chest settled. "Ariel," he whispered. His wife smiled, nodding. "Ariel Wilson." Jake exhaled slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the newborn''s forehead. It felt right. It felt like everything. Family Arrives ¨C Old Wounds Open It wasn''t long before the hospital room filled with visitors. His mother arrived first. The moment she saw Ariel, her breath hitched. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out, cradling the newborn with a gentleness that made Jake''s chest tighten. "She''s beautiful," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "So, so beautiful." Jake stood beside the bed, watching the way his mother held Ariel. As if she were holding something delicate. Something sacred. For a moment, there was only warmth. Only love. Then, she looked up at him. And the warmth dimmed. "You never visit home." The words were quiet, but they carried weight. "You never call." It wasn''t anger. It wasn''t even disappointment. Just¡­ sadness. Jake exhaled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His instinct was to deflect, to brush past it like an opponent pressing too high up the pitch. Instead, all he said was, "Been busy." His mother sighed, shaking her head slightly, but she didn''t push further. Then the door opened again. His brothers walked in. They had changed. Older now. Faces sharper, shoulders broader, different haircuts, different ways they carried themselves. But beneath it, they were still the same. For a moment, none of them knew what to say. Then, the ice broke. "Look at you, man," his eldest brother said, clapping a hand on Jake''s back. "A dad now, huh?" "Guess so," Jake muttered, managing a smirk. His youngest brother leaned over the hospital bed, peering at Ariel. "She''s tiny," he murmured. "Looks just like her mom, thank God." Jake chuckled. "Yeah, she lucked out there." His brothers congratulated him, asked about his wife, about how he was holding up, about the sleepless nights that were surely ahead. It was natural. It was easy. And yet, there was a distance. A gap formed by years of absence. They had grown up together. Spent their childhood in the same house. Fought over the TV remote. Played football in the streets until the sun went down. And then, at some point, Jake had walked away. And never looked back. Now, standing here, surrounded by them again, he felt the weight of that decision. He just didn''t know what to do with it. His Father ¨C The Memory That Never Faded Then, finally¡ªhis father stepped in. Jake barely glanced at him. The man looked older. Heavier. He hesitated before speaking, standing stiffly near the door. "She''s beautiful," he said. Jake said nothing. Because all it took was one look at his father for the memories to come rushing back. The old training ground. The academy. The moment he had found out. That his father had paid his way into the starting eleven. It had shattered something in Jake that had never fully healed. He had spent his whole life trying to prove himself, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of progress. And then, he had learned that one of his biggest achievements? It had been bought. He could still hear his father''s voice from all those years ago. "I just wanted to give you the chance you deserved." No. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He hadn''t deserved it. He hadn''t earned it. And Jake could never forgive that. His father shifted uncomfortably, as if debating whether to say more. Jake didn''t give him the chance. "Enjoy meeting your granddaughter," he said flatly. "That''s all we need to talk about." Silence. His father exhaled, gave a small nod, then stepped back. A Conversation with His Mother Later, when the others had left, his mother sat beside him, watching as he held Ariel. "You know," she said softly, "no matter what happened with your father, don''t push everyone else away." Jake didn''t answer. He just stared down at his daughter, gently tracing a finger along her tiny hand. There was too much unresolved. Too much history. But right now? That didn''t matter. Because for the first time in a long time, he had something new. Something untouched by the past. Ariel. His daughter. His future. Chapter 109 - 109: League One Dominance – Bradford Stay on Top November had arrived, and with it, the defining stretch of the League One season. Bradford City was flying high at the top of the table, but Jake Wilson knew better than to let complacency settle in. It didn''t matter that the team had been winning. He could see the little signs¡ªpasses played a second too late, defensive recoveries that weren''t as sharp, strikers taking an extra touch in front of goal. Momentum was fragile. And in League One, you didn''t get to cruise to the title. You had to fight for it. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake stood on the touchline at training, arms crossed as he watched Emeka Okafor drill his defenders. The Nigerian goalkeeper was vocal, commanding his backline like a seasoned veteran despite being just 22. "Marco! Step up faster!" Okafor barked at Bianchi, the 18-year-old Italian center-back. "Don''t let him turn!" Nathan Barnes, the captain, nodded in approval. "Keep it tight! No easy shots!" Jake smirked slightly. It was a good sign. Leadership was emerging across the squad. The upcoming matches would put that to the test. Bradford vs. Bristol Rovers ¨C November 9, 2024 (Home) Final Score: Bradford 3-1 Bristol Rovers Bristol Rovers arrived at Valley Parade with a clear game plan¡ªfrustrate, disrupt, and defend for their lives. They set up in a deep 5-3-2, conceding possession and waiting for counterattacks. Jake had expected this. His system had already identified their weakness: their wingbacks couldn''t handle pace. Bradford exploited it ruthlessly. From the opening whistle, Renan Silva and Leo Rasmussen ran riot down the flanks. In the 14th minute, Silva breezed past his marker and whipped in a cross. Lukas Novak rose between two defenders, planting a header into the bottom corner. 1-0 Bradford. Bristol Rovers responded with brute force. They launched long balls forward, hoping to catch Bradford''s high defensive line off guard. In the 32nd minute, they succeeded. A flicked header found their striker in space, and Okafor had no chance as the ball was slotted past him. 1-1. Jake didn''t flinch. He turned to his bench. "Tell Santiago to push higher." Within minutes, the adjustment paid off. V¨¦lez, playing in his aggressive box-to-box role, stormed forward in the 52nd minute, dispossessing Bristol''s midfielder before driving into the final third. A quick one-two with Harper, a burst of acceleration, and a drilled shot into the far corner. 2-1 Bradford. The visitors collapsed after that. In the 74th minute, Silva put the game beyond doubt with a curling effort from the edge of the box, assisted by Ib¨¢?ez''s pinpoint lofted pass. Jake''s team had passed their first test of the month. Northampton Town vs. Bradford ¨C November 16, 2024 (Away) Final Score: Bradford 2-0 Northampton Town The trip to Sixfields Stadium presented a different challenge. Northampton wasn''t a defensive team¡ªthey pressed high, eager to disrupt Bradford''s buildup play. For the first 20 minutes, they succeeded. Okafor was forced into two early saves as Northampton overloaded the right side, targeting Julian Rojas at right-back. Jake made an adjustment, telling Lowe to drop deeper and provide cover. Then, in the 34th minute, Bradford struck. A counterattack, started by Barnes, transitioned through Ib¨¢?ez, who played a brilliant switch to Silva on the right. The Brazilian winger, full of confidence, cut inside and played an inch-perfect through ball to Novak. One touch. One strike. One goal. 1-0 Bradford. Northampton grew desperate, pushing more bodies forward in the second half. That was their mistake. In the 68th minute, V¨¦lez capitalized on the space left behind, picking out a diagonal pass to Rasmussen, who surged into the box and finished coolly. 2-0. Another win. Another clean sheet. Bradford vs. Crawley Town ¨C November 23, 2024 (Home) Final Score: Bradford 4-2 Crawley Town The night before the match, Jake Wilson sat in his office, eyes scanning over Crawley Town''s last five games. The numbers were clear¡ªthey weren''t an easy side to break down. Crawley wasn''t particularly strong in attack, but they were organized, compact, and patient. They waited for teams to get frustrated. Bradford couldn''t afford to let that happen. "Attack them early," Jake muttered to himself, tapping his pen against the desk. "Don''t let them settle." That was the plan. And on match day, his players executed it perfectly¡ªat least, for the first 30 minutes. First Half ¨C Flying Start, Sudden Collapse The energy inside Valley Parade was electric as the teams walked onto the pitch. Bradford, sitting at the top of the league, had the home crowd behind them. Crawley, sitting mid-table, had nothing to lose. Jake stood on the touchline, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on the field. From the first whistle, his team swarmed Crawley, pressing high, suffocating their midfield, and forcing errors. By the 9th minute, the breakthrough came. Santiago V¨¦lez picked up the ball just inside Bradford''s half and spotted Lukas Novak making a run between the center-backs. The pass was precise¡ªcurled just out of the defender''s reach and into Novak''s stride. One touch. One shot. The net bulged. 1-0 Bradford. Jake allowed himself a small nod of approval. They didn''t stop. In the 18th minute, Bradford struck again, this time through Guilherme Costa. Silva, pulling Crawley''s right-back out of position, played a clever reverse pass to Rasmussen, who cut inside and threaded a pass into the box. Costa, sharp and instinctive, pounced on the ball and rifled it past the goalkeeper. 2-0. Valley Parade erupted. The crowd could feel it¡ªanother dominant display. But football doesn''t work like that. Bradford''s intensity dropped just slightly, and Crawley sensed it. By the 30th minute, the visitors started finding spaces in midfield. Andre?s Ib¨¢?ez and Daniel Lowe, usually so disciplined, were caught out as Crawley''s wingers pushed forward. Then came the warning shot. A misplaced pass from Rojas led to a Crawley counterattack. Their striker, quick and aggressive, darted past Barnes and forced Okafor into a sharp save. Jake didn''t like what he was seeing. "Get control!" he shouted from the sideline, but his voice barely cut through the crowd noise. Then, in the 38th minute, Crawley found their goal. A simple ball over the top caught Barnes out of position, forcing Min-jae to cover. The hesitation was enough¡ªCrawley''s winger squared it, and their forward slotted it past Okafor. 2-1. Jake''s jaw tightened. "Focus up!" The equalizer came just before halftime. A needless foul near the corner flag gave Crawley a free kick. Bradford had been solid on set pieces all season, but this time, they lost concentration. The delivery was whipped in with pace, and Crawley''s center-back outjumped everyone, nodding the ball into the net. 2-2. The referee blew for halftime. Jake exhaled, turning toward the tunnel. His players walked past him, heads down. Some were shaking their heads in frustration. Jake didn''t say a word. Not yet. Halftime ¨C The Message Was Clear Inside the locker room, the mood was tense. Players sank onto the benches, drinking water, avoiding eye contact. Jake stood in the center, arms crossed. He let the silence hang. Then, calmly, he spoke. "You thought this was over?" His voice was sharp, controlled. "You thought they''d just let you win?" Nobody answered. "You gave them hope," Jake continued, scanning the room. "And that''s the most dangerous thing you can give an opponent." Silva wiped sweat from his forehead. Barnes looked down at his boots. Even Novak, usually confident, was frowning. Jake leaned forward slightly. "You want to win the league? Earn it." A beat of silence. Then, Barnes sat up. "We go at them?" Jake nodded. "We press again. High line. We don''t let them breathe." Second Half ¨C The Response From the first minute after halftime, Bradford played like a team that had taken Jake''s words to heart. In the 50th minute, V¨¦lez nearly put them back in front, his long-range effort forcing a fingertip save. Crawley was holding on, but only just. Then, in the 63rd minute, Jake made his move. Tobias Richter on for Costa. A fresh striker with something to prove. Two minutes later, he delivered. Silva, relentless down the wing, drove past his marker and fired in a pinpoint cross. Richter, making a perfectly timed run, met it first-time with a left-footed volley. The ball rocketed into the net. 3-2 Bradford. Jake clenched his fist. "That''s more like it." Crawley tried to respond, but Bradford''s midfield had regained control. Ib¨¢?ez dictated the tempo, shifting the ball quickly, keeping Crawley on the back foot. Then, the final blow. In the 81st minute, a classic Bradford move. A patient buildup from the back. Ib¨¢?ez pulling the strings, V¨¦lez making a third-man run, slipping a disguised pass through to Mensah. The Ghanaian winger drove to the byline and squared it back across goal¡ªNovak was there, waiting. Tap-in. 4-2. The game was done. Jake didn''t celebrate. He simply watched. Watched as his players learned a lesson. They had been tested. And they had responded. Post-Match ¨C The Message Was Sent The press room was packed after the match. "Jake, is it fair to say this team is running away with the title?" Jake smirked slightly, adjusting the microphone. "We haven''t won anything yet." "But surely, with this dominance¡ª" "I don''t deal in hypotheticals," Jake interrupted. "Next game. That''s the only focus." A different question caught him off guard. "Congratulations on your newborn child, Jake. Has fatherhood changed your approach to management?" For a moment, he hesitated. Then, he nodded. "Football is important. Family is everything." The room fell silent for a beat. Then another reporter followed up. "So does that mean you''ll start making softer decisions?" Jake smirked. "Not a chance." Laughter rippled through the room. Bradford had sent their message loud and clear. They weren''t just winning. They were learning how to be champions. Chapter 110 - 110: Pre-Match Preparation & Press Conference Pre-Match Analysis ¨C A System Prediction Unlike Any Other Jake Wilson sat in his office, eyes locked onto the glowing screen in front of him. The Coaching System had just updated its pre-match probability, and for the first time in his managerial career, he found himself genuinely stunned. Bradford: 60% win probability Sheffield United: 25% win probability Draw: 15% He leaned back, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the wooden desk. This didn''t add up. Sheffield United was a Championship club, filled with players who had competed at the highest levels. They weren''t just some mid-table League One team punching above their weight¡ªthis was a club that had Premier League experience only a few seasons ago. And yet, the system believed Bradford was the favorite. Jake exhaled, narrowing his eyes at the screen. He had grown used to the system''s cold, analytical breakdowns. It had never been overly optimistic. When they faced a stronger team, it told him¡ªno sugarcoating, no false hope. It had correctly predicted when Bradford would struggle against a high-pressing side, when their squad depth would be tested, and when their tactics needed to be adjusted to survive a match, rather than win it. But this? "This is new." He clicked into the deeper analysis, his mind already shifting into tactical mode. The system had broken down Sheffield''s tendencies, their shape, and most importantly¡ªtheir vulnerabilities. Sheffield United''s Tactical Identity Sheffield United set up in a 4-3-3, a formation designed for dominance in possession and quick transitions from the flanks. This wasn''t a team that sat back¡ªthey wanted control, they wanted to dictate play, and they had the personnel to do it. Strengths:Midfield control ¨C The trio of Vin¨ªcius Souza, Ollie Arblaster, and Gustavo Hamer was their heartbeat. Souza provided the physicality, Arblaster dictated the tempo, and Hamer was the creative force who unlocked defenses.Explosive wingers ¨C Ben Brereton D¨ªaz and Jesurun Rak-Sakyi weren''t just quick¡ªthey were direct, capable of cutting inside and taking on defenders one-on-one. If left unchecked, they could create chaos on their own.Composed backline ¨C With Anel Ahmedhod?i? and Rob Holding at center-back, Sheffield had an experienced defensive pairing that knew how to handle pressure. This was a high-quality team. On paper, Bradford shouldn''t be favorites. But then, Jake examined the weaknesses. Weaknesses:Overcommitted full-backs ¨C Both Harry Clarke (right-back) and Harrison Burrows (left-back) loved to push high up the pitch. That meant huge spaces would open behind them¡ªspaces that could be exploited by Bradford''s wingers.Lack of pace at center-back ¨C Ahmedhod?i? and Holding were strong, disciplined, and great in the air¡ªbut neither was fast. If forced into foot races, they would struggle against quick attackers.Reliance on width ¨C Most of Sheffield''s attacks came from the flanks. If Bradford forced them inside, they became predictable. Their midfield had talent, but without space, Hamer and Arblaster weren''t as dangerous.Aerial threat limited to one player ¨C Tom Cannon, their striker, was their only true aerial target. If Barnes and Min-jae handled him well, Sheffield would struggle to score from crosses. Jake''s mind worked quickly. He could already see the blueprint forming. The Plan ¨C Turning Weaknesses Into Advantages Bradford couldn''t afford to play into Sheffield''s hands. If they sat too deep, they would get pinned in, forced to clear desperate balls forward only for Sheffield to regain possession and attack again. So the solution? Controlled aggression. Press high, but selectively. Sheffield relied on their midfield to build attacks¡ªso Jake''s side would press Arblaster and Hamer immediately. No time to turn, no time to look up. If they had to play backward, it disrupted their rhythm. Exploit the full-back gaps. Clarke and Burrows loved bombing forward. That meant Silva and Rasmussen had to be ready to counter fast. Every turnover in midfield had to be turned into a quick, direct attack down the wings. Target their slow center-backs. Castell¨®n and Novak would start up front, and their job was simple: run at Ahmedhod?i? and Holding. Make them uncomfortable. Stretch them. Stay compact defensively. No gaps between midfield and defense. Sheffield''s attack was most dangerous when given space¡ªso Bradford would deny it at all costs. Jake''s smirk returned. The system was right. Sheffield expected lower-league teams to show them respect, to be too cautious and let them control the match. Bradford wasn''t going to play by their rules. This wasn''t about sitting back and hoping for a lucky break. This was about going after them, exposing their weaknesses, and showing that Bradford wasn''t just here to compete¡ªthey were here to win. Jake leaned forward, closing the system''s analysis window. It was time to take this plan to the squad. Bradford weren''t underdogs anymore. Now, they had to prove why. The Tactical Meeting ¨C Setting the Plan in Motion Jake walked into the team meeting room, where his players were waiting. The large screen at the front displayed Sheffield''s starting eleven, each player''s strengths and weaknesses highlighted in red and green. He glanced around the room, taking a moment before speaking. "We''re not here to play their game," he said. "We''re here to make them uncomfortable." Clicking the remote, the screen shifted to a tactical breakdown. "They like to control the game through midfield. If we let them settle, they''ll pick us apart. That means pressing high¡ªno time on the ball for their playmakers. Arblaster and Hamer can''t be allowed to dictate the tempo." His eyes moved to the defenders. "Their full-backs push up aggressively. Clarke and Burrows will leave space behind them. That''s where we hurt them. Renan, Leo¡ªyou''ll have space. Use it." Silva and Rasmussen exchanged glances. Jake could already see them calculating how to exploit the gaps. Then, he shifted to the heart of the team. "The biggest weakness? Their center-backs. Holding and Ahmedhod?i? are strong, but they struggle against pace. That''s why we''re starting Castell¨®n up front with Novak. We go direct, fast, and catch them off guard before they settle." A murmur of surprise went through the room. Castell¨®n hadn''t started many games this season, but he was fully fit and one of the quickest strikers in the squad. Jake turned to the forward. "Diego, you''re fit. You''re ready. You''re going to cause them problems." Castell¨®n nodded, his jaw tightening with determination. Jake turned back to the team. "We respect them, but we don''t fear them. We play our football. Fast, aggressive, ruthless." He clicked the screen off. "Now let''s go prove we belong." Starting XI ¨C 4-4-2 FormationGK ¨C Emeka OkaforRB ¨C James RichardsCB ¨C Nathan Barnes (C)CB ¨C Kang Min-jaeLB ¨C Aiden TaylorRM ¨C Renan SilvaCM ¨C Andre?s Iba?n?ezCM ¨C Daniel LoweLM ¨C Leo RasmussenST ¨C Lukas NovakST ¨C Diego Castell¨®n Tobias Richter and Guilherme Costa were waiting as impact subs. Jake looked at each of his players. "Any questions?" Silence. Good. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Press Conference ¨C The Outside Doubts The media room was packed. The moment Bradford reached the EFL Cup quarter-finals, interest in Jake''s side had exploded. There were journalists from national outlets now, not just the usual League One reporters. He took his seat, microphone adjusted in front of him. The first question came immediately. "Jake, Sheffield United are a Championship side with Premier League experience. This is your toughest test yet. Do you think your team is ready?" Jake''s expression didn''t change. "Football isn''t played on reputation. It''s played on the pitch." Some reporters smirked at his response, but one pushed further. "Still, surely you acknowledge they''re the favorites?" Jake tilted his head slightly. "Are they?" That got their attention. Another journalist leaned forward. "Are you saying you expect to win?" Jake exhaled slowly. "I expect my players to play to their potential. If we do that, we have every chance." Another hand shot up. "Statistically speaking, no League One team has made the EFL Cup semi-finals in over a decade. Do you feel pressure?" Jake gave a small smirk. "Pressure is when you''re fighting relegation. This? This is an opportunity." More questions came, but Jake handled them the way he always did¡ªcalm, measured, and confident. As he left the podium, he caught a glimpse of a few of his players watching from the hallway. Rasmussen grinned. "So, we''re not the underdogs, huh?" Jake shrugged. "We''ll see tomorrow." But deep down, he already knew. The system had never been wrong before. And if it believed Bradford were the better team¡ªthen maybe, just maybe, they were. Chapter 111 - 111: SHEFFIELD UNITED VS BRADFORD CITY Bramall Lane was buzzing. The atmosphere inside the stadium crackled with anticipation, a mixture of confidence from the home fans and curiosity from the neutrals. Sheffield United, a club with Championship pedigree, were expected to dispatch their lower-league opponents. But something felt different. As Jake Wilson stepped onto the touchline, he caught sight of the away section, packed with travelling Bradford supporters. They weren''t just here for the occasion. They believed in something bigger. So did he. Bradford had come to win. Kickoff ¨C The opening minutes played out exactly as Jake had expected. Sheffield United controlled the ball, passing sharply between their midfield trio, trying to establish dominance. Ollie Arblaster and Gustavo Hamer rotated positions fluidly, probing for gaps in Bradford''s compact shape. Jake stood still, hands in his pockets, watching closely. "Hold your lines!" Barnes shouted from the back, keeping the defense organized. Bradford wasn''t pressing recklessly. Every time Sheffield tried to work the ball into midfield, Ib¨¢?ez or Lowe was there, closing the space, forcing them sideways. By the 10th minute, Sheffield had their first real chance. Jesurun Rak-Sakyi, cutting in from the right, skipped past Aiden Taylor and unleashed a curling effort. Okafor reacted instinctively, diving low to his right and parrying the shot away. The home crowd roared, sensing a breakthrough. Jake didn''t flinch. "Stick to the plan," he muttered. Bradford''s First Warning Shot ¨C Silva Exploits Space Sheffield continued to push forward, but in the 18th minute, Bradford finally broke out. A careless touch from Vin¨ªcius Souza gave Ib¨¢?ez a chance to intercept, and he didn''t hesitate. With one sweeping motion, he played the ball forward into the space behind Sheffield''s right-back. Silva pounced, sprinting into the gap left by Harry Clarke. The Brazilian winger took two touches before cutting inside and firing a low drive toward the near post. Michael Cooper, Sheffield''s goalkeeper, reacted well¡ªdiving to push it behind for a corner. Jake allowed himself a small nod. That was the space he wanted them to exploit. 32nd Minute ¨C S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Sheffield continued to dominate possession, but Bradford''s resistance was unshaken. Then, in the 32nd minute, came the moment Jake had been waiting for. Sheffield had committed numbers forward, and when a hopeful cross was cleared by Min-jae, the counter was on. Ib¨¢?ez, reading the play early, snapped up the loose ball and immediately turned upfield. One glance. One pass. A perfect through ball split the Sheffield center-backs, curling between Ahmedhod?i? and Holding. Novak timed his run to perfection, darting through the defensive line and latching onto the pass. Bramall Lane held its breath. One touch. Then another. Novak shaped to shoot¡ªCooper rushed off his line¡ªtoo late. The Czech striker calmly lifted the ball over the advancing keeper. The net rippled. The away end erupted. Jake clenched his fist. 1-0 Bradford. Sheffield United had been caught. Second Half ¨C Sheffield United Responds The hosts came out after the break like a team with something to prove. Arblaster and Hamer moved higher up the pitch, pushing Lowe and Ib¨¢?ez deeper into their own half. Rak-Sakyi and Brereton D¨ªaz switched wings, trying to unsettle the Bradford full-backs. Jake knew they''d come out swinging¡ªthe challenge was surviving it. By the 57th minute, the pressure finally broke through. A clever exchange between Hamer and Burrows dragged Bradford''s defensive line apart, creating a gap in the box. Tom Cannon, Sheffield''s lone striker, found the space he needed. One quick pass. One sharp turn. A low strike across goal. Okafor stretched, fingertips grazing the ball, but it wasn''t enough. 1-1. Bramall Lane exploded with relief. Jake exhaled slowly, nodding to himself. Fine. Time to change the game. Tactical Adjustment ¨C The Substitutions That Changed Everything Jake turned to his bench. 65th minute. He needed more speed in transition¡ªplayers who could punish Sheffield''s overcommitment. "Tobias, Costa¡ªyou''re on." Richter replaced Castell¨®n, while Costa came in for Lowe, shifting Bradford into a more counter-attacking shape. Five minutes later, the impact was immediate. Sheffield, throwing numbers forward, lost the ball high up the pitch. Ib¨¢?ez, calm as ever, played a long diagonal pass to Silva, who was already sprinting into open space. Clarke and Holding were caught too far forward. Silva drove inside, drawing Ahmedhod?i? out of position before squaring the ball across the box. Richter was there, timing his run perfectly. One touch to control. One strike to finish. 71st minute ¨C GOAL! Bradford 2-1 Sheffield United. The away end erupted again. Richter turned to the fans, arms wide, before getting mobbed by his teammates. Jake allowed himself a small smirk. Exactly as planned. The Final 10 Minutes ¨C Holding On For Dear Life Sheffield United weren''t going down without a fight. Their manager stood on the touchline, barking instructions, throwing every attacking option he had onto the pitch. The Championship side had been stunned by Bradford''s tactical discipline and lethal counterattacks, but now, with the game slipping away, they abandoned structure in favor of sheer attacking force. Bradford had to survive. Jake Wilson turned to his bench. The time for subtlety was over. "Richards, get ready," he said, his voice firm. "We''re going five at the back." The right-back nodded, pulling off his warm-up jacket as Jake turned to Barnes and Min-jae. "No space. No free headers. Clear everything." Barnes nodded, sweat dripping from his brow. "We''re not losing this now." Jake shifted the formation to a 5-4-1, dropping an extra center-back into the defensive line. Novak, exhausted but still willing to press, was the lone man up front, tasked with chasing long balls and wasting as much time as possible. Sheffield United piled forward, their full-backs completely abandoning defensive responsibilities. 85th minute ¨C The bombardment began. A lofted cross came from the left, curling dangerously toward the back post. Tom Cannon, Sheffield''s aerial threat, jumped above Min-jae, his forehead meeting the ball cleanly¡ª But Okafor was alert, shifting his weight in an instant and catching it firmly. Jake gestured for calm from the touchline. "Breathe! Keep your heads!" The next attack came 90 seconds later. This time, it was Hamer, Sheffield''s attacking midfielder, who whipped in a whistling delivery from the right flank. Ahmedhod?i?, the center-back who had pushed up in desperation, outmuscled Barnes and got his head on the ball. It flew toward the top corner. Okafor reacted instantly, his fingertips brushing the ball just enough to send it over the bar. The home crowd groaned in frustration. Jake turned to his bench, clenching his fists. "Four more minutes. Hold." 89th minute ¨C Disaster nearly struck. Harry Clarke, Sheffield''s right-back, had time and space. Instead of whipping in a predictable cross, he delivered a deep, curling ball to the far post. Ben Brereton D¨ªaz timed his run perfectly. Unmarked. A free header. Jake''s stomach twisted. Brereton D¨ªaz powered the ball downward, the type of header no goalkeeper liked to deal with. It hit the grass and bounced toward the bottom corner¡ª Okafor threw himself to the right, stretching every inch of his frame. A palm. A deflection. The ball ricocheted off the post, rolling dangerously across the goal line. Sheffield''s fans rose to their feet, a collective roar of anticipation. Min-jae reacted first, scrambling back and swinging his boot with everything he had. The ball flew out of the six-yard box, away from danger. Jake exhaled sharply. "Just a few more minutes." The fourth official raised the board¡ª5 minutes of added time. Jake barely reacted. He had expected it. The Sheffield United players saw the number and found a second wind. They flooded forward, wave after wave of attacks. 92nd minute ¨C A Sheffield midfielder fired a shot from 25 yards out, a bullet heading for the bottom corner. Okafor dived. The ball skidded past the post. Goal kick. Jake stole a glance at the clock. Three more minutes. 94th minute ¨C A short corner routine from Sheffield. The ball was worked to Hamer on the edge of the box. He unleashed a driven effort¡ª Deflected off Barnes'' thigh. It looped dangerously in the air, spinning toward the far post¡ª Richards, the substitute, launched himself at it, heading it out for a throw-in before Cannon could react. Jake exhaled, his grip tightening on the edge of the dugout. "One more minute." Sheffield prepared for one last attack. The ball was worked to Clarke, who stood near the halfway line. The right-back took one touch and sent in a desperate looping ball into the box. A forest of bodies leaped for it. Nathan Barnes, captain, leader, and defensive wall, rose highest. His forehead met the ball with thundering force, sending it back into midfield. The referee glanced at his watch¡ª Final whistle. Silence, for half a second. Then¡ªthe away end erupted. Bradford had done it. Sheffield United stood frozen, hands on hips, eyes staring at the ground. Jake let out a slow breath, turning to his staff. "That," he muttered, "was a war." The players collapsed to the ground, some from exhaustion, some from the sheer relief of having survived. Barnes pumped a fist in the air before being mobbed by his teammates. Okafor, the night''s hero, sat with his head bowed, soaking in the moment. Bradford had just knocked out a Championship side, in their own stadium, in the EFL Cup quarter-finals. The impossible was becoming real. Post-Match Conference ¨C Jake Stays Unmoved The media room was buzzing. Journalists from all over had gathered, sensing that this was a night worth documenting. Jake took his seat, adjusting the microphone as the cameras flashed. A journalist from Sky Sports leaned in. "Jake, you''ve just beaten a Championship side on their own turf. Is this the biggest win of your career?" Jake''s expression remained stone cold. "We came here to win. And we did." A few chuckles echoed through the room. But another journalist followed up. "Does this prove Bradford is ready for the Championship?" Jake leaned back slightly. "It proves we know how to win football matches." "Be honest. Did you expect to win tonight?" Jake''s smirk finally appeared. "Ask Sheffield if they did." Laughter rippled through the press room. The headlines were already writing themselves. But Jake wasn''t thinking about that. He was thinking about the next step. Bradford City were now in the EFL Cup semi-finals. And the football world was starting to pay attention. Chapter 112 - 112: FA Cup Second Round vs. Sutton United Jake Wilson sat in his office, staring at the Coaching System''s latest analysis. After the thrilling EFL Cup victory over Sheffield United, Bradford had barely three days to recover before heading into their next challenge¡ªan FA Cup Second Round clash against Sutton United. This should have been a routine victory, but the system''s prediction wasn''t as reassuring as he expected. Win Probability: Bradford: 72%Sutton United: 18%Draw: 10% Jake frowned. This was a League Two team, sitting 16th in the table¡ªstruggling for consistency, barely scraping wins against bottom-tier opposition. Bradford were flying at the top of League One, had just beaten a Championship side, and were undefeated in all competitions. And yet, the system wasn''t giving them a 90%+ chance. That meant one thing: This wasn''t going to be as easy as people thought. He clicked into the detailed breakdown, and the warnings became clearer. System Analysis ¨C The Trap Game Sutton United weren''t a technically gifted team, but they didn''t need to be. Their playing style relied on a compact shape, relentless pressing, and set-piece dominance. Strengths: Defensive Discipline ¨C A low block with five defenders, making it hard to break down.Aggressive Pressing ¨C They hunted in packs, especially on second balls.Artificial Turf ¨C The plastic pitch at Gander Green Lane gave them an advantage against teams used to natural grass.Physicality & Set-Pieces ¨C Nearly all their goals came from corners, free-kicks, or long throw-ins. Weaknesses: Lack of Pace at the Back ¨C Their center-backs were slow, making them vulnerable to quick counterattacks.Limited Creativity ¨C If they couldn''t score from a set-piece, they struggled to create open-play chances.Struggled Against Quick Passing ¨C Teams that moved the ball quickly could pick them apart. Jake rubbed his chin. The system was warning him. This was a classic cup upset scenario¡ªa tough, physical opponent on a terrible pitch, playing defensive football, just waiting for Bradford to make a mistake. Squad Rotation ¨C Balancing the FA Cup and League Priorities With the EFL Cup semi-final on the horizon, Jake had a difficult choice to make. His strongest XI had played a grueling 90 minutes against Sheffield. He couldn''t risk overloading them, but he also couldn''t field an entirely second-string team and expect an easy win. After careful deliberation, he decided on a mixed lineup¡ªa few first-team regulars, a few squad players, and a bench stacked with firepower if needed. Starting XI ¨C 4-2-3-1 FormationGK ¨C Jack Simmons (First FA Cup start this season)RB ¨C James RichardsCB ¨C Noah Fletcher (Young CB getting a chance to prove himself)CB ¨C Kang Min-jaeLB ¨C Lewis Hart (Resting Aiden Taylor)CDM ¨C Daniel LoweCM ¨C Elliot Harper (Needs minutes to regain sharpness)RW ¨C Raphael Mensah (Starting over Silva to use his pace)CAM ¨C Santiago V¨¦lez (Resting Ib¨¢?ez but keeping a creative spark)LW ¨C Leo RasmussenST ¨C Tobias Richter (Resting Novak and Castell¨®n) Bench: Okafor, Barnes, Taylor, Ib¨¢?ez, Silva, Novak, Castell¨®n This squad had enough talent to win the match, but if things went wrong, Jake had game-changers on the bench. "Don''t expect an easy game," he told the players before they left for London. "This pitch, this team¡ªit''s built to frustrate us. Move the ball fast, stay patient, and be clinical when the chance comes." As the team boarded the bus, Jake''s gut told him this match would be tougher than anyone expected. Kickoff ¨C The moment they stepped onto the artificial turf at Gander Green Lane, Jake knew they were in for a fight. The ball bounced awkwardly on the hard surface, skidding unpredictably. Short passes became difficult, first touches weren''t clean, and the wind whipping through the stadium made long balls even more unreliable. From the opening whistle, Sutton played exactly as the system predicted¡ªdeep defensive block, aggressive pressing, and brutal physicality in midfield. By the 10th minute, Bradford were struggling to settle. The passing wasn''t crisp, the movement was hesitant, and Sutton were growing in confidence. Then, disaster struck. 23rd Minute ¨C A long throw-in from Sutton''s right-back launched deep into the penalty area. Bradford''s defenders hesitated, caught off guard by the awkward bounce. Bodies clashed. A miscommunication between Fletcher and Min-jae led to the ball falling loose inside the six-yard box. Before Simmons could react, a Sutton striker poked it home. 1-0 Sutton United. The home fans erupted, sensing an upset. Jake stayed calm, but inside, he was furious. That was exactly what he had warned them about. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He stepped to the edge of his technical area. "Wake up! Move the ball faster!" Bradford''s Response ¨C The goal shook Bradford out of their slow start. Rasmussen dropped deeper, trying to get more involved. V¨¦lez started finding pockets of space, linking up with Mensah on the right flank. In the 41st minute, the equalizer finally came. A quick transition through midfield saw Harper slide a pass into Mensah. The Ghanaian winger, desperate to impress, cut inside, skipping past two defenders before curling a low shot into the bottom corner. A goal out of nothing. 1-1. Jake barely reacted. He was still annoyed at their sluggish performance. At halftime, he didn''t sugarcoat his message. "You''re making this harder than it needs to be," he said bluntly. "Play your game. Quicker, sharper, smarter. One goal and they''ll collapse." The second half had to be better. Second Half ¨C Bradford Takes Control Jake stood on the sideline, arms crossed, watching his team struggle to adjust to the chaotic nature of the match. The first half had been sloppy¡ªpasses bouncing unpredictably, second balls being lost, and Sutton United growing in belief with every passing minute. At halftime, he had kept his instructions simple but firm. "Shorter passes. No long balls. Move it quickly, keep it on the ground. Force them to run." Now, ten minutes into the second half, he could see the difference immediately. Bradford''s midfield started dictating the tempo, moving the ball in quick one-two touches, keeping it away from Sutton''s pressing players. With each pass, Sutton''s defensive shape stretched just a little more, their compact structure beginning to crack. Then came the mistake. 55th Minute ¨C Sutton had spent the first half sitting deep, frustrating Bradford. But now, forced to chase the game, their discipline started to break. In the 53rd minute, V¨¦lez received the ball in midfield and quickly turned into space, drawing two Sutton players toward him. Instead of forcing a risky pass, he calmly laid it off to Harper, who switched play to Rasmussen on the left wing. The Danish winger darted forward, taking on Sutton''s right-back, then whipped a driven cross into the box. The ball should have been an easy clearance, but Sutton''s center-back hesitated under pressure from Richter. That moment of hesitation was all it took. The ball took a bad bounce off the artificial turf, skidding away from the defender''s control. Richter reacted instantly, pouncing on the loose ball like a predator smelling weakness. The goalkeeper rushed out¡ªtoo late. With one touch, Richter skipped past him. With the next, he buried the ball into the empty net. The Sutton players froze as the ball hit the net. The away section exploded. Richter sprinted toward the corner flag, fists clenched, screaming in celebration. Jake exhaled sharply, nodding. "That''s better." Bradford had the lead. Now, they just had to finish the job. Bradford Dominates ¨C Sutton''s Resistance Crumbles The goal completely changed the momentum. Sutton, who had been content to sit deep and frustrate Bradford, were suddenly forced to come forward. Their defensive block broke apart, and their shape became disjointed as they tried to press higher up the pitch. That played right into Jake''s hands. Bradford''s midfield took complete control, recycling possession, forcing Sutton to chase shadows. The defenders¡ªwho had spent most of the match camped in their own half¡ªwere now stretched wide, gaps beginning to appear. Jake didn''t rush a substitution. He let the game develop, watching as Sutton tired themselves out. By the 75th minute, they had nothing left. 80th Minute ¨C Jake could see it unfolding before it even happened. A misplaced Sutton pass in midfield was intercepted by Ib¨¢?ez, who immediately looked up and spotted V¨¦lez making a forward run. "Go!" Jake shouted from the sideline. V¨¦lez didn''t hesitate, turning on the ball and driving into space. Sutton''s last defender tried to step forward, but it was too late. A perfectly weighted through ball split the defense apart, finding Rasmussen in full sprint. The Danish winger had one defender chasing him, the goalkeeper rushing out¡ª Jake didn''t even blink. This was over. One touch to set himself. One touch to finish. A calm, low shot slid past the Sutton keeper, tucking neatly into the far corner. The moment the ball crossed the line, Rasmussen wheeled away, arms spread wide, running toward the travelling Bradford fans. 3-1. Game over. Sutton players dropped their heads. Bradford players knew they had won. On the touchline, Jake simply nodded, hands still in his pockets. It was a tougher game than it needed to be. But at the end of the day, they had done what was required. Now, it was time to move on to bigger challenges. Post-Match ¨C Lessons Learned In the locker room, Jake didn''t celebrate. "This game was harder than it needed to be," he told the squad. "No game is a free win. You make it easy, or you make it hard." Bradford was into the FA Cup Third Round¡ªwhere the Premier League giants entered the competition. A matchup against a club like Arsenal, Manchester City, or Liverpool loomed. The real FA Cup journey was just beginning. Chapter 113 - 113: Family Celebration & Hidden Truths Jake Wilson stood outside his house, staring at the warm glow of the lights inside. Laughter and conversation carried through the walls, the sounds of a family celebration. His family. His wife''s family. His teammates. And yet, the truth weighed on him. No one inside knew who he really was. Not Emma, his wife. Not Richard, his father. Not even the players who trusted him with their careers. Only he knew that he wasn''t Jake Wilson. He took a breath, steeling himself, then stepped inside. The Celebration ¨C A Party for Baby Ariel The house was alive with energy. Family members moved between the rooms, chatting over drinks, laughing as they passed around tiny baby gifts for Ariel. Balloons with "Welcome, Ariel!" in soft pink and white floated near the ceiling, and a small cake sat on the kitchen counter, untouched for now. Jake caught sight of Emma, holding their newborn daughter, beaming as she spoke with guests. His wife. His child. He had to remind himself¡ªthis is my life now. Emma turned, catching his eye, and smiled. "There''s the man of the hour." "Not me," Jake said, nodding toward their daughter. "Tonight''s all about her." Emma chuckled and kissed his cheek. It was natural. Effortless. To her, he was still Jake. But tonight, for the first time, he would be meeting Emma''s family as her husband. And he had to pretend like he knew them. Meeting Emma''s Family ¨C Pretending to Belong A man approached him¡ªa little taller than Jake, dark hair, strong jawline. He extended his hand, and Jake shook it. "You don''t remember me, do you?" the man asked, grinning. Jake''s mind raced. Shit. Who is he? Emma, sensing his hesitation, jumped in. "Jake, stop messing around. It''s Adam." Her brother. Jake forced a laugh, nodding. "Of course, Adam. How''ve you been?" Adam smirked. "Better question is¡ªhow have you been? You''ve been... different lately." Jake tensed. "Different how?" he asked carefully. Emma''s mother, Linda, appeared, placing a hand on Adam''s shoulder. "He means in a good way." S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She turned to Jake, studying him with a softness in her eyes. "You seem... calmer. More patient. Like you''re really happy." Jake felt his stomach twist. Did that mean the real Jake wasn''t like this? Was he supposed to be harsher? More distant? He smiled, careful not to show hesitation. "Guess being a dad changes you." Linda''s expression softened further. "It does. And it suits you." Jake pretended like it did. Confrontation with His Own Father ¨C Resolving Old Wounds For the first hour, Jake avoided Richard Wilson¡ªthe man who had raised the real Jake. But eventually, their paths crossed. Richard was standing by the kitchen counter, drink in hand, looking unsure of himself. When he saw Jake, he gave a small nod. "Jake," he said. Jake mirrored the nod. "Dad." A silence stretched between them. Then Richard sighed. "Look, I know things haven''t been perfect between us." He swirled his drink, staring at it. "I was hard on you growing up. Maybe too hard." Jake said nothing. He knew this wasn''t really his problem¡ªbut now, it was. Richard continued, his voice lower now. "I wasn''t the father I should''ve been. I just wanted you to be strong. I didn''t realize I was pushing you away." Jake could hear the regret. He could tell this was the conversation the real Jake never had. And since the real Jake was gone¡ªthis was his moment to fix it. He set his drink down and met his father''s eyes. "Then let''s start over." Richard blinked, caught off guard. Jake continued, "No more ''should''ve been'' or ''what ifs.'' We''re here now. Let''s just move forward." Richard studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Alright," he said. And just like that, it was done. Not for the real Jake. But for the Jake that he had become. The Team Arrives ¨C Brotherhood Beyond Football The energy inside the house shifted the moment the front door burst open. "Where''s my goddaughter?" Lukas Novak announced dramatically, stepping in like he owned the place. In his arms, he carried the biggest gift box Jake had ever seen, wrapped in gold paper with an oversized silver ribbon on top. It was almost comically large, as if Novak had gone out of his way to find the most impractical package possible. "She''s not your goddaughter," Silva shot back, strolling in behind him, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a smaller¡ªbut more sensibly wrapped¡ªgift in the other. "You just want the title because it sounds cool," Silva continued, shaking his head. "That''s a lie," Novak declared, his expression completely serious. He turned to Emma, nodding. "But if you need a godfather, I volunteer. I have great wisdom to pass down." Emma, already laughing, cocked an eyebrow. "You? The guy who thought Italy was a city?" Novak put a hand on his chest, wounded. "That was a joke." Emma smirked. "It wasn''t." Harper leaned in from the doorway. "Wait, what? I wasn''t here for that story." "It''s fake news," Novak insisted, walking toward the living room to drop off his ridiculous present. "I was there," Silva said. "We were in a team meeting, and Gaffer asked if anyone had been to Italy. Novak goes, ''Yeah, I heard it''s a nice city.''" Laughter exploded from the players now filling the house. Novak raised a hand. "In my defense, I was tired." "It was ten in the morning," Silva said flatly. Jake leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as the team spread through the house, turning the family gathering into something much bigger. The kitchen became a gathering spot, with Silva and Rasmussen opening bottles, pouring drinks, and handing out beers to whoever wanted them. The living room transformed into an impromptu dance floor when Raphael Mensah decided to challenge anyone to out-dance him. Richter, Harper, and Fletcher attempted to join in, but none of them had even a fraction of Mensah''s rhythm. Fletcher gave up first, retreating to the sofa. Harper, however, was too competitive for his own good. "Watch this," he announced confidently. He stepped forward, rolled his shoulders, then proceeded to execute what could only be described as the most painfully awkward robot dance anyone had ever seen. Silva choked on his drink. Novak clapped. Mensah fell to his knees, laughing. "Harper," Jake said, shaking his head. "Please stop." Harper didn''t stop. Instead, he attempted a spin, lost his balance, and nearly took out the coffee table in the process. Rasmussen caught him just in time. "Mate, you''re gonna get yourself injured before the next match." Jake just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is my team." A moment later, a loud crash came from the kitchen. Silva froze, holding an empty bottle in one hand, eyes darting toward the source of the sound. The cabinet door was now slightly ajar¡ªand something had very clearly fallen behind it. "That was not my fault," Silva said immediately. Richards squinted. "Then why do you look guilty?" Silva cleared his throat. "We move on." The chaos, the banter, the complete lack of professionalism¡ªJake had never loved this group more. His football family blended seamlessly with his real family. His father, Richard, was in the corner, having a drink with Novak and Min-jae, laughing about some old football stories. Emma''s brother, Adam, was deep in conversation with Mensah, discussing Premier League teams while Emma stood nearby, watching them with a soft smile. The baby, Ariel, was completely unfazed by all of it, sleeping peacefully in Emma''s arms as if none of this noise affected her. For the first time that night, Jake felt something real. Not pressure. Not uncertainty. Not the weight of knowing that he wasn''t really Jake Wilson. Just a moment of pure, unfiltered joy. And maybe, just maybe¡ªthat was enough. A Quiet Moment ¨C Jake''s Reflection As the night wound down, Jake found himself standing near the back of the house, looking at everything unfolding around him. Emma was in the corner, rocking Ariel in her arms, smiling as her mother spoke to her. His teammates were still chatting, making ridiculous bets on who would score the most goals this season. And his father¡ªhis new father¡ªwas actually laughing with Adam, something the system''s memories suggested hadn''t happened in years. This was a life he wasn''t meant to have. But he had it now. "No one knows the truth. Only me." And maybe¡ªthat was okay. He had spent weeks trying to navigate this new existence, trying to separate the past from the present. But standing here, watching his wife, his daughter, his team, his family¡ªthis wasn''t the past anymore. This was his reality now. And for the first time, he stopped thinking about the life he lost¡ª And started embracing the life he had. Chapter 114 - 114: The Unbeaten Run Ends Bradford City had been unstoppable. Seventeen matches, seventeen wins. Then four more. Twenty-one consecutive victories in League One. No team had come close to matching their dominance. Every week, the media ran the same headlines. "Can anyone stop Jake Wilson''s Bradford?" "The League One title race is over before Christmas." "Is this the best League One team ever?" Jake ignored the noise. Winning the league wasn''t the goal¡ªgetting promoted was. But even he could sense the shift in mentality around the squad. The hunger that had driven them earlier in the season had started to fade. The sharpness in training, the urgency in games¡ªit was still there, but it wasn''t quite the same. Wins were expected, not fought for. And then came Wrexham. The Warning Signs Jake hadn''t needed the Coaching System to tell him that this match would be dangerous. Wrexham wasn''t a typical mid-table League One side. They had momentum, ambition, and financial backing far beyond most of the division. They weren''t just happy to be here¡ªthey wanted to be in the Championship. They had spent big, recruited experienced players, and turned the Racecourse Ground into a fortress. The system''s prediction wasn''t alarming, but it wasn''t as comfortable as it usually was. Win Probability: Bradford: 55%Wrexham: 30%Draw: 15% It was the lowest win probability Jake had seen in weeks. He relayed his concerns to the squad. "They''re going to come at us with everything. We have to be sharp from the first whistle." But looking around the dressing room, he saw something he didn''t like. Confidence. Not the good kind¡ªthe kind that leads to complacency. No one was nervous. No one looked like they believed this would be anything more than another three points. Even Novak, the team''s leader on the pitch, shrugged and said, "We''ve played tougher teams." Jake didn''t say anything. He would let the game do the talking. First Half ¨C The moment the match kicked off, Jake knew they were in trouble. It wasn''t just Wrexham''s energy¡ªit was their intent. From the very first pass, they closed every gap, swarming Bradford''s players before they could even think. Their press wasn''t just aggressive¡ªit was orchestrated, calculated. Every time Bradford''s center-backs tried to build from the back, Wrexham''s front three pushed up immediately, forcing Okafor into rushed clearances. When Ib¨¢?ez or Lowe dropped deep to receive, they were instantly surrounded, funneled toward the sidelines with no escape. Jake saw it before his players did. Wrexham wasn''t just pressing to win the ball back¡ªthey were pressing to suffocate. Bradford''s rhythm¡ªthe fluid passing, the patient buildup, the calm under pressure¡ªwas completely disrupted. And then came the first warning. 10th Minute ¨C Lowe received a short pass from Barnes and instinctively turned upfield¡ªbut before he could scan for options, Wrexham''s midfielder pounced. A perfectly timed challenge. A stolen ball. Within two seconds, Wrexham''s front line was already in motion, running into the space Bradford had left behind. The crowd roared as the ball was quickly shifted forward¡ªa sharp one-touch pass splitting Min-jae and Richards. The Wrexham forward took a touch into the box. Jake saw it happening in slow motion. This is a goal. The striker opened up his body and curled a right-footed shot toward the far post. The stadium held its breath. Okafor dived, fully stretched¡ªbut the ball whistled just past the post. Jake exhaled. A close call. Too close. But instead of frustration, Wrexham''s players clapped and shouted encouragement, as if they knew it was only a matter of time. Jake looked toward his bench. No panic. No overreactions. But deep down, he already knew¡ªthis wasn''t going to be just another game. 20th Minute ¨C Jake saw it unfolding a second too late. Lowe had possession just outside Bradford''s penalty area, with Wrexham''s midfielders lurking, waiting. They had been pressing aggressively all match, but this time, their timing was perfect. Lowe took one extra touch, just enough hesitation for Wrexham''s number eight to pounce. A blur of red and white¡ªa crunching tackle. The ball was stolen cleanly, and before Bradford''s players could react, it was already being shifted forward. One pass. A sharp, instinctive flick through the center-backs, threading the ball right into the danger zone. Barnes and Min-jae had stepped up a fraction of a second too late. The Wrexham striker was in. The Racecourse Ground erupted. One Touch. One Finish. No Chance. The Wrexham forward didn''t hesitate. One touch to set himself. One glance at the keeper. Then¡ªa low, driven strike toward the bottom corner. Okafor dived, fully stretched, but it was hopeless. The ball kissed the inside of the post before settling into the net. 1-0 Wrexham. The home crowd exploded, a deafening roar shaking the stadium. Players in red sprinted toward the corner flag, celebrating wildly. Bradford''s defense stood frozen. Bradford''s Reaction ¨C And the Real Problem For the first time all season, Bradford were behind in a league match. But what struck Jake wasn''t the goal itself. It wasn''t even the mistake. It was how his players reacted. Not with frustration. Not with anger. But with surprise. Like they genuinely hadn''t considered the possibility that they could be losing. Like they thought this kind of thing didn''t happen to them. Jake clenched his jaw. This wasn''t just a bad start. This was a mindset problem. And that worried him more than the goal itself. Second Half ¨C Collapse The dressing room was quiet. Not frustrated. Not determined. Just silent. Jake stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, letting the weight of the moment settle in. They weren''t used to this. Not in League One. Not this season. He had expected anger, players demanding better from each other. But instead, he saw confusion. Like they didn''t know how to react to losing. And that worried him even more than the scoreline. He took a breath, his voice level but firm. "Wake up," he said. "We''re playing at half-speed, and they''re punishing us for it." The players nodded, some muttering agreement, but the energy was flat. Novak finally spoke, his jaw clenched. "We''ll fix it." Jake held his gaze for a second longer. "You''d better." 46th Minute ¨C For the first time all match, Bradford broke free from Wrexham''s relentless press. Ib¨¢?ez, deeper than usual, found a sliver of space and played a perfectly weighted through ball between the center-backs. Novak read it instantly, sprinting in behind the last defender. This was it. One-on-one with the goalkeeper. The entire stadium seemed to pause as Novak took a touch to set himself, his right foot cocked back, ready to fire. Jake was already halfway to celebrating¡ªNovak didn''t miss these. But then¡ªhesitation. Just for a fraction of a second. Instead of going for the first-time shot, Novak tried to take another touch, and that was all Wrexham''s keeper needed. He rushed forward, spread himself wide¡ª The shot slammed into his outstretched leg and bounced clear. Novak stared in disbelief. The chance was gone. Jake ran a hand through his hair. That was it. That was the moment. If Novak scores there, it''s 1-1, and the entire momentum swings back to Bradford. Instead, Wrexham grew in confidence, the crowd roaring louder than before. Bradford had been handed a lifeline¡ªand they threw it away. 50th Minute ¨C Jake could still feel the frustration from Novak''s miss when disaster struck. Bradford had committed players forward, trying to force an equalizer¡ªbut when Wrexham''s defense cleared a long ball upfield, things fell apart. The clearance wasn''t even intentional. It was just a hopeful hoof forward, but it caught Barnes and Min-jae out of position. For the briefest moment, both defenders hesitated. Barnes thought Min-jae would step up. Min-jae thought Barnes would cover. That single second of indecision was fatal. Wrexham''s winger sprinted in behind, pouncing on the loose ball before either Bradford defender could react. Jake saw it coming before anyone else. He yelled, "TRACK BACK!" but it was too late. The winger surged forward, racing into the final third. Barnes and Min-jae scrambled to recover, but the damage was done. The ball was whipped low across the box, and Wrexham''s striker arrived unmarked at the near post. One touch. A crisp, first-time finish. The net rippled. The Racecourse Ground exploded. 2-0 Wrexham. For the first time all season, Bradford were down by two goals in a league match. And the worst part? They had no idea how to respond. 70th Minute ¨C The moment the referee pointed to the corner flag, Jake felt the pit in his stomach grow deeper. Wrexham had been relentless in their pressing, ruthless in transition, and now¡ªthey had a set-piece. Bradford had defended corners well all season, but something felt different this time. Jake watched as his players slowly jogged back into position. There was no urgency, no barking orders, no intensity. They looked defeated before the ball was even delivered. On the edge of the box, Barnes and Min-jae tried to organize the line. Ib¨¢?ez and Lowe stood near the penalty spot, marking their men. Silva and Rasmussen stayed just outside the area, ready for a clearance. But Wrexham''s players weren''t standing still. They were moving, bumping into markers, creating space, pushing the limits of what the referee would allow. And then¡ªthe delivery came. The Wrexham winger curled an inswinging corner toward the far post, the ball hanging in the air just long enough for chaos to unfold. Min-jae tried to step toward the flight of the ball, but a Wrexham attacker subtly blocked his path, forcing him off balance. Barnes was too deep, misjudging the cross, allowing Wrexham''s tallest center-back a free run into the perfect spot. Jake saw it before the players did. "He''s open!" he shouted, but it was too late. A free header. Unchallenged. Powerful. Precise. Okafor reacted instinctively, diving to his left, but the ball was already past him¡ªcrashing into the back of the net. The Racecourse Ground erupted. The Wrexham players ran toward the corner flag, celebrating wildly. The home fans sang louder than ever, knowing the job was done. Bradford''s players? Silent. Min-jae pounded the turf in frustration. Barnes looked up at the sky, hands on his hips. Ib¨¢?ez just stared at the ball in the net, shaking his head. On the touchline, Jake exhaled slowly. Game over. Full-Time ¨C The First League Defeat The final whistle blew. Wrexham''s fans celebrated like they had won the title. Bradford''s players stood there, stunned. For the first time all season, they had walked off a League One pitch without three points. Without a goal. Without answers. Jake walked onto the pitch, shaking hands with the opposition manager. Wrexham had deserved it. They had outworked, outplayed, and outthought Bradford from start to finish. As he made his way toward the tunnel, he heard a reporter shouting from the sidelines: "Is this the reality check Bradford needed?" Maybe. Post-Match ¨C The Harshest Team Talk Yet Inside the dressing room, the mood was heavy. Some players sat with their heads down. Others leaned back, staring at the ceiling. No one spoke. Jake let the silence hang. Then, he spoke. "You deserved that." The words cut through the room. No shouting. No anger. Just cold, simple truth. "You thought you could win without effort. You thought League One was beneath you. That''s what happens when you stop fighting." He scanned the room, making sure they were listening. Really listening. "This league isn''t won yet. And if you play like that again, it never will be." He looked around, locking eyes with every player. "You don''t want to feel this again? Then don''t play like that again." No one argued. Even Novak, usually the most vocal, just nodded slowly. Jake turned toward the door. "Press conference in five minutes." Press Conference ¨C A Minor Setback, Not a Crisis The media room was packed. Journalists who had spent weeks writing about Bradford''s dominance now had a new angle. Jake took his seat, expression calm as the cameras flashed. The first question came immediately. "Jake, your first League One loss of the season. Is this a major setback?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "It''s a minor thing." Murmurs in the room. The reporters had expected frustration, excuses¡ªnot this. Jake leaned forward slightly. "I believe in my team. We''ve won 21 games. We lost one. It happens. It''s football." Another journalist pressed him. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Did Wrexham expose weaknesses in your system?" Jake smirked. "If they did, we''ll fix them. That''s the beauty of football¡ªyou always have the next game." "So, no concern about the title race?" Jake shook his head. "None. We''ll be just fine." He stood up, signaling the press conference was over. One bad night wasn''t going to define Bradford. But how they responded next? That would. Chapter 115 - 115: FA Cup Build-Up & System’s Insight The FA Cup third-round draw had been made. Bradford City vs. Leicester City. Jake barely reacted when he saw it. Another Premier League team. Another match where they''d be labeled underdogs. Nothing new. The reaction from the media was predictable. Within minutes, the headlines started circulating: "Leicester City to ease through to the next round?""Can Bradford cause another FA Cup shock?""Jake Wilson faces his toughest test yet!" Jake scoffed at that last one. Toughest test? He had heard that line too many times. They said it when they faced Arsenal. They said it before Crystal Palace. Before Sheffield United. Before every single time Bradford stepped onto the pitch against a team from a higher division. And yet¡ªBradford kept winning. Leicester weren''t anything special. They weren''t a title contender, not a top-four side, not a dominant force in the league. They were hovering near the bottom half of the Premier League, struggling to find consistency. A team in transition, still searching for an identity. If anything, they were the ones who should be worried. But the system didn''t see it that way. The System''s Prediction ¨C A Rare Doubt Jake waited until late at night before checking the system''s analysis. The house was quiet, Emma and the baby asleep, while the soft glow of the screen illuminated his face. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw as he scrolled through the data. Bradford had been rolling through League One without resistance. The system had consistently backed them in every match, often giving them dominant win probabilities. Even in cup games against Championship teams, the numbers had been in their favor. But this time, the numbers told a different story. Leicester: 65% win probabilityBradford: 25%Draw: 10% Jake frowned. This was the lowest probability the system had given Bradford all season. Even against Arsenal, a club filled with world-class talent, Bradford had been given a 35% chance. Against Crystal Palace, it had been close to 50-50. But here? Only 25%? Jake exhaled through his nose, studying the breakdown. Leicester''s Strengths ¨C Why the System Rated Them So HighlyElite-level physicality and endurance. Leicester were used to playing at a Premier League tempo. They wouldn''t fade in the second half like League One or Championship teams had against Bradford. They could maintain intensity for the full 90 minutes.Dangerous in wide areas. Both Stephy Mavididi and Jordan Ayew had pace, directness, and an eye for goal. If given space, they could punish any defense.Jamie Vardy''s movement. He wasn''t the player he once was, but his off-the-ball runs were still among the best in the country. One lapse in concentration and he would find a pocket of space to exploit. Jake nodded. He wasn''t surprised. He had watched Leicester enough to know they had firepower. But then he switched to their weaknesses. Leicester''s Weaknesses ¨C Where Bradford Could Hurt ThemSlow center-backs. Conor Coady and Harry Souttar were experienced, but against quick, direct play, they struggled. They weren''t built to deal with fast counterattacks.Defensive gaps when Justin pushed forward. James Justin was an attacking full-back, constantly overlapping. That meant he often left space behind him¡ªspace that could be exploited with fast transitions.Overconfidence against weaker teams. The system flagged this as a common issue in early FA Cup rounds. Premier League teams often rotated their squads, expecting an easy win. It led to complacency, mistakes, and¡ªif they weren''t careful¡ªan upset. That last weakness caught Jake''s eye. He leaned forward, reading the analysis again. Leicester were expected to win. And they knew it. That meant they would play with a certain level of arrogance, assuming Bradford would sit back and defend, just like lower-league clubs usually did. Jake smirked. "They''re going to underestimate us." Good. Let them. By the time they realized their mistake, it would be too late. A Curious Detail ¨C The Sheffield Prediction Something odd stood out in the system''s forecasts. Before facing Leicester in the FA Cup, Bradford had a league match against Sheffield Wednesday. A tough game, no doubt¡ªSheffield were fighting for promotion in the Championship, a level above Bradford''s current division. Jake scrolled down, expecting a tight probability. Instead, he saw something that made him pause. Bradford: 60% win probabilitySheffield Wednesday: 25%Draw: 15% He frowned, leaning back in his chair. "The system is confident about beating Sheffield, but not Leicester?" That didn''t make sense. Sheffield Wednesday were, on paper, a stronger team than most of League One. They had better players, a bigger budget, and had been playing at a higher level for years. Yet the system saw them as a much smaller threat than Leicester. Jake tapped his fingers against the desk. It was rare for the system to outright favor Bradford against a Championship-level club. Even against other League One teams, their win probability usually hovered between 55 to 65 percent, depending on form and squad rotation. But here? The system was giving them a clear edge. Why? He scrolled through the analysis, looking for clues. Sheffield were a solid side, but they relied heavily on set-pieces and physicality. Against teams that played open, attacking football, they thrived. But against a team like Bradford¡ªquick, technical, and ruthless in transition¡ªthey struggled. And that''s when it hit him. "Does that mean we''re actually a stronger team than we think?" He had spent the season focusing on game-by-game challenges, never stopping to truly reflect on what he had built. But now, as he looked at the system''s projections, a realization crept in. Bradford weren''t just good for a League One team. They were playing at a level that was troubling Championship clubs. Jake exhaled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. If that was the case, then maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªLeicester had more to fear than they realized. Training & Tactical Adjustments With the system''s insights, Jake finalized his game plan. Leicester were a Premier League side, but that didn''t mean they were invincible. Bradford had already beaten top-tier clubs before. The key was exploiting their weaknesses while neutralizing their strengths. Stay compact, hit them on the counter.Leicester''s center-backs were slow, and their defensive line wasn''t built to handle fast transitions.If Bradford won the ball in midfield, they had to move quickly¡ªone or two passes, and they could be running at an exposed backline. Target their right flank.James Justin loved to push forward, overlapping to support the attack.That left gaps in behind, which V¨¦lez and Mensah could exploit. Frustrate them.Leicester would expect an easy game. Premier League teams always did in the early FA Cup rounds.If Bradford stayed compact and disciplined, the pressure would shift onto Leicester.If the match was still level after an hour, panic would set in. Jake stood in the center of the dressing room before training, his players gathered around. "Listen up," he said, his voice even but firm. "Leicester are a good team, but that doesn''t mean they''re unbeatable. They''ve got flaws, and we''re going to expose them." His eyes moved across the room. His players were locked in, focused. "They''re going to underestimate you," Jake continued. "They''re going to expect us to sit back and hope for a miracle." A few smirks appeared. Novak folded his arms, nodding. Jake let the silence hang for a moment before delivering the final blow. "We''re not going to do that." His voice was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. "We''re going to take the game to them." His players exchanged glances, something shifting in their expressions. A quiet confidence. A hunger. Leicester were about to walk into a game they weren''t prepared for. Press Conference ¨C The Mind Games Begin The media room was packed. National journalists, local reporters, cameras flashing. This wasn''t just another FA Cup tie. This was the "Giant Killers" against another Premier League opponent. Jake sat down, adjusting the microphone in front of him. He had done enough of these to know what was coming. The first question came from a journalist near the front. "Jake, your team just suffered its first league defeat against Wrexham. Do you think that result will have any impact on your players going into this game?" Jake didn''t even blink. "No." S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The journalist hesitated. "You sound very certain." "Because I am," Jake said simply. "One bad game doesn''t erase everything we''ve done. If anything, it sharpens the focus. The players know what''s at stake. They''ll be ready." A different reporter spoke up. "You''ve been labeled the ''Giant Killer'' after beating Arsenal, Crystal Palace, and Sheffield United. What do you think of that title?" Jake leaned back slightly. "I don''t care about titles. Football isn''t won in headlines. It''s won on the pitch." He let the words hang for a second before adding, "But if people want to call us that, fine. It just means teams know what''s coming." There were murmurs in the room. The journalists scribbled notes. "Do you see yourself as the clear favorite in this match?" someone else asked. Jake smirked. "That''s Leicester''s problem, not mine." Laughter rippled through the room. The reporter pushed further. "But do you think Bradford is the stronger side?" Jake shrugged. "We''ll find out soon enough." The headlines wrote themselves: "Wilson dismisses Wrexham loss: ''We''ll be ready.''""Giant Killer? ''Teams know what''s coming,'' says Jake Wilson.""Wilson on Leicester: ''That''s their problem, not mine.''""Giant Killer¡ªWill Leicester Be Next?" Jake didn''t care about the media. The only thing that mattered was what happened on matchday. And when the whistle blew, Leicester would find out exactly what kind of team they were dealing with Chapter 116 - 116: FA Cup Third Round: Bradford vs. Leicester City ???? Valley Parade ¨C FA Cup Third Round ¨C December 2024 The atmosphere was electric. Valley Parade had hosted big nights before, but something about this one felt different. The FA Cup carried a magic of its own, and the Bradford supporters knew they were part of it. The stands were packed well before kickoff, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Fans clutched their scarves, waving them high, singing as if their voices alone could push the team forward. The noise wasn''t just excitement. It was belief. Bradford City had been here before. They had toppled Arsenal, Crystal Palace, and Sheffield United. They had faced teams with bigger budgets, bigger reputations, bigger expectations¡ªand walked away victorious. And now, Leicester City stood in their way. A Different Kind of Challenge Unlike the teams Bradford had already conquered, Leicester weren''t coming into this match arrogant or complacent. They had watched the footage. They had studied Bradford''s relentless pressing, their counterattacking speed, their ability to hurt teams who underestimated them. Leicester wouldn''t make the same mistake. They had arrived fully prepared. But so had Bradford. Jake Wilson''s Plan ¨C Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, arms crossed, eyes locked on his players. The Bradford squad moved through their warm-up drills with precision, their focus unwavering. This wasn''t a team caught up in the emotion of the night. This was a team ready for battle. Jake had drilled one message into them all week: "We play our football. We dictate the game. It doesn''t matter who they are." Leicester may have been Premier League, but that meant nothing when the whistle blew. They wouldn''t sit back. They wouldn''t play for penalties or luck. Bradford would attack. Because this was Bradford City. And they didn''t back down from anyone. Bradford City Starting 11 (4-4-2) Jake had chosen a bold, attacking lineup¡ªone designed to exploit Leicester''s weaknesses. Goalkeeper: Okafor ¨C The shot-stopper who had proven himself in big moments before. Calm, commanding, and capable of game-changing saves. Defenders:Right-Back: Harper ¨C Quick and aggressive, tasked with keeping Mavididi quiet while pushing forward when needed.Center-Backs: Min-jae & Barnes ¨C A rock-solid pairing. Min-jae, the physical enforcer; Barnes, the composed leader who kept the backline organized.Left-Back: Ib¨¢?ez ¨C Dynamic, capable of joining the attack while locking down his side defensively.Midfielders:Right Midfield: Mensah ¨C Bradford''s spark. His pace and direct running would be crucial in exploiting space behind Leicester''s full-backs.Central Midfielders: Silva & V¨¦lez ¨C The heartbeat of the team. Silva dictated tempo; V¨¦lez broke up play and launched attacks. Together, they balanced control with creativity.Left Midfield: Rasmussen ¨C Technically gifted, capable of cutting inside or whipping dangerous crosses into the box.Strikers:Novak & Costa ¨C A perfect strike partnership. Novak, the physical target man with an eye for goal. Costa, the explosive Brazilian forward who could turn a half-chance into a goal.The Final Moments Before Kickoff The Leicester players looked composed, moving through their warm-up with the professionalism of a top-tier side. Their manager barked instructions, reminding them that this wasn''t just another FA Cup tie. Bradford weren''t a League One team playing above their level. They were a force. Jake glanced up at the stands one last time, taking in the deafening chants, the sea of claret and amber. His team was ready. And Leicester were about to find out just how ready. First Half ¨C The moment the referee blew the whistle, Bradford pressed high. There was no hesitation, no waiting to see how Leicester would approach the game. Jake''s team took control immediately. Novak and Costa hounded Leicester''s center-backs, forcing them into hurried passes. Silva and V¨¦lez cut off the supply lines to Winks and Ndidi, while Mensah and Rasmussen pushed up the wings, pinning Leicester''s full-backs deeper than they wanted to be. Leicester weren''t expecting this. They had prepared for a difficult match but expected Bradford to sit in a low block, looking to absorb pressure and hit on the break. Instead, they found themselves on the back foot from the start. Their passing was rushed. Their touches weren''t clean. Bradford''s pressure was relentless. 5th Minute ¨C First Warning V¨¦lez intercepted a loose ball in midfield and immediately slipped it through to Costa.The Brazilian turned sharply, took on Coady, and unleashed a low drive from the edge of the box¡ªjust inches wide of the post.The home crowd roared in appreciation. Leicester looked at each other, shaken. This was not how they expected the match to begin. 10th Minute ¨C Leicester, still trying to find their rhythm, attempted to build from the back. Winks received a pass under pressure from V¨¦lez and immediately tried to switch play to Justin on the right flank. But V¨¦lez read it perfectly. Anticipation. A burst of speed. A clean interception. The midfielder took two quick strides forward, not giving Leicester''s defense time to reset. Novak was making a diagonal run, pulling Souttar with him, creating a gap at the heart of Leicester''s defense. Costa exploited it instantly. V¨¦lez''s pass was sharp, precise. Costa took one touch to set himself, then rifled a low shot past Hermansen. The ball skidded across the wet turf, beyond the goalkeeper''s reach, and crashed into the bottom corner. The net rippled. Valley Parade exploded. The roar of the crowd shook the stadium, a deafening eruption of joy. Jake simply nodded. The plan was working. Leicester''s Response ¨C Searching for a Way Back Leicester were momentarily stunned. They had spent the week preparing for this match, but nothing on a tactics board could replicate the intensity Bradford had just hit them with. Jamie Vardy responded first. In the 13th minute, he peeled away from Min-jae, dropping into space just outside the box. Winks spotted the run and played him through. One quick turn, one explosive burst. But before Vardy could shoot, Barnes slid in, perfectly timed, clearing the ball away to a roar from the home fans. Leicester weren''t panicking, but they weren''t comfortable either. 18th Minute ¨C Leicester started to find their footing. Buonanotte drifted inside, linking with Ayew to create an overload in midfield. This time, when Winks received the ball, he had space to turn. He spotted Vardy making a late diagonal run between Min-jae and Barnes. One perfectly weighted pass later, Vardy was in. Jake held his breath. Vardy took one touch inside the box and fired a shot toward the bottom corner. Okafor reacted instantly. The goalkeeper launched himself low to his right, stretching every inch¡ª Fingertips. The ball skimmed off Okafor''s gloves and rolled just wide of the post. Leicester fans groaned. Bradford fans breathed. Jake exhaled. That was close. Leicester were building pressure now. But that also meant space was opening up. And then came the counterattack. 38th Minute ¨C Leicester were pushing forward, growing into the game, trying to impose their quality. But in doing so, they left themselves vulnerable. And Bradford were waiting. A Leicester corner was cleared away by Min-jae, who didn''t just clear for the sake of it¡ªhe directed his header forward, launching it over the halfway line, right into open space. Mensah saw it before anyone else. The Ghanaian winger exploded forward, outpacing Justin in an instant. The Leicester right-back turned and chased, but it was hopeless¡ªMensah was gone. The Valley Parade crowd rose to their feet as he sprinted down the right wing, miles of green grass ahead of him. Jake could already see it unfolding. "Now, pick the moment." Justin, desperate, closed the space as Mensah approached the final third. The Bradford winger didn''t panic. He slowed for a half-second, shifted his weight left, as if he was about to take Justin on one-on-one¡ªthen suddenly, he cut inside sharply, creating just enough separation to swing his left foot around the ball. A perfect, curling cross looped toward the penalty area. Novak was already in motion. He had been tracking the play from the moment Min-jae won the header. As soon as Mensah broke forward, Novak timed his run, slipping away from Souttar and angling toward the back post. Coady saw it too late. Novak exploded upward, his movement precise, his positioning flawless. A towering leap¡ª A perfectly timed header¡ª The ball rocketed into the top corner, past a frozen Hermansen. 2-0. Leicester in Disbelief The Leicester players looked at each other, shaking their heads. They weren''t in control of this match. This wasn''t a case of an underdog getting lucky. Bradford were outplaying them. They had been outworked, outpaced, and outthought. Leicester''s captain, Coady, pulled his teammates into a huddle, barking instructions. But the message was clear on their faces¡ªthis was not the game they had expected. As Novak jogged back toward midfield, he barely celebrated. He simply nodded toward Mensah, acknowledging the perfect assist. This wasn''t a fluke. This was Bradford doing exactly what they had planned to do. Halftime ¨C The halftime whistle blew. Jake turned to his assistant, Roberts, as the players made their way off the pitch. "They''re going to change their approach," Jake muttered. Roberts nodded. "They have to." Leicester wouldn''t keep playing the same way. They couldn''t. They had come into this match expecting to control possession, wear Bradford down, and break them late. Instead, they were chasing the game, struggling to create clear chances, and getting punished on the break. Jake knew what was coming next. Leicester would throw everything forward. And if Bradford weren''t ready for the storm, all their hard work could still be undone Second Half ¨C As expected, Leicester came out aggressive. They had been second-best in the first half, but a Premier League side wasn''t going to go down without a fight. Mavididi and Ayew pushed further forward, stretching the pitch. Winks and Ndidi started dictating play in midfield, forcing Bradford deeper. The visitors controlled possession, keeping Bradford pinned inside their own half. Jake''s side was being forced to defend in numbers, absorbing pressure. It was time for a tactical shift. 55th Minute ¨C Substitution for Bradford ? Rasmussen (Off) ? Harper (On ¨C Moves to Left-Back, Ib¨¢?ez Pushes to Midfield) Jake reshaped the formation, switching to a 4-5-1. With Ib¨¢?ez moving into midfield, Bradford had more bodies in the center of the park, helping Silva and V¨¦lez win second balls. The focus was now on staying compact, keeping Leicester from playing through the middle. The match was on a knife''s edge. 64th Minute ¨C Leicester found their breakthrough. A moment of brilliance from Vardy. The veteran striker drifted between Min-jae and Barnes, timing his movement perfectly. Buonanotte, seeing the run, slipped a pass between the center-backs. Vardy didn''t need a second invitation. A first-time shot, low and precise, arrowed into the bottom corner. Okafor dived at full stretch, but he couldn''t reach it. Leicester fans erupted in the away section. For the first time, nerves crept into Valley Parade. Jake didn''t panic. He knew Leicester would throw everything forward. 70th Minute ¨C ? Costa (Off) ? Richter (On ¨C Fresh Legs in Attack) ? Mensah (Off) ? Taylor (On ¨C Added Defensive Work Rate on the Right) Jake knew the final 20 minutes would be relentless. Leicester''s attacks were wave after wave, pinning Bradford inside their own half. Cross after cross rained into the box. Vardy lurked for any half-chance, while Ayew and Mavididi drove at the defense, looking for gaps. Jake remained calm. He was waiting for the right moment. Then, it came. 78th Minute ¨C Leicester committed too many men forward. Silva saw it. A loose pass was intercepted, and within seconds, Bradford struck. Silva launched a pass over the top, perfectly weighted. Richter, fresh and explosive, raced in behind. Souttar chased, but he wasn''t fast enough. Hermansen rushed off his line, desperate to close the angle. But Richter was composed. A delicate chip. The ball floated over the goalkeeper, bouncing once before nestling into the empty net. Bradford had delivered the knockout punch. Leicester were done. 85th Minute ¨C ? Novak (Off ¨C Standing Ovation from the Crowd) ? Lowe (On ¨C Added Defensive Solidity) The final minutes ticked away. Leicester had no more fight left in them. Bradford''s defense stood strong, clearing every ball, winning every challenge. As the whistle blew, Jake exhaled. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bradford 3-1 Leicester City. Another Premier League team, another victim. Post-Match ¨C Press Conference & Headlines The media room was buzzing. Reporters fired questions, trying to capture the moment. "Jake, Bradford have beaten another Premier League team. At what point do we stop calling these results ''shocks''?" Jake leaned into the mic. "That''s up to you." A few reporters chuckled. "You''ve been labeled the ''Giant Killer.'' Do you like that nickname?" Jake shrugged. "I don''t care about nicknames. I care about results." "Bradford are in the FA Cup fourth round again. Are you starting to believe this team can go all the way?" Jake smirked. "We just keep winning. You tell me." The Headlines Wrote Themselves:"Giant Killer Strikes Again ¨C Leicester Fall to Wilson''s Bradford""Wilson: ''We Just Keep Winning. You Tell Me.''""Bradford Through to the Fourth Round ¨C Who''s Next?" But Jake didn''t care about the media. The FA Cup draw was coming. And whoever Bradford faced next¡­ They wouldn''t be afraid. Chapter 117 - 117: EFL Cup Semi-Final First Leg Build-Up & Transfer Window Opens ???? Saturday, January 3 2025 ¨C EFL Cup Semi-Final Leg 1 (Away vs. Newcastle United) The Transfer Window Opens ¨C Stability Over Disruption The new year had arrived, and with it, the January transfer window. Across England, clubs scrambled to reinforce their squads, searching for last-minute signings that could change their season. But at Bradford, there was no chaos. No panic. Jake Wilson sat in his office, scrolling through the latest transfer reports. The club had received loan offers for some fringe players, but nothing that tempted him. He wasn''t about to disrupt the chemistry of a squad that had taken them this far. "We don''t need to fix what isn''t broken," he muttered to his assistant, Roberts. "You sure?" Roberts raised an eyebrow. "Everyone''s expecting us to make at least one signing. Could be a depth piece. Maybe another center-back?" Jake shook his head. "We''ve gotten this far with this group. They deserve to finish the journey." The only concern was whether any clubs would come sniffing around Bradford''s key players. Novak''s goal-scoring form had caught the attention of Championship clubs, and there were whispers of interest in V¨¦lez from abroad. But until a formal offer came in, Jake wasn''t interested in speculation. He shut the laptop. Bradford''s squad was set. Now, all focus was on Newcastle. The Challenge Ahead ¨C Newcastle United (Away) Newcastle United had spent millions rebuilding their squad over the past few years. Their rise back into European football had been fueled by smart transfers and an elite midfield trio of Bruno Guimar?es, Sandro Tonali, and Joelinton. They weren''t just a good Premier League team¡ªthey were a side that could hurt even the best. And now, Bradford had to face them over two legs for a spot in the EFL Cup Final. Newcastle''s Strengths & Weaknesses Jake spent the next hour in his office, meticulously analyzing Newcastle''s playing style. They were a well-drilled Premier League side, built on midfield dominance, defensive organization, and lethal transitions. Unlike some of the top teams that relied purely on possession-based football, Newcastle had the ability to mix styles¡ªcomfortable on the ball, but just as dangerous when counterattacking. This was not just a strong side. This was a team that would punish any mistake. System Prediction ¨C The Odds Are Against Bradford As Jake scrolled through the latest match data, the probability of victory was clear: Newcastle: 65% win probabilityBradford: 20%Draw: 15% It wasn''t the worst prediction Jake had seen, but it was a reminder of the gap between the two sides. Newcastle were expected to control the match, dictate play, and overpower Bradford physically. But if Jake had learned anything in his time at the club, it was that predictions didn''t decide football matches¡ªperformances did. Now, it was about identifying Newcastle''s strengths and weaknesses and finding a way to tilt the odds. Newcastle''s Strengths ¨C Where They Can Hurt Bradford Elite midfield control ¨C Bruno Guimar?es and Sandro Tonali dictated play, controlling possession with precision. Guimar?es was the metronome, keeping things ticking, while Tonali broke lines with sharp passing and had the stamina to cover every blade of grass. If those two were allowed to operate freely, Newcastle would dominate the tempo of the match. Defensive solidity ¨C Fabian Sch?r and Sven Botman formed an imposing center-back partnership. Sch?r was composed on the ball, capable of stepping into midfield, while Botman was aerially dominant and physically strong. Breaking them down would require quick, decisive movement¡ªBradford wouldn''t win a physical battle against them. Dangerous in transitions ¨C Harvey Barnes and Jacob Murphy were direct, fast, and aggressive. They weren''t just technical wingers¡ªthey were runners, always looking to exploit space behind defenses. If Bradford overcommitted forward, Newcastle would punish them with a counterattack in seconds. Set-piece threats ¨C Kieran Trippier''s delivery was among the best in Europe. He could whip in dangerous crosses from free kicks and corners, while Joelinton''s aerial ability made him a nightmare to mark. If Bradford conceded unnecessary fouls near the box, they would be in serious trouble. Clinical finishing ¨C Alexander Isak was ruthless in front of goal. He didn''t need many chances¡ªgive him one, and he''d likely bury it. Bradford''s defense had to be flawless in tracking his movement, because one lapse and he''d punish them. Newcastle''s Weaknesses ¨C Where Bradford Could Strike Lack of width from full-backs ¨C Trippier and Dan Burn were disciplined defensively but didn''t bomb forward like modern full-backs. This meant Newcastle''s attacks often became too central, relying on Barnes and Murphy to create width. If Bradford forced the wingers inside and clogged the midfield, they could slow Newcastle''s attacking flow. Reliance on Bruno Guimar?es ¨C Newcastle''s midfield revolved around him. If Guimar?es was marked out of the game or forced into deeper positions, Newcastle''s link-up play between midfield and attack would suffer. V¨¦lez and Silva had a massive job¡ªshut him down, and Newcastle might struggle to progress the ball quickly. Occasionally exposed by pace ¨C Sch?r and Botman were excellent defenders, but neither was particularly quick. If Bradford could play quick, direct football, especially in transition, there was a chance to catch them off balance. This was where Mensah''s explosiveness on the wing and Novak''s intelligent runs could be crucial. Can struggle against high pressing teams ¨C Newcastle liked to build from the back, but against teams that pressed aggressively, they sometimes made mistakes in possession. If Bradford could disrupt their passing lanes early, they might be able to force errors and create quick scoring opportunities. Jake''s Take ¨C How Bradford Could Turn the Game Jake leaned back in his chair, staring at the tactics board. Newcastle had clear strengths, but they weren''t invincible. The plan was taking shape: Press their midfield ¨C V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez would have one job: suffocate Guimar?es. If he couldn''t dictate play, Newcastle would lose their rhythm. They needed to deny him time and space, forcing him into rushed decisions. Exploit the flanks ¨C Mensah had to isolate Dan Burn and force one-on-one situations. Burn was strong but not quick¡ªif Mensah could get him backpedaling, there would be space to create chances or win fouls. Be patient, but aggressive ¨C Bradford couldn''t afford reckless mistakes. They had to stay compact, absorb pressure, and strike when the opportunity came. Newcastle would dominate possession, but that didn''t mean Bradford had to suffer¡ªevery turnover was a chance to break. This was the biggest challenge yet. But challenges weren''t something Jake or his players feared. They embraced them. Press Conference ¨C A Measured Response"Bradford Ready for the Fight ¨C Jake Wilson Not Intimidated by Newcastle Challenge" The media room at Valley Parade was packed. With Bradford City on the verge of their first-ever EFL Cup final, reporters from Sky Sports, BBC, The Athletic, and local outlets had gathered to hear Jake Wilson''s thoughts ahead of the club''s biggest game of the season. Cameras flashed as Jake took his seat, his expression calm, composed. He had been in these situations before¡ªbig matches, big questions¡ªbut this felt different. A cup semi-final, a Premier League opponent, a chance at history. A journalist in the front row wasted no time. "Jake, you''re facing a Premier League club with a squad full of internationals. Realistically, what are Bradford''s chances over two legs?" S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake''s response was immediate. "Football isn''t played on paper." Some reporters exchanged glances. "Newcastle is a great team," Jake continued, "but we''ve earned our place here. We''re not just happy to be in a semi-final. We''re here to compete." A few murmurs rippled through the room. Another journalist leaned forward. "Are you worried about the quality difference? Players like Bruno Guimar?es and Alexander Isak?" Jake smirked. "They''ve got quality, no doubt. But my players have belief. And sometimes, belief makes all the difference." A slight pause. The journalists were scribbling down notes, their curiosity piqued. "So, would you say Bradford are the underdogs?" another reporter asked. Jake shrugged. "That''s for you to decide, not me. We don''t care about labels¡ªwe care about performances. If people want to call us underdogs, fine. But when that whistle blows, it''s 11 vs. 11." A reporter from Sky Sports followed up. "Newcastle have been in great form in the Premier League. How do you plan to stop them?" Jake leaned slightly toward the mic. "They''re a strong team. We respect them. But if we walk onto that pitch thinking they''re unbeatable, we''ve already lost. We''ve prepared for this. We''ll be ready." The questions kept coming. "Your team has surprised people this season. If you win, would this be your biggest achievement?" Jake smiled slightly. "Ask me that after the second leg." The reporters laughed, but Jake wasn''t joking. The job wasn''t done yet. Headlines Following the Press Conference:"Bradford Ready for the Fight ¨C Jake Wilson Not Intimidated by Newcastle Challenge""Football Isn''t Played on Paper ¨C Wilson Confident in His Team""Bradford Boss: ''If We Walk Onto That Pitch Thinking They''re Unbeatable, We''ve Already Lost.''" Jake didn''t care about headlines. He cared about what happened on the pitch. And in a few days, his team would get their chance to prove everyone wrong. Final Preparations ¨C Valley Parade is Ready The team trained under the floodlights, running through pressing drills and transition plays. Jake could see it¡ªhis players were locked in. The belief wasn''t just something he was trying to instill. It was already there. The following morning, they would travel to Newcastle. A sold-out St. James'' Park. A massive Premier League opponent. A spot in a cup final on the line. And Bradford City weren''t afraid. Chapter 118 - 118: EFL Cup Semi-Final First Leg (Away) – Chaos at St. James’ Park PART 1 ???? Saturday, January 4 ¨C EFL Cup Semi-Final Leg 1 (Away vs. Newcastle United) The Stage Is Set The moment Bradford City stepped onto the pitch, they knew what they were up against. St. James'' Park was a cauldron of noise. Over 50,000 Newcastle fans packed the stands, their chants echoing through the cold January air. Flags waved, black-and-white scarves were held high, and the roar of the home crowd felt like it could shake the foundations of the stadium. For Newcastle, this was just another step toward an inevitable final¡ªa routine fixture against a lower-league side standing in their way. Their supporters had come expecting dominance, expecting a win, expecting to book their place at Wembley. For Bradford? This was their biggest test yet. Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching as his players lined up. No one spoke. No one needed to. Every single one of them knew the weight of this match. They had made it this far on hard work, belief, and a refusal to back down from any challenge. This was their moment. But Jake had seen it before¡ªbig occasions had a way of swallowing teams whole. He had drilled his players all week, telling them the same thing over and over. "Stay composed. Play your football. Don''t get caught in the occasion." That plan would hold up for exactly 20 minutes. Bradford City Starting XI (4-4-2 Formation) Goalkeeper: Okafor Defenders: Right-Back: HarperCenter-Back: Min-jaeCenter-Back: BarnesLeft-Back: Ib¨¢?ez Midfielders: Right Midfield: MensahCentral Midfield: V¨¦lezCentral Midfield: Ib¨¢?ezLeft Midfield: Silva Forwards: Striker: NovakStriker: Costa Substitutes: LoweTaylorRasmussenRichterRojasCatellonHarper Jake had gone with his strongest possible eleven, even though he knew Newcastle would dominate possession. The plan was clear¡ªpress Newcastle''s midfield, break quickly when possible, and stay disciplined. They couldn''t afford mistakes. But in a match like this? Mistakes were inevitable. 6th Minute ¨C Bradford''s pressing had already caused a few misplaced passes, but now they capitalized. Tonali, under pressure from V¨¦lez, tried to play a quick pass into midfield¡ªbut Ib¨¢?ez read it perfectly, stepping in to intercept. A single touch to control. A second touch to push the ball forward. In an instant, the Newcastle defense was exposed. Ib¨¢?ez didn''t hesitate¡ªhe laid it off to V¨¦lez, who had a yard of space just outside the box. Without a second thought, V¨¦lez struck it. The ball rocketed off his foot, slicing through the air with deadly precision, dipping toward the bottom corner. For a split second, time seemed to slow. But Pope reacted like the elite keeper he was. A sharp dive, an outstretched right hand, just enough to push it away from goal. The Newcastle crowd exhaled in relief. A small moment, but a significant one. Newcastle realized they were in a real fight. 12th Minute ¨C After a shaky start, Newcastle finally woke up. They strung together a beautiful, controlled sequence of passes, moving the ball from side to side, looking for gaps in Bradford''s defensive shape. Guimar?es began to dictate the tempo, shifting the ball wide before making himself available again. Then, suddenly¡ªacceleration. A quick exchange between Guimar?es and Grealish opened up space on the left flank. Harper, momentarily caught between tracking Barnes and pressing forward, hesitated. It was all the invitation Barnes needed. With a sharp burst of pace, he ghosted in behind the right-back, perfectly timed to stay onside. Guimar?es spotted the run and delivered a disguised pass through the lines, splitting the Bradford defense. Barnes latched onto it and, without breaking stride, whipped a first-time ball across the six-yard box. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bradford''s defense was scrambling¡ªIsak was there, lurking. The striker didn''t need a second invitation. One touch. A first-time shot, side-footed toward the bottom corner. For a moment, St. James'' Park held its breath. Then¡ªOkafor. The Bradford keeper exploded to his left, stretching every inch of his frame. A flick of the fingertips. The ball deflected just enough to swerve wide of the post. The roar of frustration from the Newcastle fans echoed around the stadium. The warning signs were there for both teams. Newcastle had begun to click into gear. But Bradford had already proven they weren''t afraid to attack. Bradford Pushes Forward Again The early warning signs had been exchanged. Bradford had tested Pope. Newcastle had tested Okafor. But neither team looked content to sit back. Newcastle wanted control, but Bradford wanted to disrupt it. Every time the home side tried to build from midfield, V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez were there¡ªpressing, harassing, forcing rushed decisions. And when the ball broke loose, Bradford countered with speed. The next opportunity came from exactly that. 16th Minute ¨C Mensah Goes Close Newcastle were starting to see more of the ball, but Bradford remained sharp in transition. A sloppy pass from Joelinton was immediately pounced on by V¨¦lez, who didn''t hesitate¡ªone quick pass to Silva, and Bradford were away. Silva exploded forward down the left flank, racing past Trippier, pushing deep into Newcastle''s half. Jake could see it unfolding¡ªMensah had already begun his run on the far side. Silva had options: He could cut inside and shoot.He could play a low ball into Novak.Or he could float it to the back post. He chose the third. A perfectly weighted cross, curling away from Pope, arcing toward the far post. Mensah arrived at full sprint. Dan Burn, towering over him, tried to react¡ªbut it was too late. Mensah timed his leap perfectly, rising above the defender and meeting the ball with a thumping header. For a brief moment, it looked perfect. The ball looped over Pope, spinning toward the far corner. Jake held his breath. Then¡ªPope stretched. A desperate lunge, a single outstretched hand¡ªjust enough to tip it over the bar. The entire Bradford bench jumped up in unison. Jake clapped on the touchline, his voice carrying over the noise. "That''s it! Keep going!" His team was executing the game plan perfectly. They weren''t here to absorb pressure. They were here to take the fight to Newcastle. The home crowd, expecting an easy game, was starting to feel uneasy. And then¡ªeverything changed. 20th Minute ¨C Bradford had been the better side in the opening exchanges, frustrating Newcastle with their pressing and sharp counterattacks. But in cup football, momentum can shift in an instant. Newcastle had been growing into the game, probing, searching for a breakthrough. And then, Bradford gave them the opening they needed. It started with a moment of hesitation. Ib¨¢?ez received the ball just outside Bradford''s box, under minimal pressure. He had time. He should have played it safe. But instead, he hesitated. By the time he looked up to make a pass, Tonali was already sprinting toward him. Too late. The Newcastle midfielder pounced, stretching out a leg to intercept the under-hit pass. Suddenly, Bradford were exposed. Tonali didn''t hesitate¡ªone touch forward, then a perfectly weighted through ball between the center-backs. The ball split the defense apart. And just like that¡ªIsak was gone. Barnes had been tracking back, but Isak was already at full speed. The Swedish striker was a step ahead, breaking through on goal. Jake could see the disaster unfolding before it happened. Barnes had only a second to react. He had three choices: Let Isak go one-on-one with Okafor and hope for a save.Try to match his pace and force him wide¡ªbut that was a losing battle.Make a last-ditch tackle and risk everything. He chose the third. He lunged. A desperate, stretching challenge¡ªbut too late. Isak felt the contact, stumbled, then collapsed to the ground. The Newcastle fans erupted. Jake didn''t even look at the referee. He already knew. The Decision ¨C The referee was already reaching for his pocket before Barnes even got up. A quick glance at his assistant. No hesitation. Straight red. Barnes didn''t argue. There was nothing to argue. He ran his hands through his hair, looking toward the bench, shaking his head. Jake''s jaw clenched. This wasn''t just a setback¡ªit was a disaster. 20 minutes into the match. Away from home. Against a Premier League side. And now, they were down to 10 men. Jake''s Immediate Response ¨C Damage Control Jake turned immediately to his assistant, Roberts. "Get Ib¨¢?ez into the backline," he said, his voice sharp and composed. "V¨¦lez drops deep. Novak stays up alone." The tactical switch was instant: Ib¨¢?ez moved to center-back.V¨¦lez dropped into a defensive midfield role.Novak was left isolated up front.Mensah and Silva were forced to track back more. Bradford had started the game pressing high, looking to attack. Now? Now they had to survive. Newcastle could smell blood. And Bradford''s night had just become a whole lot longer. Newcastle Smells Blood ¨C More Chances Before Halftime 26th Minute ¨C Trippier, now bombing forward freely, sent in a curling cross that found Isak unmarked at the back post. He took it on the volley, but snatched at the shot, sending it flying into the stands. Jake let out a slow breath. That should''ve been a goal. 32nd Minute ¨C Newcastle were dominating possession, forcing Bradford to defend deeper and deeper. A quick passing sequence between Tonali, Joelinton, and Guimar?es created space at the top of the box. Guimar?es took a touch, looked up, and curled a shot toward the top corner. Okafor stretched, fingertips just enough to tip it over. Jake clapped from the sideline. "Stay switched on!" 40th Minute ¨C Bradford weren''t done yet. Against the run of play, they launched a quick counter. Novak held up the ball well before laying it off to V¨¦lez, who carried it forward and struck from distance. The ball whistled just past the post. A reminder to Newcastle¡ªBradford could still be dangerous. But the final moments of the first half belonged to Newcastle. 45+2 Minute ¨C Tonali Hits the Bar Just before the whistle, Newcastle nearly made it 1-0. Grealish slipped a disguised pass into the box, and Tonali ran onto it, hitting a first-time shot. The ball smashed against the crossbar and bounced out. The whistle blew. Halftime ¨C Survival Mode Activated Jake marched toward the dressing room. His team had started brilliantly, but Barnes'' red card had changed everything. Newcastle were growing stronger, and with Bradford down to 10 men, the second half would be a war. Jake''s instructions were clear. Stay compact. Defend in numbers.Don''t give away easy free kicks.Wait for the right counterattack. But deep down, he knew they were walking a tightrope. And in the second half, that rope would snap. Chapter 119 - 119: EFL Cup Semi-Final First Leg (Away) – Chaos at St. James’ Park PART 2 Second Half ¨C Disaster Strikes Again Bradford walked into the dressing room trailing 0-0 but down to ten men. The mood was tense. Players sat in silence, catching their breath. Some stared at the floor, others at the walls. No one dared to look at Jake¡ªexcept for Barnes, who was still shaking his head, running his hands through his hair. Jake wasn''t about to let that go. Halftime Team Talk ¨C Jake Loses His Cool The door slammed shut behind him. For a moment, Jake just stood there, looking at his team¡ªhis jaw clenched, his breathing sharp. Then, he turned to Barnes. "What the hell was that?" Jake''s voice was low, but the anger was unmistakable. Barnes looked up. "I thought I could get the ball." Jake stepped closer. "You thought?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You''re our last man, and you ''thought'' you could get the ball? You put us a man down¡ªtwenty minutes in!" Barnes exhaled, but he didn''t defend himself. "Unbelievable," Jake muttered, pacing back and forth before turning back to the team. "Now we''re in a fight for our damn lives. So listen carefully." His voice was sharp now, cutting through the room. "Stay compact. Keep your discipline. I don''t care if you have to sit deep for the next forty-five minutes¡ªwe do not make another mistake." He turned toward V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez. "No stupid fouls. No risks. If we clear the ball, we clear it far. We do not get caught playing around the back." His eyes then shifted to Novak and Mensah. "When we break, we break fast. If you get the ball up there, don''t wait for support¡ªgo at them. Take your shot. Do whatever you can to give us a chance." Then, finally, Jake turned to Silva. "Silva, you''re on a yellow." Silva nodded. "I know." "Then play like it," Jake snapped. "Because we cannot go down to nine men." The Second Half ¨C As soon as the game restarted, Newcastle attacked. They didn''t hold back, didn''t waste time trying to control possession. They smelled blood. And they went for the kill. Bradford were immediately forced deep into their own half, defending in a compact 4-4-1 shape. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez sat just in front of the backline, trying to close passing lanes. Newcastle moved the ball side to side, searching for a gap. Jake stood on the touchline, barking orders. "Stay in shape!" "Watch the back post!" "Clear it! Don''t play with it¡ªclear it!" But then, in the 52nd minute, disaster struck again. 52nd Minute ¨C It started with Guimar?es picking up the ball in midfield, facing forward. Silva, tracking him, stepped in. Too aggressive. He lunged just a half-second too late, catching the Brazilian''s ankle instead of the ball. Guimar?es went down. The whistle blew. Jake''s eyes went straight to the referee. No hesitation. A second yellow. Silva was off. Bradford were down to nine men. The Dugout Meltdown Jake slammed his hand against the dugout. Two reds. Two of his most important players¡ªgone. Silva stood frozen for a moment, realizing what had just happened. Then, slowly, he turned toward the bench. Jake''s glare could have burned through steel. Silva didn''t say anything. Because what was there to say? The referee pulled out the yellow, then the red. Silva walked off. Newcastle''s fans erupted. Now, it wasn''t about getting a result. It was about survival. Newcastle Takes Full Advantage Bradford were in survival mode. After going down to nine men, they had no choice but to drop deep, stay compact, and hope to hold on. Newcastle could smell the desperation. With two extra players on the pitch, they were relentless, pinning Bradford inside their own penalty area, probing, passing, searching for the inevitable breakthrough. Bradford were defending for their lives. But Newcastle were patient. They knew a goal was coming. It was only a matter of time. 58th Minute ¨C Joelinton Fires Wide Newcastle shifted the ball quickly from left to right, forcing Bradford''s exhausted defenders to scramble. Tonali played a quick pass to Guimar?es, who rolled it into Joelinton at the edge of the box. The Brazilian had space. One touch. A second to set himself. Then¡ªbang. A driven strike toward the bottom corner. Okafor dived at full stretch, but he wasn''t needed. The ball whistled just inches past the post. Joelinton buried his face in his hands. Newcastle were getting closer. 62nd Minute ¨C Newcastle''s attacks kept coming. A quick one-two between Guimar?es and Tonali saw the Brazilian break free at the edge of the penalty area. He let fly. The shot curled viciously, bending toward the top corner. Okafor was beaten. The entire stadium held its breath. The ball crashed against the post. The rebound fell to Isak¡ªbut V¨¦lez lunged in with a last-ditch block before he could tap it in. Bradford were hanging by a thread. Jake turned to his bench, shaking his head. They couldn''t hold out like this forever. He was right. 65th Minute ¨C S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bradford had held on for over an hour. But finally, Newcastle found the breakthrough. It started with Trippier, who had been pushing forward all half, finding himself in space on the right wing. For the first time, Harper was too slow to close him down. Trippier looked up, picked his target, and swung in a pinpoint cross. Isak was waiting. The Swedish striker, who had been a threat all night, finally made his mark. He rose highest, towering above Min-jae, twisting his neck and generating incredible power on his header. Okafor couldn''t react in time. The ball slammed into the back of the net. St. James'' Park erupted. Newcastle''s players raced toward the corner flag, celebrating with their fans. Bradford''s players stood frozen. They had fought so hard. But now, the floodgates were open. 75th Minute ¨C Bradford were exhausted. The first goal had drained what little energy they had left. They had spent the past ten minutes chasing shadows, barely able to get out of their own half. Newcastle, sensing weakness, turned up the intensity. Jake shouted from the touchline, trying to keep his players organized, but legs were heavy, minds were tired. The defensive shape that had held strong for so long was starting to unravel. Bradford were stretched. And Newcastle pounced. Bradford had finally managed to clear their lines, but the ball didn''t stay out for long. A heavy touch from V¨¦lez allowed Tonali to win back possession instantly. Jake groaned¡ªanother costly mistake. Tonali wasted no time. He looked up and spotted Joelinton near the halfway line. A quick, firm pass. Joelinton controlled it with ease, his first touch perfectly setting him up to attack. V¨¦lez tried to recover, lunging in to make a challenge. Joelinton shrugged him off like he wasn''t even there. Now, Bradford were exposed. The midfield was gone, and no defender stepped up to stop him. Min-jae hesitated, unsure whether to close the space or hold the line. That moment of doubt was all Joelinton needed. He drove forward, picking up speed, the Brazilian powering through the open field with nothing but green grass ahead of him. The Bradford defense backed off¡ªtoo cautious, too hesitant. Joelinton saw his chance. One step to the right. A quick shift onto his stronger foot. Then¡ªhe let it fly. Joelinton''s strike was pure and clean, slicing through the air with precision. Okafor dove low, stretching out his hand¡ªtoo late. The ball curled into the bottom corner, smashing against the net. 2-0. Game over. St. James'' Park exploded. Joelinton pumped his fist as his teammates swarmed him in celebration. The Newcastle bench was on its feet, coaches clapping, fans roaring. Bradford''s players? They just stood there, hands on hips, staring at the ground. Jake closed his eyes for a moment before rubbing his face. He knew it was over. Nine men. Two goals down. Ten minutes left. There was no coming back from this. 85th Minute ¨C Bradford were running on empty. Every pass, every clearance, every desperate attempt to hold on had drained them. For over an hour, they had fought with everything they had¡ªchasing, blocking, tackling¡ªbut Newcastle had slowly, methodically, broken them down. Now, with just five minutes left, they had nothing left to give. And Newcastle knew it. Newcastle had spent the last few minutes circling like a predator, passing the ball around the edge of Bradford''s box, waiting for the final blow. Every time Bradford cleared the ball, it came straight back. Min-jae headed away a cross¡ªbut Newcastle recovered. Ib¨¢?ez stepped up to block a shot¡ªbut Newcastle recycled possession. Harper tried to push out and press¡ªbut he was alone, outnumbered. Bradford''s defensive line had collapsed into a solid wall inside the penalty area, too tired to push forward, too exhausted to close down space outside the box. Then, the moment came. A deflected cross bounced toward V¨¦lez at the edge of the box. With no time to think, he swung a leg at it, just trying to get it away. But the clearance was poor. The ball looped weakly into open space¡ªstraight to Bruno Guimar?es. Jake instinctively clenched his fists. He knew what was coming. Guimar?es took one controlling touch, setting the ball perfectly in front of him. No defender closed him down. He had space. Too much space. From 30 yards out, he wound up and struck it. The ball curled through the air, spinning viciously, bending away from Okafor''s reach. The Bradford keeper **dived full stretch, his fingertips grazing the shot¡ª**but it wasn''t enough. The ball smashed into the top corner. A strike of pure quality. St. James'' Park exploded. The Newcastle players rushed toward Guimar?es, celebrating before the ball had even hit the net. The Brazilian ran toward the home fans, arms outstretched, soaking in the noise. On the touchline, Eddie Howe clapped, a small smile on his face. Newcastle had put the game beyond doubt. Bradford had fought hard. But now, it was over. Jake didn''t move. His arms were still crossed, his face still blank. But inside, he felt it. This was their punishment. Two red cards. An entire half played with nine men. This was inevitable. His players knew it too. V¨¦lez sank to his knees. Min-jae just stared at the ground. Okafor got up slowly, picked the ball out of his net, and punted it forward in frustration. There were no arguments. No complaints. No protests. Just exhaustion. The game was beyond saving. Full-Time ¨C A Crushing Defeat The final whistle blew. Newcastle 3-0 Bradford. Jake turned toward the tunnel, his jaw clenched, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed straight ahead. This wasn''t just a loss¡ªit was a disaster. Not because of the score. Not because Newcastle had dominated in the second half. But because of what it meant. The Fallout ¨C A Nightmare Scenario Jake''s mind was already racing. Barnes and Silva, two of his most important players, were now suspended for the next three matches. That meant: Missing two crucial League One games¡ªwhere Bradford still had to keep their grip on the top of the table.Missing the FA Cup Fourth Round against Manchester City¡ªa match where they were already massive underdogs. Jake exhaled, rubbing his face. The job had just become much, much harder. He had come into this match knowing it would be a battle. But now? Now, it felt like an uphill war. As he walked toward the dressing room, he heard the reporters shouting his name, cameras flashing. There was no avoiding it. The Press Conference ¨C Facing the Questions The post-match media room was packed. Reporters from Sky Sports, BBC, The Athletic¡ªeveryone wanted a reaction. Jake sat down, keeping his expression neutral, masking his frustration. The first question came instantly. "Jake, losing two players to red cards tonight¡ªhow much do you think that affected the result?" Jake sighed, leaning into the mic. "It changed everything. You can''t play with nine men against a team like Newcastle and expect to hold out forever. We were competing well at the start, but when you go a man down, then another... the game is no longer in your hands." Another journalist followed up. "Barnes and Silva will now miss three games, including the FA CUP. How big of a blow is that?" Jake''s expression darkened slightly. "It''s a massive blow. They''re two key players for us. But we have a squad for a reason. No excuses¡ªwe have to find a way to adapt." The next question was inevitable. "With the second leg coming up, you''re 3-0 down s. Do you honestly believe Bradford can still qualify for the final?" Jake''s eyes flicked toward the reporter. There was no hesitation in his answer. "I don''t know." A few murmurs spread through the room. Jake continued. "I won''t sit here and pretend it''s ideal. We''re in a tough spot. But I''ve seen this team do unbelievable things before. I just know we''re not out of this." Another journalist smirked. "So, do you think Newcastle will underestimate you in the second leg?" Jake shook his head. "No chance. They''re too well-coached for that. But we don''t need them to underestimate us¡ªwe just need to play our game." The questions kept coming, but Jake had said what he needed to say. Headlines the Next Morning"Nine-Men Bradford Crumble at St. James'' Park ¨C Are They Out of the EFL Cup?""Jake Wilson Refuses to Give Up: ''We''re Not Out of This Yet''""Red Card Chaos: Barnes and Silva Suspended for Three Matches""Newcastle Take Control ¨C Isak and Joelinton Seal 3-0 Win" Jake didn''t care about the headlines. His focus was already on what came next. League One. FA Cup. And somehow, finding a way to turn this tie around. Chapter 120 - 120: League One Matches & Rotation Challenges January 1 ¨C League One Matchday 22 (A) ¨C A Strong Start to the Year The turn of the new year brought no signs of complacency from Bradford City. They had been ruthless throughout the first half of the season, storming to the top of the League One table, and Jake had no intention of letting standards slip. The EFL Cup Semi-Final First Leg loomed on the horizon, but before that, they had business to handle in the league. Away to Exeter City. Jake had made one thing clear before kickoff: "We handle this first. No thinking about Newcastle. No saving legs for later. We win tonight, and we keep the momentum rolling." There was no room for rotations¡ªnot yet. Silva and Barnes were both in the lineup, still available before their nightmare at St. James'' Park. However, Jake did make two key changes. Walsh was handed a start in midfield, given the chance to dictate play from deep. Castellon came in up front, offering fresh legs in attack alongside Novak. And from the opening whistle, Bradford took full control. First Half ¨C Bradford in Total Control Exeter City never stood a chance. From the first minute, Bradford suffocated them with relentless pressing. V¨¦lez controlled the tempo, dictating every attacking move. Mensah terrorized Exeter''s right-back, beating him for pace every single time. Novak and Castellon stretched the defense, constantly pulling the center-backs out of position. And then there was Walsh. The young midfielder, given a rare start, seized his opportunity brilliantly. 12th Minute ¨C The first goal came from a perfect attacking sequence. Ib¨¢?ez, stepping high from left-back, won possession and quickly shifted the ball to V¨¦lez. One glance. One perfectly weighted pass. Walsh arrived late into the box, ghosting past his marker. A composed first touch. A powerful finish drilled low into the bottom corner. Bradford were ahead¡ªand they weren''t stopping. 27th Minute ¨C It was all too easy. Silva, cutting inside from the left, spotted Novak making a run behind the defense. A delicate chip over the top. Novak let the ball bounce once before smashing a volley past the keeper. Bradford were in cruise control. Second Half ¨C Exeter Falls Apart Any hope of a comeback was extinguished immediately after halftime. Bradford came out just as aggressive, refusing to drop their intensity. And in the 51st minute, Walsh struck again. 51st Minute ¨C A corner kick routine straight from the training ground. V¨¦lez played it short to Mensah, who drove toward the box before laying it back to Walsh at the edge of the area. One touch. One curling strike. The net rippled. His second of the game. Jake clapped on the sideline. "That''s how you take your chances." Exeter were beaten. But Bradford weren''t done. 68th Minute ¨C The final goal of the night came from pure counterattacking football. Exeter had pushed bodies forward, desperate for something, anything. But when V¨¦lez won the ball back, Bradford struck instantly. A sharp, direct pass to Novak, who turned and threaded a perfect through ball into space. Castellon, full sprint, racing past the last defender. One-on-one with the keeper. A cool finish, slotted into the bottom corner. Game over. Full-Time ¨C A Statement Victory Bradford 4-0 winners. Jake walked off the pitch with one thought in his mind. Momentum. They had handled their business in the league. Now, it was time to focus on Newcastle. The real test was coming. And they had no idea what was waiting for them at St. James'' Park. January 7 ¨C League One Matchday 23 (H) ¨C Another Win, Another Step Forward The defeat to Newcastle had been brutal. Not just the result¡ªbut the aftermath. Silva and Barnes were suspended, serving the first of their three-match ban. Two key players, yes¡ªbut Bradford weren''t built on just two names. Jake didn''t panic. This wasn''t a crisis. Bradford had depth. Players like Ib¨¢?ez, Taylor, and Lowe had been waiting for their moment¡ªand now it had arrived. Jake rotated the squad, not because he had to, but because it made sense. After a draining cup match where they had played down a man for over 70 minutes, fresh legs were needed. A new challenge, but not a test. Just another game to win. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. First Half ¨C A Nervy Start, But Control Soon Followed From kickoff, Bradford were measured, not reckless. The absence of Silva and Barnes meant a few minor tactical tweaks¡ªIb¨¢?ez played deeper in midfield, Taylor provided extra protection at the back, and the attack was led by Costa and Richter. For the opening 10 minutes, the game was scrappy. The opposition pressed aggressively, trying to capitalize on the supposed "weakness" of Bradford missing two key players. But this team wasn''t just about individuals. V¨¦lez dictated the tempo, controlling possession, ensuring no panic set in. Mensah stretched the right flank, forcing the opposition full-back deeper and deeper. And then, Bradford settled. And when they settled, they dominated. 21st Minute ¨C A patient build-up from the back saw V¨¦lez switch play to the right, where Mensah had isolated his defender. A quick burst of pace. A sharp cut inside. He didn''t cross. Instead, he spotted Costa making a diagonal run. A perfect pass. Costa took it in stride, one touch to set, the next to fire low past the keeper. A goal to settle any nerves. Bradford were in control. Second Half ¨C Business as Usual Jake didn''t change much at halftime. Why would he? Bradford were comfortable, controlling possession, limiting the opposition to hopeful long balls. But one goal was never enough. Richter ensured that. 61st Minute ¨C Ib¨¢?ez, playing deeper in midfield, broke up an attack and immediately transitioned forward. A quick pass to V¨¦lez, who spotted Richter making a run between the center-backs. A precise through ball, perfectly weighted. Richter didn''t hesitate. One touch¡ªthen a ruthless finish, hammered into the bottom corner. 2-0. Game over. Full-Time ¨C Another Win, Another Step Closer to the Title The final whistle blew. Bradford 2-0 winners. Jake shook hands with the opposing manager, then turned toward his players. No wild celebrations, no overreactions. Because this was expected. No Silva. No Barnes. No problem. The squad had stepped up, just as Jake knew they would. There was no crisis. No struggles. Just another three points. And with every win, they edged closer to their ultimate goal¡ªpromotion. January 11 ¨C League One Matchday 24 (A) ¨C Another Road Battle Bradford''s relentless march toward the League One title continued. With the EFL Cup semi-final second leg still weeks away and the FA Cup showdown with Manchester City looming, Jake had to be smart with his selections. This was an away game¡ªa tough, physical contest against a side eager to break Bradford''s dominance. And so, Jake rotated heavily. The lineup featured fresh faces, hungry to prove themselves. Ethan Walsh returned to midfield, his energy and vision vital in keeping control. Leo Rasmussen got a start on the left wing, offering creativity and flair. Juli¨¢n Rojas slotted into a deeper midfield role, tasked with shielding the defense. Noah Fletcher led the line alongside Novak, bringing a physical presence up top. Marco Bianchi was drafted into defense, keeping things solid at the back. This wasn''t just a rotated squad¡ªit was a statement. Jake trusted every player in his squad, and this was their chance to prove why. First Half ¨C A Tactical Battle The opposition saw the new-look Bradford lineup and smelled an opportunity. From the opening whistle, they pressed aggressively, snapping into tackles, trying to force mistakes. For the first 15 minutes, Bradford were on the back foot. A few sloppy giveaways in midfield, a few nervous clearances at the back¡ªbut they never lost their shape. V¨¦lez and Rojas worked tirelessly in midfield, absorbing pressure and calming things down. And then, when the moment came, Bradford struck. 28th Minute ¨C It started with a brilliant switch of play from Walsh, spreading the ball wide to Rasmussen. The winger drove forward, cutting inside before threading a disguised pass into the box. Fletcher, using his strength, rolled his marker and unleashed a low strike into the bottom corner. A first-time finish. Clinical. Ruthless. Bradford had weathered the early storm and now had full control. Second Half ¨C Managing the Game Jake didn''t want chaos. They had the lead. Now it was about control. Bradford slowed the game down, using short, precise passing to keep the opposition chasing shadows. Rojas was immense, breaking up attacks before they even started. Simmons and Bianchi, despite being rotated in, looked composed at the back, dealing with every aerial threat. The opposition grew frustrated. Their early intensity faded. They started leaving gaps. And in the 78th minute, Bradford punished them again. 78th Minute ¨C It was pure counter-attacking football. A loose pass in midfield was intercepted by V¨¦lez, who immediately played it forward. Walsh spotted the run of Rasmussen and delivered a perfect through ball. One-on-one with the keeper, Rasmussen made no mistake, calmly slotting it home. Game over. Full-Time ¨C Another Step Closer to the Title Bradford 2-0 winners. Another away trip. Another three points. Jake walked off the pitch with a quiet satisfaction. His team had learned how to grind out results in different ways. With a rotated squad, away from home, under pressure¡ªthey delivered. It wasn''t about individual names. It was about the squad. And this squad was built to win. January 25 ¨C League One Matchday 25 (H) ¨C Silva & Barnes Return in Style The moment Silva and Barnes walked back into the dressing room, the atmosphere shifted. The squad had fought hard in their absence¡ªthree games, three wins, maximum points. But now? Now, it was time to make a statement. Time to remind everyone why Bradford were at the top of the table. Jake didn''t need to say much in the pre-match talk. They knew. Silva and Barnes, returning from suspension, were fired up. Barnes was determined to prove he hadn''t lost his edge after the red card at Newcastle. Silva, always dangerous, had a look in his eye that told everyone he was ready to take over. From the moment the whistle blew, Bradford tore into the opposition. First Half ¨C A Relentless Onslaught The difference was immediate. Bradford weren''t just winning battles¡ªthey were dominating every inch of the pitch. Within the first five minutes, the visitors could barely string two passes together. Every time they tried to play out from the back, V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez were there, pressing, cutting off passing lanes. Every time they sat deep, trying to absorb pressure, Silva, Mensah, and Novak found gaps to exploit. The first goal didn''t take long. 8th Minute ¨C A sharp passing sequence sliced through the opposition''s defense. Ib¨¢?ez to V¨¦lez. V¨¦lez to Mensah. Mensah to Silva, cutting inside from the left. A disguised pass into the box. Novak, reading the play perfectly, made the run and smashed it into the roof of the net. Bradford 1-0 up. And they weren''t stopping. 14th Minute ¨C GOAL! Bradford 2-0 (Silva) Silva had come back with a point to prove. And he delivered in style. Picking up the ball on the left wing, he danced past one defender, then another. A quick one-two with V¨¦lez. A cut inside onto his right foot¡ªthen a curling strike into the top corner. Unstoppable. The crowd erupted. Bradford were running riot. 22nd Minute ¨C The opposition were already in damage control mode. But that didn''t matter¡ªBradford found gaps everywhere. Rasmussen drove down the right wing before whipping a cross into the area. The defense half-cleared it, but the ball dropped to Mensah on the edge of the box. One touch. A thunderous volley. The net bulged. Bradford were 3-0 up inside 25 minutes. Jake could barely keep up¡ªhis team were destroying them. 28th Minute ¨C Another break, another goal. This time, it was Silva and Novak combining again. Silva, full of confidence, weaved his way through defenders before slotting a pass across the face of goal. Novak, in the right place at the right time, tapped it home. Bradford were 4-0 up before half an hour had passed. The away side looked shell-shocked. Halftime ¨C Total Control As the players walked off the pitch, Jake barely said a word. They already knew what needed to be done. They had sent a message. Now, they had to finish the job. Second Half ¨C The Rout Continues Bradford didn''t let up. They came out just as aggressive, just as precise, refusing to step off the gas. The visitors, already beaten, had no answers. Bradford smelled blood. 49th Minute ¨C A set-piece routine, straight from the training ground. V¨¦lez swung in a corner. Ib¨¢?ez rose highest at the near post, glancing his header past the helpless goalkeeper. 5-0. 55th Minute ¨C Jake made a few substitutions, but the goals didn''t stop. Leo Rasmussen, cutting in from the right, sent a curling shot into the far corner. It was one of the best goals of the night. Bradford weren''t just winning¡ªthey were putting on a show. 65th Minute ¨C Another counterattack. V¨¦lez sent a long ball into space, and Richter sprinted through, one-on-one with the keeper. A calm, composed finish. The scoreboard kept ticking. 77th Minute ¨C At this point, the opposition had completely collapsed. A desperate clearance bounced off one of their own defenders and trickled into the net. Even the away players knew this was a nightmare. Bradford 8-0 up. Jake almost felt bad for them. Almost. 88th Minute ¨C One final dagger. Silva, not satisfied with just one goal, added another. A quick give-and-go with Mensah, a shift onto his right foot, and another curling effort into the top corner. A perfect way to end the match. Full-Time ¨C A Ruthless Performance Bradford 9-0 winners. Silva and Barnes were back. Bradford hadn''t just won. They had made a statement. The league title charge? Very much alive. Chapter 121 - 121: FA Cup Fourth Round Build-Up: Facing the Champions ???? Saturday, January 17 ¨C FA Cup Fourth Round (Away vs. Man City) Bradford had been through battles before. They had beaten Premier League clubs. They had defied expectations. They had rewritten the script in this competition. But this? This was Manchester City at the Etihad. The reigning champions. The best team in the country. And last time? 8-0. That result still hung in the background, a reminder of how brutal City could be. This was Bradford''s chance at redemption. The System''s Brutal Prediction ¨C A Game Unlike Any Other Jake already knew what was coming before he checked the system''s probability. Manchester City weren''t just a great team¡ªthey were a machine. A relentless, perfectly drilled, and almost unstoppable force. They had been crushing teams in the Premier League. They had world-class players in every position. They had experience, depth, and a tactical system that had been perfected over years. And according to the system, Bradford had no real chance. The Numbers Were As Harsh As EverMan City: 80% win probabilityBradford: 10%Draw: 10% This was the biggest gap in probability the system had ever given Bradford. Even against Arsenal, Leicester, and Crystal Palace, there had always been something to exploit¡ªa defensive weakness, a tactical flaw, an overconfident squad. But here? No weaknesses found. It was a brutal reality. If Bradford were going to get a result, it wouldn''t come from a mistake by City. It would have to come from pure resilience and a perfect game plan. Manchester City''s Key Strengths ¨C Why They Were So Dangerous Complete Control of Possession With Rodri, De Bruyne, and Foden in midfield, City didn''t just dominate the ball¡ªthey controlled the game itself.They dictated the tempo, shifting gears at will, moving teams around until they created openings.Against weaker sides, they would routinely finish matches with over 70% possession. Pressing Structure ¨C Suffocating Opponents City didn''t just dominate when they had the ball. They dominated without it.The moment a team won possession, City''s press would smother them, forcing them into mistakes before they could even get out of their own half.Rodri and De Bruyne cut off passing lanes. Haaland, Grealish, and Bernardo Silva closed down defenders before they could think.Bradford couldn''t afford to play out from the back. They would be punished for it. Attacking Intelligence ¨C Ruthless in the Final Third Haaland''s movement inside the box was unlike any striker in the world. If he got half a chance, he scored.Grealish''s dribbling and creativity caused nightmares for defenders. One moment of hesitation, and he would be in behind.Bernardo Silva''s ability to create space allowed City to break down even the deepest low blocks. Defensive Solidity ¨C Almost No Gaps to Exploit Even if Bradford somehow managed to break forward, R¨²ben Dias and Jo?ko Gvardiol would be waiting.Both center-backs were strong, quick, and composed. They didn''t get pulled out of position. They didn''t make reckless challenges.The full-backs didn''t bomb forward recklessly either. They stayed disciplined, cutting off passing lanes and forcing teams backward. No flaws. No easy targets. No room for error. Manchester City''s Weaknesses ¨C If They Had Any at All Jake searched through the system''s breakdown, looking for something¡ªanything¡ªthat Bradford could use. It wasn''t much, but there were two small areas that could be exploited. Occasional Overcommitment in Attack City were used to dominating the ball. They pushed numbers forward, expecting to recover possession instantly if they lost it.If a team broke through that first wave of pressure, City''s defense could be exposed temporarily.The problem? Most teams never got through. Haaland''s Lack of Involvement in Build-Up Play Unlike City''s previous strikers, Haaland didn''t drop deep to link play as much.That meant if City were forced to play through midfield for too long, they could become predictable.But again¡ªmost teams couldn''t stop them long enough for it to matter. That was it. That was all Jake had to work with. Two minor weaknesses. And even those would be incredibly difficult to exploit. Jake''s Tactical Plan ¨C Containment & Counters Jake knew there was no scenario where Bradford could outplay Manchester City. Trying to match them in possession? Impossible. Trying to press them high? Suicidal. Trying to defend deep for 90 minutes without a plan? Pointless. So instead, Bradford had to make City uncomfortable. They had to frustrate them. If City got into a rhythm early, it was over before it began. But if Bradford could stay compact, cut off passing lanes, and make City work for every inch of space? Then maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthere was a way to survive. Stay Compact & Disciplined The first and most important priority: defensive shape. No high pressing. No unnecessary risks.Two deep banks of four at all times.Frustrate City. Force them wide. Make them work for every shot. This wasn''t about stopping City completely. That was impossible. But City wanted to play through the middle. They wanted to pull teams apart with quick, intricate passing. Bradford couldn''t let that happen. So Jake drilled them on defensive structure. Novak and Richter would drop deep, forcing City''s center-backs to have the ball but cutting off easy passes into midfield.Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez would sit just in front of the defense, constantly shifting to block passing lanes into De Bruyne and Foden.The wingers¡ªWalsh and Rasmussen¡ªhad to track back religiously, doubling up on City''s full-backs to prevent overloads out wide.Min-jae and Fletcher would stay tight to Haaland, never giving him space to turn in the box. If Bradford could force City into a slow, predictable passing game, where they had to recycle the ball wide instead of slicing through the middle? That was already a small victory. Minimize Mistakes ¨C No Gifts to City sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. If there was one thing Jake knew, it was this: City don''t just win games. Teams lose against them. One mistake. One bad pass. One lapse in concentration. And City pounce. So the plan was clear: No playing out from the back. If City pressed high, Bradford would clear it. No hesitation. No risky short passes under pressure.Take no risks in midfield. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez had been instructed¡ªif City surrounded them, don''t try to dribble or pass through it. Just go long.Avoid unnecessary fouls near the box. City''s set-piece delivery was deadly. Bradford couldn''t afford to give away free-kicks in dangerous areas.Time-waste when possible. Every throw-in, every goal kick, every stoppage¡ªBradford needed to take the sting out of the game whenever they could. If Bradford lost, they would lose on City''s terms. Not because they made it easy for them. Be Ruthless on the Counter Bradford would not get many chances. Jake knew that. The players knew that. But when the chances came, they had to take them. This was why he started Walsh and Rasmussen on the wings. Walsh and Rasmussen had to run directly at City''s defense whenever Bradford won possession.They had to be fearless, taking on defenders instead of playing it safe.They had to stretch the pitch, forcing City''s full-backs to second-guess whether to push forward. And in attack? Novak and Richter needed to make every attack count. There wouldn''t be many, so when the ball came, they couldn''t hesitate.Novak''s hold-up play would be crucial. If he could win duels and bring others into play, Bradford might get rare chances to break.Richter''s movement had to be perfect. He had to make diagonal runs into the channels, pulling City''s defenders apart and creating pockets of space.Jake''s Final Thoughts ¨C Can They Survive? Jake knew this game would push his players beyond their limits. He had seen teams collapse against City after just 20 minutes. Bradford couldn''t afford that. The plan wasn''t to win. Not yet. The plan was to survive. And if they executed it? Maybe¡ª**just maybe¡ª**they could stay in the fight longer than last time. Bradford''s Starting XI (4-4-2) ¨C Adjusted for Silva''s Suspension Jake had no illusions about how this game would play out. They weren''t going to dominate possession. They weren''t going to control the tempo. But that didn''t mean they were going to roll over. The lineup reflected that¡ªa mix of defensive discipline, counter-attacking threat, and raw determination. This was not a game for experimenting or taking unnecessary risks. Every selection was made with a purpose. Every player had a clear role. Bradford knew exactly what was coming. They knew they would spend most of the game without the ball. They knew they would be pinned deep inside their own half for long stretches. But if they defended well, if they frustrated City long enough, there was always a chance. A single counterattack. A defensive lapse. One moment of chaos in City''s perfect system. Jake had drilled that message into them all week. Stay compact. Stay disciplined. Take your chances. Goalkeeper:Emeka Okafor ¨C The man who would have to be at his absolute best. City would test him, over and over again. He had already proven himself in big matches, but this would be a different kind of challenge. A game where every save mattered, where one mistake could open the floodgates.Defenders:Julian Rojas (Right-Back) ¨C Brought into the side specifically for his defensive ability. His main task was to stay compact, keep his position, and contain Grealish. No risky overlapping runs. No getting caught out high up the pitch. This was about discipline. Kang Min-jae (Center-Back) ¨C The aggressive enforcer. Haaland would be the biggest threat on the pitch, and Min-jae was given one simple task: make his life as difficult as possible. Stick to him. Stay physical. Don''t give him an inch of space. Noah Fletcher (Center-Back) ¨C Chosen for his aerial presence and strength. He had the physicality to deal with Haaland''s power, but he would also need to be smart, reading City''s movement, making sure he wasn''t dragged out of position. Aiden Taylor (Left-Back) ¨C A purely defensive selection. No forward runs. No unnecessary risks. His focus was entirely on containing Bernardo Silva and blocking crosses from the left. Midfielders:Leo Rasmussen (Right Midfield) ¨C Originally set to play on the left, he was now shifted to the right due to Silva''s suspension. Rasmussen was a direct runner, capable of carrying the ball forward when Bradford had rare chances to attack. He would also need to track back, covering Rojas whenever Grealish or Foden drifted wide. Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez (Central Midfield) ¨C The deep-lying playmaker. His job was to keep possession when possible, to control the tempo whenever Bradford had brief moments of the ball. But against City''s press, he wouldn''t have much time. His ability to pick the right pass under pressure would be critical. Santiago V¨¦lez (Central Midfield) ¨C The workhorse. V¨¦lez had been selected purely for his energy and ability to break up play. He would be the first line of pressure against De Bruyne and Rodri, tasked with forcing mistakes and disrupting City''s rhythm. Ethan Walsh (Left Midfield) ¨C A big opportunity for the young winger. With Silva suspended, Walsh had been given a start on the left. His pace and dribbling could be a weapon on the counter, but he would also have to do a lot of defensive work, covering Taylor and tracking City''s overlapping full-backs. Forwards:Lukas Novak (Striker) ¨C The target man. Novak wouldn''t see much of the ball, but when he did, he needed to make it count. His hold-up play would be crucial in relieving pressure, giving the midfield a chance to push forward. Tobias Richter (Striker) ¨C The runner. Novak would battle for the ball, but Richter was the one expected to make dangerous runs in behind whenever a counterattack was possible. His speed was Bradford''s best chance of sneaking a goal. Pre-Match Training ¨C Preparing for the Storm Jake had a day to get his squad mentally and physically ready. One days to prepare for the biggest challenge of the season. Bradford were not expected to win. The system had given them just a 10% chance. The odds were stacked against them. But Jake didn''t believe in impossible games. He had seen underdogs fight before. He had seen teams hold out against superior opposition and make them uncomfortable. And if Bradford had any hope of doing that, they had to be flawless in execution. The training sessions were not about outplaying City. That was never an option. This was about survival. Every drill. Every instruction. Every tactical tweak was designed for one purpose¡ªstaying in the fight for as long as possible. Defensive Shape & Transitions The first session was entirely focused on defensive discipline. The team spent hours drilling their low block. Every player needed to know exactly where they had to be at all times. No chasing the ball. No breaking from the structure.Each player had a clear responsibility for marking and tracking runners. If City found gaps between the lines, it would be over before it began.Min-jae and Fletcher worked specifically on handling Haaland''s movement. The Norwegian forward was unlike any striker they had faced. His positioning, his runs, his physicality¡ªif they gave him an inch, he would take a mile. Jake set up simulation drills with City''s exact attacking patterns. The midfield played as De Bruyne and Foden, constantly moving between the lines.The wingers acted as Grealish and Silva, drifting inside and creating overloads.And the strikers? They rotated as Haaland, making unpredictable runs, forcing Min-jae and Fletcher to stay switched on. It was about building muscle memory. Bradford would not get time to think at the Etihad. They had to react on instinct. Counter-Attack Drills Jake knew the only way Bradford could score was on the counter. And counter-attacks had to be fast, direct, and ruthless. Quick, sharp passing¡ªwinning the ball and breaking forward in under three passes.No hesitation. No sideways passes. No slowing down. The moment they won the ball, it had to go forward.Novak and Richter worked on timing their runs perfectly to avoid being caught offside. City''s defense played high, but their defenders were smart. One mistimed run, and the attack would be wasted. The key to the counter-attacks? Rasmussen and Walsh. They were drilled on driving forward with the ball, taking risks, attacking defenders in one-on-one situations.If they hesitated? City''s full-backs would recover.If they took too many touches? City''s midfielders would close them down. It had to be perfect. Win the ball.Find the pass.Attack immediately. There would be few opportunities. But if Bradford got one? They had to take it. Mental Preparation Jake knew the biggest danger wasn''t just City''s quality¡ªit was the psychological pressure. Teams walked into the Etihad and lost the game before it even started. He wouldn''t let that happen to Bradford. Before the final training session, he gathered the players in the dressing room. He looked at them¡ªnot as underdogs, not as a team expected to lose, but as footballers capable of fighting. "You don''t panic," Jake said, his voice calm but firm. "You don''t rush. You stick to the plan." "City will have the ball. A lot. They will pass it around, try to pull us apart, try to make us lose focus. That''s what they do." He paused, scanning the room. "But that doesn''t mean they''ve beaten us." He pointed at Min-jae. "You do your job, Haaland doesn''t get a free shot on goal." He turned to Ib¨¢?ez. "You keep the ball when we have it, we take the pressure off our defense." He looked at Walsh and Rasmussen. "You break forward without fear. They will not expect you to run at them. Make them uncomfortable." Finally, he locked eyes with Okafor. "They will test you," Jake said. "More than any other game this season." Okafor nodded. "I''m ready." "Good," Jake said, stepping back. "Because when you walk onto that pitch, you don''t think about them. You don''t think about their stadium, their trophies, their reputation." "You think about us." A pause. "They are Manchester City." Another pause. "But we are Bradford City." And now? It was time to fight. Chapter 122 - 122: FA Cup Fourth Round vs. Manchester City ???? Saturday, January 18 ¨C FA Cup Fourth Round (Away vs. Man City) The Etihad Stadium was a fortress. Bradford had walked into hostile territory before¡ªArsenal, Crystal Palace, Leicester¡ªbut nothing compared to this. This wasn''t just a big club. This was the club. The treble winners. The most dominant team in world football. From the moment Jake''s squad stepped onto the pitch, they knew the truth. They weren''t here to win. They were here to survive. A Ruthless Opponent ¨C City Show No Mercy Jake had expected City to rotate, to at least hold something back for their title race. They didn''t. Guardiola''s lineup was merciless¡ªHaaland, De Bruyne, Rodri, Foden, Bernardo Silva. No sign of underestimation. No sense of complacency. Just cold, calculated execution. The moment the whistle blew, City took control. Bradford had lined up deep, two compact banks of four, hoping to frustrate their opponents. But hope didn''t last long. 5th Minute ¨C One pass. That''s all it took. Bradford had barely had time to settle before De Bruyne carved them open with a moment of genius. Standing near the halfway line, he didn''t even need to look¡ªhe just knew where Haaland would be. With one effortless swing of his right foot, he sent the ball slicing between Min-jae and Fletcher, threading the gap with surgical precision. The Bradford defenders reacted half a second too late. And that was all Haaland needed. The Norwegian exploded forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with Min-jae, brushing him aside like he wasn''t even there. Okafor rushed out¡ªarms spread wide¡ªbut it didn''t matter. Haaland had already decided. One touch to set himself. One hammer of a left-footed strike. The ball rocketed past Okafor, slamming into the back of the net before the keeper even had a chance to react. 5 minutes in. 1-0. The Etihad erupted. Bradford had barely touched the ball. Jake folded his arms, jaw tight. They had trained for this. Expected this. It didn''t make it hurt any less. The next twenty minutes were suffocating. Bradford weren''t just defending. They were drowning. City didn''t just dominate possession¡ªthey owned it. It wasn''t just their ability to pass, move, and manipulate space. It was how easy they made it look. Rodri stood at the base of midfield, effortlessly recycling possession, dictating the tempo like a conductor leading an orchestra. Every time a Bradford player thought they had a second to breathe, City tightened the noose. Okafor''s goal kicks? Immediately sent back into Bradford''s half. Bradford''s clearances? Intercepted and turned into another City attack. Even when they won the ball back, it lasted for seconds. The moment V¨¦lez, Ib¨¢?ez, or Rasmussen got a touch, they were swarmed. Pressed into mistakes. Forced into turnovers. They couldn''t escape. And then, City started creating chances. 9th Minute ¨C Bernardo Silva picked up the ball in the right half-space, gliding past V¨¦lez with ease. He spotted Foden making a darting run between Rojas and Fletcher, and with a simple reverse pass, he split the defense. Foden took a touch, fired low¡ª Okafor saved it. A strong right hand, pushing it wide. City''s first warning shot. Jake glanced at his watch. Still 81 minutes to go. 15th Minute ¨C Another City attack. This time, it was Grealish weaving inside from the left, dragging two defenders with him before slipping the ball into De Bruyne''s path. The Belgian didn''t hesitate. A first-time pass. Bernardo Silva, unmarked at the edge of the box, wound up a curler. It was destined for the top corner. Okafor dived full stretch, fingertips pushing it over the bar. A breathtaking save. For a brief moment, the Bradford fans found their voices. Okafor kept them in it. But Jake knew the truth. Bradford were hanging on by a thread. 20th Minute ¨C City were moving the ball faster now. De Bruyne and Foden started drifting between the lines, finding spaces where Bradford''s midfield couldn''t track them. Rodri and Bernardo recycled possession, shifting Bradford''s defense side to side, waiting for an opening. It wasn''t a question of if the second goal would come. It was when. Bradford needed to clear their heads. They needed a moment. A counterattack. Something. And for a second¡ªjust a second¡ªit looked like they had it. V¨¦lez stole the ball from Rodri, a rare mistake from the Spaniard. The midfielder turned, looked up¡ªspace ahead of him. Novak and Richter were making runs. The pass had to be perfect. V¨¦lez took one step¡ª And De Bruyne lunged in. A crunching tackle. A clean tackle. The ball was back with City. Bradford''s one chance to breathe was gone. 28th Minute ¨C Bradford had survived for as long as they could. But survival wasn''t enough. City were relentless. A corner was half-cleared by Fletcher, the ball bouncing just outside the box. Straight to Foden. The England international took one touch. And then, he struck. A perfectly controlled, curling effort¡ªlike a sniper shot from 20 yards. Okafor saw it. Dived for it. But the ball was already past him. Top corner. 2-0. The Etihad roared again. Bradford''s players stood frozen. There was no stopping this. This was Manchester City at their best. Jake clenched his fists. It was already damage control. For 35 minutes, Bradford had been battered. City had attacked from every angle, suffocating them with relentless possession, crisp passing, and constant movement. Bradford had barely strung together three passes in a row. Every clearance was just an invitation for another wave of pressure. But they weren''t finished yet. For the first time all game, City blinked. Rodri, the metronome of City''s midfield, did something uncharacteristic. He misplaced a pass. A simple ball toward De Bruyne¡ªunder-hit. V¨¦lez reacted instantly. A burst of acceleration. Suddenly, for the first time in the match, Bradford had space. Jake shot forward on the touchline. "Go! Go!" he barked, his voice cutting through the noise. V¨¦lez charged forward, head up, scanning his options. City''s defenders had stepped up too high¡ªfor once, they weren''t perfectly positioned. Novak was near the edge of the box, peeling away from Dias, calling for it. The pass had to be perfect. V¨¦lez threaded it through. Novak took one touch, turned, and struck. It was clean. Powerful. For a second, the world slowed. But Ederson? Barely flinched. A quick drop to his right, safe hands, and the ball was smothered. No rebound. No mistake. Bradford''s first real chance¡ªgone in an instant. Novak held his head in his hands. V¨¦lez stared at the ground. Jake exhaled. It wasn''t much. But for the first time, City looked slightly human. Halftime ¨C Damage Control Mode The whistle blew. Jake took one last look at the scoreboard. 2-0. It could have been worse. His players trudged off the pitch, their faces pale, their jerseys drenched in sweat. No one spoke. No one needed to. The gap in quality had been clear. But the game wasn''t over. Inside the dressing room, Jake didn''t raise his voice. He didn''t need to. Instead, he walked to the tactics board. Picked up a marker. And wrote two simple words. "No Fear." For a moment, the players just stared at it. Then, slowly, they lifted their heads. Jake turned to face them. "Stick together," he said, his voice firm, steady. "Frustrate them. Make them work." He locked eyes with V¨¦lez. "And when we get the ball¡ªwe go." No hesitation. No second-guessing. We go. His men nodded. Their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Bradford weren''t backing down. They weren''t here to surrender. They would fight. No matter what. 50th Minute ¨C It was only a matter of time. Bradford had held on as best they could, but City never stopped probing, never stopped moving, never stopped pushing for the next goal. Grealish, who had been teasing the defense all night, picked up the ball near the left touchline. With one sharp turn, he was past Rojas. With a clever feint, he ghosted past Min-jae. Inside the box now. Danger. Jake shouted, "Close him down!" but it was too late. Grealish cut the ball back across the penalty spot. Waiting, completely unmarked, was Bernardo Silva. One touch. A simple, effortless finish into the bottom corner. The ball hit the net, and the Etihad roared. Jake sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. That was the killer blow. City weren''t just better. They were untouchable. 63rd Minute ¨C Jake''s Last Roll of the Dice With just under 30 minutes left, Jake made his final changes. Mensah off ¨C Taylor on (Adding more defensive cover)Novak off ¨C Costa on (Fresh legs up front, hoping for one last counterattack) He wasn''t thinking about a comeback. He was thinking about damage control. But then¡ªa moment. 70th Minute ¨C The Big Chance For 70 minutes, Bradford had barely been near City''s goal. Then, for the first time all game¡ªspace. Rodri, who had been flawless all night, misjudged a pass. V¨¦lez pounced, intercepting it near midfield. He turned, lifted his head, and saw Costa making a run in behind. The pass had to be perfect. It was. Costa broke through, one-on-one with Ederson. Jake held his breath. This was it. This was their moment. Costa struck it hard¡ª Saved. Ederson barely flinched. The keeper smothered it like it was routine. Like it was nothing. Bradford''s one real opportunity¡ªgone in an instant. Jake exhaled, shaking his head. He had seen this before. Against weaker teams, that shot goes in. Against City? It doesn''t. 80th Minute ¨C Jake was still replaying Costa''s miss in his head when City finished the job. De Bruyne¡ªbecause of course it was De Bruyne¡ªlifted another perfect ball over the top. Haaland took one touch to control. One touch to smash it past Okafor. 4-0. City didn''t celebrate wildly. They didn''t need to. They knew this was the expectation. Jake ran a hand through his hair as City passed the ball around effortlessly, slowing the tempo. They weren''t even attacking anymore. Just keeping possession, toying with Bradford, waiting for the clock to run down. For them, the game had ended long ago. For Bradford? The final whistle couldn''t come soon enough. Full-Time ¨C A Lesson in Reality As the referee blew for full-time, Jake simply exhaled. No rage. No frustration. Just brutal, undeniable reality. Man City 4-0 Bradford. Outclassed. Outplayed. Eliminated. Jake walked over to Guardiola, shaking his hand. "Top team," he admitted. Guardiola smiled. "Your team fought. That''s what matters." Maybe. But it didn''t feel like it. Jake turned back to his squad. They looked broken. He could see it in their eyes¡ªthe weight of the loss, the frustration of being powerless, the realization that they had never really been in the game. But Jake wasn''t about to let them crumble. He gathered them in a tight circle, his voice low but firm. "Look at them," he said, gesturing toward the City players. "Look at what it takes to reach the top." Nobody spoke. "This is the level," Jake continued. "Not today. Not tomorrow. But one day." He let the silence hang. Then, his voice hardened. "Remember this feeling." His players nodded. They would. Post-Match Press Conference ¨C Jake''s Honest Reaction Jake sat at the podium, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as the cameras flashed in front of him. The media had been waiting for this. Bradford had pulled off cup upsets before. They had beaten Premier League teams, shocked the football world. But tonight? Tonight had been different. The loss wasn''t controversial. There was no questionable refereeing decision. No missed chances that could''ve changed the game. Bradford had been beaten, fair and square. A reporter from Sky Sports opened the questioning. "Jake, you just faced one of the best teams in world football. What''s your biggest takeaway from tonight?" Jake leaned into the mic. "We were outclassed," he said plainly. "No shame in that. We''ll take the lesson and move forward." There was no attempt to sugarcoat it. No excuses. City had been on another level. A journalist from BBC Sport followed up. "Did you ever feel like your team had a chance?" Jake smirked, shaking his head. "When the whistle blew? No." He paused, letting the room settle. "When it was 0-0? Yeah." A few reporters chuckled. Jake knew how ridiculous it sounded. But for those opening minutes, before De Bruyne''s first assist, before City settled into their rhythm, Bradford had still believed. One last question. "Jake, is this a setback for Bradford?" Jake''s expression didn''t change. "No," he said. "It''s a reminder." A reminder of what it took to compete at the highest level. A reminder of the gap between League One and the Premier League elite. And most importantly? A reminder of where they needed to go next. Media Reaction ¨C The Aftermath As expected, the headlines were brutal but fair. "Haaland & De Bruyne Put on a Clinic as City Ease Past Bradford" ¨C The Guardian "Jake Wilson''s Men Fought, But the Gulf in Class Was Too Great" ¨C Sky Sports S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Bradford''s FA Cup Dream Ends ¨C But Their Journey Isn''t Over" ¨C BBC Sport There was no talk of humiliation. No discussions about Bradford failing or bottling their moment. They had done what they could. But this wasn''t Arsenal. This wasn''t Leicester. This was Manchester City. One of The best team in England. Also one the best team in the world. Bradford had been part of City''s routine, nothing more. Jake accepted that. But he didn''t accept staying at this level forever. Jake''s Focus Shifts ¨C The Second Leg Awaits As he left the stadium, Jake didn''t dwell on the loss. The FA Cup was over. There was nothing left to fight for there. But the EFL Cup Semi-Final? That was still alive. The 3-0 loss in the first leg against Newcastle had been a disaster. But Bradford had one more chance. One more game. One shot at redemption. And this time? They couldn''t afford to fail. Chapter 123 - 123: BRADFORD CITY VS NEWCASTLE PART 1 ???? Tuesday, January 28 ¨C EFL Cup Semi-Final Leg 2 (Home vs. Newcastle United) The energy inside Valley Parade was electric. This was not the atmosphere of a team trailing 3-0 on aggregate. This was not a stadium expecting defeat. The Bradford supporters had seen their club do the impossible before. They believed it could happen again. Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, arms crossed, staring at the tunnel as his players lined up. In the pre-match press conference, the questions had been the same. "Do you really think you can turn this around?" "Is the tie already over?" "What would it take to pull off a miracle?" Jake''s answer had been simple. "One goal changes everything." Newcastle expected to cruise into the final. Bradford had other plans. Starting XIsBradford City (4-4-2) ¨C All-Out Attack Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor ¨C A crucial presence in goal, needing to stay sharp against Newcastle''s counterattacks. Defenders: Right-Back: Julian Rojas ¨C Energetic, providing width and defensive stability.Center-Back: Kang Min-jae ¨C Aerially dominant, tasked with marking Isak.Center-Back: Nathan Barnes ¨C Back from suspension, leading the defense with composure.Left-Back: Aiden Taylor ¨C Disciplined, ensuring Newcastle''s wingers don''t find space. Midfielders: Right Midfield: Renan Silva ¨C Returning to the team, adding skill and unpredictability on the flank.Central Midfield: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez ¨C The deep-lying playmaker, tasked with controlling possession.Central Midfield: Santiago V¨¦lez ¨C Relentless in pressing, forcing turnovers in midfield.Left Midfield: Raphael Mensah ¨C The danger man, capable of changing the game with his pace. Forwards: Lukas Novak ¨C The target man, strong in the air, ready for battle.Tobias Richter ¨C Quick, lethal, aiming to exploit Newcastle''s defensive gaps.Newcastle United (4-3-3) ¨C Looking to Finish the Job Goalkeeper: Nick Pope ¨C Experienced shot-stopper, commanding in the box. Defenders: Right-Back: Kieran Trippier ¨C A leader, dangerous on set pieces.Center-Back: Fabian Sch?r ¨C Aggressive and experienced, key in aerial duels.Center-Back: Sven Botman ¨C Strong in the air, struggling against Novak''s physicality.Left-Back: Dan Burn ¨C Tall, defensively solid but slow against pace. Midfielders: Bruno Guimar?es ¨C The playmaker, struggling against Bradford''s press.Sandro Tonali ¨C Tasked with breaking up attacks, unable to stop V¨¦lez''s energy.Joelinton ¨C Box-to-box midfielder, trying to offer a physical presence. Forwards: Right Winger: Jacob Murphy ¨C Direct, aiming to stretch the defense.Left Winger: Harvey Barnes ¨C Quick, tricky, looking to exploit space.Striker: Alexander Isak ¨C Newcastle''s biggest goal threat, yet to receive service.The Final Words Before Kickoff Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere was heavy¡ªnot with doubt, but with focus. Every player sat still, heads down, mentally preparing for the battle ahead. The usual pre-match tension lingered in the air, but tonight, it felt different. This wasn''t just another game. This was a fight for survival. Jake stood near the whiteboard, arms crossed, scanning the room. He could see it¡ªthe determination in their eyes, the quiet fire burning beneath their calm expressions. This wasn''t a team that had already lost. This was a team waiting for the whistle. Jake took a step forward, picking up a marker. With slow, deliberate movements, he pointed to Newcastle''s starting eleven, their names written in bold. "They think it''s over." He let the silence stretch. "They think we''re done." His voice remained steady, measured. "But let''s show them it''s not." No dramatic speeches. No empty motivation. Just a simple truth. A challenge. Barnes sat forward, lacing up his boots tighter. His fists clenched. Silva rolled his shoulders, adjusting his socks. He looked ready to explode. Mensah drummed his fingers against his thigh, barely containing his energy. Jake scanned the room one last time. "You have nothing to lose," he continued, voice sharp now. "Nothing." He let that sink in. "Go out there and remind them who we are." Aiden Taylor cracked his neck. V¨¦lez nodded to himself. Novak exhaled slowly. One by one, the players rose from their seats. They weren''t here to roll over. They weren''t here to accept the script that had been written for them. They were here to fight. First Half ¨C The Impossible Becomes Possible The opening whistle blew, and Bradford did not hesitate. No waiting. No sitting back. No caution. This was all-out war. Newcastle had expected intensity. They had prepared for an early surge. But they weren''t ready for this. From the first pass, Bradford hunted in packs. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez swarmed Guimar?es and Tonali, forcing rushed decisions in midfield. Silva and Mensah drove straight at Newcastle''s full-backs, stretching the defense wider than they wanted. Trippier, normally composed, found himself pinned deep in his own half, unable to advance like he usually did. Burn, not the quickest defender, was already looking uncomfortable as Mensah darted past him in the opening minutes. Newcastle''s passing, usually so crisp, became sloppy. Bradford were suffocating them. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And in the third minute, they nearly had their reward. 3rd Minute ¨C First Big Chance for Bradford Newcastle tried to build out from the back, Botman rolling a slow pass toward Tonali. But V¨¦lez pounced, intercepting it cleanly. One touch to control. One touch to release Silva down the right flank. Silva charged toward the byline, lifted his head, and curled a cross into the six-yard box. Novak was there¡ªtowering over Sch?r, meeting the ball with a glancing header. For a second, it looked perfect. Pope scrambled¡ªdiving to his right, fingertips stretching. The ball clipped the outside of the post. A collective gasp from the crowd. So close. Jake clapped his hands, shouting from the touchline. "Again! Same intensity!" Newcastle were rattled. And Bradford kept coming. 10th Minute ¨C Newcastle needed to slow the game down. They passed the ball around their backline, trying to regain some control. Then, they finally found a gap. Guimar?es drifted wide, dragging V¨¦lez with him, and suddenly, a space opened in the center. Tonali took his chance, threading a perfect ball through to Isak. The Swedish striker spun past Barnes, galloping into the box. One-on-one with Okafor. Jake held his breath. Isak shaped to shoot¡ªbut Min-jae lunged in. A last-ditch block. The ball deflected high into the air and fell safely into Okafor''s gloves. Newcastle''s first real warning. Bradford had to stay sharp. And they did. 17th Minute ¨C This time, it was Mensah. V¨¦lez flicked a pass into his path near the halfway line, and the Ghanaian winger took off like a bullet. Trippier backpedaled, struggling to keep up. Mensah skipped inside, then back outside, twisting the defender around. And then¡ªthe shot. From just outside the box, he hit it low and hard. Pope reacted late. For a moment, it seemed like it would creep inside the near post. But the Newcastle keeper got down just in time, tipping it wide. Another corner. Another chance. Newcastle still had no rhythm. And then¡ªValley Parade exploded. 25th Minute ¨C Newcastle were reeling. They had barely survived the relentless Bradford onslaught, their passes rushed, their clearances desperate. The pressure was unbearable. Then, they cracked. Rojas forced another corner after his low cross was deflected out by Botman. As the Bradford players jogged into position, Valley Parade buzzed with anticipation. This was their chance. Novak took his place near the penalty spot, locking eyes with Rojas. They had rehearsed this routine in training a hundred times. Rojas stepped back, raising a hand¡ªthe signal. He curled in a perfect, dipping cross, fast and dangerous, swinging toward the six-yard box. Novak exploded off his marker, powering forward. Botman tried to block him. Sch?r jumped too late. It didn''t matter. Novak rose above them all. A split second. A single moment of dominance. His forehead met the ball with pure force. The header rocketed toward the bottom corner. Nick Pope barely had time to react. The net rippled violently. For a moment, there was silence¡ªjust the impact of ball against net. Then, chaos. Valley Parade erupted. Novak spun away, sprinting toward the corner flag, fists clenched, roaring into the night. His teammates chased him, dragging him into a frenzied celebration. Jake stood still. He didn''t jump. Didn''t shout. He turned to his assistant, voice low but firm. "One down." Newcastle''s players looked at each other. For the first time tonight¡ªthey looked unsure. Bradford Smells Blood Bradford didn''t drop back. They didn''t slow down. They had Newcastle on the ropes, and they weren''t letting up. Every pass from the visitors was rushed. Every clearance came straight back at them. Guimar?es, normally composed, was shouting at his teammates, gesturing for them to calm down, but Newcastle had lost their rhythm. Tonali couldn''t turn without V¨¦lez hunting him down, stepping on his heels, pressing like a man possessed. Bradford felt it. They had control. And they nearly made it 2-0. 28th Minute ¨C Ib¨¢?ez intercepted a poor clearance from Burn and immediately looked up. Silva was already making his move, peeling off the right flank, running into space behind Trippier. Ib¨¢?ez didn''t hesitate. A perfect lofted pass over the top. Silva sprinted onto it, took one touch into the box, and let it fly. The shot was hit with venom, curling toward the top corner. Pope was beaten. For a moment, the entire stadium held its breath. But the ball crashed off the crossbar. The rebound fell to Richter, but Botman lunged across, blocking his shot with a desperate slide. Valley Parade groaned. Jake clenched his fists. So close. But there was no time to dwell on it. Newcastle had a chance of their own. 31st Minute ¨C Newcastle had been suffocated for nearly half an hour. But one moment was all they needed. Joelinton dropped deep to receive the ball, dragging Barnes out of position. With one quick turn, he laid it off to Guimar?es. For the first time all match, the Brazilian had space. He lifted his head and threaded a through ball between Min-jae and Fletcher. Isak read it perfectly, breaking past the line. The flag stayed down. One-on-one with Okafor. Jake''s heart lurched. Isak steadied himself, opened his body, and aimed for the bottom corner. Okafor rushed out, making himself big. Then, a flash of movement¡ªBarnes, recovering from nowhere, lunged in. His boot caught just enough of the ball to send it rolling wide of the post. The Bradford fans erupted in relief. Jake exhaled. A narrow escape. Newcastle had another chance just minutes later. 34th Minute ¨C Trippier took a quick throw-in deep in Bradford''s half, catching the defense off guard. Murphy flicked it toward Joelinton, who spun past Taylor with surprising ease. Suddenly, he had space to cross. He whipped it toward the back post. Barnes came flying in, unmarked. Jake saw it happening a second too late. Barnes met the ball with a first-time volley. It was going in. Okafor threw himself across the goal. His fingertips brushed the ball, just enough to deflect it onto the post. The rebound dropped to Isak¡ªbut Min-jae got there first, hacking it clear. Bradford had survived. The crowd roared their approval. And then¡ª Bradford struck again. 35th Minute ¨C Newcastle were unraveling. They had spent the last few minutes desperately trying to slow the game down. Trippier and Botman exchanged short passes, Tonali dropped deeper, and Pope hesitated longer on goal kicks. It was a classic move¡ªdrain the energy from the game, take the sting out of Bradford''s momentum. But they weren''t used to this kind of pressure. And one mistake changed everything. Joelinton, standing just inside his own half, received a pass from Guimar?es. V¨¦lez closed him down instantly. Newcastle''s big midfielder tried to shield the ball, tried to turn¡ª But V¨¦lez wasn''t letting go. He nicked the ball off Joelinton''s feet and immediately turned forward. In that split second, Bradford pounced. Mensah was already on the move. V¨¦lez threaded a perfect through ball into space. And suddenly¡ªa breakaway. Valley Parade erupted. Mensah sprinted down the left flank, the roar of the crowd building with every step. Dan Burn tried to close him down¡ªbut Mensah was too fast. He cut inside¡ªBurn was beaten. Now, it was Sch?r. The defender lunged in¡ªtoo slow. Mensah skipped past him, leaving him in the dust. Now he was inside the box. Nick Pope rushed out. Mensah didn''t hesitate. He curled a low shot past the keeper. The ball curved around Pope''s outstretched hand¡ª ¡ªand slammed into the far corner of the net. GOAL! The stadium shook. It was like a dam had burst¡ªValley Parade was alive. Mensah ripped off his shirt, sprinting toward the fans, fists clenched, screaming in pure joy. His teammates piled on top of him. Novak grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. Silva screamed into the night sky. Barnes pounded his chest. Bradford had done the impossible. The 3-0 deficit was now 3-2. Newcastle''s players stood frozen. Pope was shaking his head. Trippier looked toward the bench. Sch?r had his hands on his hips. They were rattled. They were in trouble. Halftime ¨C One More to Go The whistle blew. But the stadium didn''t quiet down. The fans were still roaring, chanting, believing. Jake walked toward the tunnel, his mind racing. His players were exhausted, sweat dripping from their faces. But their eyes? Their eyes were burning with determination. Inside the dressing room, no one spoke. Jake let the silence sit for a moment, the only sound being the players catching their breath. Then, he grabbed a marker. He turned to the whiteboard and wrote three words: "One more goal." He underlined it twice. Silva and Mensah nodded, still fired up. Barnes clenched his fists. Novak took a deep breath, wiping his face with his jersey. Jake looked at each of them, one by one. "You''ve got them," he said, voice steady. "They''re shaken. They''re doubting. They thought this would be easy." He pointed at the board. "One more goal. And then we go win it." Bradford weren''t done yet. Chapter 124 - 124: BRADFORD VS NEWCASTLE PART 2 Second Half ¨C Pushing for the Equalizer Newcastle knew they had to respond. Their three-goal lead had been shredded in the first half, and Valley Parade was a cauldron of noise. If they thought the atmosphere was hostile before, it was unbearable now. Eddie Howe''s instructions were clear¡ªslow the game down, kill Bradford''s momentum. From the first kick of the second half, Newcastle tried to take the air out of the match. Guimar?es and Tonali passed sideways, forcing Bradford to chase. Pope held onto goal kicks longer than usual. Trippier and Burn refused to push forward, keeping a defensive shape. But Bradford weren''t fooled. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed. He knew exactly what Newcastle were doing. "Don''t let them breathe!" he shouted. His players responded immediately. Silva and Mensah pressed high, forcing rushed clearances. Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez stayed tight on Guimar?es and Joelinton, refusing to let them control the tempo. Newcastle were playing for time. Bradford were playing for history. 50th¨C65th Minute ¨C Bradford had clawed their way back into the tie, but Newcastle weren''t going down without a fight. The equalizer had stunned them, but now, they responded with fire. The visitors upped their intensity, dominating possession, pushing Bradford deeper and deeper into their own half. Guimar?es and Tonali stopped looking for safe sideways passes. They started taking risks. Trippier and Burn, once hesitant, pushed forward, overlapping to create more width. Newcastle were done playing cautiously. They were coming for Bradford. And soon, the warning shots began. 52nd Minute ¨C A quick exchange between Guimar?es and Murphy ripped open the right side of Bradford''s defense. Murphy, finally finding space, sprinted past Taylor and drilled a low cross into the box. It was perfect. Nathan Barnes saw it coming¡ªbut so did Harvey Barnes. The Newcastle winger darted to the near post, arriving before anyone could react. He got a foot on it, redirecting it toward goal. Jake''s heart lurched. Point-blank range. Okafor threw himself to his right, stretching every inch of his body¡ªpalmed it away! The ball bounced free inside the six-yard box. A mad scramble. Sch?r rushed in for the rebound. Min-jae, somehow, got there first. A desperate slide. A last-second clearance off the line. Valley Parade erupted in relief. Jake turned to his bench, exhaling. That was close. Too close. But Newcastle weren''t finished. 58th Minute ¨C Newcastle were relentless. They pinned Bradford deep inside their own half, passing quickly, circulating the ball from left to right. Bradford''s defensive line held strong, but every clearance came straight back. Then, the moment came. Joelinton, who had been a physical force all game, dropped deep to receive the ball. V¨¦lez went with him, pressing hard. But Joelinton spun away, rolling his marker and driving forward. One quick glance up. A perfectly weighted pass. Straight to Isak. The Swedish striker ghosted between Barnes and Min-jae, his first touch immaculate. Jake''s stomach twisted. Isak shaped to curl it into the top corner. He struck it sweetly¡ª The ball dipped¡ªlate. Jake held his breath. Just over the bar. Valley Parade exhaled in unison. Jake turned toward his assistant. "They''re coming," Roberts muttered. Jake nodded. They needed fresh legs. He turned to the bench. It was time to make a change. 60th Minute ¨C Substitution for Bradford Novak was breathing heavily, hands on his knees, sweat dripping down his face. Jake saw it before the player even realized¡ªsomething wasn''t right. Novak had been moving a little slower, stretching his leg between plays, rolling his ankle after quick turns. A small knock. Nothing serious. But in a match like this, even half a second slower could be the difference between winning and losing. Jake turned to his bench and made the decision. He called for Costa. As soon as Novak saw his number on the board, he shook his head. "I can keep going," he said, breathless but determined. Jake didn''t argue. He just placed a firm hand on Novak''s shoulder. "You''ve done your job," he said, voice low but certain. Novak exhaled sharply, clenching his jaw. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to protest again. But then, he nodded. He had done his part. Now, it was up to Costa. Costa''s Arrival ¨C Fresh Legs, Fresh Energy Costa sprinted onto the pitch. The crowd roared, sensing the shift. Costa had been waiting for this moment, watching from the bench as Newcastle struggled against Bradford''s intensity. And now, he had the legs to punish them. Jake clapped once, loud enough for his players to hear. "Keep pushing!" Five minutes later¡ªCosta changed the game. 70th Minute ¨C The moment started innocently enough. Ib¨¢?ez had space in midfield, something he hadn''t had all game. Newcastle had dropped deeper, wary of Bradford''s relentless attacks. Jake saw it happening before anyone else. Ib¨¢?ez lifted his head¡ªspotted Costa making a diagonal run between Botman and Sch?r. The pass was perfect. A laser-guided ball through the defensive line, cutting Newcastle wide open. Costa didn''t break stride, controlling it beautifully on the run. Botman lunged in¡ªtoo slow. Costa flicked the ball past him, one-on-one with Pope. Then came Trippier. The Foul ¨C Penalty! Trippier had no choice. Costa was gone. The Newcastle captain lunged in desperately, trying to block the shot. He missed the ball. He clipped Costa''s foot. Costa went down. The whistle blew instantly. Penalty. For half a second, Valley Parade was silent. Then¡ªan explosion of noise. The entire stadium erupted in celebration. Costa slammed the ground with both hands, then jumped to his feet, arms raised. Newcastle players swarmed the referee, furious. Sch?r was shouting. Guimar?es was shaking his head. Pope was waving his arms. But the decision was clear. Jake didn''t even flinch. He had seen the contact. There was no doubt. Now, all eyes turned to one man. Richter Steps Up Jake didn''t need to call it. Richter was already walking toward the ball. No hesitation. No nerves. Just absolute confidence. He picked it up, cradled it in his hands for a moment, then placed it on the penalty spot. Pope stood on his line, bouncing lightly, trying to make himself look bigger. But Richter didn''t even look at him. His eyes were locked on the top corner. The referee blew the whistle. Three steps back. Then¡ª BOOM. Richter smashed it into the top corner. Pope went the wrong way. The net rippled violently. Valley Parade Erupts ¨C The stadium erupted in pure chaos. Bradford players surrounded Richter, shaking him, screaming in his face. Barnes grabbed him by the shirt, roaring. Mensah jumped on his back. Even Okafor ran the length of the pitch to join in. 3-3 on aggregate. Jake folded his arms. He didn''t celebrate. He just exhaled, turning toward his assistant. "They''re going to come at us now," he muttered. Roberts nodded grimly. Newcastle weren''t finished. Jake knew what was coming. 85th Minute ¨C Newcastle had been rocked. For most of the second half, they had been under siege. Bradford had dragged themselves back from the dead, equalized on aggregate, and turned Valley Parade into a cauldron of noise. But Newcastle were still a Premier League team. And Premier League teams don''t go down easily. Once the shock of the penalty wore off, Newcastle reset. They stopped playing scared. Now, they were hunting the fourth goal¡ªthe one that would end this fight once and for all. Newcastle Turns Up the Pressure Bradford, drained from their comeback, were forced to sit deeper. Guimar?es and Tonali began dictating play again, passing with more urgency. Joelinton pushed further up the pitch, acting as a second striker to support Isak. Sch?r started stepping into midfield, giving Newcastle an extra passing option. Jake could see the shift. Newcastle were done absorbing pressure. They wanted blood. 79th Minute ¨C A deep cross from Trippier caused chaos in the box. The ball bounced awkwardly, falling to Barnes at the back post. Barnes smashed a shot toward the bottom corner. Okafor reacted instantly¡ªdiving low to push it away. The rebound landed at Murphy''s feet¡ªbut Min-jae slid in with a last-ditch tackle, blocking the shot. The ball deflected over the bar. Jake turned to his assistant, jaw tight. "They''re getting too many chances," he muttered. Roberts nodded. "They''re coming." 82nd Minute ¨C Newcastle kept pushing forward. Guimar?es switched the play out to Trippier, who curled in an early cross. Joelinton outmuscled Ib¨¢?ez and powered a header toward goal. For a moment, it looked like it was flying into the top corner. But Okafor, at full stretch, tipped it over the bar. Another escape. The Bradford fans held their breath. They needed to survive just a few more minutes. Then came the killer blow. 85th Minute ¨C Bradford had been defending for their lives. Every man behind the ball. Every clearance met with another Newcastle attack. Then, finally, they had a moment to breathe. Bradford regained possession, and V¨¦lez tried to play out from the back. That was the mistake. V¨¦lez had been brilliant all game, but this time, he took too long. He hesitated¡ªand Joelinton pounced. The Brazilian midfielder stretched out a boot, intercepted the pass, and turned upfield instantly. Bradford were exposed. Min-jae and Barnes had pushed too high, expecting possession to be secured. Now, they were scrambling backward. Joelinton didn''t slow down. He spotted Guimar?es making a run and played the pass. Guimar?es took one look up. He didn''t need a second invitation. A perfect through ball¡ªcutting straight through Bradford''s backline. Jake closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. Isak had already taken off like a bullet, ghosting past Min-jae before the ball even reached him. The Swedish striker''s first touch was flawless. One-on-one with Okafor. Jake barely breathed. Okafor rushed out, spreading himself wide. For a moment, it looked like he might get there. But Isak was too calm, too clinical. He opened his body and slotted it into the bottom corner. The ball kissed the inside of the post and rolled into the net. Silence. Valley Parade, which had been deafening just minutes ago, stood in stunned disbelief. Isak didn''t even celebrate. He just turned away, fists clenched, as his teammates mobbed him. Bradford''s Heartbreak ¨C Ten Minutes Left Jake exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. They had come so far. They had fought back from 3-0 down. And now, they were behind again. Bradford''s players stood frozen. Barnes punched the ground. V¨¦lez wiped his face with his jersey. Richter shook his head, looking at the clock. Ten minutes left. They needed another miracle. 90+2nd Minute ¨C Bradford had nothing left to hold back. They threw everything forward. Every Bradford player, even Barnes and Min-jae, pushed high into Newcastle''s half. The noise inside Valley Parade was deafening¡ªa desperate, unrelenting wave of belief from the stands. Jake could barely hear himself think. But he didn''t need to. He could see it. His players were still fighting. One last chance. A corner. Rojas stepped up to take it. He glanced toward Jake, who simply nodded. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. This was it. Rojas took a deep breath and swung the ball into the box¡ª Silva, back on after taking a knock earlier, timed his jump perfectly. He rose above Sch?r, above Botman, above everyone. The ball met his forehead with a thunderous connection. Straight down. Pope was beaten. The ball smashed off the crossbar. A collective gasp rippled through the stadium. It bounced straight down, hitting the goal line. For a split second, no one reacted. Then¡ªchaos. Newcastle panicked. Sch?r tried to boot it clear, but the ball ricocheted off Min-jae''s leg and spun sideways. Joelinton lunged in¡ªhis clearance was weak. The ball landed at Rojas'' feet. Jake''s breath caught in his throat. This was it. 90+4th Minute ¨C Rojas had one thought¡ªhit it. No hesitation. No extra touches. Just pure, raw power. He stepped forward and hammered it. The ball exploded off his foot, a missile heading straight for the top corner. Pope reacted¡ªtoo late. The ball rocketed past him, crashing into the net. Valley Parade exploded in chaos. Bradford players sprinted toward Rojas. The bench erupted. Jake clenched his fists, ready to celebrate¡ª Then¡ªa whistle. The linesman had raised his flag. The VAR Check ¨C Jake''s stomach twisted into knots. Offside? Rojas froze, then turned to the referee. "I wasn''t offside!" he shouted, pointing back toward the Newcastle defense. Other Bradford players crowded around, furious. The referee, hand to his earpiece, waited. The entire stadium froze. Every fan inside Valley Parade held their breath. The replay played on the big screen. Jake''s eyes locked onto it. Rojas had been onside. Botman, scrambling to clear, had played him on. The decision took an eternity. Jake stood motionless, waiting¡ªpraying. Then¡ª The referee turned. He pointed to the center circle. GOAL STANDS. Valley Parade Erupts ¨C History Made Bedlam. Rojas sprinted toward Jake, screaming, arms outstretched. The entire team followed. Silva leapt onto his back, shaking him violently. Barnes lifted V¨¦lez into the air. Even Okafor ran from his goal to celebrate. Newcastle players collapsed to the ground in disbelief. Trippier had his hands on his head. Pope slumped against the post. Eddie Howe stared at the pitch, frozen. Jake could barely breathe. They had done it. Bradford had come back from 3-0 down. The referee blew the whistle. Full-Time: Bradford 4-1 Newcastle (4-4 on Aggregate) ¨C Extra Time Needed Jake ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. His players were exhausted, drenched in sweat. But none of that mattered. They had just come back from the dead. But they weren''t finished yet. Chapter 125 - 125: BRADFORD VS NEWCASTLE PART 3 Extra Time ¨C Holding On for Survival The full-time whistle had blown, but there was no celebration. Both teams stood frozen, exhausted, drained, barely standing. Bradford had pulled off the impossible, clawing back from 3-0 down to 4-4. But there was no time to dwell on it. 30 more minutes. One last battle. Jake turned to his players. "Fifteen minutes at a time," he said, voice steady. "Nothing stupid. Stay in the fight." Silva nodded. Fletcher stretched his arms, trying to shake off fatigue. Okafor took a deep breath. They had come too far to let this slip now. First Half of Extra Time (90''¨C105'') ¨C Newcastle Push for the Winner Bradford had thrown everything into their comeback. Now, they had nothing left but grit. Newcastle, still shaken by Rojas'' last-minute equalizer, took a few minutes to reset. Then, they went for the kill. Guimar?es and Tonali controlled possession, dictating the tempo, forcing Bradford to retreat into their defensive shape. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Trippier and Burn pushed higher up the pitch, pinning Bradford''s wingers back. Bradford weren''t attacking anymore. They were surviving. 92nd Minute ¨C Tonali Tests Okafor Newcastle turned up the pressure immediately after the restart. Guimar?es took control, dictating the tempo with short, sharp passes, forcing Bradford to stay compact. Trippier, ever the outlet, stayed high on the right, stretching the defensive line. Bradford''s shape held firm. Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez shielded the back four, blocking lanes into Isak, but Newcastle were patient. Then, a moment of hesitation. Ib¨¢?ez stepped toward Guimar?es, expecting a sideways pass. But instead, Trippier quickly cut the ball inside to Tonali. 25 yards out. Jake''s heart dropped. Tonali took one touch, set himself, and rifled a low, driven shot toward the bottom corner. The ball skidded across the slick pitch, curling just inside the far post. Okafor saw it late. He exploded to his right, diving low¡ª Fingertips. The ball deflected, slowed¡ªbut spilled loose inside the box. A moment of chaos. Isak, lurking, reacted instantly. The Swedish striker lunged, ready to fire the rebound¡ª Barnes got there first. A desperate lunge¡ª His outstretched boot smashed the ball clear. The ball landed near the edge of the box¡ªright at Murphy''s feet. Another shot¡ªthis time, blocked by Min-jae. Ib¨¢?ez sprinted to the loose ball and cleared it into the stands. Valley Parade exhaled. Newcastle''s players threw their hands up in frustration. Jake clenched his jaw. Too close. Bradford had survived¡ªbut just barely. 97th Minute ¨C Isak Almost Breaks Through Newcastle kept coming. A quick one-two between Guimar?es and Murphy unlocked Bradford''s right side. Murphy sprinted past Hart and squared it across goal. Isak, making a darting near-post run, stuck out a foot. For a split second, it looked like he''d nudged it past Okafor. But Min-jae slid in¡ªperfectly timed. The ball deflected wide. Newcastle''s frustration grew. Bradford''s defense held. 101st Minute ¨C Eddie Howe stood on the touchline, arms folded, watching his side struggle to break Bradford down. He had seen enough. First substitution for Newcastle: ???? Joe Willock ON, Joelinton OFF. Willock jogged onto the pitch with urgency, exchanging quick words with Guimar?es before taking up position in midfield. Fresh legs. More energy. More attacking intent. Newcastle needed someone who could drive forward and unsettle Bradford''s tired midfield. Willock wasted no time making an impact. The moment Newcastle regained possession, Willock demanded the ball. Guimar?es played it to him near the halfway line. Ib¨¢?ez stepped forward, expecting him to pass. Willock didn''t. Instead, he dropped his shoulder, glided past Ib¨¢?ez, and suddenly Bradford''s midfield was exposed. Jake shouted from the touchline. "Close him down!" Too late. Willock accelerated, skipping past V¨¦lez with ease. Newcastle''s fans rose to their feet. Danger. Willock had space. He took another touch, then curled a left-footed shot toward the far post. The ball whipped through the air, bending toward the top corner. Okafor reacted a second late. He dived at full stretch¡ª Everyone held their breath. The ball whistled past the post. Inches away. Willock slapped the turf in frustration. Guimar?es put his hands on his head. Trippier clapped, urging Newcastle to keep pushing. Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. That was too close. Bradford were still in it. But Newcastle weren''t slowing down. 105th Minute ¨C Bradford had survived the first half of extra time¡ªbarely. Newcastle had pushed them to the limit, forcing them to defend wave after wave of attacks. They had no control, no way to relieve the pressure. Jake could see it. His players were running on fumes. If they had any hope of holding on¡ªor even snatching a winner¡ªthey needed fresh legs. He turned to the bench. "Five changes," he told his assistant. "We need to reset." Substitutions for Bradford: Ethan Walsh for Richter ¨C Adding attacking energy for the final moments. Walsh''s pace and unpredictability could offer one last threat. Bianchi for Kang Min-jae ¨C Min-jae had put everything into shutting down Isak, but he was spent. Bianchi was fresh, strong in the air, and would be tasked with keeping the Swedish striker quiet. Noah Fletcher for Barnes ¨C Barnes had played on a yellow since the second half. Fletcher came in for defensive stability and fresh legs. Lewis Hart for Taylor ¨C Murphy''s pace had been a growing problem. Hart was quicker, sharper, and would help contain Newcastle''s right flank. Daniel Lowe for V¨¦lez ¨C V¨¦lez had been immense in midfield, but his legs were gone. Lowe would sit deep, break up play, and provide composure in the final stretch. Jake stepped toward the players coming off. Min-jae patted Bianchi on the back, breathing heavily as he jogged off. Barnes nodded at Fletcher, his face drained of energy. Richter, who had run himself into the ground, clapped Walsh on the back. "Go make something happen," he muttered. Taylor gave Hart a quick handshake before jogging toward the bench. Jake clapped his hands, gathering the team before the restart. "Fifteen minutes," he reminded them. "Fifteen more minutes." The players, exhausted but determined, nodded. They weren''t done yet. Second Half of Extra Time (105''¨C120'') ¨C The Final Stand Bradford had one golden chance to win it. Newcastle had two more. But no one could finish it. 110th Minute ¨C Costa''s Golden Opportunity Bradford finally countered. Silva intercepted a loose pass and immediately sent a long ball forward. Costa, fresh and quick, beat Botman for pace and raced toward goal. Valley Parade held its breath. One-on-one with Pope. Jake whispered, "Finish it." Costa hit it first-time¡ª Straight at Pope. The Newcastle keeper parried it away. The rebound? Too heavy. Newcastle cleared. Costa fell to his knees. Jake buried his face in his hands. That was the moment. And it was gone. 113th Minute ¨C Newcastle kept pushing. Murphy, cutting in from the right, let fly from 20 yards. The ball whipped toward the far post. Okafor didn''t move. It curled just wide. Newcastle players threw their hands in the air. Another close call. 118th Minute ¨C Eddie Howe made his final changes. Lewis Miley ON, Tonali OFF. Callum Wilson ON, Fabian Sch?r OFF. Wilson immediately made an impact. Guimar?es found him with a brilliant lofted pass. Wilson took one touch¡ªvolleyed toward goal. Jake stopped breathing. The ball sailed inches wide. Wilson buried his head in his hands. Jake exhaled. They had survived. 120th Minute ¨C Penalties Will Decide the Finalist The whistle blew. Valley Parade stood frozen. Bradford players collapsed to the turf, exhausted. Newcastle players looked just as drained. Jake turned toward his assistant. "This isn''t how I wanted it," he muttered. "But after all this?" Roberts asked. Jake smirked. "I''ll take it." Penalties would decide everything. Chapter 126 - 126: BRADFORD VS NEWCASTLE PART 4 The stadium was silent. Thousands of fans packed into Valley Parade, yet in this moment, it felt like the world had stopped. One hundred and twenty minutes of battle. Four goals apiece. Exhaustion etched into every player''s face. It all came down to this. Jake stood at the edge of his technical area, arms crossed, watching as his players gathered near the center circle. A penalty shootout. The final test. The referee gave one last signal to both captains, then walked toward the goal. The shootout was about to begin. First Round ¨C Both Teams Start Strong The tension inside Valley Parade was suffocating. After 120 minutes of relentless football, it had come down to this. A penalty shootout to decide the finalist. Bradford''s fans held their breath as the first taker stepped forward. Newcastle''s First Taker ¨C Alexander Isak Isak walked up slowly, composed, unreadable. The Swedish striker had carried Newcastle all season. He was their star. And he knew it. He placed the ball down, took four measured steps back, then locked eyes with Okafor. The goalkeeper bounced on his toes, arms outstretched, trying to make himself as big as possible. The referee blew the whistle. Isak didn''t hesitate. One step, two steps¡ªthen he rolled it toward the bottom left corner. Okafor reacted instantly, diving low. For a moment, it looked like he might get there. But the ball was too precise, too well-placed. It kissed the inside of the post and nestled into the net. Goal. Newcastle fans roared. Newcastle: 1-0 Okafor slammed his fist against the ground before picking himself up. Jake exhaled. Not unexpected. They just had to respond. Bradford''s First Taker ¨C Renan Silva Silva strode forward, shoulders squared. The Brazilian wasn''t fazed. He grabbed the ball, placed it carefully on the spot, then stepped back. Pope watched him closely, rocking side to side on his line. Silva didn''t blink. He exhaled, adjusted his stance, and waited for the referee''s signal. The whistle blew. Silva took off smoothly. One step, two¡ªhe opened his body and curled it into the right side of the net. Pope dived the wrong way. The ball hit the side netting, unstoppable. Goal. Bradford fans exploded with noise. Bradford: 1-1 Silva turned and jogged back, unfazed. Jake barely reacted. It was too early for celebrations. This was just the beginning. Second Round ¨C Both teams had converted their first penalties, but the pressure was only growing. The stadium remained eerily silent as Newcastle''s next taker approached the spot. Newcastle''s Second Taker ¨C Bruno Guimar?es Guimar?es took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. The Brazilian playmaker had been at the heart of Newcastle''s midfield battle all night. Now, with thousands watching, it all came down to a single kick. He placed the ball down, adjusted his socks, and took a short run-up. Okafor bounced lightly on his toes, reading the body language. The whistle blew. Guimar?es strode forward and struck it low toward the right post. Okafor reacted early, diving right. For a split second, there was hope. Then¡ªthe ball zipped past his fingertips and into the bottom corner. The perfect penalty. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Goal. Newcastle fans erupted. Newcastle: 2-1 Okafor slapped the ground in frustration before pushing himself up. Jake nodded to himself. Nothing he could do about that one. Now, it was their turn. Bradford''s Second Taker ¨C Guilherme Costa Costa had spent most of the match chasing shadows, waiting for his moment. Now, this was it. The Brazilian forward grabbed the ball, placed it down, and stepped back. Nick Pope stood tall in goal, reading Costa''s stance. Costa didn''t overthink it. No deep breath. No hesitation. Just focus. The whistle blew. Costa sprinted forward and hammered his shot into the top left corner. Pope barely moved. The ball smashed into the net, brushing the underside of the crossbar. Unstoppable. Goal. Bradford fans erupted again. Bradford: 2-2 Costa turned, clenching his fists before jogging back to his teammates. Jake allowed himself a single nod. Still level. The shootout continued. Third Round ¨C The tension inside Valley Parade hit another level. Both teams had converted their first two penalties, but now¡ªone mistake could change everything. Jake stood with his arms crossed, watching as Newcastle''s next taker stepped forward. Newcastle''s Third Taker ¨C Lewis Miley Miley, the young midfielder, had been subbed on late in extra time for fresh legs. Now, he was standing alone at the penalty spot, the weight of Newcastle''s hopes on his shoulders. He grabbed the ball, placed it carefully, then stepped back. Okafor stared him down, shifting slightly on the goal line. Miley wiped his hands on his shorts, took a deep breath¡ª Then, he began his run-up. He aimed for the left side¡ª Okafor reacted instantly, diving at full stretch. Strong hand! The ball was pushed wide! The stadium erupted as Okafor punched the air. Jake allowed himself a small smirk. Advantage, Bradford. Newcastle: ? 2-2 Bradford''s Third Taker ¨C Ethan Walsh Walsh had been one of the first to volunteer when Jake asked for penalty takers. The young winger walked up confidently, but now, standing at the spot, he faced something else entirely. Behind the goal, Newcastle fans booed relentlessly. Pope bounced lightly, waiting, reading. Walsh swallowed hard. The referee signaled. He took three quick steps forward¡ª Struck it hard, low¡ª Off the post! Gasps filled the stadium. The ball rebounded out harmlessly, rolling away. Walsh clutched his head in disbelief. The chance to take the lead was gone. Bradford: ? 2-2 Jake exhaled sharply. Still level. The shootout continued. Fourth Round ¨C The missed penalties had only cranked the pressure higher. Newcastle knew they couldn''t afford another mistake. Bradford knew they couldn''t afford to fall behind. Jake watched, his expression unreadable, as Newcastle''s next taker stepped up. Newcastle''s Fourth Taker ¨C Jacob Murphy Murphy had been lively all game, causing problems with his pace on the right flank. Now, he had a different task¡ªto put Newcastle back in front. He placed the ball down, took two steps back, then glanced up at Okafor. The referee blew the whistle. Murphy didn''t try to pick a corner. He smashed it straight down the middle. Okafor had already dived. The ball crashed into the net. Goal. Newcastle: ? 3-2 Murphy turned back toward the halfway line, his face blank. No celebration. Newcastle weren''t taking any chances. They knew this wasn''t over. Bradford''s Fourth Taker ¨C Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez Jake had originally planned for Richter to take this penalty, but with him subbed off, Ib¨¢?ez stepped up instead. The Argentine wasn''t a natural penalty taker, but he had nerves of steel. He grabbed the ball, placed it carefully, and stepped back. Pope shifted his weight, bouncing lightly on his toes. Ib¨¢?ez took one last breath. Then, he struck it with precision. The ball curled low toward the bottom right corner. Pope guessed correctly, diving at full stretch. Too late. The ball nestled perfectly inside the post. Goal. Bradford: ? 3-3 Still level. Two kicks remaining. Fifth Round ¨C The Controversy The tension inside Valley Parade was unbearable. The entire stadium watched as Joe Willock placed the ball on the spot. Newcastle''s final taker. If he scored, the pressure shifted to Bradford. If he missed¡ªBradford had the chance to win it all. Jake stood still, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Willock exhaled, stepping back, eyes locked on Okafor. The whistle blew. A smooth run-up. A powerful strike¡ª The net rippled. Newcastle fans erupted in celebration. Bradford''s heads dropped. But then¡ªthe referee blew his whistle. Bradford''s players looked up, confused. Newcastle''s players looked at each other. Jake frowned. Something was wrong. The referee walked toward the spot, gesturing to the assistant referee. VAR check. Nobody in the stadium knew why. The noise died down as confusion spread. Jake turned toward the big screen just as the slow-motion replay played. And there it was. Willock had slipped. His standing foot made contact with the ball first, nudging it slightly before his striking foot hit it again. A double touch. Jake''s eyes widened. No goal. The referee turned back toward the players and signaled. The goal was disallowed. Newcastle: ? 3-3 Valley Parade exploded. Bradford players sprinted toward the referee, celebrating the decision. Newcastle''s players swarmed the officials, protesting, but the ruling was final. Jake barely reacted. He turned toward the final Bradford taker. This was it. One kick away from history. The Decisive Kick ¨C Rojas Holds His Nerve Juli¨¢n Rojas took the longest walk of his life. The young Colombian had already delivered one of the greatest moments in Bradford''s history with his last-minute equalizer. Now, he had the chance to finish the job. The entire stadium was on its feet. Nick Pope stood tall on the line, arms wide, trying to make himself as big as possible. Jake clenched his jaw. Rojas had never taken a penalty in a competitive match before. But he didn''t hesitate. He placed the ball down. Took four steps back. The stadium held its breath. Jake muttered under his breath. "Come on." Rojas inhaled deeply. The referee blew the whistle. A steady run-up. He struck it hard, low¡ª Straight into the bottom corner. Pope dived the right way. Too late. The net rippled. Valley Parade erupted into pure chaos. Bradford: ? 4-3 Bradford Has Won Jake barely had time to react before his players stormed the pitch. Silva leapt onto Okafor''s back, screaming into the night sky. Novak and Costa sprinted toward Rojas, nearly tackling him to the ground. Mensah collapsed to his knees in disbelief. The stadium shook with the roar of thousands of fans. Newcastle''s players stood frozen, unable to believe what had happened. Bradford were through to the EFL Cup Final. After twelve long years, they were back. And Jake Wilson had taken them there. The Aftermath ¨C Jake barely had time to process what had just happened before his players rushed toward him. Barnes and V¨¦lez reached him first, grabbing him by the arms. Then, more joined. Silva. Novak. Mensah. Before he knew it¡ªthey lifted him up. Jake shouted in surprise, but it was drowned out by the deafening chants of the fans. They carried him toward the touchline, jumping in celebration. "JAKE WILSON! JAKE WILSON!" The fans sang his name. Jake felt himself laughing, grinning, shouting with them. They had done it. They had done the impossible. Bradford City were going to Wembley. Chapter 127 - 127: The Aftermath – Bradford Makes History The media room was packed to capacity. Every major sports outlet had sent a reporter. Sky Sports, BBC, The Athletic, The Guardian¡ªthey were all here, ready to capture the words of the man who had just masterminded one of the greatest comebacks in EFL Cup history. Jake sat at the podium, hands folded, the roar of celebration from the dressing room still faintly audible through the walls. The questions came immediately. The Press Conference "Jake, Bradford have just completed one of the greatest comebacks in EFL Cup history. How do you put this into words?" Jake leaned into the mic. "This club never quits. Never." He let the words settle for a moment before continuing. "People wrote us off after the first leg. Three-nil down? We weren''t supposed to have a chance. But this team¡ª" He exhaled, shaking his head with a grin. "They don''t listen to what''s supposed to happen. They just keep fighting." The reporters scribbled furiously. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A journalist from BBC Sport jumped in. "Bradford''s last final was twelve years ago. You''ve taken them back. What does this mean for you?" Jake smiled. "It''s not about me. It''s about them." He gestured toward the dressing room, where the sounds of cheering and chanting continued. "They deserve this moment. Every single one of them. From the starters to the guys who didn''t even make the squad today. This is their story." A journalist from The Athletic leaned forward. "You''ve beaten Premier League sides before, but this? A comeback like this? Does this prove Bradford belongs at a higher level?" Jake chuckled. "I don''t think we need to prove anything. We''re not looking at leagues. We''re not looking at status. We''re looking at one thing¡ªwinning football matches. And tonight, we won one of the biggest matches in this club''s history." Another reporter from Sky Sports asked the inevitable question. "Jake, you''re going to Wembley. You could be ninety minutes away from winning a major trophy. How does that feel?" Jake took a deep breath, nodding. "It feels right." The room buzzed. The reporters loved that answer. One more question came from the back. "You were three-nil down after the first leg. Be honest¡ªdid you believe this was possible?" Jake''s smirk returned. "Belief isn''t a question for me. It''s a requirement." The reporters scribbled faster. The headlines wrote themselves. The Headlines ???? "Miracle at Valley Parade ¨C Bradford Stuns Newcastle!" ???? "From 3-0 Down to EFL Cup Finalists ¨C Jake Wilson''s Men Defy the Odds!" ???? "Bradford City Are Going to Wembley!" Jake didn''t care about the headlines. All that mattered was his team had done the impossible. Fan Caf¨¦ Reactions ¨C Bradford''s Supporters Go Wild At a pub just outside Valley Parade, the energy was still electric. Fans stood on tables, waved scarves in the air, and sang club chants until their voices were hoarse. At the Bradford City Fan Caf¨¦, the online forum was flooded with reactions: User: BantamsLegend "I still can''t believe what I just watched. This team is unreal. JAKE WILSON IS A GOD." User: ClaretAndAmber "Newcastle thought they had it wrapped up. Thought we''d just roll over. Well, guess what? WE''RE GOING TO WEMBLEY." User: FA_CupDreamer "Twelve years, man. Twelve YEARS since we last made a final. Jake Wilson is making history." User: NeverSayDieBCFC "Silva. Mensah. Rojas. Novak. Every single one of them was a hero tonight." User: WembleyBound "I don''t care who we play in the final. I don''t care if it''s Man City or Real Madrid. This team has something special." Bradford was alive with celebration. The team had done the impossible. And now, they were heading to Wembley. The Celebration ¨C A Night to Remember Bradford had done the impossible. Now, it was time to celebrate. The squad didn''t go to some fancy nightclub or VIP lounge. No expensive suits. No celebrity guests. Just a local bar, packed with players, staff, and a handful of die-hard fans who were still processing what had just happened. They had done it. Bradford City were going to Wembley. Drinks, Laughter, and Unforgettable Moments Novak slammed a round of beers onto the table, his voice already hoarse from screaming on the pitch. "To the craziest match of our lives!" he shouted, raising his glass. Everyone clinked their drinks together, the sound of celebration filling the bar. Silva, still drenched in sweat from the game, jumped onto a chair and started singing. "OH, BRADFORD CITY, WE LOVE YOU SO!" The rest of the squad joined in immediately, voices loud, completely out of sync, but no one cared. "OH, BRADFORD CITY, WE NEVER LET GO!" Mensah, already feeling his drink, climbed onto a table, trying to dance. He lasted five seconds before slipping and nearly crashing into Costa, who barely dodged out of the way. "Sit down before you break something!" Ib¨¢?ez laughed, pulling him back onto the bench. "Mate, I just ran a hundred kilometers tonight," Mensah grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I earned the right to fall over." More laughter. More drinks. Jake let himself relax. For the first time in a long time, he wasn''t thinking about tactics, training, or the final. He wasn''t even thinking about football. He was just living in the moment. Then¡ªthe chairman walked in. The Chairman''s Words ¨C A Moment of Recognition Henry Lowe, the Bradford City chairman, was not an emotional man. Jake had seen him more in business meetings than celebrations. But tonight, he looked different. He walked through the bar, nodding at players, shaking hands, then stopped in front of Jake. The squad went silent, watching. Lowe studied Jake for a moment, then smiled. "Jake," he said, voice calm, steady. Jake straightened up. "Chairman." Lowe exhaled. Then, he extended his hand. "You did it," he said. "You took us back to Wembley." Jake shook his hand, feeling the weight of those words. "We''re not done yet," Jake replied, his voice steady despite the alcohol. "One more game." Lowe chuckled. "I wouldn''t expect anything less from you." He turned toward the squad. "Enjoy this night," Lowe told them. "You''ve earned it." The team cheered, raising their glasses. Jake leaned back in his chair, watching his players laugh, joke, and celebrate. They weren''t just teammates. They were family. And this night? They would remember it forever. Jake''s Drunken Confession The front door creaked open, and Jake stumbled inside. His jacket was half off, his shirt untucked, and the scent of alcohol clung to him. Emma was already waiting. She stood near the stairs, arms crossed, her expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You''re drunk," she sighed. Jake blinked at her, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face. "Nah," he slurred, attempting to kick off his shoes and failing miserably. Emma rolled her eyes, walking over to steady him. "Come on," she muttered, looping his arm over her shoulder. "Let''s get you to bed before you fall over." Jake let her guide him toward the bedroom, his body heavy against hers. Then, he mumbled something. Something that made Emma''s entire body freeze. "I''m not even Jake." Emma stopped walking. Her hands tightened on his arm. "...What?" Jake slumped onto the edge of the bed, head swaying slightly. "I died," he mumbled, his voice distant, as if speaking to himself. Emma''s stomach twisted violently. "What... what are you talking about?" Jake''s dazed eyes met hers, and for the first time that night¡ªhe looked like a stranger. "I reincarnated," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Emma''s breath hitched. She took a step back. Her mind raced. Drunken nonsense. That''s all it is. But the way he was looking at her... The way he spoke¡ªlike someone who wasn''t supposed to be here... It made her stomach churn with something cold and unfamiliar. Jake blinked slowly, eyes glistening, his words turning softer. "I''m sorry... for living as him." Emma''s pulse pounded in her ears. Jake''s voice cracked. "I love you," he murmured. "I love them." Emma''s chest tightened painfully. She wanted to tell herself it was just the alcohol. That it meant nothing. But something about it¡ªthe weight in his voice, the rawness of his words¡ª It felt too real. She staggered back, gripping the edge of the dresser for support. Her throat was dry. Her voice barely came out. "Who are you?" Jake didn''t answer. His body slumped forward, fully unconscious. The only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the bedside lamp. Emma stared at him. Her hands trembled. Jake had no idea what he had just said. But Emma? She would never forget it. Chapter 128 - 128: A Growing Distance & League Domination Jake woke up to silence. Emma wasn''t in bed. Downstairs, she stood in the kitchen, sipping coffee. No sarcasm about his drinking. No complaints. Just a distant nod when he greeted her. Something was wrong. "Emma," he said carefully. "Is something bothering you?" She barely looked at him. "I said I''m fine, Jake." Lie. But he knew Emma¡ªshe wouldn''t talk until she was ready. So, for now, he let it go. Clearing His Head ¨C Watching the Next Generation Needing space, Jake drove to the academy to watch Ethan Wilson''s U13 match. The kid had talent but played too safe¡ªtoo scared. At halftime, Jake walked up to him. "What are you afraid of?" Ethan hesitated. "I don''t know." Jake shook his head. "Football isn''t about perfection. It''s about moments. Take your chances." Ethan did. He played without fear, scoring a hat trick in the second half. As Jake left, he realized¡ªhe had just given advice that Emma might need to hear, too. League Domination ¨C Four Games, Four Wins Back with the first team, there was no room for distractions. Jake made sure of that. Every training session was sharp, every drill was intense. No complacency. No let-up. Four league games. Four wins. Bradford weren''t slowing down. Each match followed a similar pattern¡ªhigh energy, relentless pressing, clinical finishing. Opponents tried different approaches¡ªsome sat deep, hoping to frustrate them; others pressed high, trying to disrupt their rhythm. None of it worked. Bradford dictated every game. They forced mistakes, punished lapses in concentration, and suffocated teams with their work rate. Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez ran the midfield like generals, controlling possession and breaking up counterattacks. Silva and Mensah terrorized defenders, stretching the pitch with their pace and movement. Novak and Costa were ruthless up top, turning half-chances into goals. And at the back? Barnes and Min-jae were a wall¡ªno easy chances, no mistakes. It wasn''t just winning. It was dominance. Game 1 ¨C A Statement Victory (3-0 Win) Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, as the referee blew the whistle. From the opening minutes, Bradford played like a team on a mission. There was no hesitation, no sluggish start¡ªjust relentless energy. Early Control ¨C V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez Dictate the Tempo From the first whistle, V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez took command of the midfield, dictating play with quick, decisive passing.V¨¦lez, full of energy, pressed high, disrupting the opposition''s attempts to build from the back.Ib¨¢?ez, playing in a deeper role, pulled the strings, ensuring Bradford never lost control. 15th Minute ¨C The first breakthrough came from a perfectly worked move.Ib¨¢?ez received the ball deep in midfield and spotted Rasmussen making a run down the left.The Danish winger took on his defender, cutting inside before slipping a pass to Novak at the edge of the box.Novak didn''t need a second invitation.One touch. One powerful strike.The ball rifled into the bottom corner.1-0 Bradford. Jake didn''t celebrate much¡ªthis was expected. A Dominant First Half ¨C But Not Without Challenges After the goal, Bradford continued to dominate, but the opposition started sitting deeper, cutting off space.Their compact shape made it difficult to break them down.On the rare occasions they countered, Min-jae and Barnes were rock solid, winning every aerial duel and stepping in at the right moments.32nd Minute ¨C The opposition''s striker managed to get behind the defense after a misplaced pass from V¨¦lez.One-on-one with Okafor.Shot fired¡ªOkafor reacts instantly, getting down low to parry it away.The rebound fell to another attacker, but Barnes slid in with a last-second block.Bradford survived. Jake clapped his hands. "Wake up!" he barked at his players. That scare was all they needed. Second Half ¨C A Ruthless Response Whatever Jake said at halftime worked. Bradford came out firing in the second half, refusing to let the opposition grow into the game. 53rd Minute ¨C Ib¨¢?ez started the move again, sending a long diagonal ball toward Silva.The Brazilian controlled it effortlessly, feinted right, then darted left¡ªbeating his man.A low-driven cross.Costa timed his run perfectly, arriving at the near post before anyone could react.First-time finish.The net bulged.2-0 Bradford! S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The opposition looked defeated. Bradford weren''t just winning. They were in total control. Jake didn''t relax yet. He knew what was coming. 72nd Minute ¨C A moment of complacency saw Bradford give away a dangerous free kick just outside the box.The opposition''s best taker stepped up, curling the ball toward the top corner.The entire stadium held its breath¡ªbut Okafor was ready.A full-stretch save, fingertips pushing it over the bar.Jake nodded. That''s why he''s number one. Closing the Game ¨C A Cherry on Top Bradford didn''t sit back. They kept searching for a third goal to completely kill the game. 85th Minute ¨C Silva, who had been a menace all game, skipped past his defender again.Instead of crossing, he laid it off to V¨¦lez just outside the box.V¨¦lez looked up and spotted Rasmussen making a late run.A perfectly weighted pass.Rasmussen took one touch to set himself¡ªthen buried it into the bottom corner.3-0. Game over. Full-Time ¨C A Dominant Performance The referee blew the final whistle, and Jake finally allowed himself to smile.This was a complete performance.The midfield was untouchable.The attack was clinical.The defense was impenetrable.Bradford were rolling toward the EFL Cup Final with unstoppable momentumGame 2 ¨C Tactical Rotation, Same Results Jake rotated the squad, knowing he had to manage fatigue with the EFL Cup Final looming. But rotation didn''t mean weakness. Even without their best XI, Bradford looked unstoppable. Silva, returning to his best, controlled the left flank, while Mensah and Rasmussen stretched the opposition with relentless pace. V¨¦lez, as always, dictated play in midfield, ensuring the team never lost control. Bradford''s first goal came in the 19th minute, a classic high-press turnover. Ib¨¢?ez won the ball in midfield and immediately sent Mensah through. The Ghanaian winger squared it across goal, and Costa tapped it in from close range. 1-0 Bradford. The second goal, in the 42nd minute, was pure quality. Silva won a free-kick just outside the box after being brought down on a driving run. The moment he placed the ball down, there was no doubt. One step. One strike. Top corner. The stadium erupted. 2-0 Bradford. Jake barely reacted on the touchline. He expected it. The second half saw more control, more dominance, more of the same. In the 67th minute, a quick combination between V¨¦lez and Rasmussen tore the opposition apart. Rasmussen squared it for Silva, who faked a shot, then laid it off for Mensah to fire into the net. 3-0. Game over. The Media & Fan Frenzy Bradford had made a statement. After the match, headlines across the country acknowledged the inevitable. "Two Wins Away ¨C Can Bradford Be Stopped?" "Jake Wilson''s Side on the Verge of Glory." In the Bradford fan caf¨¦, the mood was even wilder. "Just give us the trophy now!" one fan posted. "Wilson isn''t a manager. He''s a God." Another comment simply read: "Build the statue." Jake ignored the noise. The job wasn''t done. Not yet. Chapter 129 - 129: LEAGUE DOMINATION AND LIFTING THE TROPHY Game 3 ¨C Grinding Out a Tough Win This was a different kind of challenge. Bradford had steamrolled most teams this season with their relentless pressing and high-tempo attacking football. But this time, their opponent had a different plan¡ªsit deep, frustrate, and kill the game''s rhythm. From the opening whistle, it was clear what Bradford were up against. Two defensive banks of four, little space in behind, every passing lane blocked. For the first time in weeks, they weren''t in full control. Bradford dominated possession, but every attack hit a brick wall. Silva and Mensah tried to stretch the defense, but the opposition''s full-backs refused to be dragged out of position. Novak and Costa barely saw the ball, suffocated by a crowded penalty area. By halftime, it was still 0-0. Jake paced the touchline, arms crossed. This was exactly what the opposition wanted¡ªto frustrate, to force Bradford into mistakes, to make them impatient. But Jake''s team didn''t panic. They kept probing, kept circulating the ball, kept looking for the one moment to break through. And finally, it came. V¨¦lez Breaks the Deadlock The breakthrough arrived in the 68th minute. After another wave of attacks, the ball landed at V¨¦lez''s feet just outside the box. The crowd urged him to shoot. He took a touch. Then another. Then, with no hesitation, he unleashed a thunderous strike. The ball rocketed past the keeper, smashing into the top corner. The stadium erupted. 1-0 Bradford. Jake simply nodded. He knew it would come. The opposition now had to change their approach. They had no choice but to come forward, leaving gaps for Bradford to exploit. And in the 88th minute, they did. Ib¨¢?ez won the ball in midfield, glanced up, and immediately sent a searching ball over the top. Novak, sensing his moment, broke away from his marker. One touch. One finish. 2-0. Game over. A Win That Meant More It wasn''t a dominant performance. It wasn''t a free-scoring display. But it was a win born from patience, discipline, and resilience. Jake''s men had proven they could win in different ways. And now, they were just one victory away from the title. Game 4 ¨C A Dominant Performance & Lifting the Trophy This was it. The moment every Bradford fan had been waiting for. Win here, and the title was theirs. No more calculations. No more waiting. Just one last step. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The atmosphere inside Valley Parade was electric. Flags waved, scarves were held high, and the roar from the stands before kickoff was deafening. The entire city had turned up to witness history. But Jake didn''t let his players get caught up in the occasion. "Enjoy the moment," he told them in the dressing room. "But don''t let the moment control you." And they didn''t. From the opening whistle, Bradford played like champions. First Half ¨C Total Domination From the moment the whistle blew, it was clear¡ªBradford were playing like champions. There were no nerves, no signs of pressure. Just pure intensity. Ib¨¢?ez immediately took control in midfield, dictating the tempo with quick, precise passing. V¨¦lez was relentless, pressing high and cutting off passing lanes, forcing the opposition into rushed clearances. On the flanks, Silva and Mensah stretched the pitch, pinning the full-backs deep inside their own half. Bradford didn''t just start fast. They suffocated their opponents. 8th Minute ¨C The breakthrough came early¡ªand it came in style. Silva received the ball on the left, his marker giving him just a yard too much space. That was all he needed. A quick shift of his weight sent the defender stumbling the wrong way, and Silva was gone¡ªgliding past him effortlessly. With his head up, Silva spotted Novak making his move at the back post. The cross was inch-perfect¡ªa looping delivery that curled over the defenders and dropped right into Novak''s path. Novak, towering above his marker, met it with a powerful header. The ball rocketed toward the far corner. The goalkeeper barely reacted. The net rippled. 1-0 Bradford. The crowd exploded. Novak ran to the corner flag, arms outstretched, as his teammates swarmed him. Jake, standing on the touchline, didn''t even crack a smile. He turned to his assistant. "They''re not stopping here." And he was right. 15th Minute ¨C The opposition barely had time to reset before Bradford struck again. This time, it started with V¨¦lez. The Colombian midfielder had been everywhere in the opening minutes, pressing aggressively and disrupting any attempt to play out from the back. And then, he pounced. A rushed pass from the opposition''s center-back was intercepted perfectly by V¨¦lez, who immediately surged forward. He had options. Silva was making a run to his left, Mensah was bursting down the right. But he saw Novak. A quick disguised pass split the defense, rolling perfectly into Novak''s path. The Czech striker didn''t hesitate. One touch to set himself. One touch to shoot. A low, driven strike¡ªclinical. The keeper dived, but the ball was already past him, nestled into the bottom corner. 2-0 Bradford. Valley Parade erupted again. Novak turned, pumping his fist as his teammates rushed to him. This wasn''t just a lead. This was a statement. But Bradford weren''t done. 44th Minute ¨C The opposition were desperate to get to halftime. They had stopped trying to attack¡ªall they wanted was to survive. But Bradford smelled blood. Ib¨¢?ez, controlling the game from midfield, spotted an opening. A perfect diagonal pass, slicing through the defense, found Mensah in space down the right. The Ghanaian winger took it beautifully, cushioning the ball with a perfect first touch inside the box. The keeper rushed out, expecting a shot. But Mensah was one step ahead. Instead of going for goal, he cut it back across the six-yard box¡ªa perfect pass, rolling toward the far post. And there, waiting, was Costa. No defender. No pressure. Just an open goal. Costa tapped it in with ease. 3-0 Bradford. As the ball hit the net, the stadium shook. Jake finally allowed himself a small smile. This game was over. The opposition players dropped their heads as they trudged toward the center circle for the restart. They knew it. Bradford knew it. The entire stadium knew it. The title was coming home. Second Half ¨C Finishing the Job With the title within touching distance, Bradford refused to ease up. There was no shifting to defensive mode, no attempt to coast through the remaining minutes. This team had one mindset¡ªdominate until the final whistle. The opposition barely made it into Bradford''s half. Every time they tried, Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez shut them down. Silva and Mensah continued stretching the defense, making every clearance a temporary solution rather than a real escape. Newcastle had already felt their fury in the EFL Cup. Now, another team was experiencing the full relentless force of Jake Wilson''s Bradford City. 68th Minute ¨C The fourth goal was inevitable. It started, like so many attacks had that night, with Ib¨¢?ez. The Argentine midfielder had controlled the game from the first whistle, and now, he saw the opening. Silva had been tormenting his marker all match, and now, he timed his run to perfection¡ªdarting in behind the right-back just as Ib¨¢?ez released the ball. The pass was weighted beautifully. Silva sprinted onto it, controlled it with one touch, then lifted his head. He could have shot. He had the space. But Silva was smarter than that. Instead, he cut it back across the box. And who was there? Novak. One touch. One finish. The net rippled. 4-0 Bradford. Novak didn''t even celebrate. He just turned to the stands, arms outstretched, as Valley Parade exploded. This wasn''t just a title-winning performance. This was a message. The Final Whistle ¨C Champions of League One As soon as the referee blew his whistle, the stadium erupted into chaos. Fans stormed the pitch, tears in their eyes, voices hoarse from chanting. Some players collapsed to the ground¡ªsome in exhaustion, some in pure emotion. V¨¦lez dropped to his knees, staring at the crowd in disbelief. Costa hugged Silva so tightly they nearly fell over. Jake? For the first time all season, he stood still. Taking it all in. He had done it. Bradford City had gone from contenders to champions. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders. Silva and Barnes, grinning, hoisted him into the air. The crowd chanted his name. "Wilson! Wilson! Wilson!" The trophy presentation followed. Jake watched as his players gathered on the podium, waiting for their moment. Novak and Barnes stood at the front, hands on the silverware. The entire stadium counted down. "Three!" "Two!" "One!" Novak and Barnes lifted the trophy high. Bradford City¡ªChampions of League One. They weren''t a League One team anymore. They were going up. The Media Reaction ¨C Praise for Jake''s Miracle Season The football world took notice. From pundits to journalists, everyone had something to say about Bradford City''s incredible season. The headlines wrote themselves. "Bradford City ¨C League One Champions!" ¨C BBC Sport "Jake Wilson''s Revolution: From Underdogs to League Dominance" ¨C The Athletic "Bradford Are Ready for the Championship ¨C Who Can Stop Them?" ¨C Sky Sports Social media exploded with fans calling Jake Wilson a tactical genius. Others argued that Bradford were already playing at a Championship level. But amidst all the celebrations, all the praise, Jake Wilson wasn''t getting carried away. He knew this was only the beginning. Post-Match Press Conference ¨C The Questions Everyone Wanted Answered The media room was packed. Jake took his seat, the League One winners'' medal still hanging around his neck. The first question came from a BBC reporter. "Jake, how does it feel to win the league with 11 matches still left to play?" Jake smirked, shaking his head slightly. "It feels¡­ surreal. You don''t set out to win a league with this kind of gap, but these players¡ª" he gestured toward the dressing room, where the celebrations were still going on, "¡ªthey refused to settle for anything less than perfection. They earned this moment." A Sky Sports journalist leaned forward. "102 points. Only one league defeat since August. What does that say about this team?" Jake nodded, his expression serious now. "It says they''re relentless. We''ve played like a team that belongs at the next level, and now we have to prove it again in the Championship." Then came the big question. "Your nearest challenger is 34 points behind you. What do you think about that kind of dominance?" Jake exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table. "Football doesn''t care about dominance. The moment you get comfortable, you lose. So we won''t get comfortable." He let the words settle. Then he smirked again. "But yeah, 34 points is a nice cushion, isn''t it?" The room laughed. The Narrative Going Forward ¨C Bradford''s Next Step As the press conference wrapped up, one thing was clear. Bradford weren''t just going up¡ªthey were going up with momentum. The Championship wasn''t going to be easy. But if Jake Wilson''s Bradford had proven anything this season¡ª It was that they didn''t fear anyone. League One Standings ¨C After 35 Matches With 11 matches remaining, Bradford City had already secured the League One title in dominant fashion. But the battle for automatic promotion and the playoff spots was still ongoing. Here''s how the league table stood after 35 matches: Position Team Points Goal Difference 1 Bradford City 102 +75 (Champions, Promoted) 2 Birmingham City 68 +30 (Automatic Promotion Race) 3 Bolton Wanderers 66 +25 (Playoff Spot) 4 Huddersfield Town 63 +18 (Playoff Spot) 5 Reading 62 +16 (Playoff Spot) 6 Peterborough 61 +12 (Playoff Spot) 7 Wrexham 59 +9 (Chasing Playoffs) 8 Barnsley 58 +11 (Chasing Playoffs) 9 Wigan Athletic 55 +8 (Mid-table Battle) 10 Lincoln City 53 +6 (Outside Playoff Picture) 11 Charlton Athletic 50 +3 (Mid-table) 12 Leyton Orient 48 -1 (Mid-table) 13 Portsmouth 46 -4 (Safe, but no playoff hope) 14 Exeter City 45 -6 (Safe, but inconsistent) 15 Stockport County 43 -3 (Mid-table battle) 16 Shrewsbury Town 41 -7 (Avoiding relegation battle) 17 Stevenage 39 -10 (Fighting to stay in League One) 18 Northampton Town 38 -12 (Hovering above relegation zone) 19 Cambridge United 36 -14 (Relegation battle) 20 Bristol Rovers 35 -18 (Relegation battle) 21 Fleetwood Town 33 -21 (Relegation Zone) 22 Carlisle United 31 -23 (Relegation Zone) 23 Burton Albion 29 -27 (Relegation Zone) 24 Crawley Town 27 -32 (Relegation Zone) Bradford''s Dominance in Numbers Only one loss since August. Goal difference of +75, the highest in the league. 34-point gap over second place with 11 matches to go. With the league title already secured, the rest of the league could only fight for promotion and playoff positions. Bradford''s focus now? The EFL Cup Final. Chapter 130 - 130: EFL Cup Final Preparations – The Road to Wembley Jake''s Approach ¨C Preparing for the Challenge Ahead With the league title secured, Jake could have eased off in training. He could have let his players enjoy the moment, soak in the achievement. But that wasn''t his style. The EFL Cup Final was still ahead. And for Bradford City, this was the biggest match in their modern history. Everything changed in training. The intensity, the focus¡ªevery session had a purpose. Jake gathered his squad before their first full session back. "This is it," he said, pacing in front of them. "Wembley. Tottenham. A chance to make history." The players listened in silence, eyes locked on their manager. "This isn''t a league game. It''s not another cup tie. It''s ninety minutes to decide a trophy." He let the words sink in. "They think we''re underdogs. They think this is already decided." His expression hardened. "They don''t know us." The energy in the room shifted. The players weren''t just motivated¡ªthey were ready to fight. Training Focus ¨C Sharpening Every Detail Bradford''s approach to the final had to be flawless. Tottenham weren''t just another Premier League side¡ªthey were a team that expected to win trophies. Jake knew that if they played Spurs at their own game, they would lose. So, they wouldn''t. They would make Tottenham uncomfortable, force them into areas they didn''t want to be in, and exploit every weakness possible. For the next two weeks, training was relentless. Every session was focused on three key areas: defensive resilience, pressing triggers, and counter-attacking precision. Defensive Drills ¨C Surviving the Storm Jake knew Tottenham would dominate possession. They would look to pin Bradford back, cycle the ball, and wait for gaps to appear. If Bradford''s defensive structure wasn''t perfect, Spurs would tear them apart. The solution? Training against relentless waves of attacks. The backline practiced against continuous 5v4 situations, simulating Tottenham''s high press and attacking overloads.Barnes and Min-jae focused on reading Son''s movement, ensuring the South Korean forward never had space to exploit behind them.Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez drilled relentlessly on how to track Maddison¡ªif Spurs'' main creator had no time to think, their attacks would become predictable.Rojas and Taylor worked specifically on handling Kulusevski and Tel, two direct wingers who thrived in one-on-one situations. Every time they were beaten in training, they reset and did it again. During one session, Silva cut inside and fired a shot past Okafor. Jake immediately blew his whistle. "Again," he called out. "If that happens in the final, we''re dead." The players jogged back to position. Jake walked to Barnes and Min-jae. "You have to communicate. One of you steps up, the other covers. If Son runs in behind, it''s too late." Min-jae nodded. Barnes clapped his hands, resetting his focus. They repeated the drill. This time, no shot got through. Pressing Triggers ¨C Forcing Mistakes Tottenham wanted space. Jake''s job was to make sure they never had it. After analyzing Spurs'' recent matches, he saw a clear vulnerability: they struggled when pressed aggressively. So, training revolved around one thing¡ªpressing in waves. The team worked in small-sided drills, learning exactly when to press and when to hold shape.V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez became the key pressers in midfield, focusing on suffocating Bentancur and Maddison before they could pick out passes.Mensah and Rasmussen practiced trapping Tottenham''s full-backs, pressing them into making rushed clearances instead of controlled passes forward.Novak and Costa focused on cutting passing lanes, ensuring Spurs couldn''t play out from the back easily. One drill simulated a Tottenham goal kick. The defenders were instructed to play out as Spurs would, while the midfielders and attackers hunted them down. If Spurs'' defenders managed to pass their way out, the drill restarted. Jake shouted from the sidelines. "They don''t get a free pass! Close them down¡ªNOW!" The players intensified their pressure. Ib¨¢?ez forced a mistake from Tottenham''s backup midfielders, pouncing on a loose touch and immediately launching a counterattack. That was the goal. Make Spurs uncomfortable. Force them into mistakes. And when they make them¡ªpunish them. Counter-Attacking Efficiency ¨C Exploiting Spurs'' High Line Jake''s final and most important weapon was speed. Tottenham played an aggressive high defensive line¡ªwhich meant one thing. Space. If Bradford could transition quickly, they could tear Spurs apart on the break. Novak and Costa trained relentlessly on beating the offside trap. Timing was everything¡ªif they mistimed their runs, the attack was over before it started.Rojas and Rasmussen practiced quick diagonal passes¡ªthe exact type of ball that could slice through Spurs'' center-backs.The entire squad focused on fast-break transitions, turning defense into attack in three passes or fewer. One drill replicated a match situation. Ib¨¢?ez would intercept a pass, V¨¦lez had to transition forward within two touches, and Mensah or Silva would release Novak or Costa into space. The first few attempts were sloppy. V¨¦lez took too long. The wingers hesitated. The strikers ran offside. Jake stopped the drill. "Again." They reset. This time, it was perfect. Ib¨¢?ez won the ball. V¨¦lez took one touch and immediately found Mensah. The Ghanaian winger sprinted forward and slipped a ball into Novak''s path. The Czech striker buried his shot into the bottom corner. That was what they needed in the final. Speed. Precision. Ruthlessness. Final Thoughts ¨C The Blueprint to Winning Jake wasn''t naive. Tottenham were favorites for a reason. They had world-class players, a high-tempo attack, and the ability to destroy teams in minutes. But that didn''t mean they were unbeatable. Bradford had a plan. Defend deep, frustrate them.Press high in key moments, force mistakes.Exploit the space behind their defense with speed. Every session. Every drill. It all led to Wembley. One game. One chance. Bradford would be ready. System Insights ¨C Breaking Down Tottenham The system''s prediction was ruthless. Tottenham: 70% win probability S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bradford: 20% Draw: 10% Jake didn''t react. He had seen these numbers before. The system had doubted them against Arsenal, Crystal Palace, Leicester, and Newcastle. And yet, here they were¡ªone game away from winning it all. Still, the breakdown provided crucial insights. Tottenham''s Key Strengths Elite Finishing ¨C Heung-Min Son and Mathys Tel didn''t need five chances to score. One was enough. Give them space, and the game could be over before Bradford had time to react. Midfield Control ¨C James Maddison and Rodrigo Bentancur dictated games effortlessly. If they were allowed to find their rhythm, Tottenham would control every minute of possession. Defensive Strength ¨C Cristian Romero and Micky van de Ven were absent, but Kevin Danso and Ben Davies were still no pushovers. They were aggressive, aerially dominant, and capable of shutting down weaker attacks. Tottenham''s Key Weaknesses High Defensive Line ¨C Spurs pressed high and committed numbers forward, leaving huge spaces behind. If Bradford could break quickly, they could get in behind. Struggled Against High Pressing ¨C Teams that pressed them early forced mistakes. Tottenham wanted control¡ªif they didn''t have it, they became vulnerable. Reliance on Maddison ¨C Shut Maddison down, and Tottenham''s entire attacking structure became predictable. Everything ran through him. Cut off his supply, and Spurs'' creativity suffered. Jake leaned back in his chair, staring at the notes. The weaknesses were there. The opportunity existed. But only if Bradford executed the plan flawlessly. This wasn''t just any match. This was a final. One mistake could end it all. The Mental Aspect ¨C Handling the Pressure of Wembley Tactics would only take them so far. The biggest challenge wasn''t just beating Tottenham. It was dealing with Wembley. 90,000 fans. National television. Millions watching. For many of his players, this was the biggest game of their careers. Jake could see it in their eyes. The tension. The weight of the moment settling onto their shoulders. Some of them tried to hide it¡ªclenching their fists, pacing around the dressing room. Others sat completely still, lost in their thoughts. Jake stepped forward. He had to remind them. "We''ve already defied the odds," he said, his voice steady. "We''re here for a reason." A pause. "One game. One chance." He turned to Novak, his main striker. The man who had dragged Bradford through the toughest battles. "They don''t expect you to score," Jake said. Novak smirked. "Then they don''t know me." Jake shifted his gaze to Mensah and Silva¡ªtwo of the most dangerous players in the squad. "They don''t expect you to tear them apart." Silva cracked his knuckles. "They''ll learn." Jake turned to Okafor. His goalkeeper. "They don''t expect you to be the hero." Okafor''s eyes were cold, focused. "They''re wrong." Jake stepped back, letting the silence hang in the air. Then Barnes stood up. His voice was firm. "No fear." The words hung in the air for a second. Then V¨¦lez repeated it. "No fear." Novak nodded. "No fear." Soon, the entire squad was on their feet. No fear. No fear. The message spread through the room like wildfire. They weren''t just going to Wembley. They were going to win. Chapter 131 - 131: March Dominance: Five Wins in Five Bradford were champions-elect. The league title was theirs. But Jake had no intention of letting the intensity drop before Wembley. Momentum was everything. Five games. Five wins. A perfect run into the EFL Cup Final. And through it all, Jake managed his squad carefully, ensuring fresh legs for the biggest match in the club''s history. March 1 ¨C League One Matchday 36 With the EFL Cup Final looming, Jake made the expected changes to keep his squad fresh. Emeka Okafor was given a well-earned rest, allowing Jack Simmons to make a rare start in goal. In defense, Marco Bianchi partnered Noah Fletcher in the heart of the backline, giving Nathan Barnes and Kang Min-jae the night off. James Richards and Lewis Hart filled the full-back positions, tasked with keeping Wigan''s wingers quiet. Midfield saw Elliot Harper and Lewis Chapman in central roles, providing stability and energy, while Leo Rasmussen and Ethan Walsh operated on the flanks. Up front, Tobias Richter and Guilherme Costa led the line, as Jake opted for a more mobile, direct strike partnership. Despite the rotations, Bradford never lost control. First Half ¨C From the opening whistle, Wigan sat deep, clearly aware of Bradford''s attacking prowess. But Jake''s men were patient. Harper dictated the tempo, recycling possession and pulling Wigan''s shape apart. Chapman covered every blade of grass, ensuring Bradford always had second balls under control. The breakthrough came inside 15 minutes. Harper picked up possession in midfield and spotted Rasmussen bursting down the left. The Danish winger sprinted forward, cut inside his marker, and squared a perfect pass into the box. Richter was waiting. One touch. A cool finish into the bottom corner. 1-0 Bradford. Rasmussen pumped his fists. Richter ran straight to him. Jake simply nodded from the touchline. They had picked Wigan apart. Second Half ¨C The game followed the same rhythm after the break. Bradford dominated possession, forcing Wigan to chase shadows. Wigan''s only real attempt came in the 55th minute, when a cross from the right found their striker inside the box. But Simmons reacted brilliantly, diving low to his right to keep the shot out. That was the only real danger. Bradford kept pressing, and in the 72nd minute, the game was over. Wigan''s center-back tried to clear a long ball, but his clearance was weak, falling straight to Ethan Walsh at the edge of the area. The young winger didn''t hesitate. One touch to set himself. A curling strike bent beautifully into the far corner. The Wigan goalkeeper could only watch as the ball rippled the net. 2-0 Bradford. No risks. No mistakes. As the final whistle blew, Jake''s focus had already shifted forward. One game down. Four more before Wembley. March 5 ¨C League One Matchday 37 With momentum building and Wembley on the horizon, Jake returned to a near full-strength lineup. Lukas Novak led the line once again, flanked by Renan Silva and Raphael Mensah. Santiago V¨¦lez and Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez reclaimed their spots in midfield, ensuring Bradford would control possession and dictate the tempo. At the back, Nathan Barnes and Kang Min-jae marshaled the defense, while Julian Rojas and Aiden Taylor operated as full-backs. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bradford had already secured the League One title weeks ago, but that didn''t mean they were slowing down. The media buzzed about the team''s dominance. The fans were enjoying the ride. But for Jake? It was just another game. First Half ¨C A Ruthless Start The opening whistle barely had time to echo before Bradford pinned Lincoln inside their own half. There was no patience, no easing into the game¡ªjust immediate, relentless pressure. The breakthrough came in the 12th minute. Silva, full of confidence, took on his marker down the right wing, feinted inside, then burst back outside before curling a perfect cross into the box. Novak, positioned between two defenders, timed his leap to perfection. A towering header. The net bulged. 1-0 Bradford. Lincoln barely had time to regroup before Bradford doubled their lead. In the 22nd minute, a well-worked corner saw Barnes flick the ball toward goal. Lincoln''s defense panicked, failing to clear properly. The ball landed at the feet of Ib¨¢?ez at the edge of the area. One touch to steady himself. Then, he smashed it low and hard through the crowded box and into the bottom corner. 2-0 Bradford. Lincoln''s players stood with their hands on their hips. They knew. Everyone knew. Bradford were a class above. Second Half ¨C A Brief Stumble, A Comfortable Response Despite their dominance, Lincoln found a way back into the game. In the 57th minute, a rare lapse in concentration saw a long ball over the top catch Bradford''s defense off guard. Min-jae, for the first time all night, lost sight of his man, allowing Lincoln''s striker to sprint in behind and slot the ball past Okafor. 2-1. But Jake didn''t panic. Neither did his players. Bradford simply reset, shut Lincoln down completely, and waited for the right moment to kill the game. That moment arrived in the 84th minute. Lincoln had committed men forward, desperate for an equalizer. A clearance from Barnes fell perfectly for Mensah near the halfway line. Lincoln''s defense was exposed. Mensah took off. Pace. Power. Control. A full sprint into enemy territory before squaring the ball unselfishly across the box¡ª Straight into the path of Costa. A simple tap-in. 3-1. Game over. Full-Time ¨C No Signs of Slowing Down The final whistle blew. Another win. Another dominant display. Bradford City were already champions¡ªbut they weren''t playing like a team that had switched off. March 9 ¨C League One Matchday 38 Bradford 4-0 Stevenage With Wembley looming, Bradford refused to take their foot off the gas. This wasn''t just about winning¡ªit was about maintaining rhythm, staying sharp, and reminding everyone why they were already champions. Jake named a full-strength lineup. Novak led the line, flanked by Silva and Mensah. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez patrolled the midfield, dictating every passage of play. At the back, Barnes and Min-jae were paired once again, ensuring Bradford remained rock solid. Stevenage had no answers. First Half ¨C Silva & Novak Shine From the first whistle, Bradford overwhelmed their opponents. The opening goal came in the 9th minute, and it was vintage Renan Silva. V¨¦lez received the ball in midfield, took a quick glance up, and spotted Silva cutting in from the right. A clever one-two followed¡ªSilva flicked it to V¨¦lez, sprinted into space, and received the return pass just outside the box. Without hesitation, he opened up his body and curled a stunning strike into the far corner. 1-0 Bradford. Stevenage barely had time to regroup before Bradford struck again. In the 27th minute, Mensah raced down the left, twisting his defender inside out before whipping in a low cross. Novak, positioned perfectly between the center-backs, bullied his marker, shrugged off a weak challenge, and drilled a low shot past the keeper. 2-0 Bradford. Jake didn''t celebrate. Neither did his players. They weren''t satisfied yet. Second Half ¨C Ruthless, Relentless, Dominant Bradford refused to let up. Stevenage had barely ventured forward all game, but Barnes ensured they had no chance of a comeback. In the 56th minute, Bradford won a corner. Silva jogged over to take it, scanning the box before delivering a pinpoint cross toward the penalty spot. Barnes rose above everyone¡ªa thunderous header, perfectly placed into the bottom corner. 3-0 Bradford. That was the moment Stevenage gave up. They sat deeper, playing for damage control rather than trying to fight back. But Bradford weren''t finished. As stoppage time approached, Costa put the final nail in the coffin. Ib¨¢?ez broke up a weak Stevenage attack, sending the ball forward quickly. Novak controlled it, held off his defender, then played a perfect through ball to Costa. The Brazilian took a single touch before slotting the ball past the onrushing keeper. 4-0 Bradford. Full-Time ¨C Tunnel Vision on Wembley As the final whistle blew, the commentators summed it up perfectly: "Another dominant display from Jake Wilson''s side. No distractions, no signs of complacency. They are marching into Wembley in peak form." Bradford had already secured promotion. They had nothing left to prove in the league. But that didn''t matter. Jake still refused to celebrate. Two more league games. Then Wembley. Nothing else mattered. March 14 ¨C League One Matchday 39 Bradford 1-0 Wrexham A different kind of test. Against a stubborn Wrexham side, Jake had to rotate again. No Novak. No Silva. No Mensah. Instead, Costa and Richter started up top, with Rasmussen and Walsh on the wings. Bradford dominated possession but struggled to break Wrexham down. It took a moment of brilliance from Ib¨¢?ez in the 73rd minute¡ªa perfectly placed free kick¡ªto settle the game. One goal. Three points. The streak continued. And then, the final game before Wembley. March 19 ¨C League One Matchday 40 Bradford 5-0 Opponent This wasn''t just a win. This was a statement. Jake fielded his strongest XI to give them one last full-speed game before the final. Novak. Silva. Mensah. V¨¦lez. Ib¨¢?ez. Barnes. Min-jae. Okafor. And they tore their opponents apart. Novak struck twice inside the first 20 minutes, one a clinical header, the other a ruthless finish from close range. Silva made it 3-0 before halftime, smashing home a rocket from the edge of the box. The second half? Pure control. V¨¦lez added a fourth with a beautiful strike from 25 yards. And in stoppage time, Costa got his reward, tapping in after Mensah squared the ball across goal. 5-0. Total dominance. The perfect send-off before Wembley. Final Thoughts ¨C Momentum Secured Five games. Five wins. Bradford closed out their League One campaign with authority. But now, everything shifted. Now, there was only one thing left to focus on. Tottenham. Wembley. The EFL Cup Final. Jake called his players in after the last league match. "We''ve earned the right to play in this final," he said. "Now, we earn the right to win it." One game. One trophy. History was waiting. Chapter 132 - 132: BRADFORD VS TOTTENHAM PART 1 The EFL Cup Final ¨C Wembley March 23rd, 2025 The biggest match of the season. The biggest match of Jake Wilson''s career. The road to Wembley had been filled with impossible moments. The comeback against Newcastle. The league title wrapped up with weeks to spare. Now, they stood on the edge of history. For Bradford City, this wasn''t just about winning a trophy. This was about proving they belonged. The Final Words Before Wembley ¨C Press Conference The media room at Wembley was packed beyond capacity. Journalists from across England, and even some from abroad, filled every seat. Cameras clicked, microphones were set, and all eyes were on Jake Wilson. He had been here before, facing the press in big moments. But this was different. This was a cup final. "A historic day for Bradford City," the first reporter began. "This club last won a major trophy in 1911. How does it feel to be ninety minutes away from changing that?" Jake leaned into the microphone, his expression unreadable. "It feels like we still have a job to do." Another journalist fired off the next question. "Tottenham are the favorites, a side packed with international stars. How do you approach a game like this?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "By remembering who we are. We don''t fear anyone. We didn''t get here by luck¡ªwe got here by fighting for every win. Tomorrow''s no different." There was a brief murmur in the room, as reporters scribbled down their notes. Then came the biggest question. "A Bradford win would take you into the UEFA Conference League. Have you thought about that possibility?" For the first time, Jake paused. He could feel the weight of the moment, the potential of what this final could mean for the club. Then he smirked. "Let''s talk about it after the game." Pre-Match Tension ¨C The Walk to the Pitch The tunnel at Wembley felt endless. Bradford''s players stood in line, waiting for the walkout. The tension was unbearable, the weight of the moment pressing down on every single one of them. On the other side, Tottenham looked composed¡ªlike a team used to this stage. Son adjusted his captain''s armband. Maddison cracked his knuckles. Vicario bounced on his toes, already locked in. Jake looked over his squad. For many of them, this was the biggest game of their lives. He stepped forward. "Remember what got us here." His voice was calm, steady. "No fear." Novak clapped his hands, repeating it louder. "No fear." The squad echoed him. Then the doors opened. A deafening roar filled Wembley as both teams walked onto the pitch. The sea of fans, the flashing lights, the historic atmosphere. For a moment, Jake stood still, taking it all in. This was where history was made. Then the referee blew the whistle. Starting Lineups Tottenham (4-3-3): Goalkeeper: Guglielmo Vicario Right Back: Pedro Porro Center Back: Kevin Danso Center Back: Ben Davies Left Back: Djed Spence Midfielder: Yago Bergvall Midfielder: Rodrigo Bentancur Midfielder: James Maddison (Captain) Right Winger: Dejan Kulusevski Striker: Mathys Tel Left Winger: Heung-Min Son Bradford City (5-4-1 ¨C Counter-Attacking Setup): Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Right Wing-Back: Julian Rojas Center Back: Nathan Barnes Center Back: Kang Min-jae Center Back: Noah Fletcher Left Wing-Back: Aiden Taylor Right Midfielder: Renan Silva Central Midfielder: Santiago V¨¦lez Central Midfielder: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez Left Midfielder: Leo Rasmussen Striker: Lukas Novak Jake had gone with a defensive setup. Five at the back, two deep midfielders, but with pace on the wings to hit Spurs on the counter. The plan was simple¡ªstay compact, frustrate them, and strike when the moment came. First Half ¨C The Early Moments Tottenham came out exactly as expected¡ªdominant, aggressive, moving the ball with confidence. From the opening whistle, their midfield trio of Maddison, Bentancur, and Bergvall dictated the tempo, shifting possession from side to side, searching for gaps. Bradford, however, were prepared. Every time Spurs tried to find a way through, they ran into a wall. Barnes, Fletcher, and Min-jae stood tall, throwing their bodies in front of crosses. Rojas and Taylor tracked Tottenham''s wingers tirelessly, forcing Son and Kulusevski into deeper areas. And when Spurs tried to play through the middle, V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez snapped into challenges, cutting off Maddison''s passing lanes. For ten minutes, Bradford held firm, absorbing pressure. Then, they struck back. 11th Minute ¨C Silva Forces a Save from Vicario A rare mistake from Tottenham. Bentancur tried to switch play across midfield, but V¨¦lez was too quick, intercepting and immediately setting Silva free down the right. The Brazilian winger exploded into space, skipping past Spence with ease. With defenders backtracking, Silva had only one thing on his mind. He cut inside, shifted the ball onto his left foot, and unleashed a wicked curling strike from twenty yards. For a split second, it looked like it was flying into the top corner¡ª But Vicario reacted. The Spurs goalkeeper dived at full stretch, getting just enough of a touch to push the ball wide. A collective gasp rippled through Wembley. Bradford weren''t just here to defend. 14th Minute ¨C Son Strikes the Post Tottenham''s response was immediate. Maddison, frustrated by Bradford''s compact shape, dropped deeper to collect possession. He looked up and threaded a perfect ball into space behind Rojas. Son was already on the move. The South Korean star took a brilliant first touch, cutting inside and onto his right foot. Bradford''s defense scrambled, but there was no stopping him. Son whipped a curling shot toward the far post. Okafor didn''t move. The ball flew past him¡ªsmashing off the inside of the post. Gasps from the Tottenham fans. For a brief moment, everyone held their breath, waiting to see if the ball would spin into the net. But it rolled harmlessly away, and Rojas reacted first, clearing it into the stands. Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. Both teams had landed an early punch. This final was well and truly alive. Tottenham continued to dominate possession, but dominance didn''t mean control. Bradford were executing their game plan to perfection¡ªcompact, disciplined, frustrating Spurs at every turn. Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez were relentless in midfield, pressing Maddison the second he received the ball, refusing to let him dictate play. The Spurs captain, usually so composed, was visibly irritated, constantly glancing at the referee for fouls that never came. Bradford''s backline stood firm, repelling wave after wave of attacks. 26th Minute ¨C Barnes'' Last-Ditch Tackle on Tel For all their patience, Tottenham finally found a gap. Bentancur, spotting a rare pocket of space, slipped a perfectly weighted pass between Min-jae and Fletcher. Tel reacted instantly, breaking into the open space, his acceleration taking him clear of the defenders. Jake''s heart pounded. Okafor rushed off his line, but Tel was already shaping to shoot. And then¡ªBarnes. The Bradford captain lunged in from the side, his timing impeccable. A clean slide, his boot connecting with the ball an instant before Tel could strike. The ball rolled safely toward Rojas, who cleared it into the stands. The stadium exploded¡ªhalf in frustration, half in sheer admiration. Tel spun toward the referee, arms raised, claiming a penalty. Nothing given. Barnes got to his feet, fists clenched, roaring at his teammates. This was Bradford''s defense at its absolute best. 31st Minute ¨C Maddison Almost Breaks the Deadlock Tottenham weren''t rattled. If anything, the denied chance only made them push harder. Five minutes later, they nearly punished Bradford. Son picked up the ball on the left, drifting inside before feeding Maddison at the edge of the box. The Spurs captain took one touch, then curled a shot toward the far post. It was inch-perfect¡ªor it should have been. Okafor was beaten. The ball swerved late, heading straight for the top corner. Then¡ªthe crossbar. The ball crashed against the woodwork and bounced away, Fletcher reacting first to clear the danger. Tottenham fans groaned. Maddison ran his hands through his hair. Bradford had just survived another warning. 38th Minute ¨C Kulusevski''s Solo Effort Tottenham came again. This time, it was Kulusevski, who had been relatively quiet so far. The Swedish winger picked up the ball near the halfway line and drove forward, skipping past V¨¦lez with a quick feint. Min-jae stepped up to stop him, but Kulusevski shifted the ball onto his left foot and cut inside. One touch. Then another. Suddenly, he was in the box. The shot came¡ªlow, hard, and precise toward the bottom corner. Okafor dived¡ªand got a fingertip to it. The ball spun inches wide of the post. A massive save. Okafor punched the ground, then clapped his hands, urging his teammates to wake up. Tottenham were getting closer. Bradford were hanging on. But it was still 0-0. 41st Minute ¨C Silva''s Free-Kick Nearly Stuns Wembley Bradford had barely seen the ball in attacking areas, but they didn''t need many chances. Just before halftime, V¨¦lez, who had been relentless in midfield, won a free kick just outside the penalty area. James Maddison had pulled him back, trying to stop another counter, and the referee didn''t hesitate to blow the whistle. Jake immediately pointed toward Silva. The Brazilian stepped up, his eyes locked on goal. He placed the ball carefully, took three deep breaths, and stepped back. Wembley fell silent. Silva''s run-up was smooth, effortless¡ªhis strike even better. The ball curled over the wall, dipping viciously, swerving toward the top corner. For a split second, it looked perfect. Then Vicario reacted. The Spurs goalkeeper launched himself across the goal, stretching his fingertips as far as possible. Barely. The faintest of touches. The ball clipped the crossbar and spun out for a corner. Tottenham fans exhaled. Jake turned away, rubbing his chin. That was it. That was the moment. Silva stood there for a second, staring at the bar as if willing it to move an inch lower. Then he jogged back, shaking his head, clapping for the corner. Bradford had sent a message. Even under relentless pressure, they weren''t here just to survive. They had the quality to punish Tottenham if given the chance. Halftime ¨C Everything Still to Play For The whistle blew moments later. Tottenham had dominated the half, but it was still 0-0. The Bradford players jogged toward the tunnel, some catching their breath, others still locked in focus. Jake waited for them at the entrance, nodding as each player walked past. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Barnes clenched his fists. V¨¦lez wiped sweat from his face. Silva looked frustrated. Jake didn''t need to say anything. They all knew. They were halfway to something special. Halftime Team Talk ¨C "Stick to the Plan" The dressing room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, boots scraping against the floor, and the occasional gulp of water. The air was thick with sweat and concentration. But there was no fear. No nerves. Only belief. Jake stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, eyes scanning every face. He didn''t need to raise his voice. They were already listening. "You''re still in this," he said, his voice calm but firm. "They''ve thrown everything at us, and we''re still standing." Barnes sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, nodding. V¨¦lez wiped sweat from his forehead, his chest still rising and falling from the intensity of the first half. Jake started pacing, his footsteps the only sound in the room. "They haven''t found a way through," he continued. "That means the plan is working. They want us to break. They want us to lose focus. We don''t give them that." Silva, still frustrated from his near-perfect free-kick, sat with his arms crossed, jaw clenched. Jake stopped in front of him. "You almost had them," Jake said, locking eyes with the winger. "Keep going. Your moment is coming." Silva gave a small nod, his frustration turning into determination. Jake turned to Novak. The Czech striker had spent most of the first half chasing loose balls and battling Tottenham''s center-backs. It had been a thankless job. "Keep making those runs," Jake told him. "Keep pulling them apart. When the chance comes, you bury it." Novak cracked his knuckles, a small smirk forming. "I will." Jake turned back to the group, exhaling. "We stay disciplined. We stay focused. And when the moment comes¡ªwe take it." Barnes pushed himself to his feet. V¨¦lez rolled his shoulders. Silva wiped his face with his shirt. Novak tightened his laces. The belief was still there. Jake knew it. And now, so did Tottenham. Chapter 133 - 133: BRADFORD VS TOTTENHAM PART 2 Second Half Begins ¨C A Sudden Shift The tension inside Wembley had doubled. Tottenham, stunned by Bradford''s resilience, came out of the tunnel with renewed aggression. Their midfield pressed higher, their wingers stretched the pitch, and Maddison was finally finding pockets of space to dictate play. Bradford had frustrated them for forty-five minutes, but Spurs weren''t waiting anymore. They were forcing the issue. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed. He expected this. Spurs had been patient in the first half, waiting for a moment of weakness. Now, they were trying to create one. Bradford had to hold. 48th Minute ¨C Maddison, sensing the shift in momentum, drifted between the lines and, for the first time all game, found himself unmarked. He barely needed to look¡ªone touch, one perfectly weighted pass behind Barnes. Son sprinted onto it. One-on-one with Okafor. Jake barely had time to react before Son pulled the trigger. A low, powerful strike. Okafor exploded off his line, making himself as big as possible. The Nigerian goalkeeper stuck out his right leg¡ªdeflected wide. Barnes rushed in to clear before Tel could pounce. Tottenham''s fans groaned. Their best chance so far¡ªgone. But Spurs weren''t slowing down. 52nd Minute ¨C Bradford barely had time to reset before Spurs came again. Bergvall found Bentancur in midfield. One sharp turn, one quick pass¡ªMaddison had space. The moment the ball reached him, he knew what he wanted to do. From twenty-five yards out, Maddison unleashed a curling effort toward the top corner. Jake didn''t even breathe. Okafor dived at full stretch, fingertips reaching¡ªpushed it wide! The Bradford goalkeeper hit the ground hard, immediately bouncing back up. Tottenham couldn''t believe it. Neither could the Bradford fans behind the goal. "OKAFOR! OKAFOR! OKAFOR!" The chants rang through Wembley, the underdog supporters rallying behind their goalkeeper. Jake clapped once. "Stay locked in!" he shouted toward his players. "Next one, we clear it!" But Spurs weren''t finished. 56th Minute ¨C Tottenham were suffocating Bradford now, relentless in their attack. Maddison, fed up with being closed down, played quick one-twos with Bentancur and Bergvall, moving higher up the pitch. A pass slipped through to Kulusevski. The Swede turned, fired low¡ªOkafor saved. Tel was first to the rebound¡ªOkafor scrambled up, blocked it with his chest. The ball ricocheted to Son, who struck it first-time¡ª Okafor, somehow, some way, flung himself across goal and palmed it away. Wembley erupted. The Bradford end of the stadium screamed. Even Jake''s assistant, Roberts, grabbed his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable," he muttered. Okafor, still on the ground, clenched his fists and let out a roar. Barnes sprinted over, slapping him on the back. Silva and V¨¦lez pumped their fists in the air. Tottenham players stood still. They had thrown their best at Bradford. And still¡ªnothing. Jake exhaled. Spurs were gambling now. And that was when Bradford struck. Tottenham had thrown everything at them. Maddison''s shot¡ªsaved. Kulusevski''s shot¡ªblocked. Son''s shot¡ªpalmed away. Three chances in quick succession, all denied by Emeka Okafor. The Bradford goalkeeper lay on the ground for a second, chest rising and falling, while Barnes and Min-jae rushed to clear the ball away from danger. And then¡ªthe counterattack began. 57th Minute ¨C Tottenham had been suffocating Bradford with relentless pressure, but they made one mistake. Bentancur, eager to push forward, received the ball in midfield. V¨¦lez saw his chance. The Colombian midfielder lunged in, pressing hard, and nicked the ball away. Tottenham''s entire shape was suddenly broken. V¨¦lez wasted no time¡ªhe turned and immediately released Silva down the left flank. Silva sprinted. The roar from the Bradford fans behind him urged him forward. Porro, Tottenham''s right-back, was chasing, but Silva had too much pace. Inside the box, Novak peeled away from Danso, finding a pocket of space. Silva saw him. A perfect cut-back. Novak didn''t hesitate. A first-time strike. The ball flew past Vicario, smashing into the net. For a second, time stood still. Then¡ªWembley exploded. The Bradford end of the stadium erupted in pure chaos. Novak sprinted toward the corner flag, arms outstretched. Silva followed, grabbing him and shaking him. On the touchline, Jake clenched his fists. Then, for the first time all night, he let out a roar. Bradford had the lead. The scoreboard flashed: Tottenham 0-1 Bradford City But there were still 30 minutes left. And Tottenham were about to throw everything at them. Bradford knew what was coming. Tottenham didn''t panic¡ªthey went straight back on the attack. Son, Maddison, and Tel became relentless, shifting across the final third, looking for any gap in Bradford''s defense. Jake shouted instructions, urging his team to stay compact, to not lose focus. But Tottenham were getting closer. 71st Minute ¨C Bradford''s defense was holding, but Spurs finally broke through. Kulusevski, cutting inside from the right, found just enough space to unleash a low, driven shot toward the bottom corner. Okafor dived¡ªa fingertip save. But the ball wasn''t cleared. It spun across the goal line, rolling dangerously close. Barnes, sprinting back at full speed, threw himself into a desperate slide. The ball was inches away from crossing¡ªone more rotation, and it was in. Barnes stretched out his leg, hooked it clear just before it fully crossed. Wembley gasped. Spurs'' players immediately raised their hands, appealing for a goal. Jake''s heart stopped as the referee put a hand to his earpiece. VAR check. Seconds stretched into eternity. Then¡ªthe decision flashed on the big screen. NO GOAL. Bradford had survived. Okafor punched the ground in relief. Barnes sat up, breathing heavily, before pounding the turf with his fist. Jake clenched his jaw. This wasn''t over. Immediate Substitutions ¨C Fresh Legs for the Final Stretch S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Before Tottenham could reset, Jake acted. He turned to his bench. "Now," he said. Three changes were made: ? Novak OFF ¨C Costa ON (Fresh pace up front to chase long balls) ? V¨¦lez OFF ¨C Daniel Lowe ON (More defensive cover in midfield) ? Leo Rasmussen OFF ¨C Castell¨®n ON (Extra energy on the wing to help track back) Jake clapped his hands. "Fifteen minutes. Stay sharp. No mistakes." The players nodded. The fight wasn''t over yet. 80th Minute ¨C Maddison, frustrated and desperate, took control. A quick give-and-go with Son split Bradford''s defense. Maddison ghosted past Lowe and suddenly found himself one-on-one with Okafor. Jake''s breath caught. Maddison didn''t hesitate¡ªhe opened up his body and aimed for the top corner. A shot with precision. A shot that should have been unstoppable. But Okafor wasn''t beaten. The Nigerian goalkeeper exploded to his right, stretching every inch of his frame¡ªfingertips just enough to push it over the bar. The Bradford end of Wembley erupted. Okafor got up, pumping his fists, yelling at his teammates to stay focused. Jake turned to his assistant, barely blinking. "Ten more minutes." 85th Minute ¨C Tottenham weren''t giving up. A long ball over the top from Bentancur sent Son racing down the left wing. Fletcher was caught out of position. Son cut inside onto his right foot, fired low and hard toward the bottom corner. Okafor dived¡ªanother save! The ball bounced out to Tel, who immediately chipped it toward the far post¡ªSon again! This time, he tried to place a delicate header toward the top corner. Okafor was already up. Another leap¡ªpalmed away! Bradford were holding on by a thread. 90+4th Minute ¨C Spurs had pushed every player forward, leaving themselves completely exposed. A deep cross came into the box¡ªOkafor claimed it cleanly. For a split second, he looked down, ready to waste time. Then he saw it. Silva, standing wide on the left, already sprinting. Okafor didn''t hesitate. A rocket throw¡ªnearly half the pitch. Silva controlled it beautifully in full stride, barely breaking his pace as he stormed forward. Pedro Porro, the last defender back, stepped up to stop him. Silva slowed. Jake watched in disbelief as Silva, in the biggest moment of his career, pulled off a rainbow flick over Porro. Porro turned¡ªtoo late. Silva let the ball drop, took one step forward, curled it with his right foot. An Trivela shot. The ball floated. Vicario dived. He didn''t reach it. The net rippled. 2-0 BRADFORD. Silva didn''t celebrate at first. He stood frozen, staring at the ball in the net. Then he turned¡ªand sprinted straight for Jake. Jake barely had time to react before Silva threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his manager, holding on tight. The Bradford bench cleared. The players piled on top of them. The Bradford fans in Wembley were in tears. Jake could barely breathe under the weight of his squad, but he didn''t care. They had done it. Bradford were EFL Cup champions. Chapter 134 - 134: BRADFORD VS TOTTENHAM PART 3 The Final Whistle ¨C Champions The referee raised the whistle to his lips. One long blast. Full-time. Tottenham 0-2 Bradford City. For a moment, Jake didn''t move. He just stood there, frozen, staring at the scoreboard as if waiting for it to change. It didn''t. Then it hit him. They had done it. Bradford City¡ªEFL Cup Champions. Jake''s knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the Wembley turf, hands on his head, overwhelmed. A second later, Silva and Barnes sprinted toward him. Barnes grabbed him first, shaking him, yelling something Jake couldn''t even process. Silva wrapped his arms around him, lifting him back up before Jake could react. The rest of the team followed. Ib¨¢?ez. V¨¦lez. Novak. Okafor. The substitutes. The entire squad. They mobbed Jake, hugging, screaming, losing themselves in the moment. Bradford''s section of Wembley had turned into a sea of madness. Flares went off. Fans were in tears, jumping on each other, waving scarves in the air. A club that had waited over a century for silverware had finally won again. Jake was barely aware of what was happening. He was being pulled in different directions, players slapping his back, screaming into his ears, but it all felt surreal. Then, the trophy was brought onto the pitch. Jake stepped back, his hands on his hips, watching as his players gathered around the stand. This was their moment. Novak, still drenched in sweat, and Barnes, the rock of the defense, were handed the trophy together. They turned toward their teammates, lifted it high¡ª And Wembley exploded. Gold and claret confetti rained down. The roar from the Bradford end was deafening. Jake let his head fall back, taking it all in. Bradford City ¨C Champions of the EFL Cup. For the first time since 1911, they had won a major trophy. Jake Wilson had just led them to history. His players weren''t done. They sprinted toward the fans. Some jumped into the stands. Silva and Mensah climbed the advertising boards, holding the trophy up for the supporters to see. Okafor wrapped an arm around Jake''s shoulder, shaking him. "Boss," he panted, barely able to speak through his grin. "We did it." Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he muttered, almost to himself. "We did." The celebrations would go on for hours. Post-Match Press Conference ¨C Reflecting on History Jake took his seat at the podium, still in his tracksuit, still drenched in the champagne his players had poured over him. His hair was damp, his voice slightly hoarse, but the fire in his eyes hadn''t dimmed. The room was packed¡ªjournalists from across England and Europe had turned up for this moment. Bradford City, a League One team at the start of the season, had just beaten Tottenham to win the EFL Cup. This wasn''t just a trophy. It was history. The first question was predictable. "Jake, you''ve just won Bradford''s first major trophy since 1911. What does this moment mean to you?" Jake leaned toward the microphone. He didn''t rush his answer. "This club is built on history," he said finally. "Tonight, we added another chapter." The journalists scribbled down every word. Another voice cut through. "Twelve months ago, you were managing in League One. Now, you''ve won a cup final at Wembley and secured European football. Did you ever think this would happen so soon?" Jake smirked. "If I said yes, I''d be lying." A few chuckles rippled through the room. "But football doesn''t wait for you. You take your chances, or you get left behind. This group of players? They don''t wait. They don''t ask for permission. They make things happen." Another hand shot up. "Speaking of European football, this win means Bradford City will compete in the UEFA Conference League next season. What does that mean for the club?" Jake exhaled, sitting back in his chair. "It means the journey isn''t over." The journalists exchanged glances. "Are you saying Bradford can go far in Europe?" Jake smiled. "I''m saying we''re not just showing up to enjoy the sights." A murmur of intrigue spread through the room. The next question came quickly. "Tonight, you outplayed a Premier League club. Does this prove that Bradford are already ready for the top flight?" Jake shook his head. "No. One game doesn''t prove anything." He let that sit for a moment before adding: sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "But if anyone still thinks we don''t belong at this level, they weren''t watching tonight." Another journalist, this time from Sky Sports, leaned forward. "You''ve already won the League One title, and now, the EFL Cup. Some people are calling this one of the greatest lower-league seasons in English football history. How do you respond to that?" Jake glanced at the trophy beside him, then back at the reporters. "I''d say it''s a good start." The room burst into laughter. The questions kept coming. "Does this win change your plans for next season?" "What do you say to the fans who''ve waited their whole lives for this?" "What''s next for Jake Wilson?" But the one that lingered in Jake''s mind, the one that stuck with him as he left the podium and walked back toward the celebrations, was something much simpler. A single question from a reporter at the very back of the room. "Jake, when you arrived at Bradford, did you ever imagine nights like this?" Jake stopped, turned back to the room, and smirked. "Not in my wildest dreams." Media & Fan Caf¨¦ Reaction ¨C A Club Transformed Bradford City had done the impossible, and the world was watching. The headlines were everywhere. "Bradford''s Fairytale ¨C From League One to European Football in One Season!" ¨C BBC Sport "Jake Wilson: The Manager Who Defied the Odds!" ¨C The Athletic "Wembley Belongs to Bradford ¨C A New Era Begins!" ¨C Sky Sports "The Man Who Rewrote History ¨C Jake Wilson''s Legacy Starts Now!" ¨C The Guardian "From the Depths of League One to the Bright Lights of Europe ¨C The Rise of Bradford City!" ¨C ESPN "Jake Wilson: Mastermind, Miracle Worker, or Both?" ¨C Daily Mail Reporters analyzed every moment, every decision, every tactical shift that led to this moment. Clips of Jake''s press conference went viral¡ªhis smirk when asked about Europe, his calm response to questions about Bradford''s readiness, his refusal to call this the peak of their journey. The footballing world wasn''t just celebrating Bradford''s win. They were taking them seriously. The Fan Caf¨¦ ¨C A City in Shock & Celebration The Bradford fan caf¨¦ was packed, even hours after the final whistle. No one wanted to go home. People were rewatching highlights, still trying to believe it had really happened. A group of older fans sat in the corner, one of them shaking his head in disbelief. "We''ve waited over a century for this moment." Another fan, barely able to contain his excitement, kept refreshing his phone. "We''re actually in Europe next season. Bloody Europe!" A younger fan, wearing a Bradford scarf, slammed his fist on the table. "Jake Wilson is a god!" Others laughed, but no one disagreed. "I don''t care what happens next season. I don''t care if we finish bottom of the Championship. I don''t care if we get battered in Europe. We''re here, and it''s because of him." Someone else chimed in. "Wilson''s bigger than Clough now. What he''s done in one year¡ªno one''s ever done before." A woman near the front shook her head. "You lot are acting like he''s gonna stay forever. He''s too good. The big clubs will come knocking." A silence fell over the group. They didn''t want to think about that. Jake Wilson had changed everything. Bradford weren''t a small club anymore. They weren''t a League One afterthought, fighting for scraps. They were cup winners. They were playing in Europe next season. The world knew their name now. Bradford had arrived. Jake''s Mind ¨C A Victory That Changed Everything But as the celebrations raged on, as his players lifted the trophy again and again, as the fans sang his name into the night¡ªJake felt something creeping in. Something he had buried under all the chaos of the past month. His memory flickered back to that night. That drunken night at home. The words he barely remembered saying to Emma. "I died. I reincarnated. I''m not him." Jake''s chest tightened. She had been distant since then. He had noticed, but he had been too caught up in football to question it. Now, it hit him like a sledgehammer. She hadn''t spoken about it. Hadn''t asked him. Hadn''t confronted him. But she had changed. And now, he understood why. She had heard the words. She had been thinking about them ever since. And the worst part? Jake had no idea what she was thinking. Did she believe him? Did she think he was insane? Was she planning to leave? For the first time since he had lifted the trophy, a cold feeling settled in his stomach. What if this victory changed everything? Not just for the club. But for him. Final Thoughts ¨C Bradford''s New Reality March had been the month of validation. They had secured the league. They had lifted the cup. They had become European qualifiers. Bradford City was no longer a club dreaming about breaking through. They had arrived. And yet, as the celebrations faded and the noise of Wembley turned into the quiet hum of a car engine on the ride home, Jake couldn''t shake a feeling. This was just the beginning. His phone buzzed. Jake blinked at the screen, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted, running on adrenaline and whatever alcohol was still left in his system. The message was from the club secretary. "Meeting tomorrow morning with the new owner. Congratulations on the win." Jake sat up. New owner? He scrolled up, rereading the words. So they really sold the club. It had been rumored for months. The chairman had been entertaining offers, but nothing had been made official. Until now. Jake let out a slow breath. A new owner meant new ambitions, new expectations¡­ new problems. He hadn''t even had time to process what came next for Bradford in Europe. Now he had to deal with an ownership change? What did this mean for him? Did the new owner see him as the man to lead Bradford forward? Or was this the moment they tried to bring in their own manager? His thoughts were still racing when another notification popped up. This time, it was from his agent. "Dortmund and Lyon have both made informal inquiries about your availability. Will discuss more tomorrow." Jake exhaled. So this was what a win could do to you. Not even a full day had passed since he lifted the EFL Cup, and already, the vultures were circling. He had expected interest to come eventually. But Dortmund? Lyon? These weren''t small clubs. These were teams playing at the highest level, competing in the Champions League, fighting for trophies every year. The kind of clubs that offered a manager everything. Resources. Facilities. A chance to compete on the biggest stage. Bradford were heading to Europe¡ªbut it was the Conference League. Dortmund and Lyon were already at the level Bradford hoped to reach one day. Jake leaned back against the headrest, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. Everything had changed in 24 hours. Tomorrow, he would walk into a meeting with a new owner. Tomorrow, he would have to decide what his next step would be. Would he stay and build Bradford into something even greater? Or was this the moment he walked away? Chapter 135 - 135: The Truth, A New Era & Jake’s Decision Morning Headlines & Fan Reactions Jake woke up to the insistent buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. His head was still heavy with sleep, and for a moment, he considered ignoring it. But the vibration didn''t stop. With a groggy sigh, he rolled over, squinting at the bright screen. 68 notifications. His first thought was that something had happened overnight¡ªmaybe another football scandal, maybe one of his players had said something reckless online. Then, his eyes caught the headlines plastered across his feed. "Bradford City Sold to Billionaire Timothy Rollins!""New Era Begins ¨C Will Jake Wilson Stay?""One of the World''s Richest Men Takes Over Bradford ¨C Premier League Project Incoming?" Jake sat up instantly, rubbing a hand over his face. His heartbeat quickened as he scrolled through article after article. So it''s official. Bradford had a new owner. Timothy Rollins. A billionaire. A name Jake had barely heard before. Jake exhaled sharply, already anticipating the chaos that would follow. The media would go wild, the speculation about his future would be non-stop, and most importantly¡ªthe fans would have their say. Curious, he opened the Bradford Fan Caf¨¦, the online forum where the most die-hard supporters gathered. "We HAVE to keep Jake. I don''t care who owns us now¡ªhe''s the one who made this club what it is." "Rollins is worth billions. If he backs Jake, we could be in the Premier League in two years!" Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "New ownership usually means a new manager¡­ I don''t like this." "I swear, if they sack Jake, we riot." Some fans were ecstatic, seeing this as the beginning of a new golden era for the club. Others were cautious, fearing that big money could change the identity of their beloved team. And then there were the worried ones¡ªthose who knew that new ownership often meant new management. Jake sighed and locked his phone. None of that mattered right now. He had something more important to deal with. The Truth Comes Out Jake found Emma in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in her hands. She barely glanced up when he entered. She had been distant since that night. Since his drunken confession. Jake pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, thick with unspoken words. He had always been good at talking¡ªrallying his players, handling press conferences, controlling dressing rooms filled with egos. But this? This was different. Jake exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts before finally speaking. "What you heard that night¡­ it was true." Emma''s fingers tensed around her coffee mug. Jake swallowed. "I''m not really Jake Wilson. I died. I reincarnated. I didn''t know how to tell you, because¡ªI didn''t want to lose this." He gestured around them. The house. The life they had built together. Her. "I didn''t want to lose you." Emma didn''t speak. For a terrifying moment, Jake thought she was going to stand up and walk away. Then she finally lifted her eyes to his. "It doesn''t matter who you were." Jake blinked. Emma''s expression was unreadable, but there was no hesitation in her voice. "You''re Jake now. You care about me and the kids. That''s all that matters." Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave. She wasn''t leaving. She wasn''t scared. She had accepted him. Jake didn''t even realize he had been holding his breath until he let it out. "Thank you," he murmured, reaching across the table for her hand. Emma hesitated for half a second before finally taking it, squeezing gently. A silent reassurance. Jake didn''t need any more words. For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt fully at peace. The Meeting with the New Owners By the time Jake arrived at the Bradford training ground, he had already prepared himself for whatever was coming. He had been in football long enough to know that new ownership could mean anything. Some owners were hands-off, letting the manager work in peace. Others were impatient, expecting instant results and throwing money at problems. And then there were the ones who came in with their own vision, their own plans¡ªsometimes that included keeping the manager, and sometimes it didn''t. Jake had no idea which category Timothy Rollins would fall into. As he stepped into the conference room, he finally got his first real look at the billionaire who now owned Bradford City. Rollins was in his early fifties, dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit that probably cost more than some League One transfer budgets. His hair was slicked back, his eyes sharp and assessing. He wasn''t the type of man who wasted words. The handshake was firm. Confident. "Congratulations, Jake," Rollins said, motioning for him to take a seat. "You''ve done something remarkable with this club. A League One title. The EFL Cup. European football. You''ve put Bradford on the map." Jake simply nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Meetings like this were all about control. Wait. Listen. See what they want. Rollins leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "We''re not here to tear everything down," he continued. "We''re here to build on what you''ve already created." At that moment, the large screen behind Rollins flickered to life. Bradford City ¨C Future Vision The screen displayed a detailed presentation: New training facilities ¨C state-of-the-art equipment, better recovery areas, world-class sports science labs. Potential stadium expansion ¨C discussions about increasing Valley Parade''s capacity, making room for more fans. Youth academy upgrades ¨C better coaching, more scouting networks, a plan to develop homegrown talents. Premier League Goal ¨C Three Years ¨C clear, ambitious, but achievable with the right backing. Rollins gestured toward the screen. "This is what we''re building. A long-term project. And we want you to be the man to take this club forward." Jake sat still, absorbing it all. Then, without another word, a document was placed in front of him. A new four-year contract. ¡ê65,000 per week. Performance-based bonuses. Full backing in transfer plans. Jake exhaled slowly. He could leave. If he wanted, he could reject this contract and walk into another job tomorrow. He had already seen the offers¡ªDortmund and Lyon wanted him. With his resume, bigger clubs would come knocking in the future. But deep down, he already knew the answer. Bradford wasn''t just a job anymore. It was his club. His project. His home. He picked up the pen. The moment the ink dried, Rollins grinned. "Welcome to the new era, Jake." The Decision That Shocked Everyone Later that night, Jake''s phone rang. He already knew who it was before he even glanced at the screen. Gilbert Larson. His agent. The man who had been pushing him for years to take the next step in his career. Jake exhaled before answering. "Gilbert." "You mind explaining what the hell you just did?" Jake smirked. "Good to hear from you too." "I''m serious, Jake," Larson''s voice was sharp. "You just signed a four-year contract with Bradford when Dortmund and Lyon were making you better offers. Bigger clubs. Bigger wages. European football. Why?" Jake leaned back against the couch, rubbing his temple. "Because I''m staying." "That''s not an answer," Larson snapped. "Look, I get loyalty. I do. But Dortmund, Jake. Dortmund. They''re in the Champions League. They wanted you. Lyon is a historic club, a stepping stone to something even bigger. You could''ve gone to either and set yourself up for the next ten years." Jake let out a breath. He wasn''t mad. He knew Larson meant well¡ªthis was his job, after all. "Gil, listen," Jake said, his voice calm but firm. "We''re building something here. Bradford isn''t just another job for me. It''s a project. A future. I''ve taken this club from League One to European football in two years. I''m not walking away now." Larson was silent for a few seconds. Then, he let out a low chuckle. "You really love that club, don''t you?" Jake smiled. "Yeah. I do." Larson sighed on the other end. "Alright. I won''t push. But don''t think clubs like Dortmund and Lyon will come knocking forever. This was your shot at the big time." Jake''s smile didn''t fade. "Who says Bradford isn''t the big time?" An hour later, the headlines were everywhere. "Jake Wilson Rejects European Giants ¨C Commits Future to Bradford!""New Contract Signed ¨C Wilson to Lead Bradford into a New Era!" The fan caf¨¦ exploded. "HE''S STAYING! HE''S STAYING! OUR GOAT IS STAYING!" "Jake Wilson is HIM. Dortmund and Lyon offered him a way out, and he said NO. This guy is a LEGEND." "Bradford in Europe. Jake Wilson leading us. This is actually happening." Jake put his phone down. Bradford had a new owner. He had a new contract. And the journey was far from over. Chapter 136 - 136: April 2025: LEAGUE DOMINATION April 5 ¨C Stockport County (A) The long season had begun to take its toll. Fatigue crept into the squad, but with only a handful of games left, there was no room for complacency. Jake knew the importance of keeping his squad fresh, so he rotated heavily. Okafor remained in goal, but the defense saw changes¡ªBianchi partnered Fletcher at center-back, while Richards and Hart covered the full-back roles. In midfield, Lowe and Chapman were tasked with controlling the tempo, giving Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez a rare rest. Up front, Mensah and Walsh occupied the wings, with Costa and Novak leading the attack. Despite sitting mid-table, Stockport started aggressively, pressing high and forcing Bradford to play quicker than they wanted. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed. He had expected this. Stockport had nothing to lose. But Bradford had Novak. Just eight minutes in, V¨¦lez, ever reliable even when coming off the bench, intercepted a careless pass in midfield. With a quick turn, he sent Mensah sprinting down the right flank. The Ghanaian winger burned past his marker, lifting his head before delivering a sharp, low cross into the box. Novak arrived on cue. One touch. One powerful strike drilled into the bottom corner. 1-0 Bradford. The away fans erupted in celebration, chanting Novak''s name. Jake allowed himself a small nod of approval. Business as usual. But Stockport weren''t rolling over. For most of the first half, Bradford controlled possession without much trouble, moving the ball well despite the changes in personnel. But just before halftime, a mistake crept in. Hart hesitated on a clearance, allowing Stockport''s forward to press him. Fletcher stepped in to cover, but his positioning was off¡ªsuddenly, there was a gap in Bradford''s backline. Stockport''s striker took full advantage, slipping in behind. Okafor rushed out, trying to close the angle, but the finish was too precise¡ªslotted low past his outstretched hand. 1-1. Jake clenched his jaw as the home fans roared. Too easy. His players knew it too. As they walked toward the dressing room, no one spoke. Halftime ¨C Jake Sends a Message Inside the dressing room, Jake paced in front of his squad. "You want to cruise to the end of the season?" His voice was calm, but the frustration was clear. "Because Stockport isn''t letting you." Novak wiped sweat from his face, Costa looked down at his boots, and the defenders sat with straight backs, knowing they had switched off. Jake let the silence stretch before finally adding, "Fix it." And in the second half, they did. Fifteen minutes into the second half, Bradford shifted gears. They pressed higher, moved the ball quicker, and pinned Stockport back in their own half. Then, in the 60th minute, the moment arrived. A poor clearance from a Stockport defender fell straight to Ib¨¢?ez, 30 yards from goal. He didn''t hesitate. One touch to set himself. Then¡ªa rocket. The ball exploded off his boot, swerving through the air before slamming into the top corner. The stadium fell silent¡ªexcept for the away fans, who erupted in sheer chaos. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 2-1 Bradford. Jake didn''t even celebrate. Just a nod. That''s more like it. Stockport refused to go down without a fight. They pushed numbers forward, desperately looking for another equalizer. But that only left them vulnerable. And Bradford knew how to punish teams on the break. In the 85th minute, Chapman won the ball in midfield and played a quick pass to V¨¦lez. V¨¦lez, always aware, spotted Costa making a diagonal run behind the last defender. A perfect through ball sent Costa one-on-one with the keeper. The Brazilian didn''t rush. One look. One calm finish into the far post. 3-1. Game over. Costa slid on his knees in front of the traveling fans, arms outstretched. The final whistle blew moments later. Another Win ¨C The March Toward the Championship Continues Bradford hadn''t been perfect. They had struggled at times. But they had found a way. And as Jake walked off the pitch, he knew one thing. They were unstoppable April 9 ¨C Shrewsbury Town (H) ¨C Back at Valley Parade, Jake made some changes, bringing in Silva, V¨¦lez, and Novak to the starting lineup. From the opening whistle, Bradford smothered Shrewsbury with relentless pressing. The breakthrough came in the 12th minute. V¨¦lez surged through midfield, drawing defenders before slipping a disguised pass to Silva. The Brazilian didn''t hesitate. A quick cut inside. A curling shot from outside the box. 1-0. Shrewsbury barely had time to recover before they conceded again. 24th minute ¨C Free kick. Silva stood over the ball, adjusting his stance before striking it with precision. The ball curled over the wall and dipped perfectly into the top corner. 2-0. The crowd erupted. The fans knew¡ªBradford were in complete control. Before halftime, Novak added a third. V¨¦lez''s corner delivery was met with a towering header from Barnes. The keeper saved it, but Novak pounced on the rebound. 3-0. The second half was more of the same. Ib¨¢?ez continued dictating the tempo, pulling the strings effortlessly. In the 74th minute, Bianchi rose above everyone to meet a corner, powering a header past the keeper to make it four. A 4-0 masterclass. As Jake walked off the pitch, he caught a glimpse of the league table on the stadium''s big screen. Wrexham is already second and two teams have qualified for playoff.. The media had started whispering¡ªhad it not been for that one loss, Bradford would''ve gone Invincible. But Jake didn''t care about that. They had another game to win. April 14 ¨C Portsmouth (A) Portsmouth had a point to prove. They were still fighting for a playoff spot, and they needed a win more than ever. For the first time in weeks, Bradford were put on the back foot. Portsmouth pressed aggressively, forcing early mistakes. But then, in the 22nd minute, Bradford''s quality shone through. A quick transition from defense to attack saw Silva playing a delicate through ball to Costa. The Brazilian timed his run perfectly, took one touch, and slotted it past the onrushing keeper. 1-0 Bradford. Portsmouth, to their credit, fought back. They equalized in the 50th minute from a corner, their striker rising above Min-jae to head it into the net. For the first time in a long time, Jake''s team looked under pressure. The home crowd roared as Portsmouth pushed for a second. But Bradford didn''t crack. With ten minutes left, V¨¦lez picked up the ball deep in midfield. A quick turn. A driving run. A perfectly timed pass into the feet of Richter. The German forward took one touch and drilled a low shot into the bottom corner. 2-1. Jake exhaled, finally allowing himself to breathe as his team saw out the final minutes. It wasn''t dominant. It wasn''t pretty. But it was another win. April 19 ¨C Huddersfield Town (H) ¨C Huddersfield came to Valley Parade with one objective¡ªdefend. They weren''t interested in playing open football. From the first whistle, they dropped deep, forming two compact lines, cutting off passing lanes, and refusing to give Bradford any space. Jake, anticipating this, had rotated his squad to keep legs fresh for the final stretch of the season. Jack Simmons started in goal, giving Okafor a rest. Bianchi partnered Fletcher at center-back, allowing Barnes and Min-jae a breather. Chapman and Lowe controlled midfield, offering stability in place of Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez. Walsh and Silva occupied the wings, with Costa leading the line up front. Despite controlling possession, Bradford struggled to break through. Huddersfield''s shape was disciplined, their defenders throwing themselves in front of every shot. First Half ¨C Bradford dominated the first 45 minutes. Silva and Walsh stretched the defense, trying to drag players out of position, but Huddersfield refused to bite. In the 22nd minute, Walsh cut inside and unleashed a powerful strike¡ªblocked. 33rd minute¡ªCosta dropped deep, turned, and sent a through ball toward Silva. The winger fired low toward the near post, but the Huddersfield keeper got down quickly. Jake paced the touchline. Huddersfield weren''t playing to win. They were playing to survive. Just before halftime, Chapman nearly found the breakthrough with a curling shot from distance, but it whistled inches wide. As the whistle blew for the break, the frustration inside Valley Parade was palpable. Second Half ¨C Jake made adjustments. He pushed Silva and Walsh higher, instructing them to stay wider to stretch the defense. The second half mirrored the first¡ªattack after attack, but no goal. In the 57th minute, Walsh connected with a long cross from Rojas, directing a header on target¡ªsaved. 63rd minute¡ªa golden chance. Lowe intercepted a loose pass, drove forward, and slipped a ball into Costa inside the box. The striker turned and shot¡ªblocked again. Time was running out. Jake glanced at the clock. Seventy minutes gone. Then, in the 78th minute, finally, the moment arrived. 78th Minute ¨C Silva, frustrated all game, finally found a sliver of space on the right wing. Huddersfield had dropped too deep. They were too focused on defending the center. Silva took advantage. A quick burst of pace¡ªhe was gone. He surged down the flank, lifted his head, and fired a low, driven cross into the box. Novak, who had just been subbed on for Costa, timed his run to perfection. A simple tap-in. 1-0. Valley Parade erupted. Jake let out a deep breath on the touchline. Huddersfield had no time to respond. Bradford held firm, recycling possession and keeping the visitors pinned in their own half until the final whistle blew. The Final Whistle ¨C Huddersfield had frustrated them. They had pushed them to the limit. But Bradford found a way. Another game. Another win. The unstoppable march toward the Championship continued. April 26 ¨C Cambridge United (A) ¨C Ending the Month in Style The final game of April was more than just another win. It was a statement. With the league title already secured, Jake made several rotations to keep his key players fresh. Jack Simmons started in goal, giving Okafor a well-earned rest. Bianchi and Fletcher formed the center-back pairing, while Lewis Hart slotted in at left-back. Daniel Lowe returned to the starting lineup, offering experience in midfield alongside Chapman. Walsh and Rasmussen were given rare starts in attack, with Costa leading the line. Even with these changes, Bradford didn''t slow down. From the first whistle, it was one-way traffic. First Half ¨C Total Control It took just 11 minutes for Bradford to break the deadlock. Chapman intercepted a weak clearance and fed Walsh down the right. The young winger cut inside, drew a defender, and slipped a pass to Mensah, who had drifted centrally. One touch. A low, driven shot. The ball zipped past the keeper into the bottom corner. 1-0 Bradford. Cambridge barely had time to regroup before Bradford struck again. 20th minute ¨C Rasmussen''s brilliance. Ib¨¢?ez, dictating the game from deep, picked out Rasmussen with a long diagonal switch. The Danish winger controlled it effortlessly, played a quick one-two with V¨¦lez, then curled a stunning shot into the top corner. 2-0 Bradford. Jake smirked on the touchline. His rotated squad was playing like title winners. Cambridge struggled to create anything. Every attempted attack was shut down by Bianchi and Fletcher, while Lowe broke up play in midfield. Before halftime, Bradford made it three. 38th minute ¨C Barnes from a set-piece. Chapman''s in-swinging corner found Barnes towering at the back post. The captain outjumped his marker and powered a header past the helpless goalkeeper. 3-0 Bradford. Jake barely reacted. The job wasn''t done yet. Second Half ¨C Finishing the Job Cambridge tried to step up their aggression, but it only left them vulnerable. Bradford''s midfield, led by Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez, toyed with the opposition, controlling possession and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. 70th minute ¨C V¨¦lez''s rocket. After another failed Cambridge clearance, the ball fell to V¨¦lez 25 yards out. Jake saw it before it even happened. The Colombian took one touch to set himself¡ªthen unleashed an absolute thunderbolt. The ball rocketed into the top corner. The Cambridge keeper barely moved. 4-0 Bradford. By now, it was cruise control. Jake made his final substitutions, bringing on Ib¨¢?ez and Silva for a standing ovation. But there was still one more goal to come. 90+1st minute ¨C Silva to Costa. Silva, fresh off the bench, sprinted down the left, leaving his marker behind. He looked up. Costa had peeled away from his defender. A perfect cross. Costa met it with a clinical first-time finish. 5-0 Bradford. The Final Whistle ¨C A Record-Breaking Seasonthe final whistle blewA Season for the History Books 117 points. EFL Cup champions. European football secured. The traveling Bradford fans refused to leave the stadium. They chanted, sang, and celebrated deep into the night. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching as his players took in the moment. Mensah had his arms around Silva, both grinning from ear to ear. V¨¦lez was leading chants with the away supporters. Barnes, the captain, lifted his fists in the air, basking in the glory. This wasn''t just another win. It was a declaration. Bradford wasn''t just a promoted club. They weren''t just a cup-winning underdog. They were a force. Media & Fan Reactions ¨C The League One Takeover The headlines were instant. "Bradford City''s Record-Breaking Season ¨C A Legacy Begins" ¨C BBC Sport "117 Points. A Cup. A European Spot. Jake Wilson''s Revolution is Here." ¨C The Athletic "From League One to European Nights ¨C What''s Next for Bradford?" ¨C Sky Sports And in the fan caf¨¦s, the celebrations continued. "We''ve actually done it. This isn''t a dream. 117 POINTS. WE ARE A JOKE OF A TEAM." "Next season? Championship title. Straight to the Prem. BOOK IT." "Jake Wilson is HIM. This is the greatest season in our history." Jake wasn''t one to dwell on success for too long. But as he looked around the pitch, at his players, at the fans¡­ He allowed himself one moment. A slow breath. A small smile. They had built something special. And this? This was just the beginning. Chapter 137 - 137: Who Is the New Chairman? A Mysterious Rise to Power Timothy Rollins was not a conventional billionaire. His wealth did not come from old money or a powerful family name. He hadn''t inherited a vast fortune or been groomed for success from childhood. No¡ªhe had built everything from nothing. His rise through the brutal world of business wasn''t luck. It wasn''t just intelligence or ambition. It was something else. An unnatural ability to predict market trends. A superhuman instinct for making the right moves. A flawless record of investments that never failed. No one could explain it. Journalists speculated. Rivals whispered. Economists called him a genius, while conspiracy theorists called him something else entirely. Because no one¡ªnot even the most brilliant minds in finance¡ªhad ever been as consistently right as Timothy Rollins. Some said he had inside information. Others believed he had a secret team working behind the scenes. A few even joked that he could see the future. But if they knew the real story? If they knew what had happened to him that night in 2000? They wouldn''t be laughing. They wouldn''t believe it. The Night That Changed Everything In the year 2000, Timothy Rollins was nothing. At 24, he had sacrificed everything for his business idea¡ªa revolutionary concept that could have changed an entire industry. He had spent years perfecting the details, gathering investors, and mapping out the future. Then, his closest friend betrayed him. The man he trusted most stole his idea and sold it to a major corporation. Overnight, Rollins went from being on the verge of success to being utterly destroyed. His savings? Gone. His reputation? Ruined. His future? Shattered. He spent months drowning in despair, consumed by bitterness. With no way out, he made a final decision¡ªone he thought would be his last. On a cold December night, he stood on the edge of a bridge, staring into the dark waters below. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. And then¡ª DING! A glowing screen appeared before him. SYSTEM ACTIVATED: TYCOON MODE You Know What To Do Next, Right? Rollins stumbled back, nearly falling off the bridge¡ªnot from jumping, but from pure shock. He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. The screen remained. "What the hell...?" he muttered. Lines of text filled the interface, instructions flashing before his eyes. You have been chosen for the Tycoon System. Your path to wealth, power, and influence begins now. Follow the system''s guidance, and you will rise. Ignore it, and you will fall. A final message blinked. First Task: Regain Control of Your Life. Your Next Move Will Define Everything. Rollins'' hands trembled. He had lost everything. He had nothing left. But now¡ª Now, he had a chance. That was the night Timothy Rollins stopped being a failure. That was the night he was reborn. From that night on, Timothy Rollins was no longer just a man¡ªhe was something else. The Tycoon System became his silent mentor, guiding him through a world where ordinary people saw only risk, but he saw opportunity. It didn''t hand him success. It didn''t give him unlimited wealth. It simply showed him possibilities¡ªand the consequences that came with them. Whenever the system proposed a move, it displayed two things: Projected Gains ¨C The wealth, power, or influence he would gain from the decision.Projected Consequences ¨C The price he would pay, whether financial, personal, or even ethical. The choices were never easy. 2003 ¨C The First Real Test Rollins had been grinding, following the system''s advice to make smart, calculated investments. He wasn''t rich yet, but he had rebuilt his life. Then the system gave him his first major opportunity. DING! Investment Opportunity Detected Company: TechNova (Emerging Software Firm) Projected Gain: ¡ê5.4 Million in 3 Years Projected Consequence: Founder Declares Bankruptcy Rollins hesitated. The system had always been right before. If it said TechNova was going to blow up, then it was going to blow up. But at what cost? The founder of TechNova¡ªa brilliant but struggling entrepreneur¡ªwas going to lose everything. Rollins stared at the screen for what felt like hours. Then, finally, he accepted. Three years later, he cashed out for ¡ê6.2 million¡ªeven more than the system projected. And the TechNova founder? Bankrupt. His company bought out by a larger firm. He disappeared from the industry entirely. Rollins didn''t sleep that night. 2008 ¨C The Price of Power By now, he was wealthy. He had built a reputation. Then the system offered him something bigger. DING! Corporate Takeover Opportunity Company: Redwood Logistics Projected Gain: Dominance in the UK Transport Sector Projected Consequence: Two Major Lawsuits & Public Scandal Rollins laughed bitterly. Of course. It was never just success¡ªit was always a trade-off. He followed the system''s guidance, acquiring Redwood Logistics through aggressive business moves. The lawsuits came, just like the system warned. A scandal followed¡ªaccusations of underhanded tactics, political maneuvering, and ruthless buyouts. But by the time the dust settled? Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Rollins was one of the most powerful businessmen in the country. The system never lied. 2025 ¨C Buying Bradford City Even after decades of success, Rollins still didn''t fully understand the system. Was it some kind of AI? Was it fate? Was it something else entirely? All he knew was that it never stopped. One night, as he reviewed his business empire, the system made its latest move. DING! New Investment Opportunity Entity: Bradford City Football Club Projected Gain: ¡êXXX Million Over 10 Years & Global Expansion Potential Projected Consequence: ??? For the first time in years, the system didn''t list a clear downside. Just question marks. That never happened. Rollins'' pulse quickened. He had learned to never ignore the system''s suggestions. And so, without hesitation¡ªhe bought the club. What he didn''t know? What Timothy Rollins didn''t know was that he wasn''t the only one with a system. Across Bradford, another man had one¡ªJake Wilson. But their systems were nothing alike. Jake''s system was built for football. It functioned as a tactical assistant, a scouting tool, and an in-game strategist. It helped him find hidden talents, make the right substitutions, and exploit weaknesses on the pitch. Rollins'' system? It was something far bigger. His system was a business oracle¡ªa tool that gave him foresight into financial futures. It predicted market trends, high-risk investments, and long-term business moves. It wasn''t about winning a game. It was about winning life itself. Jake''s system helped him win matches. Rollins'' system helped him win industries. For now, their paths were aligned. For now, they had the same goal¡ªturning Bradford City into a football powerhouse. But what if that changed? What if their ambitions clashed? What if, one day, Rollins'' system told him something Jake wouldn''t accept? Two men. Two systems. Two different definitions of winning. If that day ever came¡­ Things could get very interesting. Chapter 138 - 138: The Final Match of the Season (May 3rd, 2025) The rain came down in a steady drizzle over Valley Parade. Cold, persistent, and soaking into the already-worn grass. The floodlights reflected off the slick surface, casting long shadows across the pitch. The stands were nearly full despite the miserable weather¡ªBradford fans had suffered all season, but they weren''t about to miss this. This was the final game. A season of battles, struggles, and narrow victories had led to this moment. The squad had changed. The tactics had evolved. And now, the club had one last ninety minutes to close the chapter on League One. Jake Wilson stood on the touchline, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, watching as his players took their positions. He had rotated the squad heavily¡ªseveral first-team regulars were on the bench. Burton Albion had nothing to play for. Mid-table. Safe. No pressure. Bradford? They had already secured promotion, but Jake didn''t want complacency. He wanted a strong finish. A message to the rest of the league. The whistle blew. First Half ¨C A Shaky Start Burton came out with more energy than expected. No urgency, no stress, but still playing sharp, controlled football. Bradford, on the other hand, looked a little off the pace. Passes were a second too late. Defensive shape wasn''t tight enough. In the 14th minute, a simple through-ball caught Marco Bianchi out of position. Burton''s striker took a touch, set himself, and buried the shot low past Emeka Okafor. 0-1. Jake exhaled slowly, shaking his head. He knew this would happen. Rotation was necessary, but it came with risks. Players like Bianchi and Lewis Hart were still adjusting to the system. He glanced at the bench. His starters sat there, unreadable expressions. Let''s see if the backups could fight back. Bradford responded with more control in possession, passing the ball around, probing for weaknesses. Santiago V¨¦lez and Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez were the only ones showing any real urgency in midfield. V¨¦lez, in particular, was everywhere¡ªpressing high, winning second balls, driving forward. In the 32nd minute, he played a quick one-two with Leo Rasmussen on the edge of the box, breaking through Burton''s backline. He feinted past a defender, shifted onto his right foot, and curled a shot into the top corner. 1-1. Jake barely reacted, just a small nod. Good finish. Burton weren''t rattled, though. They continued to pass calmly, waiting for gaps. And in the 44th minute, they found one. A switch of play caught James Richards too high up the pitch. Burton''s winger burst past him, whipped in a dangerous cross, and Bradford''s defense was caught ball-watching. A simple tap-in at the back post. 1-2. Halftime. Halftime ¨C No Fireworks, Just Instructions The dressing room was quiet. No shouting, no anger. Jake didn''t do emotional halftime speeches. He stood near the tactics board, scanning their faces. Some looked frustrated. Others just tired. "You all know why we''re losing," Jake said, voice calm. "So fix it." A few glances exchanged. No excuses, no complaints. "Stop hesitating in the press," he continued. "They''re passing through us because you''re reacting instead of anticipating. Stay compact, keep your spacing right." He turned to Rasmussen and Mensah. "When we win the ball, don''t slow it down. Burton don''t care about this game. They''ll lose focus. Exploit that." S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A pause. Then, he turned to the bench. "Novak, Barnes, Silva. Get ready. You''re coming on." If the backups couldn''t take control, the starters would. Second Half ¨C Control and Ruthlessness From the first whistle, Bradford played like a different team. The press was sharper. The transitions were faster. Burton, who had enjoyed a comfortable first half, suddenly found themselves under siege. In the 58th minute, Renan Silva twisted past his marker on the right flank, drove into the box, and squared it to Tobias Richter. One touch. Shot. Goal. 2-2. Momentum shifted entirely. Burton started making mistakes¡ªloose passes, late tackles, poor clearances. Bradford smelled blood. Jake didn''t need to say anything from the touchline. His players could feel it. In the 74th minute, Lukas Novak received the ball at the edge of the box. Two defenders on him. He took one touch, spun, and fired a rocket into the bottom corner. 3-2. Valley Parade erupted. Jake just exhaled. The final fifteen minutes were controlled. No unnecessary risks, no last-minute drama. Bradford managed the game like a team that belonged at the top of the table. Final whistle. Post-Match ¨C A Quiet Finish The players celebrated, but not wildly. This wasn''t a last-gasp survival win. It was just another step forward. Jake shook hands with the Burton manager, exchanged a few words, then turned to his staff. "Send the squad recovery schedule tonight. I want everyone in for review meetings this week." Paul Roberts grinned. "No celebrations?" Jake smirked slightly. "We''ll celebrate when we lift the League One trophy." As the players walked off the pitch, Jake lingered a moment, watching the fans. They had gone through hell this season. Now, they were watching a team that looked ready for the next level. He adjusted his coat and walked toward the tunnel. There was still work to do. Post-Match Press Conference The media room was packed. Reporters from local and national outlets filled the seats, cameras set up, microphones waiting. The energy was different today¡ªnot the usual tension or skepticism, but curiosity. Bradford City had just finished their season as champions. The club was heading to the Championship, and Jake Wilson¡ªonce an unknown manager¡ªhad become the architect of their rise. Jake walked in, expression unreadable as always, and took his seat at the podium. Paul Roberts stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching. The club''s media officer gave him a nod. "Alright, first question." A journalist from Football Weekly leaned forward. "Jake, a 3-2 win to close out the season. How do you reflect on the performance?" Jake adjusted the microphone. "It was a good way to end the season. We rotated the squad, gave opportunities, and even though it wasn''t perfect, the players showed character to come back and win." Another reporter raised their hand. "Did you expect Wigan to push you that hard?" Jake''s lips twitched slightly. "I expect every team to push us hard. That''s football. No one gives you anything for free." A chuckle from the room. The next question came quickly. "You''ve taken Bradford from League One to the Championship in a short period. What does this promotion mean for the club?" Jake leaned forward slightly. "It means the hard work starts now. The Championship is a different level. If we don''t improve, we''ll struggle. This squad has done something special, but we''re not satisfied." The room buzzed at that. He wasn''t celebrating¡ªhe was already looking ahead. A journalist from Sky Sports spoke up. "You say improvement is needed. Does that mean big changes in the squad?" Jake didn''t hesitate. "Yes." Silence for a second. Then, a follow-up. "Can you elaborate?" Jake exhaled. "Some players won''t be part of the squad next season. That''s just reality. If we want to compete in the Championship, we have to evolve. Sentimentality won''t keep us up." The directness made the room shift slightly. They weren''t used to managers speaking like this. A local journalist from The Bradford Gazette raised his hand. "The fans love this squad. Some players are club legends. Are you worried about backlash if you let key players go?" Jake''s expression remained unreadable. "Fans want to win. That''s what I''m focused on." No hesitation. No apologies. Another reporter jumped in. "Speaking of changes, there are rumors of interest from other clubs in players like Lukas Novak and Renan Silva. Can you confirm if offers are on the table?" Jake''s fingers tapped the table once before he spoke. "When you have good players, clubs will always be interested. But we''ll decide what''s best for the team." No confirmation. No denial. Just control. The press officer glanced at her watch. "Two more questions." A reporter from BBC Sport spoke. "Jake, this season, you''ve gone from an unknown manager to someone being talked about nationally. Does it feel like a personal victory?" Jake''s jaw tensed slightly. He thought for a moment before answering. "This isn''t about me. It''s about the club. About the players who fought for every point. I just did my job." A careful answer. But anyone watching closely could see it¡ªthe way his eyes flickered, the way his fingers curled slightly. This wasn''t just a job to him. The final question came from a journalist in the back. "Next season, new league, bigger challenges. What''s the goal?" Jake leaned into the microphone. "To win." Simple. Direct. No room for doubt. The press officer nodded. "That''s all for today." Jake stood, gave a small nod to the room, and walked out. Behind him, the reporters were already typing. Because whether they loved him or hated him¡ª Jake Wilson had just made it clear. Bradford City weren''t just here to survive. They were coming to win. Chapter 139 - 139: The System’s End-of-Season Report May 6th, 2025 The soft hum of rain against the window was the first thing Jake noticed when he woke up. The steady drumming against the glass, rhythmic and unrelenting. The sky outside was a dull grey, streaked with faint morning light trying to break through. The second thing he noticed was the faint glow of his laptop screen, still open on his desk. Transfer notes, tactical assessments, and financial projections were scattered across the wooden surface, a half-empty coffee cup resting precariously on the edge. He exhaled, running a hand down his face. His neck ached from sleeping in the chair again. Third time this week. Jake reached for his phone, blinking at the time. 6:42 AM. Too early to be awake, too late to go back to sleep. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the screen, his brain still foggy. Then, a familiar sound cut through the quiet. [Ding! End-of-Season Review Available.] Jake''s brow furrowed slightly as a small blue notification flickered in his vision. This was new. The system had given him match breakdowns before, tactical suggestions, and mid-season evaluations. But this? A full season review? That had never happened before. He sat up properly, rolling his shoulders as he swiped the notification open. [Processing End-of-Season Performance Data¡­] The screen filled with detailed reports, columns of stats and player assessments loading rapidly in front of him. The sheer amount of information was overwhelming¡ªsquad performances, financial breakdowns, tactical effectiveness, future projections. This wasn''t just a report. This was a full audit of everything he had done this season. Jake''s eyes scanned the first section. [Season Overview] Competition: EFL League One Final Position: ???? 1st ¨C Champions (Promotion Secured) Points: 120 Goals Scored: 141 (1st highest in the league) Goals Conceded: 39 (2nd best defense) Top Goal Scorer: Lukas Novak (29 goals) Most Assists: Renan Silva (15 assists) Most Clean Sheets: Emeka Okafor (16) Additional Achievements: Qualified for UEFA Conference League (via domestic performance) Longest Unbeaten Run: 25 Games Lowest Number of Losses in League One (1) Jake leaned back slightly, processing the numbers. The stats confirmed what he already knew¡ªBradford had been efficient, not dominant. They weren''t the highest scorers, nor the flashiest team, but they were disciplined, ruthless in key moments, and nearly impossible to break down. And that''s what had won them the league. His eyes drifted lower as the next section loaded. [Manager Performance Evaluation] Final Grade: A- Key Success Factors: +3 Points for securing UEFA Conference League qualification.+2 Points for winning the League One title.+1 Point for exceeding the board''s financial expectations.-1 Point for early FA Cup elimination. Verdict: "Your tactical efficiency and adaptability secured promotion. However, the Conference League will demand more. The goal is no longer survival¡ª" "The aim is the Premier League." Jake exhaled sharply. It wasn''t a suggestion. It was a directive. For a moment, he let the words settle. The Conference league wasn''t just a step up¡ªit was a different battlefield altogether. Bigger clubs, better squads, stronger tactics. Bradford had punched above their weight this season. Next year? There would be no surprises. He shook his head and scrolled down. Squad Evaluation ¨C Performance Ratings A detailed breakdown appeared in front of Jake, each player''s season impact graded based on performance, consistency, and contribution. He skimmed past the depth players¡ªthose who barely featured weren''t his concern. This was about who could survive in the Confrence league. Key Players ¨C Essential for Next Season Player Position Rating (10) Notes & Areas for Improvement Renan Silva RW 9.2 The team''s most creative outlet. Deadly in one-on-one situations. Needs to improve his defensive tracking. Lukas Novak ST 9.0 Top scorer in the league. A poacher with a ruthless edge. Needs to work on hold-up play to adapt to Championship defenders. Nathan Barnes CB 8.7 Defensive leader, dominant in aerial duels. A warrior at the back. Slight lack of pace could be exposed in the Championship. Santiago V¨¦lez CM 8.4 Tireless box-to-box midfielder. High energy, covers ground well. Needs to refine positional discipline in high-pressure games. Ethan Walsh LW/RW 8.3 sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The best young talent in the squad. Explosive but still raw. Must improve decision-making in the final third. Tobias Richter ST 7.0 The best young talent in the squad. Explosive but still raw. Must improve decision-making in the final third. Player Position Rating (10) Notes & Areas for Improvement Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez CM 7.9 Deep-lying playmaker, elite passer. Needs to improve defensive work rate. Leo Rasmussen LW/RW 7.7 Direct, aggressive, and a real threat in transition. Needs more consistency in crossing accuracy. Guilherme Costa ST 7.5 Quick, instinctive finisher but can disappear in big games. Needs to work on link-up play. Raphael Mensah RW 7.4 Impactful off the bench but struggles with positional awareness when starting. Aiden Taylor LB 7.3 Solid defensively but offers little going forward. Needs to be more comfortable in attack. James Richards RB 7.1 High stamina, great crossing. Defensive lapses are an issue. Reliable Starters ¨C Solid but Must Step Up Fringe Players ¨C Must Prove Themselves Player Position Rating (10) Notes & Areas for Improvement Marco Bianchi CB 6.8 Young and promising but inconsistent. Needs to work on positioning. Lewis Hart LB/CB 6.5 Versatile but not Championship quality yet. Likely a squad player. Daniel Lowe CDM 6.3 Has leadership, but lacks mobility at higher levels. Julian Rojas RB 6.1 Returning from loan. Technically gifted but lightweight for English football. Players to Sell ¨C Player Position Rating (10) Reason for Sale Diego Castell¨®n LW/ST 5.5 Injury-prone, unreliable, not progressing. Elliot Harper CM 5.3 Hard worker, but not Championship level. Jack Simmons GK 5.0 Backup keeper but too limited in distribution. Final Verdict from the SystemConference league-Ready: Silva, Novak, Barnes, V¨¦lez, Walsh, FletcherNeeds Improvement: Rasmussen, Ib¨¢?ez, Costa, Mensah.Not Good Enough: Castell¨®n, Harper, Simmons. Jake exhaled, tapping his fingers against the desk. He already knew most of this. But the reality was clear¡ªBradford would need reinforcements. The Conference league wasn''t a league for passengers. Players who weren''t good enough had to go. This summer was going to be ruthless. Players to Keep ¨C Core Squad for the UEFA Conference League (New Contracts Recommended) Jake scrolled through the system''s season review, eyes moving down the list of squad evaluations. These were the players who had carried Bradford through the season, the ones who stepped up when it mattered most. They weren''t just important¡ªthey were essential. And if Bradford had any hope of competing in Europe next season, these players needed to stay. Renan Silva ¨C 5-Year Contract Bradford''s best playmaker. The difference-maker in the final third. Whether it was breaking through tight defenses, delivering pinpoint crosses, or scoring crucial goals, Silva had been at the heart of everything good this season. He had racked up 15 goals and 15 assists, proving he could dominate at League One level. His next challenge? Doing it in Europe. The system recommended an improved contract to secure him for the long term. Silva was already attracting interest from Championship clubs, and losing him now would set the team back massively. Lukas Novak ¨C 4-Year Contract with Higher Wages A lethal finisher. The league''s top scorer with 29 goals and 5 assists. He had carried Bradford''s attack, turning half-chances into goals with a striker''s instinct. But now, the real battle began¡ªkeeping him. Bigger clubs were circling. Championship teams had already sent feelers. A few sides in France and Germany had even inquired about his availability. The system suggested a new deal with a wage increase to fend off interest, at least for one more season. Ethan Walsh ¨C 5-Year Contract Extension Young, quick, and unpredictable. Walsh had stepped up in key moments, delivering 7 goals and 9 assists in his breakthrough season. The system projected him as a future star, but he was still raw, inconsistent at times, and needed more experience. A long-term contract would keep him tied to the club while he developed. He wasn''t ready for a move yet, but in two or three years? If his progress continued, bigger teams would come knocking. Nathan Barnes ¨C 4-Year Contract The defensive leader. 41 starts, 12 clean sheets. A warrior at the back, dominant in aerial duels, and a natural leader on the pitch. Barnes had held the backline together through the toughest moments of the season. His lack of pace had been exposed at times, but his positional sense and reading of the game made up for it. The system had no doubts¡ªhe was irreplaceable for the immediate future. A long-term deal was necessary. Noah Fletcher ¨C 4-Year Contract A defender who had grown massively over the season. Physically dominant, aggressive in the tackle, and improving every game. Fletcher had started the season as a rotation option but ended it as a key piece of the squad. The Championship would be a different challenge. Faster, smarter strikers. Teams that would expose mistakes. But the system believed Fletcher had the potential to adapt. A three-year contract would ensure Bradford had a solid center-back pairing for the next phase of their journey. Jake exhaled, locking the recommendations in place. This was the foundation. The players who had fought for him this season. The ones who would lead the club into Europe. Later that night, Jake sat at his desk, the only light in the room coming from his laptop screen. The system''s end-of-season report was done, the contract renewals locked in, but he wasn''t tired enough to sleep. Instead, he did what he always did after a long season¡ªscrolled through football news, scanning for transfer rumors, managerial changes, and anything that might hint at what next season would look like. Most of it was the usual post-season noise. Big clubs linked with even bigger names. Managers sacked. Players demanding moves. But then, something caught his eye. "Louie Harrell Leads Strasbourg to 5th in Ligue 1." Jake clicked the article without thinking. Strasbourg was one of the teams Bradford could face in the Conference League next season. It made sense to see how they were doing. He skimmed through the first few paragraphs. Strasbourg had been tipped for relegation at the start of the season¡ªone of the weakest squads in the league, no major signings, expected to struggle. But then, they brought in Louie Harrell, a manager with no prior top-flight experience, no notable playing career. And somehow, he had transformed them. They didn''t just survive¡ªthey thrived. A fifth-place finish. European qualification. A tactical approach that stunned bigger clubs. Jake stared at the words for a moment, then moved on. He scrolled through more headlines, clicking aimlessly through transfer speculation, scanning the latest scores from international friendlies. Then, on instinct, he typed a name into the search bar. Carter. A few seconds later, the latest Monaco match report loaded. Ethan Carter ¨C 18 goals this season. Jake exhaled through his nose. Carter was doing exactly what he had expected. He had always been too good for League One. Monaco had given him a bigger stage, and he had taken full advantage. Jake leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He shut his laptop. The season was over. Bradford was going up. And pre-season was coming. Chapter 140 - 140: A Birthday Celebration & Pre-Season Plans The sound of boots against wet grass filled the air as players returned to the training ground, their voices carrying across the pitch. Some moved sluggishly, still shaking off the last days of vacation, while others looked eager to get going, stretching out their limbs and passing the ball between them. Jake stood near the touchline, hands in his pockets, watching. He had seen this routine before¡ªpre-season always started the same way. Some players returned sharper than others. A few had gained weight. Others had put in the work during the break. Either way, by the end of today, they''d all be running again. But before any of that, something was off. There was a subtle shift in the group. A strange energy, as if they were all in on something he wasn''t aware of. Jake narrowed his eyes slightly as Nathan Barnes jogged toward him with a suspicious grin. Then, out of nowhere¡ª "Gaffer!" Barnes clapped his hands together, signaling something. A moment later, Renan Silva appeared from behind him, carrying a cake, candles flickering as the wind threatened to snuff them out. Jake blinked. The rest of the squad burst into a loud, messy version of "Happy Birthday." Barnes spread his arms dramatically. "Told them we couldn''t just let you ignore it." sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You do realize we have training, right?" "Five minutes won''t kill us," Silva smirked. "Unless you''re scared of cake." The players laughed as Jake eyed the cake. Chocolate, thick frosting, heavier than it had any right to be. Someone had clearly gone all out. Ethan Walsh grinned. "We were gonna get you candles shaped like a trophy, but we thought that''d be too much." Jake shot him a dry look. "Lucky for you." Barnes gestured toward the cake. "Come on, boss. Make a wish." Jake shook his head but leaned forward anyway. The candles flickered as he blew them out in one quick breath. The players cheered like they had just won a match. It was a brief moment, a small distraction before the real work began. But even as they moved on, stretching and preparing for drills, Jake noticed something else. Emma was standing near the edge of the pitch, watching. Emma carried Ariel in her arms while his son, Ethan, stood beside her, hands stuffed into his hoodie. They were smiling. For the first time in weeks, there was no tension in Emma''s expression, no unspoken question lingering between them. She just looked¡­ happy. Jake''s chest tightened slightly. Then, like always, football pulled him back. "Alright," he called out. "Enough standing around. Let''s get to work." Laughter faded. Boots hit the grass. The real season started now. Later That Day ¨C Meeting the Owner The boardroom carried the faint scent of polished wood and leather, mixed with the sharper notes of expensive cologne. The walls were lined with framed photos of Bradford''s past glories, though most of them were black-and-white, reminders of a time when the club had been more than just another lower-league team fighting for survival. Jake sat across from Timothy Rollins, the club''s new owner, a man who radiated control. His suit was immaculate, the kind of tailored perfection that suggested he didn''t just own a football club¡ªhe owned the room. Everything about him was measured, from the way he tapped his fingers against the table to the way he studied Jake with the quiet confidence of someone who had seen men like him come and go. Rollins finally spoke, his voice even. "So, let me get this straight. You want to take on some of the biggest clubs in the world before we''ve even kicked a ball in the Championship?" Jake met his gaze without hesitation. "Pre-season isn''t just about getting fit. It''s about setting a standard. If we go in unprepared, we''ll get exposed. We need to be ready for anything." Rollins smirked slightly, as if amused. "And you think playing Real Madrid is the best way to prepare?" Jake didn''t blink. "I do." He pushed forward a document detailing the plan. Bradford wasn''t going to spend pre-season coasting through meaningless friendlies against League One and League Two sides. They were going to test themselves against real opposition¡ªteams that would stretch them, force them to think faster, play sharper, survive at a higher level. The proposed friendlies were: Santos (Brazil) ¨C A chance to face a fast, technically gifted South American side.Inter Miami (USA) ¨C A team built on attacking flair, capable of pulling apart defenses.Real Madrid (Spain) ¨C One of the best in the world. The highest level of competition they could face.Paris Saint-Germain (France) ¨C A brutal test against elite players. Rollins skimmed through the document, fingers tapping against the paper. "Ambitious." Jake stayed silent. He wasn''t asking for permission. Rollins leaned back in his chair. "If we pull this off, it''ll put Bradford on the map." Jake already knew that. These weren''t just pre-season matches. They were a message. Bradford wasn''t coming into the Championship just to make up the numbers. They were coming to be noticed. The owner exhaled through his nose, closing the folder. "Alright. I''ll help set it up." Jake gave a small nod. "Good." But Rollins wasn''t done. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression unreadable. "You do realize these matches aren''t just about football, right?" Jake tilted his head slightly. "Go on." Rollins smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "This is about building the brand. Bigger audiences. Bigger sponsorships. If we''re seen on the same pitch as Madrid and PSG, it changes how people look at us. That''s the real game here." Jake exhaled slowly. He had expected this. Football had always been two things¡ªsport and business. Some owners leaned toward one more than the other. Rollins had made it clear where his priorities lay. It didn''t matter. Because Jake planned on winning in both. Fan Caf¨¦ ¨C A City That Cared By the time Jake left the training ground, the messages had already started flooding in. The Bradford Fan Caf¨¦, the club''s largest online forum, was usually a place of heated debates, transfer rumors, and the occasional meltdown after a bad result. But today, the mood was different. The homepage had been completely hijacked. A banner at the top read: "Happy Birthday, Boss! Here''s to another historic season!" Jake clicked through the posts, scrolling past thread after thread of fans leaving their own messages. Some were heartfelt. Others were just an excuse to sneak in a joke. REDVALLEY1911: Happy birthday, gaffer. Best thing to ever happen to this club. Enjoy your day (unless you''re working, which we all know you probably are). BRADFORDLAD77: Cheers, boss. Hope the squad got you something decent. Maybe a proper goal-scoring winger as a present? WILSONWIZARD: Happy birthday, Jake! First League One, now the EFL Cup. What''s next? Conference League glory? VETERANBANTAM: I''ve supported this club for 40 years. I''ve seen promotions, relegations, and everything in between. But this is the first time I''ve believed we''re actually building something special. Thank you. Jake exhaled through his nose. He hadn''t logged in to this forum in a while¡ªmostly because reading through matchday reactions was a guaranteed way to lose brain cells¡ªbut tonight, it felt different. These weren''t just birthday wishes. This was appreciation. Somewhere in the middle of all the posts, a poll had been started. "Best Jake Wilson Moment So Far?" The top comments had a few predictable choices: Winning League OneBeating Tottenham in the EFL Cup FinalSigning NovakTelling off that journalist who doubted us Then there was a newer one: Just being here. Best thing to happen to this club. Jake stared at the screen for a moment before shaking his head. He knew better than to get caught up in praise. Football changed fast¡ªwin today, and you''re a genius. Lose tomorrow, and you''re a fraud. But still. He couldn''t help but let out a small smirk. The fans were with him. And if he had anything to say about it, this season would give them even more to celebrate. He shut his laptop, stretched his arms, and checked the time. Tomorrow, pre-season started. And there was work to do. Final Thoughts ¨C The Season Begins Later that night, the house was quiet. The kind of quiet that only came after a long, exhausting day. Jake sat in his home office, the dim glow of his laptop casting shadows across the walls. A few hours ago, he had been surrounded by family¡ªEmma, Ethan, and baby Ariel, who was barely a few months old and still adjusting to the world. The evening had been simple. A quiet dinner. A few gifts. Laughter. Emma had made sure he actually enjoyed his birthday, even if Jake was never the kind to make a big deal out of it. He had spent most of the night holding Ariel, her tiny fingers curling against his palm, her soft breathing a reminder of how much his life had changed. But now, as the rest of the house slept, he was back where he always ended up. Work. His laptop screen displayed scouting reports, contract renewals, and tactical outlines for the upcoming season. The room smelled of coffee, and the only sound was the faint tapping of his fingers against the keyboard. Then, a soft cry. Jake turned his head. Ariel. Her nursery was just down the hall, and through the baby monitor on his desk, he could hear her shifting in her crib. Not a full cry¡ªjust the restless movement of a newborn adjusting in her sleep. He exhaled slowly. For a moment, he just listened. Then, as she settled again, he turned back to his screen. [Ding! System Update ¨C Transfer Market Analysis Ready.] Jake leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders. The season hadn''t even started yet. But his mind was already three steps ahead. Bradford was going up. And he''d make sure the whole world knew it. Chapter 141 - 141: Transfers & Tough Decisions Jake leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he stared at the system''s latest recommendations. His office was quiet, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the laptop cooling fan. A cup of coffee sat untouched on his desk, long gone cold. Three names were displayed on the screen. Roney Bardghji. Matthew Cox. Reece Holloway. Jake exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. Bardghji was no surprise. The Swedish winger was already one of the most highly-rated young prospects in Europe. Quick, technical, and fearless in one-on-one situations, he had the ability to change a game in an instant. If Bradford somehow pulled off this signing, he''d instantly elevate their attack. But that was the problem¡ªpulling it off. Bardghji was being tracked by top clubs across England, Spain, and Germany. Manchester United had been linked with him. Borussia Dortmund had made contact. Even AC Milan had reportedly sent scouts to watch him play. So how was Jake supposed to convince him to join a newly promoted Championship side? Money? Out of the question. Bradford couldn''t compete financially. Prestige? They didn''t have that either. The only thing Jake had to offer was trust and playing time. At a big club, Bardghji would spend years on the bench, waiting for opportunities. At Bradford, he could walk in and start every week, becoming the face of an ambitious, up-and-coming team. It wasn''t much. But maybe, just maybe, it was enough. Jake''s eyes moved down the list. Matthew Cox. The 18-year-old English goalkeeper was a different type of signing. Tall, composed, and already showing glimpses of a future Premier League-level shot-stopper. He wasn''t ready to be a first-choice keeper yet, but Bradford needed depth in goal. Okafor was the clear No.1. He had proved himself last season. But beyond him? There wasn''t much. Jake liked the idea of signing Cox and letting him develop. Give him cup games, train him under Okafor, and in a few years, he could be their future No.1. Then there was Reece Holloway. A young right-back from England. Not a household name. No media hype. But if the system flagged him, there had to be something special about him. Jake tapped his fingers against the desk. Holloway was the unknown factor. While Bardghji and Cox had clear potential, Holloway was a wildcard. Would he be a future star? Or just another Championship-level talent? Jake wasn''t going to take the system''s word for it. He needed more information. Just as he was about to check Holloway''s scouting reports, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. Michael Stone. Jake sighed and picked up the phone. Whatever this was, it wasn''t going to be good news. the screen lighting up with a notification. Michael Stone: Chelsea just submitted an official bid for Lukas Novak. We need to talk. Jake exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple before picking up the phone. He read the message twice, then set it back down without replying. Chelsea. He had known this was coming. It had been inevitable. Novak had been too good last season¡ª29 goals, 5 assists, match-winners, moments of brilliance. He had carried Bradford when they needed him most. He wasn''t just a striker; he was the heart of their attack. And now the big clubs had noticed. Jake leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing through the consequences. Selling Novak would bring in a massive amount of money. Enough to fund multiple signings¡ªmaybe even all three of the targets sitting on his screen. Roney Bardghji. His transfer fee wouldn''t be cheap. He was a generational talent, and if Bradford had any chance of signing him, they needed financial muscle. Matthew Cox. A promising goalkeeper. Not a priority, but a long-term investment. Reece Holloway. A left-back flagged by the system, though Jake still needed more information. Selling Novak could transform the squad. Depth. Talent. Future-proofing. But it would also leave a gaping hole up front. A team built around Novak''s goals suddenly¡­ without him? Could they afford to lose him? Jake stared at the desk, his thoughts tangled between logic and instinct. He had always been a manager who made ruthless decisions when necessary. But this one? This wasn''t just about money. His phone vibrated again. Another text from Michael. Michael Stone: Let me know when you''re free. Also, do you want me to put Castell¨®n, Harper, and Simmons on the market? Jake blinked, momentarily pulled from the Novak dilemma. Right. The sales. Diego Castell¨®n. A winger who had failed to make an impact. Too inconsistent. Always injured. Wolves, Lille, and Wolfsburg had already shown interest. Elliot Harper. A midfielder who worked hard but wasn''t Championship quality. There was no space for him anymore. Jack Simmons. A backup goalkeeper who never progressed beyond a solid second choice. Okafor was the undisputed No.1, and if Bradford were bringing in a new young keeper, Simmons would be surplus to requirements. They needed to go. Jake grabbed his phone and typed back a quick reply. Jake: Yes, list them. Also, assign scouts to Cox and Holloway. I want reports ASAP. Michael: Got it. I''ll get the offers moving. Jake placed the phone down, exhaling. It didn''t take long. Barely an hour after Michael Stone put the players on the market, Jake''s phone buzzed with a series of notifications. Wolves, Lille, and Wolfsburg had all submitted ¡ê3M bids for Diego Castell¨®n. No surprise there¡ªdespite his inconsistency, his raw talent was still enough to attract buyers from top leagues. The injury history made him a risk, but at 23, clubs still believed they could revive his career. Elliot Harper had received minimal interest¡ªonly one Championship club had inquired. Not surprising. Hard-working, decent stamina, but limited technically. A squad player at best. Bradford had outgrown him. Jack Simmons, on the other hand, had drawn little attention. The market for second-choice goalkeepers was always slow. Clubs wanted either an elite starter or a cheap veteran backup¡ªSimmons was stuck in between. Bradford''s search for a young keeper meant he was now expendable, but finding a buyer wouldn''t be easy. Jake leaned back, tapping his fingers against the desk. No movement on Harper or Simmons yet. Castell¨®n would likely be gone soon, but the other two? That would take more work. He exhaled, running a hand down his face. Pre-season hadn''t even started yet. And the transfer window was already turning into a war. Headlines & Fan Caf¨¦ ¨C A Club on Edge Jake barely had time to process the transfer offers before his phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn''t from Michael Stone. It was from the media. A notification popped up from one of the major football outlets, followed by another¡­ and another. The headlines hit him like a hammer. "Novak May Leave Bradford for Chelsea" ¨C Sky Sports "Chelsea Submits Major Bid for Lukas Novak" ¨C BBC Sport "Bradford City''s Star Striker Set for Stamford Bridge?" ¨C The Athletic Jake exhaled sharply, setting his phone down. So, the news had leaked. He wasn''t surprised. A bid from Chelsea for a striker as lethal as Novak was always going to make headlines. Now, the speculation would start. The reporters, the analysts, the endless debates. But nothing¡ªabsolutely nothing¡ªspread faster than fan reactions. Within minutes, the Bradford Fan Caf¨¦ had erupted into chaos. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Fan Caf¨¦ ¨C The Divide Begins The club''s biggest online forum, usually buzzing with transfer gossip and tactical discussions, had turned into a battlefield. The top post on the homepage had already gathered hundreds of comments. "NO. WE CAN''T SELL NOVAK." ¨C posted by CityTillIDie The responses were immediate. BantamLegend: This is a disaster. We can''t replace 29 goals. If we sell him, we might as well give up now. WilsonMagic: If Novak leaves, we''re finishing mid-table. Simple as that. ForeverBradford: There is no one else like him. I don''t care how much Chelsea is offering. Just say no, Jake. But not everyone agreed. RealistBantam: 30 million? 40 million? You know what we can do with that? Reinforce every weak spot in the squad. Football isn''t about emotions¡ªit''s about business. TransferGuru77: We can''t stop him if he wants to go. Take the money and find a replacement. BradfordScout: We need a winger, a midfielder, and a young keeper. If Novak''s sale funds all that, maybe it''s the right move. The argument raged on. Some fans wanted to keep Novak at all costs. Others were already listing potential replacements. Some were in denial. Others were bracing for the inevitable. Jake scrolled through the chaos, his expression unreadable. This wasn''t just a transfer. It was a decision that would define Bradford''s season. And it was all on him. Chapter 142 - 142: Transfers, Goodbyes & Club Expansion The transfer window was in full swing, and Jake barely had a moment to breathe. Sitting in his office, he stared at the squad list on his laptop, scanning over the names of the players who had been put up for sale. Diego Castell¨®n, Jack Simmons, Elliot Harper. Three players who no longer fit into Bradford''s future, and now, it was time to move them on. His phone buzzed. Michael Stone. Jake picked up immediately. "Tell me you''ve got something." Stone didn''t waste time. "Wolfsburg is pushing hard for Castell¨®n. They''ve matched the ¡ê3M offers from Lille and Wolves, but their contract proposal is the best. Looks like that''s where he''s headed." Jake nodded to himself. Castell¨®n had been a frustrating player¡ªflashes of brilliance ruined by injuries and inconsistency. A move to the Bundesliga could be the fresh start he needed. "Take it. Get it finalized." "Already in motion." Stone continued. "Burnley is wrapping up the Simmons deal. ¡ê2M, no add-ons. Not a bad price for a backup keeper." Jake leaned back, exhaling. Simmons had been reliable, but he was never going to push Okafor for the No.1 spot. Bringing in a younger keeper with more potential was the right move. "Good. What about Harper?" There was a pause. Then, Stone sighed. "Only one serious offer¡ªPreston. ¡ê700K. I pushed for more, but that''s the best they''ll go." Jake drummed his fingers against the desk. Harper wasn''t a bad player¡ªjust not good enough for where Bradford was headed. Hanging on to him for a better offer wasn''t worth it. "Accept it," Jake said finally. "Get them all done as soon as possible." "Consider it done." With that, three more players were off the books. Now, it was time to bring new faces in. The Transfer Targets Jake switched to another tab on his laptop¡ªthe list of players Michael Stone was tasked with signing. Roney Bardghji (FC Copenhagen) ¨C The promising Swedish winger who had the potential to become a star.Matthew Cox (Manchester United Academy) ¨C A talented young goalkeeper who could develop into a top-level shot-stopper.Reece Holloway (Arsenal Academy) ¨C A developing right-back with solid defensive awareness. Jake didn''t need reminding that these were ambitious targets. Bardghji, in particular, was being chased by clubs across Europe. Bradford wasn''t the biggest name in the race. If they were going to sign him, it wouldn''t be because of money or prestige¡ªit would be because they could offer him something no other club could. Jake rubbed his temple, deep in thought. Could they actually convince him? His phone buzzed again. Another message from Stone. Michael: Bardghji''s agent is open to talks. Setting up a meeting now. Jake''s lips pressed into a thin line. This was their chance. Novak''s Future ¨C The ¡ê35M Question Jake barely had time to process the Bardghji situation before his phone screen lit up again. Another message from Michael Stone. Michael: Chelsea just submitted an official bid for Novak. Let''s talk. Jake exhaled slowly, pushing his chair back. It was happening. He had known this moment was coming¡ªNovak was too good to stay. 29 goals last season. The best striker in League One. The big clubs had noticed. And now, Chelsea had made their move. Jake grabbed his phone and dialed immediately. "Tell me the number," he said, skipping the small talk. Stone didn''t hesitate. "¡ê30M, up front. No bonuses." Jake barely thought about it. "Push it to ¡ê35M." Stone let out a short chuckle. "You sure? That''s a big ask." "He''s worth it," Jake said firmly. "If they want him, they pay the full price." Stone didn''t argue. He knew the game. Chelsea had come in expecting to set the terms, but this wasn''t some desperate League One club begging for a payday. Bradford had leverage. And if Chelsea wanted Novak, they were going to pay every penny. The next day, Michael Stone sat in a call with Chelsea''s representatives. The video feed showed James Collins, one of Chelsea''s senior negotiators, along with Novak''s agent, Daniel Marek. Collins was the first to speak. "We''re prepared to offer ¡ê30M. Full payment upfront. It''s a strong deal." Stone leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "It''s a good start. But Novak isn''t leaving for anything less than ¡ê35M." Marek, the agent, adjusted his tie. "Michael, let''s be reasonable. This is a huge step up for Novak, and Chelsea is giving you a fair price." Stone didn''t even blink. "We both know what kind of player he is. 29 goals. He carried our attack. You want him? ¡ê35M." Collins sighed. "That''s steep." Stone shrugged. "Then look somewhere else." A brief silence. Marek frowned. "Chelsea isn''t used to negotiating like this with Championship clubs." Stone smirked. "We''re not a normal Championship club." The pressure shifted. Chelsea had thought this would be a routine signing¡ªswoop in, name a price, close the deal. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But now, they had to decide¡ªwas Novak worth the fight? Collins adjusted his glasses. "We''ll need to discuss with our board." Stone leaned back. "Take your time. Just know that if another club matches our valuation first, Chelsea misses out." That hit home. The meeting ended. For three days, nothing. Chelsea hesitated. They countered. They offered ¡ê32M. Then ¡ê33M. Each time, Stone gave them the same answer. "¡ê35M or no deal." Meanwhile, Novak''s agent was working both sides. Marek called Stone the night before Chelsea''s final decision. "You''re pushing them hard." Stone didn''t flinch. "Because we know what we have." Marek sighed. "Novak wants the move. He''s ready for this step. Don''t let negotiations kill this." Stone ran a hand over his face. "Daniel, if Chelsea wants him, they pay full price. That''s it." Marek went quiet. Then, he let out a small chuckle. "You really won''t budge, huh?" Stone smiled. "Not an inch." The next morning, the call finally came. Collins, the Chelsea representative, sounded resigned. "Alright. ¡ê35M. No add-ons. No clauses. Full cash payment." Stone allowed himself a small grin. Bradford had won the negotiation. A few days later, the paperwork was finalized. Novak signed the contract. Bradford City had just completed their biggest-ever transfer sale. The Media Frenzy ¨C The moment Novak''s deal was announced, the headlines exploded. "NOVAK JOINS CHELSEA FOR ¡ê35M!" ¨C Sky Sports "BRADFORD CASHES IN ON STAR STRIKER." ¨C BBC Sport "HOW WILL WILSON REPLACE HIS GOAL MACHINE?" ¨C The Athletic Everyone had an opinion. Some called it a brilliant deal. Others questioned whether Bradford had just sold their best chance of survival. But nowhere was the reaction louder than on the Bradford Fan Caf¨¦. Fan Caf¨¦ ¨C As expected, the Fan Caf¨¦ was split into two camps. Some fans were furious. CityTillIDie: We''re finished. There is NO replacing Novak. BantamLegend: Why did we sell our best player? This could ruin us. ForeverBantam: We better have a plan, or this season is over before it starts. Others were more optimistic. RealistBantam: ¡ê35M? That money can transform this squad. Let''s see what Jake does. BradfordScout: We have to trust Jake. He''s gotten us this far. WilsonMagic: If this money gets us Bardghji and another striker, then maybe it was the right move. Everyone had a take. But one thing was certain¡ªBradford''s first star was gone. And Jake needed to figure out what came next. A Goodbye That Meant Something Novak didn''t leave quietly. The night before his departure, he knocked on Jake''s office door. Jake glanced up from his laptop. "Shouldn''t you be celebrating?" Novak smirked. "Not my style, coach." He stepped inside, his expression serious. "I just wanted to say thank you." Jake sat back, studying him. "For what?" Novak exhaled. "For everything. When I signed, I wasn''t sure about this club. I wasn''t sure about you." He paused, shaking his head. "But you turned me into the player I am today." Jake held his gaze. "You did that yourself." Novak smiled. "Maybe. But I wouldn''t have gotten here without you." He extended a hand. Jake took it. A firm shake. A mutual respect. "Good luck out there." Novak nodded. "You too, boss." Then he was gone. A Meeting That Changed Everything Two days later, Jake sat in the chairman''s office, arms crossed as he listened to Timothy Rollins lean back in his leather chair. The chairman''s expression was unreadable, but there was something measured about the way he spoke. "You''ve done well this window," Rollins admitted. "The board is impressed." Jake didn''t react. He had been in enough meetings like this to know when a statement was leading somewhere. Rollins wasn''t the type to waste words. Sure enough, the chairman exhaled, tapping his fingers lightly against the desk. "We''ve decided to expand the backroom staff budget. You can hire five new coaches and two additional scouts." Jake''s eyebrows twitched slightly. Now that was interesting. More staff meant more expertise. More people who could analyze, train, and push the squad to another level. This wasn''t just a minor change¡ªit was a step toward professionalizing the club''s entire structure. "Any restrictions?" Jake asked, already thinking ahead. Rollins shook his head. "I don''t care where you get them from. Championship experience, foreign leagues¡ªjust get the best." Jake nodded slowly. That was real trust. "Anything else?" he asked. Rollins smirked, leaning forward slightly. "Pre-season is finalized. All games will be played at home in Bradford. We want to build momentum with the fans before the season starts." Jake nodded again. It made sense. Pre-season wasn''t just about fitness¡ªit was about making a statement. Playing against Messi, Neymar, Mbapp¨¦, and the biggest clubs in the world? That wasn''t just preparation. That was proof. Bradford wasn''t a small club anymore. Jake tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair, mind already racing. Coaches. Scouts. The squad. The tactics. Every decision mattered. Every move had to be calculated. Because this wasn''t about surviving in the Championship. This was about building something that lasted. And Jake wasn''t here to waste time. Fan Caf¨¦ ¨C The Fixtures Drop A few hours later, Bradford City''s social media team posted the official pre-season fixtures, and within minutes, the internet was on fire. Supporters flooded the club''s official accounts, liking, sharing, and commenting at a rapid pace. The sheer magnitude of the announcement had caught everyone off guard. Bradford wasn''t just playing any teams. They were stepping onto the pitch against some of the biggest names in world football. Pre-Season Fixtures Announced Bradford vs Inter Miami ¨C Featuring Lionel Messi.Bradford vs Santos ¨C Showcasing Neymar.Bradford vs Real Madrid ¨C Highlighting Kylian Mbapp¨¦.Bradford vs Paris Saint-Germain ¨C A test against European giants. It didn''t take long before the Bradford Fan Caf¨¦ went into meltdown. ForeverBantam: "WE''RE PLAYING MESSI. WE''RE PLAYING MBAPP¨¦. WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" BantamLegend: "This is insane. The whole world is going to be watching us." WilsonMagic: "If we even get a draw in one of these games, I''ll lose my mind." YoungGaffer10: "Imagine Silva going up against Messi. This is unreal." RealistBantam: "Let''s be real. We''re probably getting smashed. But who cares? This is the biggest thing that''s ever happened to us." TacticalWizard: "Forget the results. This is a chance to show the world what we''re building." BradfordScout: "Messi. Neymar. Mbapp¨¦. Against us. If you told me this would happen two years ago, I''d have laughed in your face." The reactions ranged from shock to excitement, from optimism to sheer disbelief. For years, Bradford had been a lower-league club, fighting for scraps. Now, they were stepping into the global spotlight. Even the media had picked up on the announcement. "Newly Promoted Bradford City to Face Global Superstars in Pre-Season" ¨C BBC Sport "Jake Wilson''s Side Set for Blockbuster Friendlies" ¨C Sky Sports "From League One to Taking on the World ¨C Bradford''s Meteoric Rise" ¨C ESPN Sitting in his office, Jake scrolled through the reactions, smirking. Let them talk. Let them doubt. Because when the season started, Bradford City would be ready. Chapter 143 - 143: Hiring & The Final Week of June Jake sat in his office, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating the room. The night had stretched longer than expected, but there was still work to be done. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling before pulling up the system. "Show me available staff and scouts." A second later, a list appeared, neatly categorized. Three goalkeeping coaches. One attacking coach. One defensive coach. Three scouts. Jake''s eyes moved down the list, analyzing the profiles. The system wasn''t just throwing names at him¡ªit was filtering the best available options that matched his philosophy. His phone vibrated, but he ignored it. He was locked in now. First, the coaches. He needed people who wouldn''t just fill a position but actually improve the squad. The goalkeeping department was the biggest priority¡ªOkafor had been outstanding, but if Bradford wanted to compete in Europe, he needed specialists working with him. Then, attacking and defensive coaches. It wasn''t enough to have good players. The structure had to be in place. And finally, the scouts. If Bradford was going to survive at the top level, their recruitment had to be elite. They couldn''t outspend the big clubs, but they could outsmart them. Jake clicked through each name, marking his top choices. He wasn''t leaving this to chance. The Meeting with Timothy Rollins The next morning, Jake walked into the boardroom, where Timothy Rollins was already waiting. The chairman sat with a coffee in front of him, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Early start?" Rollins said, glancing at the time. Jake sat down. "No time to waste." Rollins gave a small smirk before nodding. "Alright. Let''s hear it." Jake pulled up his notes. "I''ve shortlisted staff and scouts. We''ll need to move quickly before other clubs pick them up." Rollins sipped his coffee, then gestured for him to continue. Jake laid out the plan¡ªthe three goalkeeping coaches to work with Okafor and the new signing, the attacking coach to sharpen their finishing, and the defensive coach to bring more structure. Then, he moved on to the scouts. "We''re going to need a strong recruitment team," Jake said. "These three have a track record of spotting talent before the big clubs get involved." Rollins leaned forward slightly. "And you think they''ll come?" Jake met his gaze. "If we move fast." The chairman exhaled, drumming his fingers against the desk. "Fine. You have full control. Get it done." Jake didn''t waste time. He shook Rollins'' hand, left the office, and immediately began making calls. The Meeting with the New Staff After the meeting with the chairman,, Jake sat in his office, a cup of black coffee in front of him, as Michael Stone placed a folder on his desk. "All interested," Stone said, tapping the file. "Three goalkeeping coaches, one attacking coach, one defensive coach, and three scouts. Now it''s just about closing the deals." Jake nodded, rolling up his sleeves. Time to build something real. The Goalkeeping Department ¨C The first call was to Paul Harrington, an experienced Premier League-level goalkeeping coach known for his meticulous approach. The screen flickered as Harrington''s face appeared. "Jake," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I hear you need a keeper specialist." Jake got straight to the point. "We''re building for the future. Okafor''s our No.1, and we''ve just signed Cox. They need someone who can push them¡ªnot just keep them sharp, but make them better." Harrington nodded. "I like Okafor''s reflexes. Cox is raw but talented. You let me shape them properly, and we''ll have something special." Jake glanced at Michael Stone, who gave a subtle nod. "Three-year deal," Jake offered. "Full control over goalkeeper development." Harrington smirked. "Sounds good to me." Next up was Thomas Meier, a highly regarded German goalkeeping analyst and coach who had spent years working with Bundesliga clubs. Unlike Paul Harrington, who focused on traditional shot-stopping and command of the box, Meier specialized in the modern aspects of goalkeeping¡ªdistribution, tactical positioning, and sweeper-keeper movement. Bradford was stepping into a new level of football, and Jake knew they couldn''t afford to have a keeper who panicked under pressure. If they wanted to play out from the back, they needed someone who could make Okafor and Cox comfortable on the ball. Jake connected the call. Meier was all business. The German coach appeared on the screen, his expression sharp and professional. "You play out from the back?" Meier asked immediately, skipping any pleasantries. Jake didn''t hesitate. "We will." Meier tilted his head slightly. "And you want a keeper who is more than just a shot-stopper?" Jake nodded. "I want my keepers to be an extension of the defense. They need to be calm under pressure, pick the right passes, and handle high pressing teams without panic." Meier exhaled, his face remaining neutral. "That''s my area. I''ll make sure they''re ready for that transition." Jake glanced at Michael Stone, who had been listening quietly. This was the right guy. "Two-year contract," Jake said. "You''ll work alongside Harrington, focusing on distribution and modern tactical awareness." Meier didn''t even hesitate. "Deal." There was no celebration, no excessive excitement¡ªjust a nod of agreement between professionals. Jake smirked. "Welcome to Bradford." Meier''s lips curled slightly into a small smile. "Let''s get to work." The call ended, and Jake leaned back in his chair. The foundation for Bradford''s goalkeeping evolution was now in place. Jake had locked in Paul Harrington for handling overall goalkeeping development and Thomas Meier for modern distribution and tactical positioning. But there was one more spot to fill. He picked up his phone and dialed Carlos Jim¨¦nez, a South American goalkeeper coach known for developing keepers with insane reflexes and shot-stopping ability. The call connected. "Coach Wilson," Jim¨¦nez greeted in his thick Argentine accent. "I''ve seen your work. You like to take risks." Jake smirked. "Only when they''re worth it. We need a specialist¡ªsomeone who sharpens reactions, improves one-on-one saves, and pushes our keepers to their limits." Jim¨¦nez chuckled. "So you want a monster in goal?" "I want a keeper who wins games, not just stops shots." Jim¨¦nez leaned forward. "Three-year contract, full authority over reflex training, and I''ll make sure you get that." Jake glanced at Michael Stone, who gave a short nod. "Welcome to Bradford," Jake said. The Attacking & Defensive Specialists Next was Miguel Velasquez, an attacking coach from Spain who had worked in La Liga. Bradford needed someone who could refine their finishing and offensive structure, especially with Novak gone. Velasquez picked up immediately, his thick Spanish accent coming through. "Mister Wilson. I must say, your club''s rise has been impressive." Jake didn''t waste time. "We need someone to fine-tune our attack. You fit the profile. Are you interested?" Velasquez rubbed his chin. "It depends. What''s the vision?" Jake leaned forward. "Fast, dynamic, unpredictable. We don''t just want to score¡ªwe want to control games in the final third." Velasquez grinned. "Now you''re speaking my language." A two-year contract was agreed upon, with performance-based bonuses. Then came Steve Murdock, an English defensive coach with a reputation for tactical organization and set-piece mastery. Murdock didn''t even wait for Jake to pitch. "I''ve watched you work, Wilson. You''ve got guts. I like that. You need someone to tighten the backline?" S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake smirked. "That''s why we''re talking." Murdock nodded. "Three-year deal. Let me shape this defense properly." Jake shook his hand. "Done." The Scouts ¨C After locking in the coaching staff, it was time to reshape the scouting department. First up was Daniel Petrovic, a Serbian scout with a history of discovering young talent before the big clubs. "I don''t chase stars," Petrovic said over the call. "I find them before anyone else notices." Jake liked the attitude. "That''s exactly what we need." A three-year deal was signed. Then came Omar Demb¨¦l¨¦, a French scout who had worked with some of the top academies in Ligue 1. Demb¨¦l¨¦ leaned forward on the call. "Are you prepared to invest in youth?" Jake nodded. "Absolutely." Demb¨¦l¨¦ smirked. "Then I''m in." Lastly, Elliot Fraser, an English scout with an eye for undervalued Championship talent. Fraser was blunt. "You don''t need me to tell you that this league is a jungle. I know who''s worth betting on and who''s a waste of time." Jake didn''t hesitate. "You''re hired." Finalized Staff ListPaul Harrington ¨C Head Goalkeeping Coach (3 years) Thomas Meier ¨C Goalkeeping Distribution Coach (2 years) Carlos Jim¨¦nez ¨C Reflex & Shot-Stopping Coach (3 years) Miguel Velasquez ¨C Attacking Coach (2 years) Steve Murdock ¨C Defensive Coach (3 years) Daniel Petrovic ¨C Scout (3 years) Omar Demb¨¦l¨¦ ¨C Scout (3 years) Elliot Fraser ¨C Scout (2 years) Jake exhaled, satisfied. The backroom staff was complete. Bradford City wasn''t just improving the squad¡ªthey were preparing for something bigger. Chapter 144 - 144: Contract Extensions, Fnalizing Deals and The Final Week of June Locking in the Core Players With the coaching staff secured, Jake shifted focus to the next priority¡ªcontract renewals. Michael Stone slid a folder across the desk. "We need to start the renewals," he said, his tone firm. "If we don''t lock them in now, bigger clubs will start sniffing around." Jake flipped through the paperwork, scanning the names. Noah Fletcher. Nathan Barnes. Ethan Walsh. Renan Silva. These weren''t just squad players. They were the spine of the team. Jake turned another page, and his eyes landed on a familiar name¡ªLukas Novak. For a split second, he hesitated. The system had recommended a renewal for Novak as well, but that was before the Chelsea move. He exhaled, closed the file, and leaned forward. "Let''s bring them in," Jake said. First Meeting ¨C Noah Fletcher Noah Fletcher walked into Jake''s office, his agent, Mark Phillips, by his side. The young center-back had been one of the biggest surprises of the season¡ªphysically dominant, fearless in aerial duels, and improving with every game. At just 22 years old, Fletcher had transformed from a Fringe player to a Squad rotation option. His ability to read the game, command the backline, and outmuscle strikers had not gone unnoticed. And that was exactly why this contract negotiation needed to happen now. Jake stood up, shaking Fletcher''s hand before gesturing to the seats. "Good to see you, Noah. Mark." They sat down, Phillips placing a folder on the table. There was no tension¡ªjust business. Jake wasted no time. "We want you here long-term." He slid the contract forward. "Four-year deal. Salary increase to ¡ê15,000 per week. Performance bonuses included¡ªclean sheets, defensive milestones, aerial duel success rates. If you hit those targets, you''ll earn even more." Fletcher looked at the paper, but it was Phillips who spoke first. "That''s a solid offer," the agent admitted, leaning back in his chair. "But let''s be real¡ªNoah''s attracting attention. Championship clubs. Even some teams in Europe." Jake already knew this. Scouts had been circling. Clubs had made inquiries. But this wasn''t a negotiation Bradford was willing to lose. Jake folded his hands together, keeping his tone even. "That''s why we''re offering this now. Noah''s not just part of our squad¡ªhe''s part of our future. We''re not here to develop players for other clubs. We''re here to grow together." Fletcher glanced at his agent, then back at Jake. "You''ve trusted me since day one," Fletcher said. "I don''t need convincing." Jake smirked slightly. This was the kind of player he wanted in the squad. Phillips exhaled. "Alright, let''s go over the finer details." Contract Breakdown: Four-year deal (2025-2029) Salary increase to ¡ê15,000 per week (previously ¡ê8,500 per week) ¡ê5,000 per clean sheet bonus (capped at 15 per season) ¡ê3,000 per goal or assist bonus (center-backs rarely score, but incentives helped motivation) ¡ê500 per successful tackle rate above 85% per match ¡ê2,000 per aerial duel success rate above 70% per match Loyalty bonus of ¡ê500,000 if contract is fully completed Phillips skimmed the contract. "The clean sheet bonus is solid. The aerial duel incentive is new." Jake shrugged. "Noah dominates in the air. He should get rewarded for it." Fletcher smiled. "I like that." Phillips tapped his fingers against the table before nodding. "We''re good with this." Noah picked up the pen. Without hesitation, he signed. Jake extended his hand again. "Welcome to the future of Bradford." Fletcher grinned. "Let''s keep building." Second Meeting ¨C Nathan Barnes Nathan Barnes walked into the office, his agent, Tom Carter, beside him. Unlike Noah Fletcher''s meeting, this one wasn''t going to be simple. Barnes wasn''t just another defender¡ªhe was the leader of Bradford''s backline, the experienced head who had held everything together last season. And now, other clubs had noticed. Jake already knew this before Carter even opened his mouth. "I won''t lie," Carter said, placing a file down on the desk. "There''s been interest." Jake leaned back in his chair, keeping his expression neutral. "Championship clubs?" Jake asked, already knowing the answer. Carter gave a small smirk. "And a couple of Premier League teams. They see a captain with experience. A player who won''t take time to adapt." Jake wasn''t surprised. Barnes was 26, in his prime. A defender who could dominate aerial duels, read the game well, and organize a defensive line. And that''s exactly why Bradford needed to keep him. Jake exhaled before sliding the contract forward. "Two-year extension. ¡ê45,000 per week. Leadership bonus. Appearance incentives." Carter raised an eyebrow. "That''s a huge salary increase." Jake didn''t flinch. "Because Barnes is worth it." Barnes, who had been quiet up until this point, finally spoke. "I want to stay," he said simply. Carter turned to him, surprised. "Nathan, we could push for more." Jake shook his head. "He could get more elsewhere. But he won''t be captain elsewhere." Silence. Barnes leaned forward, his tone calm but firm. "I''ve been here long enough to know what we''re building. I''m not going anywhere." Carter hesitated for a moment before sighing. He knew it was over. Jake nodded. "Then let''s finalize the details." Contract Breakdown:Two-year extension (2025-2027) Salary increase to ¡ê45,000 per week (previously ¡ê30,000 per week) ¡ê10,000 per clean sheet bonus ¡ê5,000 captain''s leadership bonus per match ¡ê1,500 per tackle success rate above 80% per match ¡ê3,000 per aerial duel success rate above 70% per match Loyalty bonus of ¡ê250,000 upon contract completion Carter glanced at the numbers, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Leadership bonus is a nice touch." Jake smirked. "He''s not just another player. He''s the heart of the defense." Barnes picked up the pen without hesitation. He signed. Jake extended his hand. One more secured. "Let''s keep leading," Jake said. Barnes shook his hand. "That''s the plan." As they left, Jake exhaled. Two down. Two more to go. Third Meeting ¨C Ethan Walsh Ethan Walsh strolled into the office, his agent, Clive Morgan, beside him. Unlike the previous negotiations, this one carried a different energy. Walsh wasn''t a guaranteed starter, not yet, but he was the kind of player who could grow into something special. Jake had always liked him¡ªa direct winger, quick, fearless, willing to take risks. He wasn''t polished, not yet, but he had the raw ability to become a key asset for Bradford''s future. Jake leaned back in his chair, studying the young attacker for a moment. "Ethan," he said, his tone confident. "You''re part of my plan. A winger, a striker¡ªversatile, aggressive. A good fringe player who can develop into a regular starter." Walsh didn''t say anything, but his eyes lit up. He had spent too much of last season as a rotation option. This was what he wanted to hear. Jake placed the contract on the table. "Five-year deal. ¡ê12,000 per week. Performance-based bonuses¡ªassists, goals, team of the week appearances." Morgan, his agent, remained cautious. He folded his arms. "Five years is a long time." Jake didn''t blink. "Because we believe in Ethan''s future here. We want to commit to him. And when that deal ends, he''ll still be in his prime." Walsh looked at the paper, then back at Jake. His expression was unreadable at first. Then, after a brief pause, he grinned. "I believe in this team," he said, grabbing the pen. "Let''s do it." Jake smirked slightly. This was the attitude he wanted in his squad. Contract Breakdown:Five-year deal (2025-2030) Salary: ¡ê12,000 per week (previously ¡ê6,500 per week) ¡ê4,000 per assist bonus ¡ê5,000 per goal bonus ¡ê3,000 per team of the week selection ¡ê250,000 loyalty bonus upon contract completion Morgan scanned the contract, nodding slightly. "The performance incentives are solid." Jake smirked. "That''s because he''s going to hit them." Walsh signed the deal. Jake shook his hand. "Now go prove me right." Walsh grinned. "You know I will." As he walked out, Jake leaned back in his chair. Three down. One more to go. Final Meeting ¨C Renan Silva Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Renan Silva walked into Jake''s office with the kind of confidence only a star player could carry. His agent, Gabriel Costa, followed closely behind, his expression unreadable. Unlike the previous negotiations, this wasn''t about securing potential¡ªSilva was already Bradford''s best player. The one who could unlock defenses, score, assist, and change games in an instant. This wasn''t just another renewal. This was about keeping the heart of the attack. Jake leaned back in his chair, tapping the contract folder in front of him. "Let''s get straight to it. Five-year deal. ¡ê22,000 per week. Wage increase, creative playmaker bonuses." Costa smirked, but not in amusement. "You know Barcelona asked about him?" Jake raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. Costa continued. "They''re looking for someone to replace Raphinha when he leaves. Nothing formal yet, but the interest is real." Jake exhaled through his nose. Barcelona. Of all the clubs, it had to be them. Costa leaned forward, eyes sharp. "If you want Silva to stay, we want ¡ê75,000 per week." Jake didn''t even blink. "Not happening." Costa chuckled. "He''s your best player. You know it. We know it. That price reflects that." Jake shook his head. "He''s earning ¡ê4,500 per week right now. There''s no world where he jumps from that to ¡ê75,000 overnight." Costa shrugged. "That''s football." Jake leaned forward, voice firm. "Not at Bradford. We''ll offer ¡ê22,000 per week. Performance bonuses. Creative incentives. That''s the deal." Costa sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "That''s a lowball for a player of his talent." Jake smirked. "If he wants to sit on Barcelona''s bench and wait for Raphinha to leave, that''s his choice. But here? He plays. Every game." Silva, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. "I want to play." Costa turned to him. "Renan, we can push for more." Silva shook his head. "I want the deal." Costa hesitated for a second before sighing. "Fine." Jake slid the contract forward. Silva signed. Contract Breakdown:Five-year deal (2025-2030) Salary: ¡ê22,000 per week (previously ¡ê4,500 per week) ¡ê7,000 per goal bonus ¡ê5,000 per assist bonus ¡ê3,000 per team of the week selection ¡ê500,000 loyalty bonus upon contract completion Jake shook his hand. Bradford''s star wasn''t going anywhere. Silva grinned. "Let''s get to work." Jake smirked. "That''s what I wanted to hear." All four contracts were signed. Bradford City wasn''t just preparing for the Championship. They were locking in their future. Finalized Contracts By the end of the day, all four players had signed. Noah Fletcher ¨C 4-Year Contract (¡ê15,000 per week) Nathan Barnes ¨C 2-Year Contract (¡ê45,000 per week) Ethan Walsh ¨C 5-Year Contract Extension (¡ê12,000 per week) Renan Silva ¨C 5-Year Contract (¡ê22,000 per week) Jake leaned back in his chair, satisfied. Bradford City wasn''t just preparing for the Championship¡ªthey were securing their future. Chapter 145 - 145: Hiring & The Final Week of June part 2 The Big Signings Michael Stone had been working behind the scenes, navigating complex negotiations, scouting reports, and transfer fees. And now, after weeks of persistence, the deals were finally done. Three players. Three key additions. Roney Bardghji (FC Copenhagen) ¨C The Swedish wonderkid was officially a Bradford player. Matthew Cox (Manchester United Academy) ¨C A young goalkeeper to push Okafor. Reece Holloway (Arsenal Academy) ¨C A promising right-back with a high ceiling. Each signing required delicate negotiations, flights across Europe, and convincing both players and agents that Bradford was the right destination. And for Bardghji, it took more than just money¡ªit took a vision. Copenhagen, Denmark ¨C Securing Roony Bardghji Michael Stone stepped out of the taxi, adjusting his coat as the brisk Copenhagen air bit at his face. This wasn''t just another routine meeting¡ªthis was the most ambitious signing in Bradford''s history. ¡ê30 million. For a club that, just a year ago, was playing in League One, spending this kind of money on a single player was unheard of. But for Roony Bardghji, they were making an exception. Bradford wasn''t here to simply survive in the Championship. They were here to dominate. And Bardghji? He was the kind of player who could take them there. Stone entered the sleek, modern office of Christian Emile, Bardghji''s agent. The man was dressed sharp, his expression unreadable. A negotiator who had already handled deals with some of the biggest clubs in Europe. There was no need for small talk. Emile got straight to the point. "You''re aware he has offers from the top five leagues?" Stone nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "I wouldn''t be here if I thought we had no chance." Emile leaned back in his chair. "Then convince me. Convince him." Stone exhaled and leaned forward. "Roony won''t just be another young player at a big club, waiting for his chance," he said, his voice steady. "At Bradford, he will be the face of the team. The leader of an attacking revolution." Bardghji, who had been sitting quietly beside his agent, finally spoke. "Every club says that." Stone smirked. "None of them will build their team around you like we will." Bardghji''s expression didn''t change, but Stone could tell he was listening now. "We''re going to the Premier League this season," Stone continued. "You''ll be a key part of that. A guaranteed starter." Emile folded his arms. "Other clubs can pay more." Stone didn''t hesitate. "We''re offering ¡ê65,000 per week. And when we get to the Premier League, that salary doubles." Bardghji and Emile exchanged a look. That got their attention. Stone pressed forward. "At a big club, he''ll be fighting for minutes. Competing with two, maybe three wingers ahead of him. A wonderkid that fans and coaches see as a ''long-term project.''" He let that sink in before adding, "At Bradford, he''ll be starting every game. Scoring goals. Getting assists. Becoming the star." Bardghji''s eyes flickered with interest. This was different. Emile sat forward now. "Alright. Let''s talk details." Contract Breakdown:Five-year deal (2025-2030) Salary: ¡ê65,000 per week (doubles to ¡ê130,000 per week upon Premier League promotion) ¡ê10,000 per goal bonus ¡ê7,500 per assist bonus ¡ê5,000 per team of the week selection ¡ê1 million loyalty bonus upon completion of the contract Release clause of ¡ê100 million (only applicable to clubs in the UEFA Champions League) Emile studied the offer, running a hand over his jaw. "¡ê100 million release clause? That''s a big number." Stone shrugged. "If a Champions League club really wants him, they''ll pay it." Bardghji tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought. This was the moment. Emile turned to him. "Roney?" Silence. Then, Bardghji picked up the pen and signed. Stone smirked, shaking his hand. "Welcome to Bradford." Bradford City had just landed their biggest signing in history. Manchester, England ¨C Bringing in Matthew Cox Michael Stone''s next stop was Manchester United''s academy. Unlike the Bardghji deal, this wasn''t about breaking transfer records or signing a star player. This was about building for the future. At just 18 years old, Matthew Cox was already one of the most promising young goalkeepers in England. But he wasn''t going to get first-team football at United. Bradford could change that. Stone arrived at Carrington Training Complex, where he was greeted by United''s academy director, Paul McGuinness. They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before getting down to business. McGuinness didn''t waste time. "So, Bradford''s interested in Cox?" Stone nodded. "We are. We believe he has real potential and want to give him a clear pathway into senior football." McGuinness leaned back. "You know how this works. United don''t let top prospects leave for free." Stone expected that. "What''s your price?" McGuinness tapped his fingers on the table. "¡ê500,000." Stone didn''t even flinch. "Come on, Paul. He''s third-choice at best. We both know United aren''t promoting him anytime soon." McGuinness smirked. "Alright. ¡ê250,000." Stone exhaled, shaking his head. "We''re thinking more along the lines of ¡ê80,000." McGuinness chuckled. "That''s not even close." Stone didn''t back down. "Cox gets regular game time with us. He develops. If he explodes, we''ll insert a sell-on clause. You''ll still get a payday later." McGuinness crossed his arms. "What percentage?" "20%. Future transfer profits." A long pause. Then McGuinness nodded. "Fine. ¡ê80,000. We''ll finalize the paperwork." The Contract Negotiation With the transfer fee agreed upon, Stone sat down with Cox''s agent, David Turner, and United''s youth coach, Michael Carrick. Turner leaned back. "Matthew is looking for regular football. He won''t leave just to sit on the bench." Stone nodded. "I''ll be straight with you. Okafor is our number one. But Cox will be pushing him. Cup games, rotation matches¡ªhe''ll get minutes. And he''ll be working with three top-class goalkeeper coaches." Cox, sitting beside his agent, finally spoke. "How many games do you expect me to play?" Stone folded his arms. "FA Cup, EFL Cup, potential European matches, and rotation in the league when needed. You''ll be competing, not waiting." Cox exhaled, nodding. "Alright. And my contract?" Stone slid the paper across the table. "Four-year deal. ¡ê4,500 per week." Turner picked it up, reading through the details. "Any performance incentives?" Stone nodded. Contract Breakdown:Four-year deal (2025-2029) Salary: ¡ê4,500 per week ¡ê1,000 per clean sheet bonus ¡ê2,500 per FA Cup/EFL Cup win bonus ¡ê1,500 per team of the week selection ¡ê250,000 loyalty bonus upon contract completion Turner studied the contract for a moment before nodding. "It''s fair." Cox grabbed the pen and signed. Stone shook his hand. "Welcome to Bradford." Bradford had just secured their goalkeeper of the future. London, England ¨C Securing Reece Holloway The final stop on Michael Stone''s transfer mission was London Colney, home to Arsenal''s academy. Unlike Bardghji or Cox, this deal wasn''t about a marquee signing or a long-term goalkeeper project. This was about depth. Bradford needed cover at left-back. Aiden Taylor was the clear starter, but he couldn''t play every game. They needed someone young, talented, and willing to compete for minutes. Reece Holloway fit that profile perfectly. Stone arrived at the Arsenal academy office, where Eddie Newton, Arsenal''s youth development chief, was already waiting. Newton shook Stone''s hand, getting straight to business. "So, you''re interested in Holloway?" Stone nodded. "We are. We see real potential." Newton sighed. "Arsenal want to keep him. They see him as a future squad player." Stone leaned forward. "Future? He''s 19. How long until he gets first-team minutes? A year? Two? More?" Newton hesitated. That was the problem. Arsenal had top-tier full-backs ahead of Holloway. He wasn''t breaking through anytime soon. Stone pressed on. "We''re offering him first-team opportunities now. Taylor is our starter, but Holloway will get minutes. Cup games. Rotations. He''ll actually play." Newton exhaled. "The club has set his price at ¡ê100,000." Stone smirked. "Fair price. Done." Newton raised an eyebrow. "No negotiations?" Stone shrugged. "I know a good deal when I see one." The transfer was agreed. Now, it was time to convince the player. Meeting with Reece Holloway & His Agent Later that evening, Stone met with Marcus Dean, Holloway''s agent, at a small caf¨¦ near Arsenal''s training ground. Dean stirred his coffee, speaking first. "Arsenal want to keep him. They see potential." Stone didn''t even blink. "Potential isn''t enough. Does he want to be an academy prospect or a first-team player?" Holloway, sitting beside his agent, shifted in his chair. "I want to play." Stone nodded. That was the right answer. He slid the contract across the table. "Five-year deal. ¡ê6,000 per week. You''ll be coming on as a sub for Aiden Taylor and growing into a bigger role. But if you push yourself, you can take the starting spot one day." Holloway looked at his agent. Dean exhaled. "Your call, Reece." Holloway grabbed the pen and signed. Stone shook his hand. "Welcome to Bradford." They had their future left-back. Finalized Transfer Details:Transfer Fee: ¡ê100,000 Five-year deal (2025-2030) Salary: ¡ê6,000 per week ¡ê1,500 per clean sheet bonus ¡ê2,000 per assist bonus ¡ê250,000 loyalty bonus upon contract completion Stone leaned back in his chair, satisfied. Bradford had just completed three crucial signings. The squad was taking shape. Finalized SigningsRoony Bardghji ¨C 5-Year Contract (¡ê65,000 per week, ¡ê30M transfer fee) Matthew Cox ¨C 4-Year Contract (¡ê4,500 per week, ¡ê80K transfer fee) Reece Holloway ¨C 5-Year Contract (¡ê6,000 per week, ¡ê100K transfer fee) Michael Stone returned to Bradford with three crucial signings secured. Bradford City wasn''t just preparing for the Championship. They were building for the Premier League. The Fan Caf¨¦ Explodes The moment Bradford officially announced the signings, the Fan Caf¨¦ erupted. This wasn''t just another transfer window. This was history. BantamLegend: "WE ACTUALLY GOT BARDGHJI. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!" ForeverBantam: "This is our biggest signing ever. We spent ¡ê30 MILLION on a player. I still can''t believe it." RealistBantam: "Silva feeding Bardghji? Oh, this is going to be fun." But not everyone was celebrating. CityTillIDie: "Great signings, but WHO IS REPLACING NOVAK?!" WilsonMagic: "We still need a striker. No Novak, no party." PragmaticBantam: "We''ve strengthened the wings, midfield, and defense. But if we don''t get a goal scorer, what''s the point?" S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Press Conference ¨C The Unveiling of Roony Bardghji The media room at Valley Parade was packed. Journalists from across England¡ªand even Europe¡ªwere in attendance. Bradford had never hosted a press conference like this before. At the front of the room, under the bright lights, sat Roony Bardghji, wearing his new Bradford City No. 10 shirt. To his right, Michael Stone. To his left, Jake Wilson. As soon as the session started, the first reporter wasted no time. The Questions Begin "Jake, this is Bradford''s record-breaking transfer. How does it feel to make a statement like this in the market?" Jake leaned forward slightly. "It means we''re serious. We''re not here to just survive in the Championship. We''re here to compete." "Roony, you had offers from bigger clubs. Why Bradford?" Bardghji adjusted the microphone. "Because I didn''t want to sit on a bench. Bradford showed me a plan¡ªhow I fit into their system, how I''d play every game, how I''d be trusted. That mattered more than anything." "Jake, ¡ê30M is a massive fee for a club that was in League One last season. Does this put extra pressure on you and the squad?" Jake smirked. "Every game brings pressure. We embrace it." Then, the real question came. "How do you replace Lukas Novak?" The room fell silent. Jake didn''t react immediately. He let the moment sit. Let the question breathe. Then, finally, he leaned forward slightly, expression unreadable. "We''ll see." A murmur rippled through the room. Jake wasn''t revealing anything yet. Bradford had their superstar winger. Now, they needed a striker. The Media Reaction ¨C Bradford''s Biggest Gamble? Jake''s cryptic response at the press conference dominated the headlines. The world wanted answers. Who was replacing Novak? What was the plan? Instead, all they got was "We''ll see." Sky Sports: "Wilson Remains Mysterious on Novak Replacement" BBC Sport: "Bradford Secure Bardghji, But Is It Enough?" ESPN: "Wilson: ''We''ll See'' ¨C A Genius Move or a Risky Gamble?" Pundits on talk shows debated the situation. "It''s a bold strategy," one analyst said on Sky Sports. "You don''t sell your top goal scorer without having a clear plan." Another countered. "But this is Jake Wilson we''re talking about. When has he ever done things the normal way?" Some called him a genius, a manager with a clear vision. Others saw it as reckless, a gamble that could cost them promotion. Meanwhile, in the Bradford Fan Caf¨¦, the discussion was just as heated. BradfordScout: "I trust Jake, but this silence is killing me." YoungGaffer10: "We NEED a striker. What''s the plan?" TacticalWizard: "The window isn''t closed yet. Maybe something big is coming." Jake closed his laptop. The contracts were signed. The new signings were in. The foundation was set. But he wasn''t done yet. Because Bradford City still had one more move to make. Just as he leaned back in his chair, a familiar sound echoed through the room. DING! A window popped up on his screen. [System Recommendation: Striker to Purchase] Jake''s eyes narrowed. The decision was coming. Chapter 146 - 146: Striker Search, Tactical Planning & Pre-Match Preparation Jake leaned forward, elbows on his desk, eyes fixed on the system notification glowing on his screen. DING! A familiar window appeared. [System Suggestion: Striker Search] The screen filled with data, scouting analysis, and two names. Chido Obi (Manchester United) ¨C 19 years old. Strong, fast, and clinical in front of goal. A raw but explosive striker with immense potential, yet unproven at senior level. Liam Delap (Ipswich Town) ¨C 22 years old. A physically dominant forward, intelligent with his movement, and a proven goal scorer at Championship level. But already attracting interest from Premier League clubs. Jake exhaled sharply, rubbing his chin. Obi was a high-risk, high-reward project. He hadn''t played consistent senior football, but his pace and finishing were lethal at youth level. If he adapted fast, he could become something special. Delap was the safer choice¡ªexperienced, physical, and ready to step in immediately. But convincing him would be a battle. If a Premier League club swooped in, Bradford wouldn''t be able to compete financially. Jake didn''t have time to overthink it. He grabbed his phone and dialed Michael Stone. The sporting director picked up on the second ring. "Boss?" "Stone, I need full scouting reports on Chido Obi and Liam Delap. Strengths, weaknesses, contract details, transfer feasibility¡ªeverything." Stone''s voice was sharp, professional. "Alright. Any preference?" Jake leaned back in his chair. "I need to see everything first. Obi''s an unknown at senior level. Delap has experience, but we''ll have competition." "I''ll pull up their match footage, talk to our contacts," Stone said. "Give me a few hours, I''ll have preliminary reports ready." "Good," Jake replied. Then, after a pause, "Get Paul Roberts in on this. I need a tactical breakdown¡ªhow they''d fit into our system, what adjustments we''d need to make." "I''ll brief him," Stone confirmed. "Anything else?" "Yeah," Jake added. "Find out Delap''s wage demands. If he''s expecting Premier League money, we''ll need to move fast before the big clubs come in." Stone hesitated. "He won''t come cheap." "I know," Jake muttered. "Just get me the numbers." S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Stone exhaled. "On your desk first thing." Jake ended the call. Then, he opened a new document on his laptop, typing out a few notes. Obi vs. Delap. Risk vs. Certainty. Long-term investment vs. immediate impact. Jake tapped his pen against the desk. He had a decision to make. But first, there was a match to prepare for. System Analysis ¨C Inter Miami''s Strengths & Weaknesses Jake sat forward as another system notification flashed on his screen. [Opponent Breakdown: Inter Miami] A detailed tactical report loaded in front of him, analyzing every strength, every weakness¡ªevery possible vulnerability. Inter Miami was still a dangerous team, even with an aging core. They had experience, quality, and world-class talent in key areas. But they also had exploitable flaws. Jake''s eyes moved to the two sections in front of him. Inter Miami''s Strengths Messi''s Playmaking. Even at this stage of his career, Lionel Messi remained one of the most dangerous creators in world football. He no longer had the blistering acceleration of his prime, but his vision, ball control, and ability to unlock defenses with a single pass remained untouched. If he was given space, he would dictate the game effortlessly. Su¨¢rez''s Finishing. Luis Su¨¢rez was still a predator in the box. His movement was world-class, always one step ahead of defenders, and he had lost none of his lethal finishing ability. A single mistake, and he would punish them. Busquets'' Composure. The heartbeat of Miami''s midfield. He wasn''t a physical presence, but he didn''t need to be. His awareness, positioning, and passing range allowed him to control the tempo of games, ensuring Miami dictated possession. If given time, he could pick Bradford apart. Tactical Familiarity. Inter Miami had played together in a consistent system for nearly two years. The core of the team¡ªMessi, Su¨¢rez, Busquets, and Jordi Alba¡ªhad a deep understanding of each other''s movements. That chemistry would make them hard to break down. Inter Miami''s Weaknesses Aging Defense. Jordi Alba, Busquets, and Su¨¢rez were all past their physical peak. They had the experience, but they no longer had the legs to match a high-intensity team. Bradford''s biggest advantage would be their energy and speed. If they played aggressively, Miami''s backline could struggle to keep up. Over-Reliance on Messi. Everything flowed through him. If he was shut down, Miami''s attack lost direction. They had talented players, but none who could replicate his creativity. Lack of Defensive Midfield Presence. Busquets was intelligent, technically gifted, and calm under pressure. But physically? He was vulnerable. He wasn''t built for high-intensity pressing. Against younger, more aggressive midfielders, he could be overwhelmed. Lack of Defensive Cover from Full-Backs. Jordi Alba and Gonzalo Luj¨¢n were both attack-minded full-backs. While dangerous going forward, they often left space behind them. Bradford could target those wide areas and hit them in transition. System Prediction ¨C Match Outlook Jake clicked onto the next tab. The system had run simulations based on Inter Miami''s tactics, squad composition, and recent performances. Projected Match Difficulty: 7/10 Match Outcome Probability: Bradford Win: 40% Draw: 30% Inter Miami Win: 30% The key battles would decide the match. Messi vs. Bradford''s Midfield. If he found space between the lines, Miami would dominate. But if he was forced deeper, Bradford could limit his influence. Bardghji vs. Alba. If Bardghji could get the ball one-on-one against Alba, Bradford had a huge advantage. The Swedish winger''s pace and directness could expose Miami''s defensive frailties. V¨¦lez vs. Busquets. If V¨¦lez could press Busquets relentlessly, Miami''s build-up play would suffer. Costa and Richter vs. Miami''s Center-Backs. Tomas Avil¨¦s and Maximiliano Falc¨®n were physical, but not the fastest. If Bradford''s strikers could make the right runs, they could break through. Opponent Predicted Lineup (4-4-2) Goalkeeper: Drake Callender Right Back: Gonzalo Luj¨¢n Center Back: Tom¨¢s Avil¨¦s Center Back: Maximiliano Falc¨®n Left Back: Jordi Alba Right Midfield: Tadeo Allende Central Midfield: Sergio Busquets Central Midfield: Federico Redondo Left Midfield: Lionel Messi (Captain) Striker: Luis Su¨¢rez Striker: Facundo Far¨ªas Jake leaned back, eyes narrowing. There were two clear areas to exploit. Busquets'' lack of pace. If they pressed him aggressively, he wouldn''t have time to dictate the game. Jordi Alba''s aging legs. Silva or Bardghji had to target his side constantly. If Alba was forced into defensive situations, he wouldn''t be able to handle the pressure. This wouldn''t be an easy match. But if Bradford executed their plan properly, they could win. Now, it was time to train. Tactical Planning & Training Jake stepped onto the training pitch, boots crunching against the grass, as his squad gathered in a semi-circle around him. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the field. The air was thick with pre-season intensity¡ªa mix of sweat, determination, and anticipation. This wasn''t just another friendly. This was the first real test of Bradford''s new era. He scanned the faces of his players. Some were stretching, others were rolling their shoulders, loosening up for what was about to come. Jake set down his clipboard and walked toward the whiteboard near the sideline. A 4-4-2 formation was already drawn out. "Alright, listen up." His voice cut through the chatter, drawing every set of eyes toward him. "Miami plays through three men¡ªMessi, Busquets, Su¨¢rez. Shut them down, and we take control." Silence. Focused stares. Jake tapped the board with his marker. "We take this game seriously. Messi isn''t a name on a teamsheet¡ªhe''s a threat. Busquets isn''t just a veteran¡ªhe''s their control tower. Su¨¢rez doesn''t miss chances." His gaze hardened. "We stop them, we win." Tactical Plan He turned to Santiago V¨¦lez and Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez, two of the hardest-working midfielders on the team. "Your job? Don''t give Busquets a second to breathe. No time. No space. You press him every time he gets the ball." V¨¦lez smirked, adjusting his wrist tape. "I''ll be in his shadow." Jake nodded. Good. Next, he pointed to Renan Silva and Roney Bardghji, standing toward the front. "Alba''s still good going forward, but defensively? He doesn''t want to be running all game." Jake looked at Bardghji. "That''s your job. Every time we have the ball, I want you running at him. Make him uncomfortable. Make him defend." Bardghji grinned. "I''ll make him wish he retired." Jake''s attention shifted to Nathan Barnes, the leader at the back. "Su¨¢rez is smart. He''s going to look for pockets of space, drift into gaps, try to force a mistake. Your job is to make sure he doesn''t get a free shot all game." Barnes set his jaw. "Understood." Jake took a step back, looking at the entire squad. "We''re not sitting back. If we let them play their game, we lose. We press, we counter, we run them into the ground." He paused for effect. "This is a statement game. People are watching. Let''s give them something to talk about." Training Begins The session started with intensity. First, midfield press drills. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez were tasked with suffocating ball movement, closing passing lanes, pressing high up the pitch. Any time the ball went to the deep-lying midfielder, they collapsed on him. Next, defensive shape training. The backline adjusted to Miami''s expected movement¡ªBarnes and Fletcher practiced tracking Su¨¢rez''s off-the-ball runs while the full-backs worked on limiting crosses. Then came offensive patterns. Bardghji and Silva took turns isolating defenders in one-on-one situations. If Bradford was going to break Miami down, it would be through the wings. Finally, they ran transition plays. As soon as the team won possession, the ball was launched forward, forcing the strikers to attack in a three-second window before Miami reset. By the end of training, shirts were drenched in sweat, breaths were heavy, but the team looked sharp. Jake gathered them once more, looking around. "We''re ready." This wasn''t just a friendly. This was Bradford''s first real test. Chapter 147 - 147: BRADFORD VS INTER MIAMI PART 1 Kickoff ¨C A Packed Valley Parade The Valley Parade was packed. A sold-out crowd, buzzing with anticipation. It wasn''t just another pre-season match. This was Messi. Su¨¢rez. Busquets. A team filled with legends. Bradford City, newly promoted to the Championship, facing a side that had experience at the highest level. This was their test. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching as his team lined up in a 4-4-2 formation. Bradford Starting XI: (4-4-2) Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor Right Back: James Richards Center Back: Nathan Barnes (Captain) Center Back: Noah Fletcher Left Back: Aiden Taylor Right Midfield: Renan Silva Center Midfield: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez Center Midfield: Santiago V¨¦lez Left Midfield: Roney Bardghji Striker: Guilherme Costa Striker: Tobias Richter Across from them, Inter Miami lined up in their own 4-4-2. Inter Miami Starting XI: (4-4-2) Goalkeeper: Drake Callender Right Back: Gonzalo Luj¨¢n Center Back: Tom¨¢s Avil¨¦s Center Back: Maximiliano Falc¨®n Left Back: Jordi Alba Right Midfield: Tadeo Allende Center Midfield: Sergio Busquets Center Midfield: Federico Redondo Left Midfield: Lionel Messi (Captain) Striker: Luis Su¨¢rez Striker: Facundo Far¨ªas The referee checked his watch. Whistle. Kickoff. First Half ¨C The Valley Parade crowd was electric, eager to see how their newly promoted Bradford City would handle one of the greatest players of all time. Jake stood on the touchline, hands in his pockets, watching intently. He had drilled his players on the importance of pressing, closing down space, and staying compact. But Inter Miami settled quickly, their experience showing in the way they passed the ball with precision, dictating the tempo. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 7'' ¨C The first danger came early. Messi drifted into his favorite space¡ªjust outside the left channel. He wasn''t a traditional winger anymore, but he still operated where he could do the most damage. Busquets, calm as ever, took a touch and threaded a pass between the lines. Messi accelerated, the ball glued to his feet. Richards reacted quickly, stepping in to block his path¡ªtoo slow. A subtle shift of balance and Messi glided past him like he wasn''t there. Barnes saw the danger, stepped in to cover, but Messi had already played the pass. A low, driven cross into the box. Su¨¢rez lunged¡ªBarnes just managed to stretch out a leg and clear it. Jake clapped his hands sharply. "Wake up! We can''t let him dictate the game." His voice cut through the noise, but he knew they had just seen a warning. They wouldn''t get lucky twice. 12'' ¨C Bradford refused to sit back. They had absorbed the early pressure, but now it was time to strike back. The ball was worked through midfield, V¨¦lez shifting it quickly to Ib¨¢?ez, who found Silva in space on the right. Silva lifted his head. Jordi Alba was in front of him. The Brazilian didn''t hesitate. A quick step over, a sudden burst of pace¡ªgone. Alba reached out, trying to recover, but Silva had already left him behind, sprinting into the final third. The crowd rose to their feet. Costa was making his run, cutting between Avil¨¦s and Falc¨®n. Silva spotted it immediately. A perfect delivery¡ªwhipped, fast, dipping. Costa met it with his chest, cushioning it down inside the box. One touch to settle. One touch to shoot. He struck it cleanly. For a second, time slowed. The ball rocketed toward the bottom corner. Then¡ªa blur of movement. Callender reacted instinctively, diving low to his right. Fingertips on the ball. It deflected just wide. A roar of frustration from the Bradford fans. Silva threw his hands up in disbelief. It was that close. Jake on the touchline clapped his hands sharply. "That''s it! Again!" he shouted. The players reset for the corner, but the message was clear¡ªBradford wasn''t afraid. They were here to play. 15'' ¨C Inter Miami slowed the game down, keeping possession with ease. Busquets sat deep, controlling the tempo, playing quick, sharp passes that forced Bradford to chase shadows. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez tried to press, but Busquets was a master of staying one step ahead. Jake could see the frustration building in his players. Every time they pressed, Busquets released the ball just before they arrived. Every time they sat off, he dictated the game. Paul Roberts leaned in. "We need to be more aggressive in midfield." Jake nodded but said nothing. He was waiting for a moment to shift the momentum. 21'' ¨C Bradford had started to settle into the game, growing in confidence after their early chances. But Inter Miami didn''t need control to be dangerous. They only needed one mistake. And it came. Ib¨¢?ez received the ball in midfield, facing his own goal, under light pressure. He tried to turn¡ªtoo casual. Redondo pounced. A sharp challenge, a clean steal. Ib¨¢?ez went tumbling, the ball rolling loose. Busquets was already waiting. One touch. A quick glance up. A pass¡ªbefore Bradford could reset. The ball fizzed wide to the left. Messi was already moving. Richards saw him coming and tried to step in early, but Messi''s touch was effortless. One. Two. Richards lunged¡ªMessi shifted inside like he wasn''t even there. The crowd held its breath. Barnes read it, stepping up to close him down¡ªMessi dropped his shoulder, sold the dummy, and glided past. Fletcher was the last man. A moment of hesitation, a half-step too slow. That was all Messi needed. He barely broke stride before curling a shot toward the far post. Okafor reacted instantly, launching himself to his right. Fingertips away. The ball brushed the inside of the post and nestled into the net. For a second, silence. Then¡ªan eruption from the away section. Messi didn''t even celebrate. Just a slow jog back to midfield, calm, composed, like it was just another goal. Because for him, it was. Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. A lesson in world-class finishing. His players looked stunned, but Jake clapped his hands sharply. "Head up! Plenty of time left!" But they all knew the truth. Against a player like Messi, one second of hesitation was all it took. 28'' ¨C Bradford didn''t fold. They had taken a hit, but instead of retreating, they pushed forward. Bardghji, eager to stamp his name on the game, found himself in space on the left. Jake watched as the Swedish winger squared up against Gonzalo Luj¨¢n. This was the matchup Jake wanted. One quick step inside. Luj¨¢n reacted, trying to shift his weight. Too late. Bardghji exploded forward, bursting into the penalty area, leaving Luj¨¢n chasing shadows. The crowd rose to their feet. Bradford''s new star had space. Options. Instead of going for goal, he spotted Richter at the edge of the box. A quick cut-back¡ªperfectly weighted. Richter set himself, took a touch, and unleashed a shot. The ball was rocketing toward goal¡ª Blocked at the last second by Avil¨¦s. A last-ditch stretch of the leg, just enough to deflect the ball wide. Bardghji threw his hands up, frustrated. It had been the moment. Jake clenched his fists. They were getting closer. 37'' ¨C Inter Miami wasn''t content with just one goal. They had smelled blood. Messi started dropping deeper, pulling the strings, waiting for the perfect moment. Bradford held their defensive shape, but Miami was patient. Then, in the 37th minute, their opening arrived. Messi drifted to the right, pulling Taylor out of position. That was all Tadeo Allende needed. A quick touch inside, a deep, curling cross into the box¡ª Su¨¢rez was waiting. Unmarked. Lurking near the penalty spot. A single touch to control. A quick turn. A shot. Okafor reacted instantly. A full-body dive, low to his right¡ªpalmed the shot wide. The ball spilled out for a corner, but Bradford had survived. Jake turned to Paul Roberts, voice sharp. "We''re giving them too much time in our box." Paul nodded, already scribbling something on his notepad. "We need to close down faster." Miami had shown their quality once again. But Bradford had survived. And Jake knew¡ªthey wouldn''t get another warning. 45'' ¨C Halftime The referee''s whistle echoed across Valley Parade. Bradford 0-1 Inter Miami. Jake exhaled slowly as he turned toward the tunnel. The first 45 minutes had been a lesson in control, experience, and punishment. Messi had punished them. Busquets had dictated the tempo. Miami had controlled the game without needing to dominate possession. Bradford had fought, had pressed, had pushed forward in moments¡ªbut they hadn''t done enough. As Jake walked into the dressing room, he saw it in his players'' faces. Sweat-drenched. Frustrated. Hungry. They weren''t defeated, but they knew they''d been outplayed. Some sat on the benches, staring at the floor. Others took deep breaths, trying to recover. Fletcher wiped his face with his jersey, while Bardghji leaned back, arms crossed, clearly annoyed. Nathan Barnes, always the leader, stood near the tactics board, his jaw tight. Silva sipped from his water bottle, shaking his head. Jake let the silence linger. Then, he stepped forward. He spoke calmly. Controlled. But sharp. "We are not here to watch them play football." His voice cut through the tension. Every head lifted. Every pair of eyes focused on him. "Messi? Su¨¢rez? Busquets? Respect them, but don''t fear them. We''re not tourists here."** His gaze swept across the room. "Press harder. Move the ball faster. Take risks."** Silence. Then¡ªBarnes nodded. Fletcher clenched his fists. Silva and Bardghji straightened up. They understood. Jake turned to V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez. "Busquets is running this game because we''re letting him. Get in his face. Make him uncomfortable." V¨¦lez smirked, stretching his arms. "Got it." Jake shifted to Bardghji. "You''ve had the beating of their right-back all game. Keep going at him. Be fearless." Bardghji nodded, eyes burning with determination. Then, he looked at Costa and Richter. "We need better runs. When Silva and Bardghji beat their men, be ready." Richter wiped his face with his jersey, nodding. Costa cracked his knuckles. Jake took one final look around the room. "They''re older. We''re younger. They slow the game down. We speed it up. Make this match chaotic. Drag them into a game they don''t want to play." A shift. A change in body language. The frustration had turned into fire. Jake turned toward the door. "Second half starts now." His players rose to their feet. They weren''t just going out to play. They were going out to fight. Chapter 148 - 148: BRADFORD VS INTER MIAMI PART 2 46'' ¨C From the moment the referee blew his whistle for the second half, Bradford looked different. Gone was the hesitation. Gone was the caution. They pressed like a team with something to prove. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez, following Jake''s halftime orders to the letter, swarmed Busquets immediately. No time. No space. Every time he received the ball, they were on him. Busquets tried to take a touch¡ªV¨¦lez snapped at his heels. He tried to pivot¡ªIb¨¢?ez cut off the passing lane. The composure Miami had in the first half vanished. 48'' ¨C Bradford''s pressure forced Miami into mistakes. A misplaced pass from Redondo gave Silva a chance to break. He surged forward, skipping past Alba, before driving a low cross into the box. The ball deflected¡ªchaos in the area. Costa lunged. Richter swung a boot. The ball pinballed around before Falc¨®n hacked it clear. Miami was under siege. Jake clapped his hands sharply on the touchline. This was their moment. The moment the game shifted. 51'' ¨C Bradford was in complete control. Miami was struggling to deal with the intensity. Silva was causing havoc down the right, his quick feet making him impossible to pin down. In the 51st minute, he picked up the ball near the touchline, immediately faced by Redondo and Alba. A sharp cut inside past the first defender, then a sudden shift to the right¡ªpast the second. The crowd roared as Silva surged into the box. Costa was waiting. Silva squared the ball¡ªperfectly weighted. Costa took a touch, turned, and fired¡ª Just inches wide. A groan from the Bradford fans. On the touchline, Jake clenched his fists. They were getting closer. 53'' ¨C Miami needed to respond. With the game slipping away from them, they made wholesale changes to bring fresh energy into the side. Substitutions: Goalkeeper: CJ dos Santos (on for Callender) Right Back: DeAndre Yedlin (on for Luj¨¢n) Center Back: Ryan Sailor (on for Avil¨¦s) Midfielder: Jean Mota (on for Redondo) Midfielder: Benjamin Cremaschi (on for Busquets) Midfielder: Dixon Arroyo (on for Allende) Forward: Robert Taylor (on for Su¨¢rez) Forward: Leonardo Campana (on for Far¨ªas) Jake watched the substitutions closely. Busquets was out. Su¨¢rez was out. Messi remained, but Miami had lost two of their biggest voices on the pitch. Jake turned to Paul Roberts, his assistant coach. "They just got younger and quicker, but they lost control in midfield," Jake murmured. Paul nodded. "They''re going to play more direct now. Long balls, fast transitions." Jake smirked. "Let''s see if they can handle our pace." 55'' ¨C It started with Bardghji. The Swedish wonderkid, the club''s record signing, was about to have his moment. He had spent the last ten minutes probing, testing, waiting. Now, he saw his opening. The ball came to him wide on the left, near the halfway line. Yedlin, fresh off the bench, was in front of him. Bardghji didn''t rush. He let the ball roll, drawing Yedlin in. The experienced full-back adjusted his stance, preparing for the challenge. A quick feint to the right. Yedlin bit¡ªBardghji exploded left. The pace. The acceleration. The space was his. Jake saw it unfolding before anyone else. "Go on, kid," he muttered under his breath. Bardghji drove toward the box, cutting inside. Ryan Sailor came across¡ªtoo late. Bardghji lifted his head. Costa was moving near post, peeling off his marker. The cross was perfect¡ªlow, driven, fast. Costa sprinted toward it, timing his run to perfection. One touch. A first-time finish. The ball smashed past CJ dos Santos, who barely had time to react. The net rippled. 1-1. Costa wheeled away in celebration, fists clenched. He turned toward Bardghji, pointing at him, shouting in pure adrenaline. The stadium erupted. Bradford had equalized. Jake turned to his bench, nodding. Now they were in the fight. Miami''s players looked shaken. The substitutions they made moments ago hadn''t settled. Cremaschi and Mota were scrambling in midfield. Arroyo wasn''t Busquets. And now, Bradford had momentum. Jake shouted to his players: "Don''t stop! Keep pushing!" The game had changed. Bradford wasn''t just competing anymore. They were taking control. 74'' ¨C Bradford was relentless. Miami, already rattled by the equalizer, had dropped deeper, trying to regain control. But without Busquets to dictate play, they were struggling to maintain possession. Bradford smelled blood. Jake paced the touchline, watching as his team pushed forward, suffocating Miami in their own half. Every clearance from the visitors was coming straight back at them. Then, in the 74th minute, the breakthrough came. A long throw-in from Richards, launched deep into the penalty area. Miami''s defenders scrambled¡ªFletcher rose highest, flicking it on. The ball bounced loose. Right to V¨¦lez. The Colombian midfielder had been lurking at the edge of the box, watching, waiting. One touch to set himself. Then¡ªa rocket of a shot. The ball exploded off his boot, swerving past a sea of bodies. Dos Santos never saw it. The net rippled violently. Valley Parade ERUPTED. V¨¦lez sprinted toward the corner flag, fists clenched, roaring into the night. His teammates swarmed him, jumping on his back, shaking him. On the sideline, Jake clenched his jaw. 2-1. But it wasn''t over. Jake turned to his bench. It was time to manage the game. 78'' ¨C Jake called over Paul Roberts. "We make the changes now," he said. "I want fresh legs in midfield, more energy in the attack, and I want the two kids in." Roberts nodded and signaled to the fourth official. Bradford Substitutions (78''): Off: Emeka Okafor (Goalkeeper) ¨C No need to risk fatigue in a friendly. Renan Silva (Right Midfield) ¨C Had worked hard, but time to rotate. Tobias Richter (Striker) ¨C Strong effort, but fresh legs needed. Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez (Central Midfield) ¨C Kept things ticking but needed rest. Santiago V¨¦lez (Central Midfield) ¨C Scored the winner, but now protected. Nathan Barnes (Captain, Center-Back) ¨C Solid at the back, but Bianchi needed minutes. Aiden Taylor (Left Back) ¨C Strong defensively, but Holloway needed minutes. On: Matthew Cox (Goalkeeper) ¨C The young shot-stopper gets minutes. Roney Bardghji moves to right midfield ¨C Staying on but switching wings. Leo Rasmussen (on at left midfield) ¨C Fresh legs, a direct runner. Raphael Mensah (on at striker) ¨C Quick, unpredictable, can stretch Miami''s defense. Lewis Chapman (on in midfield) ¨C Defensive workhorse, energy in the middle. Daniel Lowe (on in midfield) ¨C The experienced presence to break up attacks. Marco Bianchi (on at center-back) ¨C Young, physical, good in the air. Reece Holloway (on at left-back) ¨C The young left-back''s debut for Bradford. Formation After Substitutions: Bradford stays in a 4-4-2 with: Mensah playing up front with Costa (instead of subbing both strikers). Bardghji moving to right midfield. Rasmussen taking over on the left. Chapman and Lowe controlling the center. Jake clapped his hands. Fresh energy. Fresh hunger. He turned back to the pitch. "Hold the line." Bradford had fifteen minutes to see it out. Bradford was close. Fifteen minutes. That''s all that stood between them and a statement win. But Miami wasn''t done. They were throwing everything forward. 82'' ¨C Jake watched closely as Messi adjusted. Since the equalizer, Miami had struggled to control the game. Without Busquets, their midfield wasn''t dictating play. So, Messi took matters into his own hands. He drifted deeper and deeper, collecting the ball near the center circle, scanning for gaps. Bradford''s midfield closed in on him immediately. Chapman shadowed him, but Messi didn''t need much space. A quick turn. A feint. A burst of acceleration. Before Bradford could react, he had split the lines with a perfect through ball. The pass sliced between Bianchi and Fletcher¡ªCampana was onto it. Jake tensed. Campana took a touch inside the box and wound up to shoot¡ª Bianchi lunged in, blocking the strike at the last second. The ball rebounded to Taylor, who hammered it clear. A huge roar erupted from the home fans. But Jake wasn''t celebrating yet. Miami was turning up the pressure. 87'' ¨C Miami won a dangerous free kick just outside the penalty area. Cremaschi had driven forward, pushing into Bradford''s half when Chapman lunged in late. The whistle blew instantly. Jake''s hands tightened into fists. Messi. He didn''t need reminding what was about to happen. Bradford''s players set up the wall¡ªfive men standing firm. Matthew Cox, the young keeper who had come on for Okafor earlier, stood tall. This was his first real test. The referee blew the whistle. Messi took three steps back. Jake clenched his jaw. The shot curled over the wall, bending viciously toward the top corner. Cox launched himself¡ªfull stretch, fingers grazing the ball. But it wasn''t enough. The ball clipped the inside of the post and bounced into the net. The away section erupted. Messi didn''t celebrate. He simply jogged back, focused, like he had expected it to happen. Cox lay on the ground, staring at the net, frustrated but knowing there was nothing he could''ve done. Jake exhaled sharply. 2-2. Everything they had worked for¡ªgone. Miami''s players smelled blood. Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "We need to kill the momentum." Paul nodded. "We need to see this out." Jake folded his arms, staring at the pitch. Five minutes left. Bradford had to hold on. 90+3'' ¨C The final minutes were chaos. Miami threw everything forward. Bradford dropped deep, bodies behind the ball, fighting to hold on. 90+1'' ¨C A deep cross from Jean Mota sailed into the box, targeting Robert Taylor. The Miami winger timed his run perfectly, controlling the ball off his chest. He let it drop. He swung his foot back for the volley¡ª Fletcher threw himself in front of it. The ball smashed against his chest and ricocheted away. But danger wasn''t over. The loose ball rolled to Dixon Arroyo, who had the entire goal in front of him. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One swing of his boot and Miami would steal it. Jake held his breath. Chapman flew in. A perfectly timed sliding challenge, clearing the ball into the stands. The crowd erupted. The referee glanced at his watch. The whistle blew. Full-Time: Bradford City 2-2 Inter Miami Jake exhaled, his hands on his hips. They hadn''t won. But they had proven something. They had gone toe-to-toe with a team filled with world-class players. They had led. They had fought. And they had left the pitch knowing they belonged. Post-Match ¨C As Jake turned toward his players, he smirked. Most of them weren''t heading toward the tunnel. They were heading toward Messi. Barnes. Silva. Costa. Bardghji. Even Fletcher¡ªall of them had their phones out, taking pictures. Some of the Miami players laughed, knowing exactly why. This was Messi. Su¨¢rez clapped Bardghji on the back, speaking to him in Spanish. The young Swede nodded, grinning like a kid meeting his idol. Jake shook his head. They had just fought these guys for 90 minutes, but now they were back to being fans. He couldn''t blame them. Jake walked over toward Messi and Su¨¢rez. The two legends were chatting quietly near the sideline, cooling down. Messi spotted Jake and gave him a slight nod. Jake extended his hand, and they shook. "You had a wonderful game," Jake said. "Still unplayable, even now." Messi gave a small smile. "Your team played well. Strong. Organized." Su¨¢rez grinned. "And aggressive." Jake chuckled. "You wouldn''t want it any other way." Then, he hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Listen, I don''t usually ask for things like this, but¡­ if you don''t mind, could you sign a shirt for me?" Messi raised an eyebrow. "A coach asking for a shirt?" Jake smirked. "Not for me. My son, Ethan." Su¨¢rez laughed. "Good excuse." Messi nodded. "Give me a shirt. I''ll sign it." Jake quickly gestured to one of the club staff members, who brought over a fresh Bradford kit. Messi and Su¨¢rez both signed their names across the front. Jake took it, nodding in appreciation. "He''s going to love this." Messi gave him one last handshake before turning back toward the tunnel. Jake glanced at the signed jersey, then up at the scoreboard. 2-2. Bradford had held their own against legends. And pre-season had only just begun. Post-Match Press Conference The press room at Valley Parade was packed. Cameras clicked, microphones were adjusted, and reporters leaned forward, eager for Jake Wilson''s thoughts. Bradford had just drawn 2-2 against Inter Miami, against Messi, Su¨¢rez, and Busquets. The moment he sat down, the first question came. Journalist 1 (Sky Sports): "Jake, a 2-2 result against a team with multiple legends of the game. How do you feel about the performance?" Jake leaned toward the mic. "Proud," he said without hesitation. "We went up against some of the greatest players to ever touch a football, and we held our own. We pressed them, we created chances, we made them work for everything. This wasn''t just a friendly for us¡ªit was a test. And I think we passed." Journalist 2 (BBC Sport): "Messi and Su¨¢rez still showed their class tonight, particularly Messi with that late free kick. What did it mean to have your players share the pitch with them?" Jake nodded. "It''s special. Look, I don''t care who you are¡ªif you love football, you respect what these guys have done for the game. And they''re still playing at such a high level. Messi''s free kick? You could have two goalkeepers, and he still finds the corner. Su¨¢rez''s movement? He''ll punish you if you give him half a second. These are players that young footballers study. And my players? They didn''t just watch them tonight¡ªthey competed against them. That experience is priceless." Journalist 3 (ESPN): "A strong start to pre-season, but next, you''re facing Santos, where another world-class name is waiting¡ªNeymar. How do you prepare for that challenge?" Jake smirked slightly, already thinking ahead. "Well, tonight we played against two of the greatest players from the last decade, so why not make it three?" he said, earning a few chuckles from the room. Then he got serious. "Santos is another level of challenge. They play a different style, more fluid, more unpredictable. Neymar is still one of the best in the world. He''ll test us in ways Miami didn''t. But that''s why we scheduled these games¡ªto push ourselves. We''ll analyze, we''ll adjust, and we''ll be ready." The room buzzed with quiet excitement. Bradford had already stood toe-to-toe with Messi and Su¨¢rez. Now, they were preparing for Neymar. The next challenge was coming. And Jake Wilson''s team wasn''t backing down. Fan Caf¨¦ Reaction ¨C A Night to Remember The Bradford Fan Caf¨¦ was buzzing with activity. Thousands of messages flooded the forum, fans dissecting every moment of the 2-2 draw against Inter Miami. Some fans were still in shock. ForeverBantam: "I CAN''T BELIEVE WE JUST WENT TOE-TO-TOE WITH MESSI AND SU¨¢REZ. WHAT A GAME." WilsonMagic: "Messi''s free kick was unreal, but we didn''t look out of place. We BELONG at this level." Others, though, were feeling a mix of emotions. RealistBantam: "Great result, but that was OUR game to win. We had them." CityTillIDie: "Two-nil up against a team like that, and we don''t win? That late goal stings." But for most, it wasn''t even about the result. It was about who they had just watched. OldSchoolBantam: "Lads, we just watched Messi and Su¨¢rez play in OUR stadium. This was something special." BantamLegend: "I grew up watching these guys dominate world football. Now they played HERE. This was a night we''ll never forget." The game had been sold out for weeks, but many fans who couldn''t get a ticket had still found a way to be part of it. Some had gathered in pubs, watching on big screens. Others had stood outside Valley Parade, listening to the crowd roar from inside. One fan even posted a picture from his phone, watching the game from his car radio in a parking lot near the stadium. MatchdayManiac: "Didn''t get a ticket, but I was outside the ground listening. Even from there, you could feel the energy." Then came the debates about the match itself. BardghjiFC: "Roney B is HIM. Did you see what he did to Yedlin before that assist? Kid is different." CostaHattrickSoon: "Costa is the striker we need. That finish? ICE COLD." ChapmanFan97: "Chapman''s tackle in the 93rd minute was worth a goal. He saved us." But not everyone was satisfied. Some fans were already looking ahead. YoungGaffer10: "Great performance. Now let''s see how we do against Neymar." TacticalWizard: "Santos will be a different beast. Neymar still has magic in him. We can''t let our guard down." The final takeaway? This wasn''t just a friendly. Bradford had stood with legends. And now, they were ready for more. Chapter 149 - 149: BRADFORD VS SANTOS 1 Pre-Match ¨C The Neymar Effect Jake stood at the edge of the pitch, arms crossed, watching as the stands filled. Valley Parade was sold out again. Two big pre-season games. Two sell-outs. But this wasn''t just about Bradford anymore. This was about Neymar. The return of a footballing icon to his boyhood club had sent shockwaves through the sport. Santos was back in Europe for pre-season, and Neymar was leading the charge. Jake had seen the headlines. "Neymar Returns ¨C The Final Chapter?" "Santos Takes on Europe with Their Prodigal Son." "Wilson''s Bradford vs. Neymar''s Santos ¨C Another Pre-Season Test." Jake didn''t care about the media spectacle. He cared about the test. His squad had already gone toe-to-toe with Messi and Su¨¢rez. Now, they had to handle another world-class attacker. Jake turned as Paul Roberts approached. "They''re treating this like a final," Paul muttered, glancing toward the Santos warm-up. Jake followed his gaze. Neymar was loose, relaxed, laughing with teammates. But the moment he got the ball? Sharp. Deadly. Focused. It was clear¡ªhe was here to put on a show. Renan Silva stood frozen near the touchline, watching. Jake smirked. He recognized that look. A kid watching his hero. He walked over to Silva and nudged him. "You good?" Silva blinked, snapping out of his trance. "Yeah¡­ it''s just¡ª" Jake raised an eyebrow. Silva exhaled. "It''s Neymar." Jake nodded. "So? Tonight, he''s just another opponent. Play your game." Silva gave a small, nervous chuckle but nodded. He knew this was a moment he''d never forget. The stadium announcer''s voice boomed. "WELCOME TO VALLEY PARADE¡­ IT''S BRADFORD CITY VS. SANTOS!" The crowd erupted. Jake turned back toward the pitch. Time to see what they were made of. Kickoff ¨C The Battle Begins 1'' ¨C The whistle blew, and Santos wasted no time asserting themselves. From the very first pass, it was clear¡ªthey weren''t here to ease into the match. Neymar, effortlessly gliding into space, demanded the ball within seconds. He drifted inside from the left, drawing Richards with him, and with a simple flick of his right foot, he switched the play to the opposite wing. Felipe Jonatan sprinted forward, controlling it in stride before cutting back inside, linking up with Dodi. The midfielder took one touch and immediately fired a pass into Marcos Leonardo, who had already peeled away from Barnes. One touch. Then a shot. The ball rocketed toward the bottom corner. But Okafor was ready. The Nigerian keeper launched himself to his right, stretching every inch of his frame to get a strong hand to it. The ball deflected wide, rolling out for an early corner. Santos weren''t here to play conservatively. Jake clapped his hands once, sharp and deliberate. "Wake up! Stay compact!" His players looked at each other, nodding. They had survived the first wave. But it was just the beginning. 7'' ¨C The Valley Parade crowd buzzed with anticipation. Neymar had been quiet for the first few minutes, but now, he had the ball at his feet. Just inside the Bradford half, he flicked it into the air, juggling it effortlessly as Silva approached. One touch off his thigh. Another off his knee. Then he let it drop, rolling it under his foot, daring Silva to make a move. Silva hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was all Neymar needed. A sudden shift of weight. A drop of the shoulder. A sharp feint to the right. Silva started to move¡ªthen stopped himself. He didn''t bite. Instead, he stuck out his foot at the last second, just as Neymar tried to flick the ball past him. A clean touch. The ball rolled away from Neymar''s control. The crowd erupted. Neymar looked up, locking eyes with Silva. Then he smiled. A small nod of respect before jogging back into position. Silva exhaled, his heart pounding. He had just stolen the ball from his idol. But deep down, he knew Neymar wasn''t done yet. 15'' ¨C Bradford had settled now. They weren''t just absorbing pressure anymore¡ªthey were looking for openings. Ib¨¢?ez, ever the orchestrator, found a pocket of space in midfield. He took a touch, lifted his head, and threaded a perfect pass between the lines. Silva spun away from his marker, controlling it on the half-turn. He was in space. A quick sprint toward the final third, then a glance up¡ªBardghji was wide open on the right. A perfectly timed pass sent the Swedish winger driving forward. Bardghji cut inside, taking on his defender with ease. One touch. Then a curling shot toward the far post. For a second, it looked perfect. The ball spun toward the top corner¡ª But Jo?o Paulo reacted instantly. The Santos keeper leapt to his left, stretching out a hand, tipping the ball just wide of the post. A corner. Jake clapped his hands together. That was better. They weren''t here to admire Neymar. They were here to win. 25'' ¨C Santos dictated the rhythm, passing the ball around patiently, probing for weaknesses. Jake watched closely. They were trying to lull Bradford into a false sense of security. Then, in an instant¡ªNeymar flipped the switch. A sharp one-two with Felipe Jonatan on the left flank. A sudden burst of acceleration. He blew past Richards, gliding into the penalty area like a shadow. Fletcher rushed over¡ªbut Neymar nutmegged him effortlessly, rolling the ball between his legs. Jake clenched his fists. The Brazilian was in. One-on-one with Okafor. The stadium held its breath. Neymar took a touch, prepared to strike¡ª Then, out of nowhere¡ªBarnes slid in. A perfectly timed challenge, knocking the ball cleanly away just before Neymar could pull the trigger. Valley Parade exploded with applause. Neymar got up, shaking his head with a small smile. Even he had to respect that. Jake smirked, turning to Paul Roberts. "That''s our captain." 30'' ¨C Santos wasn''t discouraged. Three minutes later, they worked the ball through the center, where Dodi found space. The midfielder lifted his head and threaded a perfect through ball into the box. Marcos Leonardo peeled off his marker, taking a touch before rifling a shot toward the near post. Okafor reacted in a flash¡ªdiving low to his right, getting a strong hand to it. The ball spilled loose¡ªArroyo pounced on the rebound, striking it first time¡ª Okafor pushed it wide again! S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake pumped his fist. His keeper was keeping them in the game. 33'' ¨C Bradford wasn''t just absorbing pressure anymore. They hit back with a rapid counterattack. Ib¨¢?ez intercepted a misplaced pass and immediately released Bardghji down the right. The Swedish winger took off, sprinting past his defender with raw speed. Silva made a diagonal run into the box¡ªBardghji saw it and fired a low cross. Silva met it first-time, redirecting the ball toward goal. Jo?o Paulo was beaten. The ball flashed inches wide of the post. Silva buried his head in his hands. Jake exhaled sharply. They were knocking on the door. 37'' ¨C Bradford grew in confidence. Silva, now fully settled, drove into the final third, linking up beautifully with Bardghji. Bardghji flicked a clever backheel into space¡ªCosta reacted first. A quick turn. A snapshot toward the bottom corner. The keeper was beaten. But the ball smashed against the post and ricocheted out of play. Jake clenched his fists. So close. The stadium groaned in frustration. Paul Roberts turned to Jake. "It''s coming." Jake nodded. They just needed one moment. 45'' ¨C Halftime The whistle blew. Bradford 0-0 Santos. Jake exhaled, his gaze sweeping across the pitch as his players jogged toward the tunnel. They had stood their ground. They had kept Neymar quiet¡ªso far. And they had created chances. But one mistake, one moment of brilliance, and all their work could crumble in an instant. Jake stepped into the dressing room, his expression unreadable. The players took their seats, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from their foreheads. Some grabbed water bottles, others ran towels over their faces. The room was silent¡ªwaiting for him to speak. Jake clapped his hands together, sharp and deliberate. "We are not here to admire them." His voice cut through the tension. "We are here to beat them." He walked to the whiteboard, circling Neymar''s name. "We know what he can do. We''ve seen it. But we''ve held firm. We''ve matched them. And if we stay focused, if we take our chances, we win this game." He pointed toward V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez. "Midfield¡ªmore pressure. Busquets struggled when we pressed him last match. We can do the same here. Don''t give Dodi or Jonatan time to breathe." V¨¦lez nodded, cracking his knuckles. "They won''t get a second." Jake turned to Silva and Bardghji. "You two¡ªtake risks. Get at them. Silva, you''ve already caused problems for their full-backs. Keep making those runs." Silva wiped sweat from his brow and nodded. Jake''s gaze then moved to Bardghji. "And you¡ªkeep doing what you''re doing. That backheel to Costa? Perfect. Next time, it goes in." Bardghji smirked. "Won''t miss twice." Jake took a deep breath and looked at every single one of them. "Forty-five minutes left. We''ve played too well to let this slip now." A pause. Then, he smirked. "Go make Neymar wish he stayed in Saudi." The room erupted in laughter. The tension broke. Bradford wasn''t just here to survive. They were going to win. Chapter 150 - 150: BRADFORD VS SANTOS 2 Second Half ¨C Jake stood at the edge of the technical area, arms folded, watching as his team jogged back onto the pitch. The first half had been a battle, but now, it was time to take control. Bradford had held their own against Neymar''s Santos. Now, they needed to push for more. 50'' ¨C Jake''s halftime talk had sunk in. Bradford came out sharper, pressing higher, suffocating Santos'' midfield. Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez were relentless in the center, harassing Felipe Jonatan and Dodi, forcing misplaced passes. Silva tracked back, helping Richards double-team Neymar whenever he drifted inside. Barnes barked instructions at the back, keeping the defensive line tight. Santos started to look unsettled. Bradford were in control now. 54'' ¨C The crowd buzzed with anticipation every time Bardghji touched the ball. And this time, he wasn''t looking to pass. The Swedish wonderkid received the ball wide on the right, immediately squaring up his defender. A quick hesitation. A step over. Then¡ªan explosion of pace. The Santos full-back lunged¡ªtoo late. Bardghji was already past him, driving toward the box. A second defender stepped up. Bardghji cut inside sharply onto his left foot, the ball glued to his feet. Jake could see it happening. The space opened up. Twenty yards out. Perfect angle. Bardghji let fly. A curling, dipping effort, arrowing toward the top corner¡ª For a brief second, the entire stadium held its breath. Jo?o Paulo sprang to life. The Santos goalkeeper reacted instantly, leaping at full stretch, fingertips grazing the ball just enough to push it over the bar. The net rippled¡ªbut only on top. The crowd groaned. Jake clapped his hands together. That was the moment. They were getting closer. Bardghji ran a frustrated hand through his hair, then gave a nod. He knew. Next time¡ªit was going in. 65'' ¨C Santos needed a reaction. They had fallen behind, and now their experienced midfielders¡ªBusquets, Dodi, and Jonatan¡ªtried to slow the game down, to regain control. Bradford didn''t let them. V¨¦lez was everywhere. He hunted down every loose ball, pressing with relentless energy. Anytime a Santos player hesitated in midfield, V¨¦lez was there, snapping at their heels, forcing rushed passes. At the back, Fletcher was a wall. Cross after cross came into the box¡ªand every single time, Fletcher rose highest, heading the danger away. Even Mensah, who had just replaced Silva in the 63rd minute, wasn''t just thinking about attacking. He dropped deep, tracking Neymar, refusing to give him space. Santos couldn''t find a way through. Their frustration was growing. 70'' ¨C Then, Neymar decided to take matters into his own hands. He drifted out wide, standing near the left touchline, waiting for the ball. When it came to him, he stopped. The entire stadium tensed. Holloway, the young left-back, was directly in front of him. One-on-one. Neymar vs. the kid. A flick of the ball. A fake step to the right. Holloway moved¡ªNeymar didn''t. Instead, he rolled the ball backward, then forward¡ªthen nutmegged Holloway with a ridiculous touch, spinning around him effortlessly. The crowd gasped. Neymar was through. Jake clenched his fists¡ªbut before Neymar could break into the box, Bianchi came sliding in, clearing the ball out for a throw. Holloway sighed in relief. Neymar grinned, ruffling the young left-back''s hair before jogging away. Jake smirked. "Not bad, kid. You only got embarrassed once." Paul Roberts chuckled. "Yeah, but what a way to get embarrassed." 72'' ¨C Bardghji was in full flow now. Every time he touched the ball, the crowd rose in anticipation. This time, he picked it up near the halfway line, spun away from his marker with a quick turn, and exploded forward. One defender tried to close him down¡ªhe skipped past with ease. A second one lunged in¡ªBardghji rolled the ball through his legs and kept going. The Santos defense was in trouble. Costa made his run, peeling away from his marker at the edge of the box. Bardghji spotted him and slid a perfect pass into his path. Costa took a touch, shifted his weight, lined up the shot¡ª Blocked. At the very last second, Jo?o Basso threw himself in front of the ball, deflecting it away. Jake shook his head. That was the moment. They were so close to sealing it. 78'' ¨C Jake called over Paul Roberts. "Fresh legs," he said, his voice firm. "We''re seeing this out." Roberts nodded and signaled to the fourth official. Bradford Substitutions: Off: Costa Bardghji Ib¨¢?ez On: Raphael Mensah (Left Wing) Leo Rasmussen (Right Wing) Lewis Chapman (Central Midfield) Jake grabbed Mensah''s arm before he ran on. "Keep tracking back. Don''t let Neymar get space." Mensah nodded, his face serious. "Got it, boss." Bradford wasn''t just defending this lead. They were going to fight for every inch until the final whistle. 82'' ¨C Santos had been knocking on the door, and this time, they finally found a way through. Neymar, who had spent most of the second half drifting wide, suddenly ghosted into the center, finding a pocket of space at the edge of the box. One touch to control. One glance at goal. Then, a venomous strike. The ball rocketed toward the top corner, spinning wickedly through the air. Okafor reacted instantly. He launched himself to his right, stretching every inch of his frame¡ªand got a strong hand to it. The ball deflected wide. A collective gasp of relief swept through Valley Parade. Jake exhaled, turning to Paul Roberts. "That was too close." Paul nodded, arms crossed. "Five more minutes." Jake didn''t respond. He was too focused. Neymar wasn''t done yet. 88'' ¨C Santos threw everything forward. They pushed their full-backs high, midfielders overloaded the final third, and Neymar? Neymar was waiting. A long diagonal switch from Busquets found him perfectly in stride on the left. One touch to control. Richards rushed in¡ªtoo late. Barnes stepped up¡ªbeaten by a feint. Neymar drifted into the box, cutting inside effortlessly, dragging defenders with him. One last move. A feint left¡ªBarnes followed. A quick shift right¡ªspace opened up. Jake clenched his fists. This was it. Neymar curled a beautiful shot toward the far post. The stadium held its breath. Okafor dived again. Fingertips. The ball deflected wide. The Bradford crowd erupted. Neymar stood still for a second, hands on his hips. He had struck it perfectly¡ªbut Okafor had denied him again. Jake let out a slow breath. That was it. That was Neymar''s last chance. 90+3'' ¨C Full-Time Whistle The referee blew the whistle. Bradford City 1-0 Santos. Jake exhaled. They had done it. A statement win. Silva? He had played against his idol¡ªand won. Post-Match ¨C A Dream Come True As the players walked off, Silva didn''t head straight to the tunnel. He jogged toward Neymar, who was still near the center circle. The Brazilian legend saw him coming and gave a small smile. "You played well." Neymar said in Portuguese. Silva hesitated for a second before finally speaking. "I grew up watching you. I want to be like you. And one day, I want to play for Brazil." Neymar chuckled. "Then keep playing like that. Brazil always has space for quality." Silva, still nervous, held out his shirt. "Would you¡ªtrade?" Neymar nodded, pulling off his own jersey and handing it over. They exchanged shirts. For Silva, this wasn''t just a match. It was the moment of his life. Post-Match Press Conference The press room was packed. Jake took his seat, adjusting the mic. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. First question. Journalist 1 (Sky Sports): "Jake, back-to-back strong performances against Inter Miami and now Santos. What does this mean for Bradford?" Jake smirked. "It means we''re here to compete. These games weren''t just about fitness¡ªthey were about showing that we belong at this level." Journalist 2 (BBC Sport): "Your team just beat a squad led by Neymar. What does this win mean?" Jake nodded. "Beating a team with world-class players like Neymar is never easy. It took discipline, hard work, and belief. We stood our ground, and we got the result." Then, a different question. Journalist 3 (ESPN): "Silva looked emotional after the game, trading shirts with Neymar. Can you talk about what this match meant for him?" Jake smiled. "Renan has looked up to Neymar his whole life. Today, he didn''t just play against him¡ªhe held his own. And I think, deep down, Neymar saw that too." The journalists scribbled down notes. Final question. Journalist 4 (The Athletic): "You''ve faced Messi. You''ve faced Neymar. Next up¡ªReal Madrid. Are you ready for another superstar challenge?" Jake leaned forward. "We''ll see." The press room buzzed. Bradford had beaten Neymar''s Santos. Now, they were heading into battle against the European champions. Chapter 151 - 151: Strengthening the Attack The match against Santos had made one thing clear¡ªBradford needed more firepower up front. Costa had scored the winner, but behind him, the options were thin. Bardghji and Silva could create. Mensah and Rasmussen had speed. But if Costa needed rest? If Richter picked up an injury? Bradford would be left exposed. Jake needed another striker. And the system responded. DING! [System Suggestion: Strengthen the Attack] Jake sat up as two names flashed across the screen. Chido Obi (Manchester United) ¨C Loan Option19-year-old Nigerian striker. Strong, fast, and clinical¡ªbut lacking first-team minutes at United. Could be a valuable rotation player. Rin Itoshi (Japan) ¨C Breakthrough Prospect18-year-old forward, close to becoming a free agent. Quick, intelligent movement, and a natural goal scorer. Could be a long-term investment. Jake exhaled. Two completely different players. Obi would be a short-term fix¡ªa physical presence who could push Costa and Richter for minutes. Rin? A gamble. The kind of signing that could go either way. Jake picked up his phone and dialed Michael Stone. Stone answered almost immediately. "Boss?" "We''re moving on two strikers," Jake said, cutting straight to the point. "Already ahead of you," Stone replied. "I''ve been doing my research on Obi and Liam Delap." Jake raised an eyebrow. "And?" Stone sighed. "Delap rejected us. PSG made an approach, and he wants to go there." Jake didn''t even hesitate. "Forget him. Go all in for Obi." "That was my plan." Jake leaned back in his chair. "What''s United''s stance?" "They want a loan. No option to buy. They''re not ready to sell him yet." Jake nodded. "That''s fine. We don''t need a permanent move¡ªwe just need depth." Stone paused for a moment. "And this second name¡ªRin Itoshi? Never heard of him." Jake had expected that. "He came up in the scouting reports," Jake said, keeping his voice casual. "Not a well-known player, but someone flagged him as a potential steal." It was a lie. The system had given him the name, not a scout. But he couldn''t exactly explain that. Stone let out a small chuckle. "You and your hidden gems." "Trust me on this one," Jake said. "He''s a free agent soon, but we can get him now for cheap. I want you to handle it." Stone hesitated. "You''re not coming on the trip?" Jake smirked. "No. I''m already planning a trip to Japan¡ªwith my family." Stone laughed. "Right. So I get to negotiate while you enjoy sushi with your kids?" Jake grinned. "Exactly." Stone sighed, but Jake could hear the amusement in his voice. "Fine. I''ll handle Obi first, then move on to Rin. Just make sure you bring me back something from Japan." Jake chuckled. "Deal." The call ended. Now, all Jake had to do was wait¡ªand let Stone work his magic. Manchester, England ¨C Securing Chido Obi Michael Stone arrived at Carrington early, stepping into Manchester United''s training complex with a clear goal¡ªsecure Chido Obi before another club did. The young Nigerian striker had potential. Big potential. But he was buried in United''s squad, struggling for minutes behind established stars and expensive new signings. Bradford could offer something United couldn''t¡ªreal opportunities. Stone was met by Liam Parker, United''s loan coordinator, who led him to one of the glass-walled offices overlooking the training pitches. Through the window, Obi was out on the grass, finishing up a shooting drill. Parker poured himself a coffee before sitting down. "Alright, let''s get straight to it." Stone nodded, taking a seat. "You want Obi on loan. We want him playing. What''s your plan for him?" Parker asked. "He''ll be a squad player," Stone answered honestly. "But he''ll get chances. Cup games, rotation matches. If he performs, he''ll push for more." Parker leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk. "That''s not going to cut it. United wants him starting regularly." Stone exhaled. "If you wanted him starting every week, you should''ve kept him here. He''s behind three strikers in your squad¡ªhe''s not playing." Parker glanced at United''s academy director, who sat quietly beside him. Neither could argue. Obi had talent, but there was no way he was breaking into United''s first team this season. "Look," Stone continued, leaning forward, "at Bradford, he''s competing. We''re in the Championship. We''re playing in Europe. He''ll be tested against real opposition. You want him to develop? This is where he''ll do it." Silence. Parker turned to the academy director. A slight nod. Then, Parker exhaled and leaned forward. "Alright. Loan until the end of the season. No option to buy." Stone smirked. "Deal." Finalizing the Personal Terms An hour later, Obi and his agent, Stephen Madu, walked into the meeting room. Obi, dressed in a United training hoodie, sat down across from Stone, looking eager. He wanted to play. That was clear. Madu, his agent, was more cautious. "Chido is excited," he began. "But what''s his role at Bradford?" Stone didn''t hesitate. "Squad player. No promises on starts, but he''ll get games. If he proves himself, he plays more." Obi leaned forward. "How many games are we talking?" Stone met his gaze. "That''s up to you." Madu folded his arms, considering. "As long as there''s development, we''re good." Stone slid the contract across the table. "¡ê10,000 per week. United covers 50% of wages. Full season loan." Madu scanned the contract, then passed it to Obi. The young striker didn''t hesitate. He smiled, picked up the pen, and signed. "Welcome to Bradford, Chido." Stone shook his hand. Another deal done. Bradford had their extra striker. Now, it was time to get him to work. Tokyo, Japan ¨C Finding a Hidden Gem After finalizing the Chido Obi deal in Manchester, Michael Stone took a direct flight to Tokyo, Japan. This wasn''t like any other transfer. There were no bidding wars, no media frenzy¡ªjust an 18-year-old striker flying under the radar. But the system had labeled Rin Itoshi as a hidden gem. Jake had barely heard of him. A quick online search pulled up grainy match footage from Japan''s second division. A small, wiry forward, moving with sharp intelligence, always a step ahead of defenders. A natural finisher. And most importantly¡ªhe was about to be a free agent. Negotiating with Rin''s Club Stone landed in Tokyo and went straight to the headquarters of Kawasaki FC, Itoshi''s club. A second-division side struggling financially, Kawasaki was on the verge of collapse. They were desperate for funds, which meant Rin''s future had already been decided. "We''re letting him leave," the sporting director admitted. "He''s free to talk to clubs." Stone nodded. "Then let''s talk terms." Rather than wait for a free transfer, Bradford offered a ¡ê20,000 goodwill fee¡ªjust enough to keep Kawasaki happy. The club accepted instantly. Meeting with Rin & His Agent Stone was soon sitting across from Kenji Takeda, Rin''s agent. Takeda wasn''t one for small talk. He went straight to business. "Rin has interest from other clubs. Why Bradford?" Stone smiled. "Because we''re not just signing him. We''re building him." Takeda raised an eyebrow. "Explain." Stone leaned forward. "At a big club, he''s lost in the system. At Bradford, he''s part of a project. He''ll get coaching, development, and if he proves himself, he plays." Rin, who had been silent so far, finally spoke. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "And the contract?" Stone slid the offer across the table. ¡ê2,000 per week salary Breakthrough Prospect status Takeda studied it for a moment, then turned to Rin. Rin didn''t hesitate. "I want this." The contract was signed. Bradford had their second striker. Bradford''s New Strikers Michael Stone returned to England with two new forwards. Chido Obi ¨C Loan from Manchester United Squad role. ¡ê10,000 per week (United covers 50%). No option to buy. Rin Itoshi ¨C Permanent Signing 18-year-old striker. Breakthrough Prospect. ¡ê20,000 transfer fee, ¡ê2,000 per week salary. Jake read through the reports, satisfied. They had depth now. Costa had support. Obi could push for minutes. And Itoshi? A gamble. But if he worked out, Bradford might have just found their next star. Chapter 152 - 152: A Family Trip to Japan & Ethan’s 14th Birthday Tokyo, Japan ¨C A Family Escape Jake stepped out of the airport terminal, adjusting his grip on the stroller where Ariel sat, her small hands gripping the edges curiously. Ethan stood beside him, eyes wide as he took in the towering cityscape of Tokyo. Emma, ever the planner, was already looking at her phone, checking their hotel details. For once, there were no training sessions, no tactical meetings, no transfer negotiations. Just family. This trip wasn''t just about taking a break. It was about celebrating Ethan''s 14th birthday. Exploring Tokyo ¨C A City Like No Other Their first stop was Shibuya Crossing, where waves of people moved in every direction the moment the lights changed. Ethan had seen it in videos before, but standing in the middle of it was something else. "This is insane," he muttered, grinning as he looked around. Emma snapped photos while Jake stood back, watching them. It wasn''t often he got to see them like this¡ªcompletely in the moment, away from the chaos of football. Ariel let out a small giggle from the stroller, clapping her hands as bright billboards flashed above them. "Guess she approves," Jake smirked. Ethan turned, still taking everything in. "Dad, do you think they have a football store around here?" Jake raised an eyebrow. "In a city this big? I''d say that''s a safe bet." A Day in Kyoto ¨C History Meets Family The next morning, they took the bullet train to Kyoto. It was a different world¡ªquiet streets, traditional buildings, and the peaceful energy of temples and shrines. At Fushimi Inari Shrine, Ethan took one look at the long path of torii gates and grinned. "Race you to the top." Jake scoffed. "You''re not winning." Ethan was already sprinting. Jake sighed, handing the stroller to Emma before taking off after him. The first few gates were easy, but after a hundred steps, Jake realized something. He wasn''t as fast as he used to be. Ethan reached the top first, hands on his knees, laughing between deep breaths. "You getting old, Dad?" Jake rolled his eyes. "You had a head start." They stood at the top, overlooking the city below. A rare moment of peace. Emma finally caught up, shaking her head. "Are you two ever going to stop competing?" Jake smirked. "Not a chance." Ariel, still strapped in her stroller, let out a sleepy yawn. The only one not impressed by their little competition. Ethan''s Birthday Dinner ¨C A Special Night That evening, they booked a private dinner at a traditional Japanese restaurant to celebrate Ethan''s birthday. Emma had planned everything perfectly¡ªa quiet setting, incredible food, and a few surprises. Ethan sat across from Jake, struggling with chopsticks as he tried to pick up a piece of sushi. Jake smirked. "Need a fork?" Ethan glared at him, determined. "No way." Emma smiled, placing a small, wrapped gift in front of Ethan. "Happy birthday, sweetheart." Ethan unwrapped it quickly¡ªand his eyes lit up. A custom Bradford City jersey, his name printed on the back. His fingers ran over the fabric. "This is¡­ this is amazing." Emma wasn''t done. She handed him another gift¡ªa football. But not just any football. Signed by the entire Bradford squad. Ethan blinked, looking up at Jake. "You¡­ you got the whole team to sign this?" Jake shrugged. "Well, they weren''t going to say no." For a moment, Ethan didn''t say anything. Then, he stood up and hugged Jake. "Thanks, Dad." Jake patted his back. Moments like this were rare. And he would hold onto it. Ariel, sitting on Emma''s lap, reached for the football, her tiny hands barely able to grab it. Ethan laughed. "You want to play too?" Ariel babbled something in response. Jake chuckled. "Looks like we''ve got another footballer in the family." The System''s Surprise ¨C A Gift for the Future That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Jake sat alone in the hotel room, checking his laptop. DING! [System Alert: 150 Points Available for Player Development.] Jake frowned. Player development? He hadn''t seen this feature before. The system continued: [Points can be distributed to improve a player''s attributes.] Jake exhaled. So, this was another way to influence player growth. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then¡ªhe froze. [Player Registered: Ethan Wilson] Jake''s heart skipped a beat. The system had already recognized Ethan as a footballer. Jake leaned back, staring at the screen. His son''s name. His son''s profile. He had never interfered with a player''s growth before. But this was different. He clicked on the allocation tab. 150 Points Available. Jake''s eyes scanned the different attributes. Dribbling. Passing. Stamina. Decision-Making. Finishing. Slowly, he started distributing them. Dribbling (30 points) ¨C Ethan needed close control. Passing (25 points) ¨C If he wanted to be a playmaker, he had to see the game differently. Stamina (25 points) ¨C He needed to last an entire game. Decision-Making (35 points) ¨C Talent meant nothing if you didn''t know when to use it. Finishing (35 points) ¨C Because every great player needed to know how to score. He clicked Confirm. [Upgrade Applied.] Jake exhaled, closing the laptop. This wasn''t just a birthday gift. This was the first step in shaping Ethan''s future in football. Street Football in Tokyo ¨C A Simple Moment The next afternoon, they were walking through a quiet Tokyo neighborhood when Ethan spotted a group of kids playing street football. He turned to Jake. "Can I?" Jake smirked. "Go for it." Ethan ran over, exchanging quick words with the other boys. A moment later, he was in the game. Jake stood back with Emma, watching as his son moved, passed, and dribbled. He already looked sharper. Maybe the system upgrades had started kicking in. Or maybe¡­ Ethan was just meant for this. Final Night ¨C A Quiet Reflection That evening, as Tokyo''s skyline glowed in the distance, Jake stood on the hotel balcony, lost in thought. Emma stepped outside, wrapping her arms around herself. "You''re thinking about football, aren''t you?" Jake smirked. "Always." Emma shook her head. "This was supposed to be a vacation." Jake sighed. She was right. But deep down, he knew the truth. Football was his life. And now, it was Ethan''s too. Just then, his phone vibrated. A message from Michael Stone. "Rin Itoshi deal finalized. He''s officially a Bradford player." Jake exhaled. The trip had been about family. But football was always waiting. Chapter 153 - 153: Returning from Japan & Preparing for Real Madrid Jake stepped off the plane at Manchester Airport, stretching out the stiffness from the long flight. Ariel was still fast asleep in Emma''s arms, while Ethan trailed behind, scrolling through his phone. "Long flight?" Paul Roberts greeted him outside, leaning against Jake''s car. "You have no idea," Jake muttered, opening the trunk for the luggage. Paul smirked. "Well, no time to rest. The lads are gearing up for Madrid. You picked a hell of a time to take a vacation." Jake chuckled. "Yeah, I''m sure they missed me." "Actually," Paul said, "they might have. It''s been intense. They know who we''re playing next." Jake nodded. He wasn''t even fully back yet, and the weight of the next match was already settling in. Real Madrid. The biggest test yet. System Analysis ¨C The Madrid Threat By the time Jake got home and settled, a familiar notification greeted him on his laptop. DING! [Opponent Breakdown: Real Madrid] Jake clicked on the report, his eyes scanning the data. A loading bar flashed briefly before the system displayed the expected starting lineup, tactical notes, and¡ªat the very top¡ªa probability chart. Match Prediction: Real Madrid Win ¨C 95% Draw ¨C 2% Bradford Win ¨C 3% Jake let out a slow breath. He had seen tough odds before, but this? This was a reminder of the sheer gulf between the two teams. Real Madrid weren''t just favorites¡ªthey were expected to dominate. The system had even included a warning. "Opposition Strength: Extreme. Tactical advantage: None. Suggested approach: Damage limitation." Jake ignored that last part. He wasn''t walking into this match just to limit damage. He was here to find a way to compete. He refocused on the details. Predicted Starting XI (4-3-3 Formation) Goalkeeper: Andriy Lunin ¨C Courtois rested for bigger matches. Right Back: Lucas V¨¢zquez ¨C Rotation option for Carvajal. Center Back: Antonio R¨¹diger ¨C Veteran presence in defense. Center Back: ¨¦der Milit?o ¨C Gaining match sharpness after injury recovery. Left Back: Fran Garc¨ªa ¨C Rotation for Mendy. Central Midfielder: Eduardo Camavinga ¨C Box-to-box engine, controls the tempo. Central Midfielder: Aur¨¦lien Tchouam¨¦ni ¨C Defensive anchor, strong in duels. Attacking Midfielder: Arda G¨¹ler ¨C Given a chance to impress in attack. Right Wing: Brahim D¨ªaz ¨C Dribbling specialist, unpredictable on the ball. Left Wing: Rodrygo ¨C Quick, dangerous in 1v1 situations. Striker: Endrick ¨C The Brazilian wonderkid, Madrid''s future star. Substitutes Likely to FeatureThibaut Courtois (GK) ¨C World-class shot-stopper, but expected to rest. Dani Carvajal (RB) ¨C Experienced full-back, could be subbed on for stability. David Alaba (CB) ¨C Versatile defender, can also play in midfield. Ferland Mendy (LB) ¨C Stronger defensively than Fran Garc¨ªa. Federico Valverde (CM) ¨C Tireless midfielder, adds energy. Jude Bellingham (CM) ¨C One of Europe''s best young midfielders, a major threat. Luka Modri? (CM) ¨C Even at his age, still a magician with the ball. Vin¨ªcius J¨²nior (LW) ¨C Madrid''s most electric winger, game-changer. Kylian Mbapp¨¦ (ST) ¨C The world-class superstar, can change a game instantly. Madrid''s Strengths The system laid out Madrid''s strengths with brutal honesty. Relentless Attacking Play ¨C Madrid wouldn''t sit back. They would press, move the ball quickly, and overwhelm the opposition. World-Class Wingers ¨C Rodrygo and D¨ªaz were rapid, direct, and ruthless in one-on-one situations. If that wasn''t enough, Vin¨ªcius J¨²nior was waiting on the bench. Midfield Control ¨C Camavinga and Tchouam¨¦ni could dictate the pace of the game. If they were given space, Madrid would dominate possession. Bench Firepower ¨C Even if Bradford managed to stay in the game, Madrid could change the entire dynamic by bringing on Mbapp¨¦, Modri?, or Bellingham. Jake grimaced as he read through the list. There was no obvious flaw, no glaring weakness to exploit. Except for one thing. Madrid''s Weakness ¨C A Small Window of Opportunity "Defensive Vulnerability: R¨¹diger & Milit?o''s Aggression." The system flagged Madrid''s center-backs as their only potential weak point. R¨¹diger and Milit?o were physically dominant, but they played high-risk football. If pressed properly, they could be forced into rushed decisions. Neither were completely comfortable playing against quick counter-attacks. Fran Garc¨ªa was a weak link defensively¡ªBardghji could exploit him. That was it. That was the opening. Jake leaned back in his chair, thinking. Bradford wouldn''t be able to match Madrid''s midfield. They wouldn''t be able to stop their wingers entirely. But if they disrupted Madrid''s defensive line? If they pressed R¨¹diger and Milit?o aggressively? If they hit them on the counter before their structure was set? They might have a chance. A small one. But a chance nonetheless. Jake grabbed his notebook and started writing. Madrid might have a 95% chance of winning. But football wasn''t played on a system''s prediction. Bradford was going to fight. Training & Tactical Setup The next morning, Bradford''s training ground had an extra edge to it. Players moved sharper, voices were louder, and the atmosphere was charged with the knowledge of what lay ahead. Real Madrid. Not just another match. Not just another pre-season friendly. This was a test against one of the best teams in the world. Jake stood in front of the squad, Paul Roberts beside him, as the players completed their warm-up. He let the moment settle, taking a deep breath before speaking. "This is the biggest test yet," Jake started, his voice calm but firm. "Real Madrid aren''t just another team. They are the team." The squad listened, fully locked in. "We won''t outplay them one-on-one. They have better players, faster players, more experienced players. But that doesn''t mean we can''t win." Jake walked over to the tactics board and flipped it around, revealing Madrid''s predicted lineup. He tapped the midfield area. "They will try to control the game through Camavinga and Tchouam¨¦ni. If we let them dictate, we''ll spend ninety minutes chasing shadows." V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez leaned in slightly. They knew what was coming. "So what''s the plan?" Barnes asked, arms crossed. Jake turned to the squad, his expression unwavering. "Simple. We don''t let them breathe," he said. "V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez, you''re pressing their midfield relentlessly. If they lose control, we hit them in transition." He pointed at Madrid''s backline, where the names R¨¹diger and Milit?o were written in bold. "They''re elite defenders, no doubt about it," Jake continued. "But they thrive on structure. They aren''t comfortable when pressed. They want time on the ball. We don''t give them any." He paused, looking at his strikers. "Lunin is solid, but he''s not Courtois. If we press hard and force rushed passes, we can create mistakes." Jake turned to Bardghji and Silva next. "You two have one job¡ªattack their full-backs. Garc¨ªa and V¨¢zquez are not elite defenders. Isolate them. Take them on. Make them uncomfortable. Force mistakes." Silva smirked. "I like this plan." Jake wasn''t finished. He looked at Costa and Richter, his main striking options. "Our strikers need to be smart. Madrid won''t give us many chances, so we have to make them count. No wasted opportunities. Every shot, every break, every transition has to be precise." He stepped back, eyes sweeping across the squad. "This isn''t just a friendly," Jake said, his voice low but firm. "This is a test. This is the level we want to reach. This is where we prove that we belong." The squad nodded. They were ready. Press Conference ¨C Facing a Giant The anticipation was undeniable. The room buzzed with murmurs, journalists adjusting their cameras and flipping through their notes. This wasn''t just another pre-season press conference¡ªthis was Bradford City preparing to take on Real Madrid. Jake took his seat at the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. The microphone in front of him caught the faint sound of whispers before the first question came in. "Jake, how does it feel preparing your squad to face a club as big as Real Madrid?" He smirked slightly, leaning forward. "It''s a great challenge. These are the kinds of matches we want to be involved in. Madrid is the benchmark of world football. Testing ourselves against them? That''s invaluable." He could see the journalists scribbling down notes, already preparing their next questions. The next one came fast. "Bradford has had a strong pre-season so far, but this is another level. Are you concerned about the gap in quality?" Jake nodded slightly, considering his words. "Look, let''s not pretend we''re equals. Madrid are Champions League contenders every year. We''re a newly promoted Championship team. On paper, there''s a gap. But football isn''t played on paper. It''s played on the pitch. We''ll go out there and fight, just like we always do." A few murmurs of approval rippled through the room. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The focus shifted. "You''ve made a lot of moves in the transfer market¡ªBardghji, Obi, Rin Itoshi. Are you happy with the squad you''ve built so far?" Jake leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. "I''m very happy with what we''ve done. We''ve strengthened key areas, added depth, and brought in players who fit the way we want to play. But we''re not done yet." That caught attention. A journalist in the front row leaned in. "Not done yet? More signings incoming?" Jake smirked. "We''ll see." He didn''t say anything more. He let the weight of the words settle in the room. The final question arrived, and it was a big one. "How do you think your players will handle facing stars like Vin¨ªcius, Modri?, and Mbapp¨¦ if they come on?" Jake exhaled, his expression thoughtful. "I think it''ll be a great lesson for them. Some of these guys grew up watching those players. But when that whistle blows, there''s no admiration¡ªjust competition. That''s football." There was a pause, a moment of silence as the weight of the upcoming challenge hung in the air. Then, the press officer stepped in. "That''ll be all for today." Jake stood, shaking hands with a few journalists before exiting. Madrid awaited. And Bradford would be ready. Chapter 154 - 154: Bradford vs Real Madrid – Part 1 July 19, 2025 ¨C Valley Parade The atmosphere at Valley Parade was unlike anything the stadium had ever witnessed. The floodlights illuminated a packed house, the roar of anticipation rolling through the stands like a tidal wave. This wasn''t just another pre-season game. This was Real Madrid. The eleven players in white, standing across from Bradford, represented the pinnacle of world football. The club of legends. The club of Gal¨¢cticos. Jake took a deep breath as he stepped forward, shaking hands with Carlo Ancelotti. The Italian manager was calm, composed, exuding the effortless confidence of a man who had won everything the game had to offer. "I grew up watching your teams," Jake admitted, his voice steady but respectful. Ancelotti gave a small, knowing smile. "And now, your team plays against mine. Football moves fast." Jake smirked, nodding. "Let''s see how we do." As he walked back toward the dugout, he took a moment to glance at his players. They were locked in, their expressions a mix of focus and adrenaline. Some of them¡ªSilva, Bardghji, V¨¦lez¡ªwere standing on the same pitch as players they had only seen on television. Jake exhaled. Madrid wasn''t just another club. They were the standard. This was the level every team aspired to reach. And tonight, Bradford was about to find out just how wide the gap truly was. The referee looked at both captains¡ªBarnes and R¨¹diger¡ªthen blew his whistle. Game on. Bradford City Starting XI:Emeka Okafor James Richards Nathan Barnes (C) Noah Fletcher Aiden Taylor S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Santiago V¨¦lez Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez Renan Silva Roney Bardghji Tobias Richter Guilherme CostaKickoff ¨C Holding Their Own The whistle blew, and Valley Parade erupted. Bradford didn''t hesitate. There was no fear, no sitting deep, no waiting for Madrid to dictate the tempo. From the first touch, they pressed aggressively, snapping into tackles, making sure Madrid felt their presence. V¨¦lez was the first to set the tone, closing down Tchouam¨¦ni before he could turn. Ib¨¢?ez followed suit, stepping into Camavinga''s space, forcing the young French midfielder to pass backward. Madrid looked unsettled in the opening minutes. Bradford wasn''t giving them room to breathe. Then came the first real warning sign. 5'' ¨C A loose pass from Madrid''s backline was intercepted by Bardghji, who reacted quicker than Fran Garc¨ªa. The Swedish wonderkid took off down the right wing, the ball glued to his feet. With a drop of the shoulder, he cut inside, gliding past Camavinga before opening his body for a curling shot. The Valley Parade crowd held their breath. The strike looked perfect¡ªheading toward the far post, bending just enough to sneak past Lunin. But Madrid''s goalkeeper reacted at the last second, stretching out a strong right hand, pushing the ball wide for a corner. Bradford wasn''t just here to defend. They were here to fight. 10'' ¨C Madrid didn''t panic. They didn''t rush. They absorbed Bradford''s intensity, biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike. And when they did, it was clinical. Camavinga, under pressure from V¨¦lez, feigned a pass to Tchouam¨¦ni before swiveling and playing a disguised ball between the lines. The sudden switch caught Bradford''s midfield off guard. Tchouam¨¦ni took one touch, lifted his head, and saw the run. Rodrygo had already peeled away from Richards, drifting inside before accelerating into the space behind Fletcher. The through ball was perfect¡ªweighted just enough to take him beyond the last defender without breaking his stride. One-on-one with Okafor. The Bradford keeper rushed out, arms wide, making himself as big as possible. Rodrygo didn''t even look up. He saw Okafor''s movement, saw the slight hesitation¡ªthen, with the calm of a world-class forward, he clipped the ball delicately over the keeper. A perfect chip. The ball floated through the air, bounced once, and nestled into the back of the net. For a moment, Valley Parade was silent. Then the Madrid fans erupted. Rodrygo turned away, arms stretched, a confident smirk on his face as his teammates swarmed him. Jake exhaled sharply. Bradford 0-1 Real Madrid. A ruthless reminder of what they were up against. 13'' ¨C Madrid was relentless. They didn''t celebrate long. From the restart, they pressed high, forcing Bradford onto the back foot. Camavinga collected the ball deep and threaded a quick pass to Arda G¨¹ler, who drifted into a pocket of space between the lines. G¨¹ler barely took a touch before releasing Endrick. The young Brazilian darted between Barnes and Fletcher, his pace electric. One-on-one with Okafor. The Bradford keeper stood tall, forcing Endrick to make a decision. Endrick opened up his body, aiming for the far corner¡ªbut Okafor was ready. A quick reaction save, strong hands pushing the ball wide. Barnes swept in, smashing the rebound out for a throw-in. Jake clapped from the sideline. It was a warning. Madrid wasn''t untouchable. 15'' ¨C Bradford didn''t retreat. They pushed forward again. Silva, fired up after seeing Okafor''s save, was determined to make his mark. He received the ball near the halfway line, turned, and drove at Fran Garc¨ªa. A sharp feint to the right. A sudden cut inside. Garc¨ªa lunged¡ªtoo slow. Silva was gone, bursting into the box before cutting the ball back toward Costa. Costa, positioned perfectly near the penalty spot, took one touch to control, then shifted onto his left foot. He saw the far top corner. He aimed. He struck. Lunin reacted instantly. A powerful dive, fingertips grazing the ball, tipping it just over the crossbar. Bradford had Madrid''s attention now. 19'' ¨C Bradford had momentum. For the first time, Madrid looked unsettled, forced into quick clearances and misplaced passes. But then, in one moment, everything changed. Tchouam¨¦ni read the game perfectly, stepping in to dispossess Ib¨¢?ez just as Bradford tried to push forward. No hesitation. One glance up. Then, a quick diagonal pass out wide to Brahim D¨ªaz. D¨ªaz, full of confidence, ran at Taylor. A feint to the left, then a sudden burst down the right. Taylor couldn''t keep up. D¨ªaz whipped in a low cross. Barnes reacted¡ªbut a second too late. Endrick, arriving at full speed, threw himself forward and met the ball with a sliding finish. A ruthless strike. The net rippled. The Madrid fans in the stands roared. Endrick got up, dusted himself off, then jogged back with the swagger of a player who knew he had just done what he was born to do. Jake ran a hand through his hair. Two half-chances. Two goals. Madrid''s attack wasn''t just talented¡ªit was merciless. Bradford 0-2 Real Madrid. 25'' ¨C For the next ten minutes, Madrid took full control. They passed effortlessly, dictating the game. Camavinga and Tchouam¨¦ni acted as the midfield core, shifting the ball left and right, waiting for spaces to open up. On the bench, Modri? and Bellingham watched with knowing smirks. They didn''t need to warm up yet¡ªMadrid was handling business. But Bradford refused to collapse. Barnes and Fletcher threw themselves into tackles, stopping attacks before they fully developed. V¨¦lez continued to press tirelessly, forcing mistakes. Even Bardghji, normally focused on attack, tracked back to help Taylor contain Brahim D¨ªaz. Madrid had control, but Bradford had resilience. And in the 30th minute, they got their moment. 37'' ¨C Madrid was pushing forward, but that meant they were leaving gaps. Bardghji saw it. A loose pass from V¨¢zquez gave him a second of space near the halfway line. One quick glance up. Then he accelerated. Fran Garc¨ªa rushed to close him down, but Bardghji had already made his move. A drop of the shoulder. A cut inside. Gone. Milit?o and R¨¹diger adjusted their positioning, but Bardghji had spotted the run¡ªCosta was already moving. A perfectly weighted pass between the center-backs. Costa didn''t hesitate. One touch inside the box. Then a rifled shot past Lunin. The ball smashed into the back of the net. For a second, Valley Parade was silent. Then the eruption came. Costa turned and sprinted toward the corner flag, roaring. Bardghji followed, pointing at him, while the rest of the squad rushed in. On the sideline, Jake clenched his fists. Bradford 1-2 Real Madrid. They were still in this. 45'' ¨C Halftime The whistle blew. Madrid led, but they knew they were in a fight. Jake walked toward the dressing room, his expression unreadable. His players sat down, breathing hard¡ªexhausted, but full of belief. He stood in front of them, letting the moment settle. Then he spoke. "We are not here to survive," Jake said firmly. "We are here to make them respect us." His players nodded, eyes locked on him. Jake turned to V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez. "Keep pressing them. Do not give Camavinga and Tchouam¨¦ni a second of peace." He looked at Bardghji and Silva. "Keep running at their full-backs. Make them uncomfortable. They don''t like it." Finally, he faced Costa and Richter. "You''ve seen it now. They aren''t invincible. Stay sharp. We will get another chance." A deep breath. "This is Real Madrid," Jake said. "But this is also our stadium." The players stood, ready for battle. The second half awaited. Chapter 155 - 155: Bradford vs Real Madrid – Part 2 Second Half ¨C A Different Beast Jake had barely taken his seat when he saw Real Madrid''s bench spring into action. Carlo Ancelotti wasn''t playing around. He wasn''t just making adjustments. He was changing the entire game. Madrid made nine substitutions at halftime, bringing on some of the most dangerous players in world football. As each name was called, Jake exhaled. This wasn''t just a tactical reshuffle¡ªthis was Madrid at full power. Madrid Substitutions (46''):GK: Thibaut Courtois on (Lunin off) RB: Dani Carvajal on (V¨¢zquez off) CB: David Alaba on (Milit?o off) LB: Ferland Mendy on (Fran Garc¨ªa off) CM: Federico Valverde on (Tchouam¨¦ni off) CM: Jude Bellingham on (Camavinga off) CM: Luka Modri? on (G¨¹ler off) LW: Vin¨ªcius J¨²nior on (Brahim D¨ªaz off) ST: Kylian Mbapp¨¦ on (Endrick off) Jake leaned back, crossing his arms. Paul Roberts, sitting beside him, let out a low whistle. "It''s like they hit a reset button." And it felt like that. Madrid had just spent 45 minutes feeling out the game, controlling possession, but now? Now, they were flipping the switch. Courtois¡ªone of the world''s best goalkeepers¡ªwas stepping in. Carvajal and Mendy brought stability and defensive awareness that Madrid had lacked in the first half. Valverde''s energy, Bellingham''s drive, and Modri?''s mastery were about to dictate everything in midfield. And up front? Vin¨ªcius J¨²nior. Kylian Mbapp¨¦. The two deadliest forwards in world football. Jake turned back to the pitch. The energy had shifted. Madrid wasn''t just testing their squad depth anymore. Now, they were here to dominate. 50'' ¨C It took four minutes for Kylian Mbapp¨¦ to change the game. Bradford had started the second half bravely¡ªstill pressing, still looking for openings. They weren''t backing down. But against Madrid''s new frontline, every mistake was fatal. Luka Modri?, the veteran magician, had seen enough. Standing near the center circle, he barely needed to glance up. His footballing brain worked faster than anyone else''s on the pitch. One perfectly weighted pass. A piercing ball between Fletcher and Barnes. Not just into space, but into Mbapp¨¦''s stride. Barnes reacted immediately, sprinting back. He had a three-yard head start. It didn''t matter. Mbapp¨¦ glided past him like he wasn''t even there. The sheer acceleration was breathtaking. A blur of white and gold. Now it was just him and Okafor. One-on-one. The kind of moment Mbapp¨¦ lived for. Okafor rushed out, trying to close the angle. Mbapp¨¦ barely even looked up. A drop of the shoulder. A shift onto his right foot. Then, with absurd ease¡ªhe chipped it. A delicate, effortless flick. The ball sailed over Okafor, who could only watch as it floated into the empty net. Silence. For a second, Valley Parade stood still. Even the Bradford fans gasped. It wasn''t just a goal. It was a statement. A moment of footballing perfection. Some of them even clapped¡ªbecause how could you not? They had just witnessed greatness. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mbapp¨¦ didn''t celebrate wildly. He didn''t need to. A nod toward Ancelotti. A small smirk. Just another day at the office. Bradford 1-3 Real Madrid. 55'' ¨C Madrid were toying with Bradford now. Luka Modri?, effortlessly controlling the tempo, played a quick one-two with Valverde before shifting the ball wide to Vin¨ªcius J¨²nior. Richards stepped up, trying to close him down. Big mistake. With one flick, Vin¨ªcius popped the ball over Richards'' head¡ªa perfect rainbow flick. The crowd gasped. Vin¨ªcius didn''t stop to admire it. He exploded forward, cutting inside past Fletcher, gliding into the box. The angle was tight, but he didn''t hesitate. A curling shot toward the top corner. Okafor didn''t even move. The ball smashed off the crossbar. Gasps echoed around Valley Parade. Inches away from a wonder goal. Richards exhaled, shaking his head. Vin¨ªcius was playing a different game. Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "That would''ve been one for the highlight reel." Paul sighed. "They''re just warming up." And then, four minutes later, Mbapp¨¦ did something even more ridiculous. 59'' ¨C Bradford barely had time to breathe. Madrid smelled blood. Vin¨ªcius was unstoppable now. He danced through the midfield, brushing past Ib¨¢?ez, skipping away from V¨¦lez, and racing down the left flank. Richards didn''t even try to step in this time. Vin¨ªcius hit a first-time cross into the box, whipping the ball behind Bradford''s defense. It looked too awkward for anyone to reach. Except for Mbapp¨¦. Instinct. Athleticism. Pure brilliance. Mbapp¨¦ jumped forward, twisting his body mid-air. And then¡ªhe flicked his foot backward, scorpion-kicking the ball past Okafor. The net rippled. Valley Parade froze. Jake''s jaw tightened. How do you even defend that? Even some Bradford fans clapped, unable to believe what they had just seen. Mbapp¨¦ got up like it was nothing. No wild celebration. Just a smirk, a nod to Vin¨ªcius, and a jog back to midfield. Jake folded his arms. This was the difference. Bradford had to fight for every inch. Every goal required perfect execution. Madrid? They were ruthless. Bradford 1-4 Real Madrid. 62'' ¨C Tactical Shift ¨C Nine Changes for Bradford Jake had seen enough. Real Madrid was showing them the highest level of football, and the scoreline reflected it. But pre-season wasn''t just about results¡ªit was about learning. If Madrid''s young stars could shine, then so could Bradford''s. Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "Time for fresh legs. We need to see what the other guys can do." Paul nodded and signaled for the substitutions. Bradford made nine changes in one go, a complete tactical reset. Bradford Substitutions (62''):Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor off ?? Matthew Cox (18, England) on Center-Back: Nathan Barnes off Marco Bianchi (19, Italy) on Center-Back: Noah Fletcher off Kang Min-jae (25, South Korea) on Left-Back: Aiden Taylor off Reece Holloway (19, England) on Central Midfielder: Santiago V¨¦lez off Daniel Lowe (28, England) on Central Midfielder: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez off Lewis Chapman (25, England) on Right Wing: Roney Bardghji off Leo Rasmussen (19, Denmark) on Left Wing: Renan Silva off Raphael Mensah (20, Ghana) on Striker: Tobias Richter off Chido Obi (19, Nigeria) on Striker: Guilherme Costa off Rin Itoshi (18, Japan) on As Obi and Itoshi jogged onto the field, Jake called them over. "This is your moment," Jake said, clapping them on the back. "Madrid won''t give you space. You have to take it. Show me something." Obi and Itoshi nodded sharply, their eyes locked with determination. The match was still Madrid''s to control. But for these young players, this wasn''t just a friendly. This was their chance. Chapter 156 - 156: Bradford vs Real Madrid – Part 3 64'' ¨C Madrid had control, dictating the tempo with their midfield trio of Modri?, Bellingham, and Valverde, but Bradford was still looking for their own moment. They weren''t afraid. Leo Rasmussen had been lively since coming on, injecting pace and unpredictability down the right flank. When Chapman won a loose ball in midfield, he immediately looked wide. Rasmussen was in space. A perfectly weighted diagonal switch found him near the edge of the final third. His first touch was clean, his second was decisive¡ªa burst of acceleration straight at Mendy. Mendy backpedaled, giving him space. Rasmussen cut inside onto his left foot. 25 yards out. A small window of opportunity. He took it. A venomous curling effort, bending toward the top-left corner. Courtois saw it late. He scrambled across, diving at full stretch¡ªfingertips barely pushed it over the bar. The Bradford fans roared. That was close. Jake clapped from the sideline, nodding. "That''s more like it." Corner to Bradford. Chapman jogged over, taking a deep breath before whipping the ball into the box. Kang Min-jae timed his leap perfectly. He towered over R¨¹diger, meeting the ball cleanly¡ªa bullet header¡ª But it whistled inches over the bar. Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "That was the chance." Paul exhaled. "We''re getting them. Just need to take one." A wasted chance, but Bradford had sent a message. They weren''t just here to defend. They were still swinging. 68'' ¨C Bradford''s energy was growing, but Madrid still had firepower. And when Bellingham got the ball in midfield, danger followed. With one smooth turn, he rolled away from Daniel Lowe, using his body to shield the ball before driving forward. The pitch opened up in front of him. Kang Min-jae hesitated, unsure whether to step up or hold the line. Bellingham didn''t wait¡ªhe slid a perfectly weighted through ball into Vin¨ªcius J¨²nior''s path. Vin¨ªcius was already sprinting. One-on-one with Holloway. Holloway braced himself. He knew Vin¨ªcius had tricks, but knowing didn''t make it easier. A quick feint inside¡ªHolloway shifted his weight¡ªthen a sudden step out. Too late. Vin¨ªcius was past him, gliding into the box with effortless speed. The goal was in sight. He opened up his body, shaping a low, curling shot toward the far post. Cox had a split second to react. The young keeper stayed big, waited, then threw out a leg¡ª Contact. The ball deflected wide, skimming past the post for a corner. Madrid''s players groaned. That should''ve been 5-1. Vin¨ªcius turned away, hands on his head. He knew. Jake glanced at Paul Roberts. "Cox is handling himself well." Paul exhaled. "That could''ve been game over." Madrid took the corner quickly. Modri? floated it in¡ªR¨¹diger powered a header down toward goal¡ª Blocked. Kang Min-jae threw his body in the way, the ball deflecting off his chest and out of the box. The stadium breathed. Bradford had survived. And just a few minutes later, they made Madrid pay. 72'' ¨C Madrid had settled, confident that the game was over. But Obi and Itoshi had other ideas. And it all started with a Madrid corner. Modri?, as precise as ever, curled in a dangerous delivery. Alaba rose highest, heading the ball toward goal. Cox reacted instantly¡ªdiving low to his left to palm it away. The rebound fell to Kang Min-jae, who didn''t hesitate. One touch to control, then a powerful clearance upfield. Bradford broke free. Madrid had committed bodies forward. Now, they were scrambling back. Chapman won the second ball in midfield, muscling past Bellingham before poking it toward Mensah on the left wing. And Mensah took off. Mendy, experienced and quick, stepped up to stop him. But Mensah had momentum. A sudden burst of pace¡ªa quick drop of the shoulder¡ªand he was past the Frenchman, surging into open space. Madrid''s defense wasn''t set. Milit?o rushed across to cover, but Mensah wasn''t slowing down. Near the edge of the box, he glanced up. Options. Obi was sprinting toward the far post. Itoshi, smaller but more agile, darted toward the near post. Mensah drilled a low, driven cross into the box. Itoshi got there first. But instead of shooting, he had the awareness to see Obi''s late run. A delicate first-time pass¡ªa simple flick to the far post. Obi didn''t hesitate. A quick turn. A powerful strike. The ball rocketed past Courtois, smashing into the net. Valley Parade erupted. Jake jumped up, pumping his fist. They weren''t done yet. Obi sprinted toward the corner flag, fists clenched, screaming into the night sky. Itoshi followed, grinning, arms outstretched. The rest of the squad rushed over, celebrating like they''d just won a cup final. Madrid''s defenders looked at each other. For the first time, they looked annoyed. Bradford 2-4 Real Madrid. They might not be at Madrid''s level yet. But they were fighting. 85'' ¨C Madrid wasn''t done. Bradford had pushed forward, searching for another moment of magic. But against a team like Madrid, every risk had consequences. Bellingham intercepted a loose pass near the center circle, instantly driving forward. Lowe rushed in, trying to bring him down¡ªbut Bellingham was too strong. He shrugged off the challenge and kept going. Bradford''s defense was backpedaling, their shape broken. Bellingham had options. Vin¨ªcius was making a diagonal run. Mbapp¨¦ lurked near the box. Carvajal was sprinting up the right. But instead of playing a simple pass, Bellingham did something unexpected. He rolled the ball backward, nudging it into the path of Valverde, who was 42 yards out. Jake stood up on the sideline. He knew what was coming. Valverde took one step forward. Then he unleashed hell. The shot exploded off his foot, a missile that cut through the air like a bullet. The entire stadium gasped as the ball streaked toward goal. Cox barely had time to react. He didn''t even dive. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He just watched as the ball smashed into the top corner, rattling the net with brutal finality. Valley Parade fell silent. Even Madrid''s players looked stunned for a moment. Then Valverde roared, pounding his chest as his teammates mobbed him. Jake exhaled, hands on his hips. Paul Roberts just whistled. "That''s a joke." It was a statement finish. Madrid had reminded Bradford¡ªreminded the world¡ªexactly why they were the best team on the planet. Bradford 2-5 Real Madrid 90+3'' ¨C Full-Time Whistle The referee raised his whistle to his lips. Three sharp blasts. It was over. The scoreboard read 5-2, but the numbers told only half the story. This wasn''t just a match. This was a lesson. Bradford had gone toe-to-toe with the biggest club in the world. They had fought, adapted, and even landed a few blows of their own. But Madrid had reminded them of the distance they still had to travel. Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He wasn''t disappointed. As his players moved toward the Madrid squad for the traditional post-match handshakes, he walked straight to Carlo Ancelotti. The legendary coach was waiting for him with that familiar, calm smile. "Your team has heart," Ancelotti said, his voice warm but knowing. Jake nodded, offering a handshake. "We''re building something." Ancelotti chuckled. "I can see that. Keep going. Maybe one day, we''ll meet again." They shook hands firmly. And then, as Madrid''s players began heading toward the tunnel, something unexpected happened. Leo Rasmussen, one of Bradford''s youngest players, jogged up to Vin¨ªcius J¨²nior. "Can we¡ªuh¡ªtake a picture together? With both teams?" he asked, almost hesitantly. Vin¨ªcius grinned. "Why not?" Word spread quickly. Jake turned to his squad, seeing the eager expressions on their faces. Why not? "Alright, get everyone together!" Jake called out, waving toward the Madrid players. There was no hesitation. Madrid''s superstars, still sweaty from the battle, laughed and clapped as both teams lined up at the center of the pitch. A mix of white and claret jerseys stood together as stadium staff rushed over with cameras. The fans who had stayed behind cheered wildly¡ªthey knew they were witnessing a special moment. The flash went off. Jake, standing at the edge of the group, looked at his players. They had lost tonight. But this photo? This would remind them of the level they needed to reach. One day, they wouldn''t just be taking pictures with Madrid. They''d be beating them. But the night wasn''t over yet. As the players broke apart, Jake turned to Luka Modri? and grinned. "I need a favor," he said. Modri? raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor?" Jake gestured to the Madrid squad. "I need a Madrid jersey. Signed by all of you." Modri? laughed. "For who?" Jake smirked. "For me." Modri? gave him an amused look, but then nodded. "Alright, give me a second." He jogged off toward the Madrid dressing room, and within moments, the entire Madrid squad was signing a fresh white jersey. Bellingham, Vin¨ªcius, Mbapp¨¦, Courtois¡ªevery name, every signature, a mark of respect. When Modri? returned, he handed the jersey to Jake with a knowing smile. Jake took it carefully, running his fingers over the names. "Frame it," Modri? said. "And the next time we play, don''t let us win so easily." Jake chuckled. "Deal." The night ended with handshakes, laughter, and memories. Madrid had won the battle. But for Bradford City? This was just the beginning. Post-Match ¨C Learning from the Best The dressing room was quiet. Not the quiet of defeat. The quiet of reflection. Jake stood at the center, arms crossed, scanning the faces of his players. No one liked losing. But tonight wasn''t about winning or losing. It was about learning. He took a breath. "This is the level we have to reach." His voice was calm but firm. The players looked up, listening. Jake pointed at Mensah and Obi. "You came in and made an impact. That''s what I want to see¡ªplayers who aren''t afraid, players who take their moment." Then, he turned to Bardghji and Silva. "You went toe-to-toe with world-class defenders. You found space, created chances. Now take that confidence into the season." Finally, his eyes swept across the entire squad. "We don''t forget this. We use it." Heads nodded. They had just shared a pitch with the best team in the world. And while Madrid had shown their superiority, Bradford had left their mark. This wasn''t failure. This was fuel. Press Conference ¨C Facing Reality The media room was packed. Cameras. Reporters. Notebooks flipping open. Jake leaned back in his chair, ready for the questions. A journalist from The Guardian spoke first. "Jake, does this match expose the gap between Bradford and elite clubs?" Jake nodded. No need to sugarcoat it. "Of course. Madrid is the best club in the world. This wasn''t about proving we''re on their level. It was about seeing what that level looks like." Murmurs from the press. Honest answer. Another reporter from Sky Sports jumped in. "What positives can you take from this game?" Jake smirked. "We scored two goals against Real Madrid. That''s a positive." Some light chuckles around the room. But the final question was the big one. "Do you believe Bradford can one day reach Madrid''s level?" Jake didn''t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze was sharp. "We''re working toward it. Step by step." The journalists scribbled down notes. They wanted headlines. But for Jake? The real story was just beginning. Fan Caf¨¦ Talk ¨C The Next Big Thing? (Online Fan Forum ¨C Bradford City Fan Caf¨¦) Thread: Bradford 2-5 Real Madrid ¨C Thoughts? ???? Posted by: BantamsFan89 Alright lads, let''s be real. We just played against the best team in the world, and yeah, they outclassed us¡­ but tell me you weren''t buzzing after that Obi-Itoshi goal? Top Comments: ???? Bradford4Life: Bro, Obi is a star in the making. He''s 19, just came on, and banged one past Courtois like it was nothing. That pass from Rin? Cold as ice. ???? KendrickBCA: Madrid had us most of the game, but when our young guns came on, we actually looked dangerous. I don''t even care that we lost. This team has something. ???? User: BantamArchivist (Attached a picture of Obi celebrating) This is the moment. Remember it. ???? Maverick10: (Attached video clip of Mbapp¨¦''s scorpion kick goal) Okay but can we talk about THIS?! Mbapp¨¦ is unreal. That''s not even fair. ???? JD97: Yeah, but we still put two past them. I''m taking that as a W. ? ReeceMCFC: Not gonna lie, I expected us to park the bus, but we actually played with guts. That''s what I love about this team. ???? ValverdeFan: (Attached video clip of Valverde''s goal from 42 yards out) "Cox didn''t even move." Yeah, because that ball was TRAVELING. Unreal strike. ???? StickyToffee: Also, let''s give props to Cox. He''s 18, thrown in against Madrid, and made some huge saves. Kid''s got a future. ???? Admin - BantamsUnited: FINAL THOUGHTS? ???? BradfordLegend: This was a lesson. A wake-up call. But also a sign. We''re not there yet¡ªbut one day, we will be. ???? ObiWanChido: Imagine these lads in two, three years? The future is bright. I''m ALL IN. ???? Thread Locked: Post-Match Discussion Closed Even in defeat, the Bradford City Fan Caf¨¦ was alive with excitement. Because tonight wasn''t just about Real Madrid''s brilliance. It was about Bradford''s future. And for the fans? That future looked very, very promising. Chapter 157 - 157: Bradford vs PSG – Part 1 Kickoff ¨C Valley Parade Under the Lights The floodlights beamed down, cutting through the crisp Yorkshire air. Valley Parade was electric, buzzing with anticipation. Another European giant had arrived, but this wasn''t just another friendly. Bradford City, fresh off their clash with Real Madrid, were back. And they weren''t here to admire PSG. They were here to fight. Jake paced the touchline, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. His players stood in the tunnel, bouncing on their toes, faces locked in quiet determination. Obi cracked his neck. Chapman exhaled sharply. Kang Min-jae rolled his shoulders. Across from them, PSG''s superstars stood waiting. Donnarumma. Marquinhos. Vitinha. Za?re-Emery. Demb¨¦l¨¦. They looked composed. Relaxed. Jake smirked. Let''s see how long that lasts. The referee signaled. The players stepped out. The roar of Valley Parade shook the night. Starting XI ¨C Bradford City Goalkeeper: Emeka Okafor sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Defenders: RB ¨C James Richards CB ¨C Nathan Barnes CB ¨C Kang Min-jae LB ¨C Aiden Taylor Midfielders: RM ¨C Renan Silva CM ¨C Daniel Lowe CM ¨C Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez LM ¨C Roney Bardghji Forwards: Chido Obi Rin Itoshi Starting XI ¨C Paris Saint-Germain Goalkeeper: Matvey Safonov Defenders: RB ¨C Yoram Zague CB ¨C Lucas Beraldo CB ¨C Presnel Kimpembe LB ¨C Lucas Hern¨¢ndez Midfielders: Warren Za?re-Emery Jo?o Neves D¨¦sir¨¦ Dou¨¦ Forwards: RW ¨C Bradley Barcola ST ¨C Gon?alo Ramos LW ¨C Ousmane Demb¨¦l¨¦ 1'' ¨C The whistle blew. Kickoff. Bradford wasted no time. They surged forward, pressing high, swarming PSG''s midfield like a storm rolling in fast. Every touch from the visitors was met with immediate pressure. No time. No space. Daniel Lowe set the tone¡ªa thunderous tackle on Za?re-Emery that sent the ball spinning loose. Valley Parade erupted. PSG weren''t going to waltz through this. Not tonight. Kang Min-jae stepped up, winning the second ball before PSG could react. His head lifted. A chance to switch play. A diagonal switch, perfectly weighted, soared across the pitch toward Renan Silva on the right. Silva let it drop, took one steadying touch, then drove forward. Aiden Taylor overlapped, dragging a defender with him, but Silva didn''t need the option. He cut inside sharply, gliding past Neves with a burst of acceleration. Then he spotted it¡ªmovement in the box. Obi. Ghosting toward the near post. Silva whipped in a vicious low cross, bending away from the keeper, curling into the danger zone. Marquinhos read it, but only just. A desperate stretch of his leg sent the ball skidding off course¡ªstill alive, still in the box. Rin Itoshi pounced. One touch. A snap shot. Blocked. The ball ricocheted into the air, spinning wildly, before Kimpembe hooked it clear. Bradford weren''t here to admire PSG. They were here to rattle them. 3'' ¨C PSG weren''t flustered. Bradford''s high press was relentless, but the visitors had the quality to break through. And they nearly did. A quick switch of play from Warren Za?re-Emery found Jo?o Neves in space. One touch to control, another to drive forward. Bradford''s midfield scrambled to close him down, but he saw the run¡ªGon?alo Ramos peeling off his marker, timing it to perfection. Neves played it through. Ramos took it in stride, cut inside, and fired. Emeka Okafor reacted instantly. A full-stretch dive, fingertips grazing the ball just enough to send it spinning past the post. Valley Parade held its breath. That was close. Too close. The danger wasn''t over. From the corner, Za?re-Emery whipped in a vicious delivery. Chaos in the box. Kimpembe, rising highest, powered a header toward goal. Bradford''s defense froze. Okafor didn''t. A quick shuffle, a desperate leap¡ªjust enough to watch the ball whistle over the bar. PSG had arrived. 6'' ¨C Bradford were fearless, but PSG had precision. Demb¨¦l¨¦, stationed out wide on the left, squared up against James Richards. A sharp feint, a sudden burst of acceleration¡ªRichards lunged, but Demb¨¦l¨¦ was already past him, gliding into space. The cutback was lethal. Low, driven, slicing through the box like a blade. Right into the path of Ramos. First-time shot. Kang Min-jae reacted on instinct. A desperate dive, body fully extended¡ªblock! The ball ricocheted off his shin, killing its momentum but not the danger. The rebound spilled out. Straight to Bradley Barcola. Edge of the box. Perfect position. One touch to steady himself. One step to set the strike. He curled it with intent¡ªOkafor scrambled, stretching¡ª Wide. Just inches past the post. Valley Parade exhaled as one. That could''ve been it. That should''ve been it. Jake clapped hard from the touchline, eyes sharp, voice steady. "Stay locked in!" PSG weren''t wasting chances. Next time, they might not miss. 11'' ¨C Bradford had unsettled PSG, hounding them from the first whistle. But moments of pressure weren''t enough against teams like this. One lapse. One second too slow. And PSG would punish you. It started with Jo?o Neves, deep in midfield, unbothered by the sea of red shirts closing in. With a quick turn, he shifted the ball to D¨¦sir¨¦ Dou¨¦, who carried it forward, eyes scanning. Bradford''s shape had held firm, but just for a moment, a gap appeared between the lines. Gon?alo Ramos dropped deep, dragging Nathan Barnes with him. A dummy, a slick flick back to Dou¨¦, who wasted no time slipping the ball into Za?re-Emery''s path. Perfectly weighted. Perfectly timed. Za?re-Emery took a touch, just inside the box. Kang Min-jae lunged, trying to close the angle, but the ball was already off his boot. It curled, wickedly. Okafor dived, stretching every inch, but it was hopeless. Top corner. For a moment, Valley Parade stood still. Then, the away fans erupted. PSG''s players didn''t rush to the corner flag. No wild celebrations. Just quiet nods and handshakes¡ªprofessional, expected. This was their standard. Jake clenched his fists. No time for frustration. He shouted instructions, rallying his players. They had been here before. They would respond. Bradford 0-1 PSG. 23'' ¨C Bradford hit back. Hard. It started with Rin Itoshi, reading the game like a seasoned veteran. PSG had grown a little comfortable, knocking the ball around midfield, but Itoshi was lurking, waiting for his moment. A loose pass from Jo?o Neves¡ªjust a fraction off¡ªwas all he needed. Itoshi pounced, stretching to intercept before instantly spinning away from Za?re-Emery with a silky first touch. Warren tried to recover, but the Japanese playmaker was already in full flight, eating up ground as he drove forward. D¨¦sir¨¦ Dou¨¦ stepped up, but Itoshi skipped past him like he wasn''t even there. Ruiz lunged desperately¡ªtoo slow. The PSG midfield was cut open. A perfect through ball, arrowed into space on the right. Roney Bardghji took over. The Bradford winger didn''t need an invitation. One touch to control. One to accelerate. Lucas Hern¨¢ndez was scrambling, but Bardghji had already shifted the ball inside, dropping his shoulder with a feint that sent the fullback the wrong way. Presnel Kimpembe read it, stepping across to block his path. But Bardghji had something special. A cheeky flick. A nutmeg. The Valley Parade faithful exploded. And suddenly, Bardghji was free. Matvey Safonov charged off his line, arms spread wide. The towering Russian goalkeeper was a formidable sight, but Bardghji didn''t blink. He had already made up his mind. A delicate chip. A moment of silence as the ball hung in the air. It dipped, brushed the underside of the bar, and nestled into the net. Bedlam. Valley Parade shook as the crowd roared in pure ecstasy. Bardghji slid on his knees, arms outstretched, before being mobbed by his teammates. Obi was the first to reach him, grabbing his head and shouting something in his face. Silva, Ib¨¢?ez, and Taylor piled on. The bench erupted, substitutes and staff spilling to the edge of the technical area. Jake stood on the touchline, fists clenched, yelling toward his players. Beside him, Paul Roberts exhaled, shaking his head with a grin. "That''s what we needed," Paul murmured. Jake nodded, eyes still on the pitch. "Now let''s see what PSG are made of." Bradford 1-1 PSG. Game on. 37'' ¨C PSG struck back¡ªand they did it ruthlessly. Bradford had been aggressive, pressing high, forcing errors, making the game uncomfortable for the French giants. But pressing came with risks. One mistake, one moment of lost structure, and against PSG, you were in trouble. And trouble came. Lucas Hern¨¢ndez played a sharp one-two with Warren Za?re-Emery before sending a sweeping diagonal ball to Bradley Barcola on the right wing. James Richards was tight on him, but Barcola''s first touch was immaculate. One quick shift, and he was past his man, racing down the flank. Bradford''s defense scrambled back. Barcola didn''t hesitate. A perfect curling cross toward the far post. Demb¨¦l¨¦ was waiting. The Frenchman had peeled away from his marker, finding a pocket of space between Nathan Barnes and Kang Min-jae. He watched the ball drop, timed his movement¡ªand struck. A vicious volley. The shot was unstoppable, rifling past Okafor before he could react. The net bulged. GOAL. PSG celebrated. Their fans roared. Demb¨¦l¨¦ jogged back toward the halfway line, arms outstretched, exuding confidence. Jake exhaled. There was no stopping that. Bradford 1-2 PSG. 44'' ¨C But Bradford weren''t finished. They had been knocked back, but not knocked out. Just before halftime, they struck again. Aiden Taylor, full of energy, surged forward from left-back, driving through PSG''s midfield before slipping a pass to Roney Bardghji on the left wing. Bardghji stopped. Looked up. Obi was moving. A deep, looping cross followed. The ball hung in the air, inviting someone to attack it. Obi, trapped between Kimpembe and Beraldo, had no space. So he created some. A sharp pivot. A leap. A sudden, acrobatic motion. A bicycle kick. For a second, time stood still. The Valley Parade crowd held its breath. The Bradford bench was on its feet. The ball flew past Safonov, crashing in off the inside of the post. GOAL. Bedlam. The stadium erupted. Obi landed on his back before springing up, roaring toward the stands. His teammates piled onto him, a blur of bodies celebrating one of the best goals the stadium had ever seen. Jake turned to his bench, grinning. "This team," he murmured, shaking his head. "They don''t back down." Halftime: Bradford 2-2 PSG. Halftime ¨C Inside the Locker Room The energy in the locker room was electric. The players were still buzzing from Obi''s moment of brilliance, but Jake knew the job wasn''t done. He clapped his hands, silencing the chatter. "Listen up," he said, voice calm but firm. "That first half? That was our game. We stood toe-to-toe with one of the best teams in Europe, and we''re not just hanging in there¡ªwe''re fighting." He glanced around the room, making sure to meet every player''s eyes. "But listen," he continued. "They''re going to come out even stronger. They won''t like what just happened. They''ll want to slow the game down, take control, kill our momentum." He pointed toward the tunnel. "We can''t let them." He turned to Rin Itoshi. "Rin, keep finding those spaces. Make them chase you." Then to Obi. "That was world-class. But we need more. Keep making those runs, keep stretching their backline." Aiden Taylor got a nod. "Aiden, be smart when you push forward. If we lose our shape, they''ll punish us." Jake took a step back, scanning the room. "You''ve gone toe-to-toe with Paris Saint-Germain¡ªand you''re not just surviving. You''re competing." A pause. "Now let''s go win this game." The room exploded into cheers. Chapter 158 - 158: Bradford vs PSG – Part 2 A Tactical Battle Substitutions for PSG: Matvey Safonov off, Arnau Tenas on. Presnel Kimpembe off, Willian Pacho on. Lucas Hern¨¢ndez off, Nuno Mendes on. Jo?o Neves off, Vitinha on. D¨¦sir¨¦ Dou¨¦ off, Fabi¨¢n Ruiz on. Bradley Barcola off, Khvicha Kvaratskhelia on. Gon?alo Ramos off, Randal Kolo Muani on. Bradford, aware of PSG''s changes, responded immediately. Their game plan was clear¡ªstay compact, absorb pressure when necessary, and look for moments to strike on the counter. The coaching staff adjusted their approach, instructing the team to remain disciplined but ready to capitalize on any openings. The energy inside Valley Parade was electric. The home crowd could sense it¡ªthis wasn''t just about holding on. Bradford weren''t here to survive. They were here to compete. PSG tried to slow the game down, passing with purpose, trying to draw Bradford out of shape. But Bradford refused to be baited. They held firm, cutting off passing lanes, forcing PSG to work for every inch of space. As the minutes ticked on, the intensity of the match grew. PSG''s possession game looked threatening, but Bradford''s resilience kept them at bay. Every interception, every tackle was met with a roar from the crowd. Then, when the moment came, Bradford struck. In a rapid transition, they surged forward, moving the ball with speed and precision. The French giants scrambled to get back, but the shift in tempo caught them off guard. Bradford weren''t done. They had a statement to make. The battle raged on, both teams pushing, both teams refusing to back down. 61st Minute ¨C PSG''s Third Goal (Kvaratskhelia''s Long-Range Chip) Bradford had been building momentum, pushing forward in search of a breakthrough. The energy in the stadium was electric, the home crowd urging them on as they pinned PSG deeper into their own half. Every pass, every movement felt purposeful. They weren''t just holding their own against the French giants¡ªthey were taking the fight to them. Then came the mistake. A misplaced pass in midfield¡ªjust a second of hesitation, but that was all PSG needed. Fabi¨¢n Ruiz reacted first, reading the pass before anyone else. With a sharp touch, he won possession and immediately lifted his head, scanning the field. Bradford were stretched, their midfield caught in transition. And then he saw it. Kvaratskhelia had drifted into space near the halfway line, lurking like a predator waiting for his moment. Ruiz didn''t waste a second, playing a perfectly weighted ball straight into his path. The Georgian winger took one touch. A quick glance. Okafor was off his line. The decision was instant. The technique was flawless. Kvaratskhelia swung his right foot through the ball, striking it with precision and audacity. It wasn''t just a shot¡ªit was a statement. A thirty-five-yard chip that hung in the air, spinning, arching, bending toward its target. Okafor backpedaled desperately. Time seemed to slow as the ball soared above him, his outstretched arms reaching, stretching¡ª Too late. The ball dipped at the perfect moment, brushing past the tips of his gloves and nestling under the bar. Silence. For half a second, Valley Parade was stunned. Then came the roar¡ªfrom the PSG fans, from the away bench, from Kvaratskhelia himself as he wheeled away in celebration. He had just produced a moment of pure brilliance, the kind of goal that defines matches, that silences crowds. Bradford 2-3 PSG. Jake exhaled sharply on the touchline, rubbing his face. He had seen the danger, seen the warning signs. But stopping something like that? "How do you even defend that?" one of his assistants muttered. "You don''t," Jake replied. "You just go again." And that''s exactly what Bradford would do. 65 ¨C Bradford''s Response: Fresh Legs for a Final Push Bradford needed a reaction. The momentum had shifted, and PSG were starting to dictate the pace. Jake knew he had to act. He stepped forward, motioning to the bench. It was time. Fresh legs. Fresh energy. A final push. The fourth official raised the board. One by one, the changes were made. Substitutions for Bradford: Emeka Okafor off, Matthew Cox on. Nathan Barnes off, Marco Bianchi on. Kang Min-jae off, Noah Fletcher on. Aiden Taylor off, Reece Holloway on. Daniel Lowe off, Santiago V¨¦lez on. Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez off, Lewis Chapman on. Roney Bardghji off, Raphael Mensah on. Renan Silva off, Guilherme Costa on. Rin Itoshi off, Ethan walsh on. Chido Obi off, Guilherme Costa on. As each player sprinted onto the pitch, the energy shifted. Fresh determination. A renewed sense of urgency. Jake clapped his hands. "Go make a difference." The instructions were clear. Keep the pressure on. Win the second balls. Take the game to PSG. The Valley Parade crowd sensed it too. A wave of noise erupted, pushing the players forward. Bradford weren''t backing down. They were going for it. 78th Minute ¨C Bradford''s Last Stand (Costa''s Thunderstrike) Bradford threw everything forward. The minutes were slipping away, but Jake''s men refused to surrender. PSG had dropped deep, content to soak up the pressure, waiting for a chance to kill the game on the break. Bradford weren''t giving them that chance. A deep cross. A half-clearance. A scramble on the edge of the box. Then the ball bounced loose¡ªstraight to Guilherme Costa. Thirty yards out. One touch. One swing of his boot. The strike was pure. A rocket. The kind of shot that didn''t just fly¡ªit soared. Arnau Tenas barely moved. He saw it. He knew it. But there was nothing he could do. The ball crashed into the top corner. The net bulged. The stadium erupted. GOAL. Costa wheeled away, fists clenched, roaring into the night sky. His teammates swarmed him, bodies colliding, arms flung around shoulders. Bradford were level. Three goals each. Jake pumped his fist on the touchline. "That''s it! That''s what we do!" S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Valley Parade crowd fed off the moment, their voices rising, their belief unshaken. Bradford weren''t just fighting. They were refusing to fall. Late Drama and the Final Whistle PSG threw everything forward. The pressure was relentless. They weren''t just pushing for a winner¡ªthey were demanding one. Cross after cross, run after run, they probed and tested Bradford''s resolve. The Valley Parade crowd held its breath. And then¡ªdanger. A clever ball from Warren Za?re-Emery split the defense. Demb¨¦l¨¦ ghosted in at the far post, timing his run to perfection. The stadium gasped as the ball fell to his feet. He took one touch, steadied himself, and fired low toward the bottom corner. Cox reacted. A stunning save. Diving at full stretch, he got just enough on it¡ªfingertips pushing the ball around the post. Bradford''s defense scrambled to their feet. PSG had one final chance. The corner was whipped in with pace, a sea of bodies rising to meet it. For a brief second, time seemed to freeze as the ball bounced inside the six-yard box. A scramble. A desperate clearance. And then¡ª The final whistle. Relief. Exhaustion. Euphoria. The stadium erupted. Bradford had gone toe-to-toe with one of the best teams in the world¡ªand they had held their own. Players dropped to their knees, gasping for air. Some stared at the sky, hands on their heads. Others embraced, the emotions of ninety hard-fought minutes crashing over them. Jake turned to his bench, exhaling sharply. His pulse was still racing. Beside him, Paul Roberts let out a long breath, shaking his head. "That," Paul said, voice still tinged with disbelief, "was a proper fight." Jake nodded, running a hand through his hair. "They gave everything. Every single one of them." Paul folded his arms, glancing out at the pitch. "We went punch for punch with PSG. Nobody can say we don''t belong here." Jake let that sink in for a moment. He watched as players exchanged handshakes, some even swapping shirts¡ªa moment of mutual respect between warriors. Demb¨¦l¨¦, still catching his breath, walked over to Obi and handed him his jersey. In return, Obi peeled off his own and passed it over. A silent acknowledgment of what had just taken place. Other players followed. Costa and Kvaratskhelia exchanged shirts, the latter giving the Bradford winger an approving nod. There was no arrogance now, no dismissiveness¡ªonly respect. Jake turned back to Paul, the weight of the night settling on him. "We''ve got something here," he murmured. "This team¡ªthis club¡ªwe''re building something special." Paul grinned, clapping him on the back. "And this is just the beginning." As the players slowly made their way off the pitch, the fans stayed behind, singing, cheering, refusing to let the moment end. Bradford had arrived. And the world had taken notice. Post-Match: Press Conference and Fan Reactions Press Conference ¨C Jake''s Thoughts The media room was packed. The energy in the room matched the intensity of the match itself. Cameras flashed. Journalists leaned forward, notebooks open, waiting for Jake to take his seat. He walked in with a calm demeanor, the kind that masked the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Paul Roberts followed, standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching everything unfold. Jake settled into his chair, adjusting the microphone as the first question came in. Journalist: "Jake, another strong performance against an elite club. What does this result mean for your team?" Jake nodded, already expecting the question. Jake: "It means we can compete. We''re not here to make up the numbers¡ªwe''re here to show we belong. That''s the mentality. That''s what we demand of ourselves. Games like this prove we''re moving in the right direction." The journalist scribbled down notes before firing the next one. Journalist: "The league season starts soon, and you also have the Conference League ahead. How do you prepare for both?" Jake exhaled, glancing briefly at Paul before answering. Jake: "It''s about depth, rotation, and mentality. We''ve built a squad that can handle the challenges ahead. We''ll be tested, no doubt, but we''re ready for it. The players know what''s expected. Everyone will have a role to play, and we''ll approach each competition with the same level of focus." Another journalist leaned into the microphone. Journalist: "Obi and Costa both had spectacular goals today. How important are they to your plans this season?" Jake smirked slightly. He''d expected this one, too. Jake: "Massive. They''re both special players. We want our attackers to express themselves, to take risks, to change games. Today, they did exactly that. When you''ve got players who can create something out of nothing, it gives the whole team belief." A murmur rippled through the room. The next question came quickly. Journalist: "PSG struggled to break you down in the second half. Was that part of your tactical approach?" Jake tilted his head slightly, thinking back to the game. Jake: "Yeah, we adjusted. We knew their strengths¡ªwe studied them. But we also knew how to hurt them. In the second half, we made a few tweaks, tightened up, and stayed disciplined. The lads executed it perfectly. It''s one thing to have a plan, but it''s another thing to have players willing to fight for it. That''s what we saw tonight." There was a brief pause before another journalist tried to cut in, but the press officer stepped forward. "That''s all for today. Thank you, everyone." Jake stood, giving a quick nod before making his way out. As he passed Paul, the assistant coach smirked. "You handled that well," Paul murmured as they walked down the hallway. "Been doing this long enough," Jake replied with a grin. But inside, he knew¡ªthis was just the beginning. Fan Reactions ¨C Bradford City Fan Forum As soon as the final whistle blew, the online discussion erupted. A fan thread popped up almost instantly, titled: "Another day, another fight against a European giant. Thoughts on that three-three draw?" The replies came flooding in. Bradford4Life: "That Costa goal? My jaw is still on the floor. Kid is special." Maverick10: "Ramos'' chip was filthy, but Obi''s bicycle kick? That''s a real striker''s goal. Future star." StickyToffee: "If we can do this against Madrid and PSG, I can''t wait for the league. We''re ready." The conversation kept going, fans debating tactics, praising individual performances, and joking about how PSG "got a taste of the Bradford fight." Some fans were already calling for certain players to be regular starters, while others were still processing what they had just witnessed. One comment stood out: IronCityFC: "We''ve played Real Madrid and PSG in the same pre-season and held our own. That''s not luck. That''s progress." As the night went on, the discussion slowed. The mods eventually locked the thread¡ªpre-season was done. Now, all eyes were on the league opener. Final Thoughts Bradford had stood toe-to-toe with Real Madrid. Now, they had done the same against PSG. Two of the biggest clubs in world football. Two battles fought. Two statements made. But pre-season was just the beginning. The real fight was about to start. Bradford City was ready. Chapter 159 - 159: The Team Meeting The Room Falls Silent The squad filtered into the meeting room in small groups, some chatting in hushed tones, others with their heads down, locked in their own thoughts. The new season was just days away, and every single person in that room knew what was at stake. Jake Wilson stood at the front, his arms folded, eyes sweeping across the players. Some leaned forward, resting elbows on their knees, others sat back, but one thing was clear¡ªevery single one of them was locked in. This was the meeting that set the tone for everything. Paul Roberts, his assistant, stood at the side, arms crossed, a knowing expression on his face. Michael Stone, the sporting director, was present too, though he didn''t speak. This was Jake''s moment. His voice, his message. He let the room settle, the quiet stretching long enough for everyone to feel it. Then he spoke. "This Is the Season." "I won''t keep you here long," Jake started, his voice calm, measured. "Because you already know what this is about." He paced slightly, hands on his hips, then stopped. "This is the biggest season of our careers." No one moved. No one blinked. The weight of the words sat heavy. He turned, letting his eyes linger on each player. "We''re not just here to play football," he continued. "We''re here to make history." Jake''s voice was firm but steady, carrying across the room like a challenge. He wasn''t going to yell, wasn''t going to hammer his fists on the table. He didn''t need to. They already felt it. The Three Objectives Jake Wilson stood firm at the front of the room, his posture unshakable, his expression as serious as the occasion demanded. He could feel the anticipation in the air, the unspoken hunger rippling through the squad like an unchained force. They weren''t here for another hopeful campaign. They were here to impose their will. With deliberate movement, Jake raised a single finger. "One¡ªWin the Championship." He let those words hang in the air, allowing them to settle, allowing them to burn into every mind in that room. "We don''t settle for playoffs," he said, voice low but sharp. "We don''t fight for scraps. We take what''s ours." There were no doubtful looks, no lingering disappointments from a past failure¡ªbecause there had been none. The previous season had been nothing short of dominant. They hadn''t scraped their way to the Championship; they had bulldozed their way through League One, finishing as champions with an unassailable 117 points. No other team had come close. They had broken records, silenced doubters, and made a statement to the footballing world. They had been relentless. Thirty-eight wins. Three draws. Five losses. A total of 117 points¡ªthe highest in EFL history. No last-minute slip-ups. No heartbreak. No ''nearly but not quite.'' They had dominated. And yet, Jake wasn''t interested in celebrating that now. It was done. In the past. "The job isn''t finished," he continued, scanning the room. "We ran through League One like it was nothing. Now we prove that was just the beginning." Some nodded. Others clenched their jaws. They had felt the power of what they had built last season. They knew exactly what they were capable of. "That''s not happening again," Jake said, voice sharper now. "Because we are not here to fight for a playoff spot. We are here to win the damn thing." His eyes flicked toward Noah Fletcher, the captain, who responded with the subtlest of nods. They were on the same page. Everyone was. "We will win the Championship. Automatic promotion. No discussions. No doubts." The energy in the room shifted. The fire in their eyes was unmistakable. Jake lifted a second finger. "Two¡ªEurope." A few glances were exchanged, but this time, there was no hesitation. "We earned our place in the UEFA Conference League," Jake said, his tone unwavering. "It wasn''t given to us. It wasn''t a fluke. We fought for it." And they had. Their performances in the domestic cups the previous season had been nothing short of sensational, knocking out bigger sides on their way to European qualification. It had been a momentous achievement¡ªone that would forever be etched in the club''s history. But now? Now, it meant nothing unless they proved they belonged. "The world doesn''t expect anything from us," Jake continued, eyes scanning the players. "They think we''ll be out in the group stage. That we''ll just be happy to be there." He exhaled, shaking his head. "They think we''re tourists." A pause. "They''re wrong." A few smirks spread across the room. A few players straightened in their seats. "They don''t know what we''re about." His voice had an edge to it now. "But they will." And they would. There was no fear of Europe in this room. No nervous excitement. Only determination. "This isn''t just a reward for last season. It''s a challenge. And we do not back down from challenges." Jake allowed that to sit for a moment, then lifted a third finger. "Three¡ªThe Cups." A murmur spread across the room. They already knew what was coming. "The FA Cup and the EFL Cup?" Jake''s eyes moved deliberately across the room, ensuring they all understood. "We take them seriously." There was no dismissive tone. No mention of ''rotating the squad'' or ''prioritizing the league.'' Other clubs might do that, but they weren''t other clubs. "We don''t throw games away." A few nods. "We fight on every front." Another nod. "You want to play at Wembley? You want to lift a trophy?" Jake let that question hang, his eyes burning with intensity. "Then act like it." And they would. They weren''t going to be one of those teams that treated cup competitions like an inconvenience. They weren''t here to ''focus on the league'' while bowing out early. They were here to win. Everything. Jake took a step forward, lowering his voice slightly. "No More Excuses." "I don''t want to hear about fixture congestion," he said, scanning the room. "I don''t want to hear about referees, unlucky bounces, or tough opponents." His voice was steel. "Because we don''t back down from any challenge." The room was silent. Every single player in that room understood. Every single one of them was ready. Jake''s eyes swept across them one last time. "If you want this season to be different, prove it." A beat passed. Then¡ª "Yes, gaffer." A single voice. Then another. And another. A growing chorus of agreement. The murmurs grew louder. Some clapped, some nodded, but the energy in the room had changed. This squad was ready. The Players Speak A beat passed. Then, Nathan Barnes¡ªthe captain¡ªleaned forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed, unflinching. "We''ve come too far to stop now." His voice carried a quiet intensity, the kind that didn''t need to be loud to command attention. Across the room, Richter, the towering center-back, nodded. His jaw was set, eyes dark with a fire that had been burning since last season. "Last season still stings." There was no heartbreak, no final-day collapse, but that wasn''t the point. They had crushed League One¡ª117 points, champions, automatic promotion¡ªbut they weren''t interested in just being another team making up the numbers in the Championship. They wanted more. Sitting next to Richter, V¨¦lez cracked his knuckles. The Argentine midfielder had been a revelation last season, dictating play with a mix of elegance and aggression. He met Barnes'' gaze, then glanced around at the others. "I don''t want to just play in Europe," V¨¦lez said, his accent sharp, his tone sharper. "I want to win in Europe." A murmur rippled through the room. Then a chuckle. Obi, one of the younger players, grinned as he leaned back in his chair. His confidence was infectious, and everyone knew it. "Forget just winning in Europe. I want Wembley." There was no arrogance in his voice. Just belief. Paul Roberts, standing at the side with arms crossed, smirked slightly. The assistant manager had seen plenty of squads over the years, plenty of big talk before seasons began¡ªbut this was different. This wasn''t empty bravado. "You lot are talking like a team that believes they can do it," Roberts said, amusement laced in his tone. Jake, still standing at the front, nodded. "That''s because they are." He didn''t need to say anything else. He saw it in their eyes. esitation, no uncertainty. This wasn''t a plea for commitment¡ªit was a demand. Nathan Barnes sat up straighter, his fingers interlocked as he took in his manager''s words. He didn''t need to speak this time. His presence alone was enough. Jake let the silence stretch, let them sit in the moment. Then¡ª "If you want this season to be different, prove it." The words cut through the air like a knife. A pause. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then¡ª "Yes, gaffer." A single voice. Then another. Then another. The murmurs grew louder. Some clapped, some nodded. Nathan Barnes stood, glancing at his teammates, his expression set in stone. Then he looked at Jake, offering a single nod. This squad wasn''t just ready. They were hungry. The System''s Prediction Jake clicked open the Championship table. Leicester. Southampton. Norwich. Big clubs. Premier League experience. Budgets bigger than their entire squad combined. Didn''t matter. He exhaled, cracked his knuckles, and pulled up the system window. Fingers hovered over the keyboard. One simple question. "What are our chances of promotion?" The screen flickered. A pause. Then¡ª "70%." Jake smirked. Good enough. They weren''t favorites, but they were in the fight. He shut the laptop, rolled his shoulders, and stood. Tomorrow, the war started. A Quiet Night The house was dark when he got home. Just the soft hum of the TV. Emma was curled up on the couch, blanket pulled to her chin. Half-asleep. Jake dropped his keys on the counter, kicked off his shoes, and sat beside her. "Hey." She stirred, blinking up at him. "Mm. What time is it?" "Late." Her eyes flicked to his face, reading him like a book. "You''re thinking about tomorrow." Jake let out a breath. "Hard not to." Emma shifted closer, resting her head against his chest. "You ready?" A beat. Then, Jake nodded. "Yeah." The season was here. No more talk. Just war. Chapter 160 - 160: The System’s Prediction & Tactical Preparation System Prediction ¨C The Odds Are Close Jake leaned back in his chair, exhaling as the system loaded. A soft hum filled the quiet room, the glow from his laptop screen illuminating his face. Numbers flashed on the screen. The verdict appeared. Win Probability: Bradford: 55% Norwich: 30% Draw: 15% Jake narrowed his eyes. Fifty-five percent. Slight advantage. A coin flip on some days. Not exactly a free pass, but not a death sentence either. He ran a hand through his hair. Norwich weren''t pushovers. They had Premier League experience, players who knew how to grind out results. But Bradford had something too¡ªmomentum. The hunger of a team desperate to prove itself. Still, numbers didn''t win football matches. Performances did. The system''s next line caught his attention. "Tactical Breakdown Available." Jake clicked. A deeper analysis unfolded before him¡ªthe part that actually mattered. Norwich''s Strengths ¨C Defensive Organization ¨C Norwich didn''t leak goals. They sat deep, stayed compact, and rarely got caught out of shape. Teams struggled to break them down in open play. It wasn''t flashy, but it was effective. Aerial Dominance ¨C Hanley and Gibson were warriors in the air. Set-pieces, long balls, crosses¡ªthey''d win most of those battles. If Bradford resorted to lumping it forward, they''d lose. Experience Under Pressure ¨C This wasn''t a team that panicked. They could absorb attacks, take the sting out of games, slow the tempo when needed. If Bradford got frustrated, started rushing, Norwich would pounce. Jake exhaled. Breaking them down wouldn''t be easy. They wouldn''t crumble under pressure¡ªthey''d soak it up, waiting for the right moment to strike. Norwich''s Weaknesses ¨C Lack of Creativity in Midfield ¨C That was the key. Norwich didn''t have a playmaker who could unlock defenses. Their midfielders were steady, disciplined¡ªbut not game-changers. If Bradford pressed high and forced mistakes, Norwich would struggle to progress the ball. Slow Defensive Line ¨C Hanley and Gibson were strong, but they weren''t quick. If Bradford could isolate them, stretch the field, and play through balls in behind, Norwich would be vulnerable. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Struggles Against High Tempo ¨C They wanted control, a structured game. But if the match turned frantic¡ªquick passing, relentless pressing¡ªthey could be forced into errors. Jake''s fingers drummed against the desk. He could see the plan forming already. Jake''s Take ¨C Press them. Overwhelm their midfield. Win the ball back high and strike before they recover. Stretch their defense. Make them uncomfortable. Force their center-backs into one-on-one situations instead of letting them sit in a deep block. Control the chaos. Norwich wanted order. Bradford had to give them the opposite. Jake leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew exactly how they were going to win this. Friday, August 1 ¨C Jake stepped onto the pitch just as the sprinklers shut off, the scent of fresh-cut grass mixing with the cool morning air. The sun hadn''t fully risen yet, but that was how he liked it¡ªquiet, focused, the calm before the storm. He took a slow breath, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the empty field. In less than an hour, it would be buzzing with voices, the thud of passes, the sharp whistles of drills. But right now, it was his. His space to think, to plan, to visualize the match before a single ball was kicked. A door swung open behind him. Paul Roberts strolled in, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, already skimming through match reports. "Morning," Paul muttered, barely looking up as he took a sip. Jake didn''t bother with small talk. "Norwich''s midfield is weak," he said, motioning toward the tactics room. "We press them high, force mistakes. If we win the ball in their half, we hit fast." Paul nodded, following him inside. "And their defense?" Jake grabbed a marker, uncapped it with his teeth, and started drawing on the tactics board. "Solid. Too good to break down with slow build-up play. We stretch them wide, force them to react. Make them uncomfortable." Paul leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching as Jake sketched out the plan. "Explain." Jake tapped the board, circling Norwich''s central midfield. "They don''t have a deep-lying playmaker. Their midfield is workmanlike¡ªhard runners, strong in tackles, but not creative. They don''t like being harassed. If we press them early, they''ll struggle to link up with their forwards." Paul rubbed his chin. "So, high press?" "Relentless," Jake confirmed. "But smart. We don''t just run at them. We set traps. Force them into mistakes, then break fast." He moved the marker, drawing arrows along the flanks. "Now, their defense¡ªHanley and Gibson. Strong in the air, good positioning. But slow. If we let them sit deep, we''re finished. They''ll absorb everything. But if we stretch the play, pull them into wider areas, they''ll struggle. We use our wingers to create one-on-ones." Paul nodded, following the logic. "You''re thinking Mensah?" Jake smirked. "Yeah. Mensah''s speed against Hanley is a mismatch. We overload their midfield, win the ball high, and immediately get it to the wings. Norwich will be forced to shift, and that''s where gaps will open." Paul exhaled, glancing at the notes on his tablet. "It''s risky. If they play through the press, we''ll be exposed." Jake grinned. "That''s football." A moment of silence. Then Paul chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright. Let''s run it in training." Jake nodded, flipping the board around. Time to drill it into the players. Setting the Tone Jake took a step back from the tactics board, studying the plan one last time. The blueprint was there¡ªsimple but effective. Overload the midfield ¨C Norwich didn''t like being pressed. That was their weak link. Bradford had to be relentless, hounding them, forcing rushed passes, capitalizing on every mistake. They couldn''t afford to give their opponents time to think. Stretch their defensive line ¨C Norwich''s center-backs were strong, disciplined, but they were at their best when they sat deep, when they could control the space in front of them. Bradford had to disrupt that, pull them wide, force them into uncomfortable one-on-ones. Mensah''s speed, Costa''s movement¡ªthose were weapons, and they had to use them. Quick transitions ¨C No second-guessing, no hesitation. The moment Bradford won the ball, they had to go. Fast. Direct. Before Norwich could regroup. This wasn''t a game to play safe¡ªit was a game to hit hard and early. Paul grinned, arms folded across his chest. "I like it. What''s the training focus?" Jake flipped to the session plan, the structure of the day''s work mapped out in his head. Midfield Pressing Drills ¨C Create chaos. Train the players to close space fast, work in unison, suffocate Norwich''s midfield before they could build any rhythm. Fast-Paced Counterattack Drills ¨C Win the ball, attack immediately. No sideways passes, no hesitation. Quick decisions, aggressive runs, direct play. Crossing & Finishing ¨C If Norwich were going to sit deep and defend, Bradford had to break them down with quick deliveries into the box. The wingers and full-backs would drill their movement, their precision. Strikers had to be ruthless. The plan was in place. Now, it was time to put it into action. Training Ground, Friday, August 1 Jake paced along the sideline, the early morning chill still lingering in the air. The sun was climbing now, casting long shadows across the training pitch. His players were already in the thick of it, their shouts echoing through the air, boots thudding against the turf. "Good! Press! Press!" Jake barked as V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez swarmed Chapman, forcing him into a rushed pass that skidded out of bounds. The midfield overload was working. Paul Roberts stood nearby, arms folded, eyes scanning the drill. "They''re getting it," he said. Jake nodded. "We press like that against Norwich, we force mistakes. Win the ball high, break quick. No hesitation." The next phase of training kicked in. Fast-Paced Counterattack Drills. Cox fired a long throw out to Mensah on the right wing. One touch, then a burst of pace. He darted inside, slipping a pass to Costa, who immediately laid it off for Bardghji. Two passes, and they were through. The finish was instinctive¡ªlow and hard into the bottom corner. "That''s what I want!" Jake shouted. "No second thoughts! Turn defense into attack in two, three touches!" Paul grinned. "They''re sharp today." The drills intensified. Crossing and Finishing. Full-backs bombed forward, whipping in deliveries at match speed. Silva was relentless, whipping one ball after another into the six-yard box. Costa and Obi battled for every inch of space, attacking each cross like their lives depended on it. One ball came in too high. Obi adjusted, hanging in the air longer than seemed possible, before thundering a header past Okafor. A few claps echoed from the sideline. Jake turned to Paul. "That''s how we break Norwich''s defensive line. Stretch them, force them to react. If they collapse centrally, we kill them from wide." The session wrapped up, players breathing heavily, sweat dripping, but energy still high. Jake took one last look at his squad. The execution was crisp. The intensity was there. This wasn''t just the first game of the season. This was a statement. Bradford weren''t here to participate. They were here to take over. Chapter 161 - 161: Bradford vs Norwich Starting XI ¨C Bradford (4-4-2) GK: Emeka Okafor RB: James Richards CB: Nathan Barnes (C) CB: Kang Min-jae LB: Aiden Taylor RM: Renan Silva CM: Andr¨¦s Ib¨¢?ez CM: Santiago V¨¦lez LM: Roney Bardghji ST: Guilherme Costa ST: Raphael Mensah Subs: Cox (GK), Fletcher, Holloway, Chapman, Rasmussen, Obi, Richter The tunnel was silent except for the sound of studs scraping against concrete. Players shifted in place, rolling their shoulders, flexing their fingers. No nerves¡ªjust focus. Jake stood at the entrance, watching his squad. Barnes had his arms crossed, staring straight ahead, eyes locked on the pitch like a soldier waiting for battle. Costa bounced on his toes, whispering something to Mensah, both strikers locked in their own world, hyping each other up. No one spoke. They didn''t need to. Every player knew what was at stake. The first game of the season set the tone. Start strong, dominate, and make a statement. On the other side, Norwich lined up. Their captain, Hanley, rolled his neck, cracking his knuckles. Maddison adjusted his socks, glancing at the Bradford players, sizing them up. They had a point to prove. They weren''t here to roll over. The referee gave the signal. One final deep breath. Boots hit the grass as players jogged onto the pitch. The stadium erupted, a wall of noise crashing down from the stands. Chants, drums, voices blending into a thunderous backdrop. Jake walked to the touchline, eyes on his players. Barnes turned to his teammates, clapped his hands. One last word before kickoff. No hesitation. No fear. The whistle blew. Game on. 1st Minute ¨C Norwich wanted control. They played it safe, passing between their defenders, feeling out the tempo. No risks. Just simple, careful possession. Bradford wasn''t interested in watching. V¨¦lez sprinted forward the second the ball reached Gibson''s feet. No hesitation. The Argentine closed the gap in two strides and lunged¡ªclean, aggressive, forcing a panicked clearance. The ball floated awkwardly, dropping toward Silva on the right. He barely needed a touch, just a quick glance up before threading a pass forward. Sharp. Precise. Costa read it instantly. He took off between the center-backs, but the pass had just a little too much weight. He stretched, desperate to get a toe on it, but Gunn was out quick, smothering the ball just outside the box. A warning shot. Norwich exhaled. Bradford wasn''t sitting back. They were here to disrupt, to dictate, to take over. 5th Minute ¨C Bradford pressed high. Every pass Norwich played came with a shadow, a red shirt closing in. Silva forced Duffy backward, V¨¦lez tracked McLean''s every touch, and Barnes kept the defensive line high, leaving no space for runners. Then, Norwich found a gap. Sara dropped deep, just outside his own box, and took the ball under pressure. One touch, then another¡ªhe turned, skipped past V¨¦lez, and suddenly, the pitch opened up. A quick pass into Maddison, who had drifted between the lines. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jake tensed. Maddison barely needed a second to assess. His body shaped left, but his right foot flicked the ball forward¡ªa disguised through ball slicing between Min-jae and Barnes. Sargent was already moving. A race. Min-jae reacted first, but Sargent had the momentum. The Norwich striker burst forward, took one touch into the box, and went for power¡ªright foot, laces through the ball. Okafor exploded off his line. The Nigerian spread his frame, arms out, legs wide. The ball smashed against his left shoulder and spun high into the air. Min-jae recovered first, clearing into the stands. A warning. Norwich wasn''t sitting back. 8th Minute ¨C Ib¨¢?ez took control in midfield, shifting his body to shield the ball as two Norwich players closed in. He didn''t panic. One feint, then a quick turn away from danger. Space opened. His eyes flicked up. Options. Bardghji. The pass was perfect¡ªfired across the pitch, low and fast. Bardghji took it in stride, barely breaking his run. The Swede drove forward, his first touch pushing him past Giannoulis. The Norwich left-back scrambled to recover, but Bardghji was already cutting inside. One step, then another. The angle was tight, but he didn''t hesitate. Left foot, laces through the ball¡ªstruck with venom. A deflection. The ball spun wickedly, curling away from Gunn, who could only watch. For a second, it looked like it might sneak in at the near post. Just wide. Bradford''s first real chance. A warning shot. 12th Minute ¨C Bradford moved with purpose. Ib¨¢?ez, always composed, dictated the tempo in midfield, rolling the ball under his foot before playing a sharp pass into V¨¦lez. One touch. Turn. Drive forward. Norwich''s midfield scrambled, but V¨¦lez had already spotted the run. Silva. The Brazilian hugged the touchline, waiting, then exploded into space the moment the pass came. V¨¦lez didn''t disappoint. A perfectly weighted ball, splitting the full-back and center-back. Silva was through. The first touch was immaculate, taking him inside the box. Giannoulis lunged, too late. Silva didn''t slow down. Head up¡ªhe saw Costa peeling away from his marker. The cross came in, whipped fast and curling away from goal. Costa attacked it, timing his movement to perfection. A glancing header, flicked toward the far post¡ª Agonizingly wide. Costa held his head in his hands. That should''ve been the opener. He knew it. Bradford knew it. Jake on the sideline clenched his jaw. A chance gone, but Norwich were on the ropes. 21st Minute ¨C Norwich had barely touched the ball in Bradford''s half, but all it took was one moment. One misstep. It came from nothing¡ªa simple long ball over the top. Barnes, usually so reliable, hesitated for half a second. That was enough. Sargent, sensing the opportunity, bullied his way past, using his strength to hold off the Bradford captain. One touch to set himself, then he unleashed a venomous strike toward the bottom corner. Okafor didn''t think. He reacted. The Nigerian keeper threw himself low, right hand outstretched. The ball smacked against his palm, parried away¡ªbut not cleared. Danger. The rebound fell straight to Gibbs. Bradford''s defense was scrambling, out of position, but Lee saw it first. No time to think. He launched himself forward, body on the line. Gibbs struck it first-time, low and hard¡ªbut all he hit was Lee''s outstretched leg. The ball deflected out for a corner. A let-off. Okafor roared at his defense. Barnes shook his head, frustrated with himself. A warning sign¡ªNorwich wasn''t going to roll over. 27th Minute ¨C Bradford settled. After the early scare, V¨¦lez took control, dictating the pace like a conductor leading an orchestra. Always scanning, always looking forward. The ball moved with purpose. Ib¨¢?ez was next to pounce, pressing high and winning the ball off McLean before he could turn. No hesitation¡ªhe played it straight to Silva. Silva, head up, already knew where it was going. One touch. A perfectly weighted pass into space. Mensah, electric, took off down the left, racing behind the full-back. The Valley Parade crowd rose as one. Mensah burst into the box, defender trailing, but the angle was tight. He had to cut it back. He tried¡ªbut Hanley read it, stretching out a leg to intercept just before Costa could pounce. Norwich cleared. Bradford kept coming. 32nd Minute ¨C Bradford thought they had the breakthrough. V¨¦lez saw it first. A lazy, under-hit pass from Gibbs in midfield¡ªhe pounced. One touch to control, then he was off, surging forward. Mensah peeled wide, dragging his marker with him. V¨¦lez didn''t hesitate, threading the pass into his path. The Ghanaian exploded down the left, head up, waiting for the movement inside the box. Costa made his run¡ªperfectly timed, or so it seemed. Mensah squared it low across the box. Costa lunged, stretching every inch, and got there. A sliding finish. The net rippled. Valley Parade erupted. But then¡ªsilence. The assistant''s flag was up. Offside. Costa sat on the ground, hands on his head. Mensah turned, pleading with the referee, but the decision was made. Replays on the big screen showed it¡ªmarginal. Half a step too early. Bradford''s celebrations were cut short. Norwich had survived. 41st Minute ¨C That had to be it. Ib¨¢?ez saw the danger before it even developed. McLean tried to spin away, but the Argentine wasn''t having it. A crunching, perfectly timed tackle¡ªclean, powerful. The ball spun loose, bouncing into Silva''s path. Silva didn''t hesitate. One touch to control, then a perfectly weighted pass, cutting through Norwich''s high line like a scalpel. Costa was already moving, ghosting between the center-backs, his run inch-perfect. One-on-one. Jake held his breath. Costa took a touch, steadying himself. Gunn rushed out, arms wide, making himself as big as possible. Costa shaped to shoot, opened his body¡ªthen struck low, hard, aiming for the far corner. Somehow, Gunn reacted. A desperate lunge, a last-second stretch¡ªhis outstretched leg deflected it wide. The stadium groaned. Costa threw his hands up, staring at the goal in disbelief. That was the moment. That was the breakthrough. But it still wouldn''t come. HALFTIME ¨C BRADFORD 0-0 NORWICH The whistle blew, cutting through the tension. Players trudged off, heads down, frustration written all over their faces. Norwich had barely threatened, yet Bradford couldn''t make them pay. The locker room was tense. Some players slumped into their seats, staring at the floor. Others paced. Costa shook his head, muttering to himself. Jake stood in the middle, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room. He let the silence hang for a moment before speaking. "We''re suffocating them. We''re winning every battle. But that means nothing if we don''t finish." His voice was calm but sharp. "We need that final ball. That final touch. Stay patient, but when the chance comes¡ªbury it." Ib¨¢?ez nodded. Barnes cracked his knuckles. V¨¦lez wiped the sweat from his face and took a deep breath. Paul leaned in, voice lower. "They''re tiring. One goal and they''ll crumble." Jake turned back to the squad. "Forty-five minutes. We don''t let up. We don''t slow down. We go and take this game." A few nods. Then a few more. The energy shifted. They weren''t just going back out there. They were going to finish this. Chapter 162 - 162: Bradford vs Norwich 2 48th Minute ¨C Norwich finally found a crack. Maddison had been quiet all game, shadowed every step by Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez, but this time, just for a second, he found space. He barely needed to look¡ªone touch, one perfect, slicing pass that split the Bradford backline in half. Barnes turned, but he was too late. Sargent was already gone, sprinting onto the ball like a predator scenting blood. One-on-one with Okafor. Jake barely had time to process it. Sargent took a touch, steadied himself, then pulled the trigger. A low, driven strike, arrowing toward the bottom corner. Okafor exploded forward, closing the distance. A split-second decision¡ªgo down, stay up, spread wide? The Nigerian goalkeeper threw out a leg¡ªpure instinct. The ball deflected off his shin, spinning away from goal. Valley Parade gasped. A half-second of silence. Then Barnes was there, sliding in, hacking the loose ball clear before Rowe could react. Jake exhaled. That was too close. On the sideline, Norwich''s assistant coach clapped his hands, urging his players on. They had smelled weakness. But Okafor had slammed the door shut. 52nd Minute ¨C GOAL! Bradford 1-0 Norwich Norwich was still reorganizing, still adjusting after that near-miss. They weren''t ready. Bradford smelled blood. Ib¨¢?ez won the ball in midfield, calm as ever, and lifted his head. One glance. He saw Bardghji peeling away down the right, acres of space ahead. No hesitation. A clipped pass over the top, perfectly weighted, dropping just beyond the full-back''s reach. Bardghji''s first touch was pure silk. Killed it dead, let it roll into his stride. He accelerated, cutting inside, defenders scrambling, the box in chaos. Costa was already moving. He read it before anyone else. Bardghji didn''t hesitate. One look, one whipped cross¡ªlow, hard, deadly. Costa arrived right on time. First-time. Instinct. Precision. The ball kissed the inside of the post and nestled into the net. Gunn didn''t even dive. No chance. Valley Parade erupted. Jake clenched his fist. Bradford led. 55th Minute ¨C Bradford Substitutions Jake wasn''t waiting. A one-goal lead wasn''t enough. He wanted fresh legs, energy, control. Min-jae was the first to come off. He had put in a shift, but Norwich was starting to exploit the space behind him. Fletcher replaced him¡ªstrong, fresh, and ready to organize the backline. Barnes gave him a nod as he jogged on. Next, Taylor. The left-back had battled hard, but his legs were heavy. Holloway came in, younger, quicker, ready to cover ground and add more dynamism on the left. Then came the attacking changes. Silva was done. He had tormented Norwich''s defense but had run himself into the ground. Rasmussen took his place¡ªa different kind of threat, direct and aggressive. Costa had scored, but Jake wanted more running in behind. More pressure on the Norwich backline. Obi was the answer. Big, powerful, relentless. And finally, Mensah. He had worked tirelessly, but his race was run. Richter came in, fresh, sharp, hungry. Five changes. New energy. Jake clapped his hands. "Let''s finish this." 66th Minute ¨C RED CARD! Norwich Down to Ten! Norwich was losing their grip on the game, and it showed. Bradford had them pinned back, V¨¦lez pulling the strings, dictating every move. Then, a moment of recklessness. V¨¦lez skipped past his man with ease, gliding into open space in midfield. He took a touch forward¡ªthen another. Norwich''s defensive line backed off, wary of his vision. He was about to release Obi through on goal. And then¡ªimpact. Hanley came flying in from behind, both legs off the ground. A reckless, desperate lunge. V¨¦lez never saw it coming. His legs were swept from under him, his body twisted mid-air before crashing onto the turf. Valley Parade erupted in fury. V¨¦lez clutched his ankle, rolling over in pain. The referee was already sprinting over, hand reaching into his back pocket before Hanley had even gotten up. Straight red. Norwich''s players swarmed the referee, shouting, pleading. Hanley threw his arms out in disbelief. He knew what he''d done, but he wasn''t going to admit it. Jake was already on the pitch, furious. "That could''ve broken his leg!" he shouted, pointing toward V¨¦lez, who was still down. The stretcher came out, but V¨¦lez pushed it away. He wasn''t coming off. He waved the physios back, wincing as he got to his feet. A warrior. Norwich? Down to ten. Bradford? Smelling blood. 72nd Minute ¨C GOAL! Bradford 2-0 Norwich Bradford could feel it now. The second goal was coming. Norwich, down to ten, looked stretched, desperate. They were trying to hold on, but gaps were opening everywhere. Rasmussen saw it first. The Danish winger received the ball wide on the right, his first touch killing the pass dead. He glanced up. Obi was already on the move, peeling away from his marker, pointing exactly where he wanted it. Rasmussen didn''t hesitate. One perfect, curling ball¡ªthreaded between two defenders, bypassing the entire Norwich backline. Obi read it perfectly, adjusted his stride, and took it in full stride. One touch to control, his second to steady himself. Gunn rushed out, arms wide, trying to close the angle. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Too late. Obi opened up his body and slotted it low past Gunn, the ball rolling cleanly into the bottom corner. Valley Parade exploded. Obi wheeled away in celebration, arms outstretched, roaring toward the fans. His teammates mobbed him¡ªRasmussen first, grinning as he pounded him on the back. Bradford had their second. Norwich looked beaten. 78th Minute ¨C Bradford smelled blood. They weren''t sitting back. Norwich, down a man, looked stretched every time Bradford attacked. Ib¨¢?ez, who had been controlling the tempo all game, spotted another opening. A quick turn, a clever chipped pass over the top¡ªRasmussen latched onto it, took it down on his chest, and let it fly on the half-volley. Gunn barely moved. The ball whistled past him¡ªjust over the bar. Gasps from the crowd. That was inches away from sealing it. Bradford kept coming. 84th Minute ¨C Norwich had completely lost their shape. Every Bradford attack looked dangerous now. V¨¦lez picked up possession in midfield, played a sharp ball into Richter''s feet. The German striker didn''t even need to turn¡ªhe knew Obi was making the run. A perfect flick around the corner, splitting two defenders. Obi raced onto it, one-on-one with Gunn again. This time, the keeper got a fingertip to it. The ball spun wide of the post. Obi slapped the ground in frustration. He knew he should''ve finished that. But he wasn''t done yet. Chapter 163 - 163: Bradford vs Norwich 3 89th Minute ¨C Bradford weren''t just winning. They were making a statement. Norwich had given up chasing. Their bodies moved, but their heads were gone. Ib¨¢?ez knew it. He could feel it. So when he saw Rowe take a heavy touch, he pounced. A sharp step, an outstretched foot¡ªhe nicked the ball clean. Rowe barely had time to react before Ib¨¢?ez was already moving forward, eyes scanning, instincts sharp. The ball rolled to Richter. He had space. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One touch to control. One look up. Obi was already on the move. Richter didn''t hesitate. A perfectly weighted through ball, threading between two defenders like a needle through fabric. Obi didn''t break stride. One touch. The perfect setup. Gunn rushed out, arms wide, but Obi was too composed. Too ruthless. A simple, ice-cold finish. Inside of the foot. Low, precise, into the bottom corner. Valley Parade erupted. Obi wheeled away in celebration, sprinting toward the corner flag, arms spread like a man soaking in the moment. The fans roared his name. Richter followed, pointing at him, grinning, before the entire team swarmed them. V¨¦lez grabbed Obi''s head, shaking it with excitement. Holloway pounded his chest. Barnes lifted both arms to the sky. On the other side, Norwich players stood frozen. Hands on hips. Eyes empty. They had nothing left. The final whistle came seconds later. Bradford 3-0 Norwich. Jake barely reacted at first. He just exhaled, nodding slowly. Job done. Then, as the noise hit him, as his players celebrated, a small smile broke through. They weren''t here to participate. Bradford had arrived. The Post-Match Press Conference Jake stepped into the press room, the hum of voices lowering as cameras clicked. The win was still fresh, the adrenaline still lingering in his system. A few familiar faces sat at the front¡ªjournalists he''d seen plenty of times before¡ªalong with a few new ones. The lights were bright, the microphones lined up in front of him. He took his seat, adjusting the mic. The first question came fast. "Jake, a dominant win today. What was the tactical key to controlling the game?" Jake leaned forward slightly. "We knew Norwich liked to control the midfield. Their best work comes from keeping possession, switching play, and breaking lines with their passing. So we made sure they never got comfortable. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez pressed aggressively, forced mistakes, and kept them from settling. Our wingers stretched their backline, and when the spaces opened up, we exploited them. It was about being disciplined but also knowing when to attack." "Chido Obi came on and scored twice. What does that say about his role in the squad?" Jake smiled. "It says he''s ready. Chido is hungry. He trains like a player who wants to make a difference, and tonight, he showed that. His movement was excellent, his finishing was sharp, and when the team needed something extra, he delivered. That''s the mentality we need." "And Costa? He got on the scoresheet as well." A small nod. "Massive for us. We ask a lot of him¡ªpressing, movement, link-up play¡ªbut when the chances come, he delivers. He''s clinical. But it''s not just about the goals. His work rate sets the tone for the whole team." "Your first game of the season, a 3-0 win, a clean sheet. What kind of statement does this send?" Jake exhaled, measured in his response. "It''s a good start. Nothing more. We know how long the season is, how competitive this league can be. But the intent is clear¡ªwe''re not here to make up the numbers. We''re here to push. To compete. And if we keep this level of intensity, we''ll be in a strong position." "A quick turnaround to Rapid Wien on Tuesday. How do you manage the balance between the Championship and European competition?" His expression didn''t change. "By being prepared. European football is new for this club, but we''re ready. We''ve built a squad that can handle the demands of multiple competitions. We''ll rotate when we need to, keep the squad fresh, and make sure we approach every game with the same intensity and focus." "You''ve only played one game, but do you believe this squad has the depth to compete on all fronts?" Jake smirked slightly. "You''ll see on Tuesday." "Lastly, fans are absolutely buzzing after this win. What''s your message to them?" He glanced at the cameras, knowing exactly who was watching. "Keep believing. We''re building something special here." The press officer wrapped things up, signaling the end of the conference. Jake stood, shook a few hands, then headed out. There was no time to dwell on this win¡ªRapid Wien was next. Fan Forum Reaction The Bradford fan forums were on fire. The win hadn''t just impressed¡ªit had sent a message. ???? "What a statement! We didn''t just win, we dominated. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez are a joke in midfield. Absolute engines." ???? "Obi coming off the bench and scoring¡ªhe has to start against Rapid Wien. No debate. The guy is a killer in front of goal." ???? "3-0. First game. Top of the league. Never coming down. Somebody stop us!" ???? "Jake Ball is real. Pressing teams to death. No fear. We actually play proper football now!" ???? "Bardghji was cooking, Obi was clinical, Costa worked his socks off. I love this team already." The excitement buzzed through every corner of the fanbase. Social media exploded with clips of the goals, analysis threads breaking down Jake''s tactics, and GIFs of Valley Parade rocking after each goal. But the celebrations didn''t last long. The focus had already shifted. Rapid Wien. Tuesday night. Bradford City''s first-ever European match. The reality set in quickly¡ªthis was a different kind of challenge. League football was one thing. European competition was another beast entirely. And the fans knew it. ???? "Norwich were light work, but Rapid Wien will be a different test. How we handle that will show what we''re really about." ???? "Jake has a decision to make¡ªstick with the same team or rotate? We can''t afford to burn out this early." ???? "Honestly, I just want to see us compete. We''ve never been in Europe before. Whatever happens, it''s historic." The anticipation grew. For years, Bradford had been clawing their way up the football pyramid. Now, they were about to step onto a European stage. Chapter 164 - 164: Scouting the Unknown Home ¨C Late Night Analysis Jake sat on his couch, the glow of his laptop screen the only light in the room. A glass of water rested on the table, untouched. His mind was already elsewhere¡ªTuesday night, Rapid Wien, European football. The system loaded the prediction. Bradford 35% ¨C Rapid Wien 35% ¨C Draw 30%. Even. Jake exhaled slowly. No favorites. No underdogs. A true toss-up. Then, the breakdown. Rapid Wien Strengths:Strong midfield control ¨C Their engine room dictated games. Quick, sharp passing. They liked to keep possession, force teams to chase, then pounce on gaps. If Bradford let them settle, they''d spend the night running in circles. Dangerous in transition ¨C Rapid weren''t just patient; they were lethal when they won the ball. One turnover in midfield, and they''d break at speed, with direct runs and clever movement. V¨¦lez and Lowe would need to be sharp, cutting off passing lanes before they could develop. Technically gifted players in key areas ¨C A team built on individuals who could change a game. Their number ten, an Austrian international, thrived in tight spaces. Their wingers had quick feet, always looking to isolate defenders. One lapse in focus, and it could be over in an instant. Jake rubbed his chin. Tough opponent. But then, he glanced at the next section. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Rapid Wien Weaknesses:Suspect defensively under pressure ¨C This was where Bradford could hurt them. Their backline struggled when pressed high, prone to mistakes when forced to play out quickly. If Costa and Obi led the press well, chances would come. Lack of cutting edge in attack ¨C For all their midfield control, they weren''t clinical in the final third. Their forwards had pace, but their finishing? Inconsistent. If Okafor and his defense stayed disciplined, they could frustrate them into making mistakes. Jake read it twice, already thinking of ways to exploit these weaknesses. Press them high. Force errors. Don''t let them breathe in midfield. And when they break? Track back. Stay compact. He leaned back against the couch, exhaling. This was winnable. But only if they played it right. Tuesday night was coming fast. Sunday, August 3rd ¨C Training Ground The morning air was crisp, a cool breeze drifting across the training ground as the sun climbed higher. The hum of sprinklers faded as the ground staff wrapped up, leaving the pitch in pristine condition. Jake arrived early, as always, the weight of the upcoming European challenge pressing on his mind. Robert was already there, standing by the whiteboard inside the coaching room, a mug of coffee in hand. His eyes scanned the training layout he had prepped, but he looked up as soon as Jake walked in. Jake didn''t waste time. "Alright, today''s session is about sharpness¡ªquick transitions, defensive shape, and attacking movement. We don''t have time for heavy endurance work. This is all about decision-making under pressure. In possession, I want quick ball movement. No hesitation. No dwelling. We need to be unpredictable. Off the ball, the defensive shape has to be disciplined¡ªno space between the lines, everyone shifting as a unit." Robert took a sip of his coffee, nodding. "Got it. Sounds intense." "It has to be," Jake said. "Rapid Wien are strong in midfield, and they thrive on turnovers. If we''re sloppy, they''ll punish us." He exhaled sharply, then reached into his bag and pulled out a folded paper, handing it over. "I''m rotating the squad for this one." Robert unfolded it, scanning the lineup. "Fletcher, Bianchi, Rojas, Taylor at the back. Lowe and V¨¦lez in midfield. Rasmussen and Roney out wide. Obi and Costa up top. Emeka in goal." Jake folded his arms. "The bench: Cox, Walsh, Richard, Barnes, Rin, Holloway, Ib¨¢?ez, Chapman, Silva, Richter." Robert let out a low whistle. "That''s a lot of changes." "They need minutes," Jake said simply. "And we need fresh legs for Tuesday." Robert nodded, rubbing his chin. "Alright. I''ll set up the drills. What do you want to start with?" Jake turned back to the whiteboard, picking up a marker. "First phase¡ªpressing drills. I want the front six working on hunting in packs. We isolate the ball carrier, force mistakes, and win it back high up the pitch. Second phase¡ªdefensive shape. Fletcher, Bianchi, Rojas, and Taylor need to stay connected. No gaps, no panic when they get dragged wide." Robert was already jotting it down. "And the last phase?" Jake''s eyes flickered. "Finishing. Obi and Costa need to be ruthless. One touch, one goal." Robert clapped his hands together. "Got it. Let''s get to work." By the time the players arrived, the training ground was already set up. Cones lined the pitch for positional drills, and mannequins were stationed for defensive exercises. Jake gathered them in the center circle. The squad stood in a semi-circle, stretching, listening. "We go again," Jake said. "Fresh legs in, but the standard stays the same. The way we train is the way we play. Press, move, execute. We know what''s coming on Tuesday, and we prepare for it now." The session started at high intensity. Pressing drills. Obi and Costa led the line, Rasmussen and Roney backing them up. They hunted in packs, pressing as soon as possession was lost. The objective was simple¡ªwin it back within five seconds or drop into shape. V¨¦lez and Lowe controlled the midfield, cutting passing lanes, forcing the opposition into mistakes. Defensive organization. Fletcher marshaled the backline, barking orders, keeping Bianchi, Rojas, and Taylor in sync. Rapid Wien were dangerous in transition¡ªJake needed them rock solid when the press was broken. No gaps, no ball-watching. Attacking movement. Rasmussen and Roney were relentless down the flanks, pushing forward, whipping in early crosses. Obi and Costa''s movement was key¡ªdarting runs, peeling off defenders, always looking for the finishing touch. Finishing drills. The final phase. Obi and Costa worked on being ruthless. One chance, one goal. No second-guessing. No hesitation. The intensity never dropped. Every pass, every sprint, every shot¡ªit all had purpose. After nearly two hours, Jake finally blew the whistle. The players gathered, hands on hips, catching their breath. He scanned their faces, seeing the hunger, the focus. "That''s the level," Jake said. "Tuesday is coming. Be ready." European football was next. Chapter 165 - 165: RAPID WIEN VS BRADFORD FIRST LEG PART 1 Monday, August 4 ¨C The Journey to Austria Bradford''s first taste of European football started with an early morning flight. The squad gathered at Valley Parade before sunrise, bags packed, headphones on, carrying the weight of the club''s biggest challenge yet. There was excitement, but also focus¡ªthis wasn''t a holiday. Jake stood near the entrance, watching as the players boarded the team bus. Some were locked in their own worlds¡ªCosta, earbuds in, staring out the window. Obi, always full of energy, chatting with Roney and Rasmussen. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez sat together, discussing tactics, while Fletcher and Bianchi debated some VAR decision from the weekend. Robert stepped up next to Jake. "First European trip as a manager. How''s it feel?" Jake exhaled. "Like the start of something." Robert smirked. "Let''s hope it''s a long journey, then." The flight to Vienna was smooth, the squad arriving in the early afternoon. From there, a short bus ride took them to their hotel. No sightseeing, no distractions. Just rest, a tactical meeting, and final preparations. At the evening training session, Jake ran them through set-piece drills, quick passing routines, and defensive transitions. Rapid Wien were dangerous in midfield, but vulnerable at the back. Bradford''s plan was clear¡ªstay compact, press aggressively, and exploit the spaces behind. "Trust the plan," Jake told them before heading back inside. "Be brave." Tuesday, August 5 ¨C UEFA Europa Conference League Play-off Round, 1st Leg Rapid Wien vs Bradford City Allianz Stadion, Vienna The floodlights blazed down onto the Allianz Stadion, illuminating the pristine grass as the players emerged from the tunnel. Bradford City, in their iconic claret and amber, were stepping onto a European stage for the first time in the club''s history. The traveling supporters, a few hundred strong, packed into a corner of the stadium, their voices carrying through the Vienna night. Jake stood on the touchline, arms crossed, scanning the pitch. This was a test unlike any before¡ªa hostile atmosphere, a team with European pedigree, and a squad still adjusting to the demands of balancing domestic and continental football. The referee''s whistle pierced the night air. Kickoff. Bradford started brightly, pressing aggressively, looking to impose themselves early. Obi was immediately a threat, making a darting run in behind just five minutes in. V¨¦lez spotted it and clipped a perfect ball over the top. The Nigerian forward took it in stride, but before he could get a shot off, the Rapid Wien goalkeeper stormed off his line, smothering the ball at his feet. 10th Minute ¨C The tension in the Allianz Stadion was palpable. Bradford had started brightly, pressing with intensity, but Rapid Wien were beginning to settle, their midfield starting to dictate play. The home crowd could sense it. Then, a moment of danger. It started with a quick, incisive sequence. Oswald, under pressure from V¨¦lez, took a deft first touch to spin away from the challenge. He had space now, lifting his head, scanning the pitch. Bradford''s defensive line was well-structured, but in a split second, he saw the gap¡ªGr¨¹ll making a darting run down the left. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Oswald didn''t hesitate. A slick, defense-splitting pass, weighted to perfection, slid between Fletcher and Taylor, landing perfectly in Gr¨¹ll''s path. The winger didn''t even need to break stride. One touch with his left foot to bring it under control. Another to shift it slightly inside, setting himself up for the strike. Bianchi sprinted across, desperate to close the angle, but Gr¨¹ll was already letting fly. A vicious, curling shot¡ªlow, driven, and bending toward the far post. For a moment, it looked destined to find the net. The Rapid fans were already rising, expecting to celebrate. But Emeka was sharp. The Bradford goalkeeper, reading the shot from the moment it left Gr¨¹ll''s boot, exploded to his right, stretching every inch of his frame. His fingertips brushed the ball¡ªjust enough to push it wide of the post. Gasps from the stands. A flicker of disbelief on Gr¨¹ll''s face. The danger wasn''t over. The ball spilled into the six-yard box. Burgstaller was lurking, poised to pounce, eyes locked on the rebound. But Bianchi reacted first. The center-back, alert and aggressive, lunged forward and swung his boot through the ball, sending it rocketing into the stands. Jake clapped his hands from the touchline. "Stay switched on!" he barked. Bradford had survived their first real scare. But Rapid Wien were growing into the game. And Jake knew more was coming. 15th Minute ¨C Bradford had been under pressure, but they weren''t sitting back. They had their own threats, and when the chance came, they moved with lightning speed. It started with Ib¨¢?ez. Rapid Wien were probing again, trying to break through Bradford''s compact shape. Oswald looked for another incisive pass, eyeing Gr¨¹ll on the left, but Ib¨¢?ez was already stepping in. He read it early, shifting his weight before the ball was even played. The moment it left Oswald''s boot, Ib¨¢?ez pounced. A perfectly timed interception¡ªsticking a foot out, cutting off the passing lane, and poking the ball away before Gr¨¹ll could react. He didn''t hesitate. One touch to control, then an immediate, diagonal switch out wide. The ball zipped toward Rasmussen. And he was off. The winger took a perfect first touch, knocking the ball forward into space, accelerating past his marker. The Rapid full-back, Auer, scrambled to keep up, but Rasmussen had too much pace. The Bradford bench was on their feet. Jake watched as Rasmussen drove forward, covering thirty, then forty yards in just a few seconds. The Allianz Stadion held its breath. Rapid''s defense was stretched. Rasmussen had options¡ªCosta was making a near-post run, Obi peeling off to the back post. But Rasmussen had something else in mind. He glanced up once, saw the Rapid defenders dropping deeper, then cut sharply inside onto his stronger left foot. Auer lunged, but Rasmussen had already moved past him, opening up space. Now the delivery had to be right. A perfectly floated cross, dipping and curling toward the penalty spot. The timing was perfect. Costa had read it, ghosting between two defenders, finding a pocket of space. He rose highest. A powerful leap, arms outstretched for balance, meeting the ball with his forehead. The contact was clean. The technique was right. But the power wasn''t there. The header looped toward goal, but too gently. Hedl, the Rapid Wien goalkeeper, shuffled two steps to his left and caught it comfortably. A moment of relief for the home fans. A missed opportunity for Bradford. Costa clapped his hands together in frustration. He knew that was a half-chance. Jake simply nodded from the touchline, taking it in. They were creating openings. They just had to be more ruthless. Chapter 166 - 166: RAPID WIEN VS BRADFORD FIRST LEG PART 2 21st Minute¡ª Rapid Wien were settling into the game, their confidence growing. Bradford had started brightly, but now the hosts were finding space, moving the ball with rhythm. Their midfield trio¡ªOswald, Ljubic, and Kerschbaum¡ªbegan dictating play, quick, sharp touches pulling Bradford''s shape apart bit by bit. Jake could see it happening. Too much space between the lines. Too much freedom for Rapid''s playmakers. Then came the warning. Oswald picked up the ball just inside Bradford''s half, V¨¦lez stepping toward him, trying to close him down. But Oswald was a step ahead. Instead of taking a touch, he let the ball roll through his legs¡ªan intentional dummy that completely took V¨¦lez out of the play. Bianchi and Fletcher reacted late. The gap was there. Burgstaller saw it. He burst through the opening, accelerating into the final third. Fletcher turned, scrambling to recover, but the Rapid striker was already gone, driving straight toward goal. The home crowd roared as the chance unfolded. One-on-one with Emeka. Burgstaller had time. He had options. He could have gone low, slotted it past the keeper. He could have taken a touch, forced Emeka to commit. Instead, he went for power. A thunderous right-footed strike¡ªbut it lacked control. The ball sailed high, rising too quickly, smashing into the stands behind the goal. A massive let-off. Burgstaller held his head in his hands, disbelief on his face. Oswald threw his arms up in frustration. The Rapid bench groaned. That should have been 2-0. On the other side, Jake exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He turned to Robert, his voice low but firm. "Too easy," he muttered. "Way too easy." Robert nodded. "Fletcher and Bianchi lost him." Jake clenched his fists. They couldn''t afford lapses like this. Not at this level. Not in Europe. 25th Minute ¨C Bradford weren''t backing down. They weren''t here to sit deep and absorb pressure¡ªthey pressed, they harassed, they forced mistakes. And it nearly paid off. Rapid Wien were attempting to build from the back, their defenders passing between themselves, trying to draw Bradford out. But V¨¦lez saw an opportunity. As Kerschbaum received the ball just outside his own box, V¨¦lez exploded forward, closing him down with a burst of intensity. Panic. Kerschbaum tried to spin away but miscontrolled the ball, a fraction too heavy. That was all Lowe needed. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Like a predator sensing weakness, Lowe pounced¡ªlunging in, nicking the ball away cleanly. A perfect interception. Rapid were caught. Their defense was stretched, their shape broken. Lowe didn''t hesitate. One quick glance up, then an immediate through ball¡ªsliding it between two defenders, straight into Obi''s path. Obi was on it in a flash, his speed too much for the recovering centre-backs. He took one touch with his right foot, knocking the ball into space, leaving his marker trailing. Now it was just him and the keeper. The stadium held its breath. Obi opened his body, eyes locked on the far corner. He aimed for placement over power, trying to guide it into the bottom right corner, curling it just beyond the keeper''s reach. But he got it wrong. The ball curled¡­ but too much. It drifted agonizingly past the post, skimming the outside of the net. A collective groan from the traveling Bradford fans. Obi stood frozen for a second, hands on his head, frustration etched across his face. He knew that was a golden chance. Jake clapped on the sideline, his voice loud and clear. "Keep going! It''ll come!" Obi exhaled, nodding to himself. No time to dwell. The next chance had to count. 31st Minute ¨C Bradford had been holding firm. They had weathered spells of Rapid Wien pressure, pressed high when the opportunity was there, and created a couple of their own half-chances. But football can be cruel¡ªone mistake, one lapse in concentration, and everything shifts. The warning signs had been there. Rapid were starting to dominate possession, their midfield trio pulling the strings. Ib¨¢?ez and V¨¦lez worked tirelessly to close spaces, but the home side were patient, waiting for gaps to appear. Then came the mistake. Bianchi stepped forward, looking to intercept a pass meant for Burgstaller just outside the box. But he mistimed it. The ball slipped through his legs, and Burgstaller spun away, now with a clear run at goal. Panic. Bianchi scrambled to recover, lunging after him, but his foot caught Burgstaller''s heel. Not a brutal foul, not cynical¡ªjust a desperate, mistimed attempt to recover. The Rapid forward stumbled, went down, and before he could even turn to the referee, the whistle had blown. Free kick. Jake exhaled sharply on the touchline. A needless foul in a dangerous position. The referee pointed at the spot just outside the area. Protests were minimal. Bianchi raised his hands slightly, frustrated but knowing he had no argument. Marco Gr¨¹ll stepped up. The Allianz Stadion buzzed with anticipation. He took his time, adjusting the ball, stepping back, eyes fixed on the goal. Bradford''s wall stood firm¡ªFletcher, Rojas, V¨¦lez, and Taylor side by side, arms linked. Emeka positioned himself, barking orders, bouncing on his toes, his eyes scanning every inch of the situation. The whistle blew. Gr¨¹ll took two quick steps and struck the ball with his left foot. Pure precision. The ball curled over the wall, dipping viciously. Emeka reacted, springing off his line, stretching his frame as far as it would go. His fingertips grazed the ball¡ªbut not enough. It kissed the underside of the bar and crashed into the net. The stadium exploded. Green and white scarves waved in the air, Rapid fans roaring in celebration. Emeka lay on the ground for a second, staring at the ball nestled in his net. He had been close. So close. But close didn''t matter. Bianchi slapped his hands together in frustration, while Rojas pointed at his teammates, rallying them to stay focused. Jake stood still on the sideline, expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he clapped twice. "Reset! Reset!" he barked, his voice cutting through the noise. There was still a long way to go. Chapter 167 - 167: RAPID WIEN VS BRADFORD FIRST LEG PART 3 34th Minute ¨C Bradford weren''t about to sit back and feel sorry for themselves. They had been hit, but they had no intention of staying down. From the restart, V¨¦lez played a sharp pass to Rasmussen on the right. The winger wasted no time¡ªhis first touch took him past his marker, his second pushed the ball forward into space. The Rapid full-back lunged in, trying to slow him down, but Rasmussen skipped over the challenge, never breaking stride. Jake was already on his feet, urging him forward. The Allianz Stadion crowd sensed the danger, a ripple of nervous murmurs sweeping through the stands as Rasmussen drove toward the final third. He glanced up once¡ªObi was making his run. The delivery was inch-perfect. A wicked, looping cross, curling away from the keeper and hanging beautifully at the far post. Obi wanted it. He surged between two defenders, rising highest, muscles tensed as he launched himself at the ball. A textbook header¡ªhis neck snapped forward, directing the ball toward the top corner with power and precision. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. For a split second, it looked unstoppable. But then¡ªreaction save. Niklas Hedl, Rapid Wien''s goalkeeper, exploded off his feet, stretching every inch of his frame. His fingertips barely reached it, but they did. The ball deflected off his glove and looped over the bar, inches away from nestling in the net. Bradford fans behind the goal groaned, hands on heads. Obi let out a frustrated yell, fists clenched. Jake just clapped. "That''s it! Keep going!" It was a warning shot. Bradford weren''t backing down. 38th Minute ¨C Bradford had to stay alert. Rapid weren''t satisfied with a one-goal lead¡ªthey wanted more. Every time they came forward, they carried an air of danger, their passes sharp, their movement fluid. Bradford''s backline, though disciplined, was being stretched, pulled apart by clever runs and quick one-touch exchanges. This time, it was Greil who orchestrated the threat. The Rapid midfielder, who had been dictating the tempo since the goal, received the ball just inside Bradford''s half. V¨¦lez, sensing the danger, stepped in aggressively, trying to close him down. Greil saw it coming. A quick turn¡ªdeft, effortless¡ªand V¨¦lez was beaten. One move, and he was out of the play. The space opened up instantly. Greil didn''t hesitate. His eyes flicked up, scanning his options. Burgstaller made a clever decoy run, dragging Bianchi out of position. That was all the invitation Greil needed. He slid a perfectly weighted pass through the heart of Bradford''s defense, threading the ball like a needle through fabric. Oswald was on it in a flash. He ghosted between Fletcher and Rojas, the gap between them too wide, and met the pass with a first-time strike. Low. Driven. Arrowing toward the bottom corner. The Rapid crowd rose to their feet, expecting the net to bulge. But Emeka was ready. The young goalkeeper had already shifted his weight, reading the play a second before Oswald pulled the trigger. He pushed hard off his right foot, stretching every inch of his frame, fingers reaching. Contact. His fingertips grazed the ball¡ªjust enough to alter its trajectory. It skidded past the far post by inches. A collective groan rippled through the Allianz Stadion. Bradford fans, tucked in their away section, roared in approval. Emeka lay on the ground for a second, then slapped the turf in frustration. He wanted to hold that. But Jake was already clapping on the sideline, his voice carrying over the noise. "That''s why you''re there, Emeka! Big save!" The goalkeeper sat up, nodding, as Fletcher helped him to his feet. Rapid had a corner, but the moment was lost. Their momentum had been broken. Bradford had survived¡ªjust. 44th Minute ¨C As the first half neared its conclusion, Bradford carved out one last opportunity¡ªone final push to snatch an equalizer before the break. Lowe, scanning the field from his deep-lying midfield position, spotted an opening. Roney had drifted into space on the left flank, his marker momentarily caught between pressing forward and holding his line. Lowe saw it. He didn''t hesitate. With a crisp swing of his boot, he sent a beautifully weighted diagonal ball floating across the pitch. The flight was perfect, cutting through the Vienna night air like an arrow. Roney tracked it, eyes locked, body poised. The ball dropped. One touch¡ªsilky, controlled, barely breaking his stride. The Rapid full-back scrambled back, backpedaling, unsure whether to close down or hold his ground. Roney saw his hesitation. He had him. A quick burst of pace¡ªtwo strides to the right, then a sharp step inside onto his stronger foot. The defender lunged, but too late. With space now open, Roney lifted his head, assessing his options. Obi was near the penalty spot, battling his marker. V¨¦lez lurked just outside the box. But it was Costa who made the decisive move¡ªghosting into the six-yard box, right between the center-backs. Roney saw it. A clever cutback¡ªlow, driven, rolling perfectly across the six-yard box. Costa lunged. His foot met the ball¡ªbut just as he connected, a Rapid defender crashed into him, shoulder to shoulder, doing just enough to disrupt his balance. The shot lacked power. The ball trickled harmlessly into the goalkeeper''s arms. Costa let out a frustrated shout, his palms slamming against the turf. So close. The Rapid defenders exchanged glances, relieved. A let-off. Jake turned away on the touchline, exhaling sharply. It had been a well-crafted move, but without the finishing touch, it meant nothing. The referee checked his watch. Then, the whistle. Halftime. Bradford walked off the pitch, heads high but minds sharp. One goal down, but still in the fight. Halftime ¨C A Response Needed Bradford walked off the pitch, their heads up but their expressions tight. They weren''t broken, but they knew the truth¡ªthis wasn''t enough. One goal down. Still in the fight. But they needed more. Jake kept his pace steady as he strode toward the tunnel, his mind already dissecting the first half. They''d had moments. Obi''s near miss. Costa''s half-chance. Rasmussen''s dangerous cross. But Rapid had been sharper, more fluid. And that free kick¡­ That damn free kick. As they entered the tunnel, the atmosphere was tense. The roar of the Rapid fans echoed behind them, while their own traveling supporters sang defiantly in the distance. The game was still there. It was still within reach. But something had to change. Bradford''s Locker Room ¨C Adjustments Needed The locker room was silent at first. Players dropped into their seats, grabbing water bottles, some shaking their heads. Sweat dripped. Breathing was heavy. Robert and the coaching staff moved quickly, setting up the tactics board, but all eyes turned to Jake. He didn''t speak right away. He let the silence linger, let them sit with the feeling of being behind. Then, he stepped forward. "Look," he said, his voice calm but firm, "we knew this wouldn''t be easy. They''re at home, they''ve got the crowd, and yeah, they had more of the ball. But we''re not here to make up the numbers. We''ve had chances. We''ve caused them problems." He glanced around the room, making eye contact with each player. "But we need more. More aggression. More belief. More composure in the final third." He turned toward the tactics board, grabbing a marker. "They''re finding too much space between the lines," he continued, circling an area in midfield. "Greil''s drifting into these pockets, pulling us apart. V¨¦lez, Lowe¡ªyou''ve got to close that gap faster. Make it tight. Force them wide." Both midfielders nodded, still catching their breath. Jake moved his focus forward. "And when we win it," he said, "we break fast. Obi, Costa¡ªI need you making those runs earlier. We''re hesitating in transition. If we commit, if we''re decisive, we can hurt them." He turned to Roney and Rasmussen. "You two¡ªbe direct. When you get the ball, I don''t want hesitation. Take them on. Get to the byline. Deliver quality." Roney wiped sweat from his forehead, nodding. Rasmussen cracked his knuckles. Then, Jake''s voice softened, just slightly. "One goal changes everything," he said. "We score, and this place gets nervous. You can feel it. They know we''re dangerous." He looked at each player again, his eyes steady, his tone unwavering. "We are not out of this." He clapped his hands once. "Now let''s go prove it." The energy shifted. Shoulders straightened. Eyes hardened. They weren''t beaten. Not yet. As the players rose from their seats, Robert clapped Jake on the back. "Let''s get to work," he said. Bradford weren''t done. Not by a long shot. Chapter 168 - 168: RAPID WIEN VS BRADFORD FIRST LEG PART 4 The players emerged from the tunnel with a sense of purpose, their footsteps brisk, their expressions steely. The floodlights bathed the pitch in a harsh glow, illuminating the task ahead. The cool Vienna air carried the faint scent of damp grass, but the atmosphere inside the stadium was anything but calm. Rapid''s supporters were relentless, their chants echoing through the night, urging their team to finish the job. Bradford had other ideas. Jake lingered near the technical area, his silhouette rigid against the illuminated backdrop. His eyes darted across the field, absorbing every detail¡ªthe spacing, the body language, the energy in his players'' movements. This wasn''t the time for panic. No sweeping tactical shifts. Just precision. Sharpness. Ruthlessness. The referee glanced at his watch, then lifted the whistle to his lips. A sharp blast split the air. Game on. Bradford''s midfield pushed higher immediately, their passes snapping across the surface with renewed intent. Rasmussen took an early touch, driving forward, his strides long and purposeful. V¨¦lez prowled the center of the pitch, scanning for openings, dictating the rhythm. No waiting. No hesitation. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The second half belonged to those who wanted it more. 48th Minute ¨C Bradford re-emerged with a fire that had been missing in the opening half. The break had given them a moment to reset, to regroup. Now, they looked sharper, hungrier. The moment Rapid took their first touch after kickoff, V¨¦lez pounced. His tackle was clean, decisive¡ªboot meeting ball with a satisfying thud. The Rapid midfielder barely had time to react before V¨¦lez was already surging forward, head up, scanning for the next move. Lowe was ready. Positioned perfectly to receive the ball, he turned on the half-turn, shaking off his marker in one fluid motion. He spotted Rasmussen. The winger had peeled off his defender, breaking into space down the right flank. Lowe wasted no time¡ªhis pass was driven, firm, cutting through the Rapid press like a knife through paper. Rasmussen took it in stride, his first touch immaculate. His second? A blistering whip of his foot across the ball, sending a low, venomous cross skimming through the box. It was perfect. Obi read it, timing his run to perfection. He lunged, stretching every inch of his frame, toes just grazing the ball¡ª But not enough. The pass was too quick, too sharp. Obi''s outstretched boot missed by a breath, the ball slicing through the penalty area untouched. A warning shot. The Rapid defense exchanged glances, momentarily rattled. Their fans, so loud a moment ago, quieted¡ªjust for a second. Jake clenched his fists on the touchline, lips pressed into a firm line. The reaction he wanted was there. Now, they just needed the finish. 52nd Minute ¨C What happened next was something out of a dream¡ªsomething no one in the stadium saw coming. After claiming a wayward Rapid cross, Emeka took a moment, rolling the ball in his hands, scanning the field. Bradford''s forwards were already on the move, looking for space. Obi signaled for it. V¨¦lez pointed down the right. But Emeka had something else in mind. He stepped forward, setting the ball down for a goal kick. A deep breath. A quick glance. Then, with a powerful swing of his right foot, he launched it long, high, straight down the middle of the pitch. The ball soared into the night sky, cutting through the air like a missile. The Rapid center-backs, expecting a routine clearance, backpedaled, watching its flight. Then disaster struck. The bounce. It skipped off the slick turf, taking an awkward, unexpected leap forward. The Rapid goalkeeper, caught in two minds, hesitated¡ªshould he charge out or hold his ground? That half-second of doubt proved fatal. The ball carried on. Over his head. Into the net. Silence. A stunned pause. Then, chaos. Emeka stood frozen for a moment, processing what had just happened. Then, as his teammates sprinted toward him, he broke into a grin, arms outstretched in disbelief. Obi was the first to reach him, jumping onto his back. V¨¦lez grabbed his head, shaking it in shock. On the other side, Rapid players stood motionless. Their keeper buried his face in his hands. Bradford had equalized. And it came from the unlikeliest of sources. 58th Minute ¨C Bradford weren''t just pressing¡ªthey were suffocating Rapid now, pinning them back, probing, waiting for the moment to strike. Lowe and V¨¦lez were the architects, moving the ball with intent, shifting play left and right, forcing Rapid''s backline to twist, turn, and chase shadows. Then, the gap appeared. Lowe spotted it instantly¡ªjust a sliver of space between the center-backs. That was all he needed. A perfectly weighted pass. A needle-threading ball, skipping off the turf, curling between defenders. Obi read it before anyone else. He exploded forward, muscling past his marker, his stride eating up the ground. The goal was in sight. The keeper reacted, charging out, arms wide, eyes locked. Obi didn''t hesitate. One touch to set. The second to strike¡ªlow, driven, aimed for the far corner. The stadium held its breath. Then¡ªa fingertip. A desperate, outstretched hand, just enough to divert the shot an inch wide of the post. Obi stopped mid-stride, hands gripping his head. So close. Jake turned away, biting his lip. They were getting there. The breakthrough was coming. 65th Minute ¨C Bradford had been knocking. Pushing. Controlling. But Rapid only needed a moment. One slip in midfield. A loose touch from V¨¦lez. Bajic pounced, snapping into the challenge, then lifting his head. Space. A single, sweeping pass¡ªa diagonal switch that cut through the lines, curling toward Greil. He didn''t stop it. Didn''t need to. A flick of his boot. A delicate, effortless touch. And suddenly, Burgstaller was through. Fletcher turned and sprinted. The Rapid striker surged forward, the goal opening up before him, the crowd rising in expectation. The edge of the box. One step. Another. He wound up, ready to pull the trigger¡ª Fletcher lunged. A desperate, last-ditch slide, every muscle stretched, every inch crucial. The ball vanished from Burgstaller''s feet, poked away in the blink of an eye. The Rapid crowd erupted¡ªfurious, demanding a whistle. Nothing. The referee stood firm, shaking his head. Burgstaller spun, arms raised, disbelief in his eyes. The ball rolled free. Danger still lingered. Chapter 169 - 169: RAPID WIEN VS BRADFORD FIRST LEG PART 5 70th Minute ¨C Bradford had the tempo. The control. The belief. But the net remained untouched. Jake didn''t hesitate. He spun toward the bench, eyes scanning, mind racing. They needed fresh legs. Fresh thinking. "Richter, Holloway, Barnes¡ªget ready." The three snapped to attention, stripping off their warm-up gear. But Jake wasn''t done. He looked at Ib¨¢?ez. Then at Silva. "Change of plan. You''re in." The fourth official raised the board. Off: Costa. Lowe. Rasmussen. On: Richter. Ib¨¢?ez. Silva. The shift was immediate. Richter jogged to the right wing, barking instructions, demanding the ball. Ib¨¢?ez slotted into midfield, a bundle of energy, pressing high, forcing Rapid onto the back foot. Silva? He didn''t need time to settle. A touch. A glance. A burst of pace down the left, his first involvement already stretching the defense. Jake clapped once. Hard. Twenty minutes. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One goal. 77th Minute ¨C Bradford weren''t letting up. The pressure was mounting. Rapid were backpedaling now, their defensive line deeper, their clearances rushed. Richter, sharp and involved from the moment he stepped on, sprayed a diagonal switch toward Roney. The pass was crisp. Precise. Roney read it early, let it roll across his body, then exploded forward, shifting his weight inside. His marker hesitated¡ªjust for a second¡ªbut that was all he needed. A pocket of space opened at the top of the box. Silva saw it. Made his move. A late surge. A sprint between defenders. A signal with his hand. Roney didn''t hesitate. A low pass, driven with pace, slicing through the box. Silva got there first. Met it with his left foot. Struck it clean¡ª But a desperate lunge. A defender throwing himself into the path. The ball deflected. Skidded past the post. Silva clenched his fists. So close. The referee pointed to the corner flag. Rapid were hanging on. 82nd Minute ¨C Bradford had time, but not much. Jake wasn''t waiting. He turned to the bench, already knowing the change he needed. "Walsh. Rin. You''re in." The fourth official raised the board. Off: Roney, Obi On: Walsh, Rin Fresh legs. A final gamble. Rin jogged on, adjusting his armband, scanning the pitch. Walsh clapped his hands, immediately barking instructions. Jake stood near the edge of his technical area, eyes locked on the play, voice cutting through the noise. He knew what was coming. Bradford had to throw everything forward. 87th Minute ¨C Time was slipping through their fingers, every second tightening around Bradford like a vice. Richter sensed it. He had to make something happen. Silva worked the ball out wide to Walsh, who held off his marker before cutting it back toward the top of the box. Richter was there, waiting. One touch to set, another to shoot. The strike was pure. The ball curled viciously toward the top corner, bending past the outstretched arms of the diving goalkeeper. For a moment, it looked destined to nestle into the net, a perfect equalizer¡ª Then, fingertips. The Rapid keeper, at full stretch, barely got enough on it. The slightest touch, but enough to tip it onto the crossbar. The stadium gasped as the ball ricocheted back into play. Ib¨¢?ez reacted first, sprinting onto the loose ball, stretching to stab it goalward¡ª A defender flung himself in the way. A desperate block. A cruel deflection. The ball spun away from danger. Bradford couldn''t believe it. Jake turned away, hands on his head. The players looked at each other, searching for answers. It just wouldn''t go in. 89th Minute ¨C From elation to devastation¡ªBradford had thrown everything forward, and now they were exposed. Richter''s strike had come agonizingly close, but as the ball ricocheted off the crossbar and Ib¨¢?ez''s follow-up was blocked, Rapid reacted first. Aiwu didn''t hesitate. He hooked the ball clear¡ªhigh, long, and searching. Bradford were caught. Greil sprinted onto it, leaving Silva trailing in his wake. Bianchi and Fletcher scrambled to recover, but the Rapid winger had a head start. One perfect touch on the run, pushing the ball into space. The Bradford backline was in tatters, stretched and desperate. Burgstaller saw it unfolding and made his move. Greil didn''t need to look¡ªhe knew. A perfectly weighted pass split Fletcher and Bianchi, rolling into the path of Burgstaller, who charged into the box with only Emeka to beat. Jake shouted from the touchline, but it was helpless now. Emeka rushed out, arms wide, trying to make himself big. Burgstaller didn''t blink. One touch to steady himself, then a ruthless, driven strike¡ªlow, precise, past Emeka''s outstretched foot and into the bottom corner. The net rippled. The stadium erupted. Bradford players froze, the weight of the moment sinking in. Rapid had punished them in brutal fashion. Jake turned away, jaw clenched. They had pushed. They had fought. But now, it was over. 90+3rd Minute ¨C Full-Time Whistle Bradford''s final push had no reward. A hopeful cross from Rojas was cleared, the second ball fell to Ib¨¢?ez, but his rushed strike sailed over the bar. That was it. The referee glanced at his watch. One last breath. Then, the whistle. One long, sharp blast. Full-time: Rapid Wien 2-1 Bradford City. The Rapid players roared in triumph, fists clenched, arms raised toward their fans. The stadium shook with celebration. Bradford stood frozen. Some dropped to their knees, others simply stared at the ground, hands on hips, the weight of the result sinking in. They had fought. They had created. They had dominated for long spells. But it wasn''t enough. Jake exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. He looked at his players¡ªnot in disappointment, but in frustration. Not at them, but at football itself. They had deserved more. Yet, football wasn''t about what was deserved. It was about what was taken. The Locker Room ¨C Jake''s Message The atmosphere inside was quiet. Not broken, but quiet. Boots scraped against the floor. A few deep breaths. Costa sat with his head in his hands, Roney stared blankly at the wall, and Obi leaned back against his locker, shaking his head. Jake stepped in, clapping his hands once¡ªsharp, loud, breaking the silence. "Look at me." Heads lifted. "That was a hell of a performance," he said, voice firm, eyes moving across each player. "I don''t care what that scoreboard says¡ªwe played well. We dictated the game. We carved them open again and again. We did everything right except put the ball in the net more times than them. That''s football." No one spoke. "But listen to me¡ªthis tie isn''t over." A pause. "They think it is," he said, nodding toward the walls, as if gesturing to the Rapid players celebrating outside. "They think they''re through. But we know better, don''t we?" Roney nodded. V¨¦lez leaned forward. The quiet wasn''t sadness anymore¡ªit was shifting. "You saw what we did to them tonight. Imagine what we do to them at home." He let it sit. "We ran them ragged. They were holding on by the end. We go back to Valley Parade, we finish the job. We take what''s ours." A few heads nodded. Costa sat up. Jake turned to Emeka. "And you," he said, pointing at the goalkeeper, "That goal? That was a thing of beauty." A few chuckles rippled through the room. Even Emeka smirked, shaking his head. "That loss isn''t on you. Not on anyone here. We were brave, we played our game, and we made them suffer for most of that match. You understand?" Emeka nodded. Jake looked at them all again. "Hold your heads up. Walk out of here like a team that knows this ain''t over." He stepped back, grabbed a bottle of water, and cracked it open. "We''ve got a second leg to win." Chapter 170 - 170: PRESS CONFERENCE & HEADLINEs Post-Match Press Conference Jake sat at the table, the glare of the cameras bright, the murmuring of journalists settling as the press officer nodded for the questions to begin. The first reporter leaned forward, recorder in hand. Reporter: "Jake, your thoughts on the defeat tonight?" Jake exhaled, composed. Jake: "It''s a tough one because we had the chances to get something from this game. We created openings, we played our football, but at this level, you have to be ruthless. We weren''t, and they punished us. But we''re not out. We regroup, we go again." A second journalist followed up. Reporter: "You dominated spells of the match. Do you think the result was fair?" Jake let the question hang for a moment, choosing his words. Jake: "Football''s not about fair, is it? It''s about moments. And they had one more than us tonight. But if you''re asking me if I thought we deserved to lose, no. We played well, we dictated the tempo, especially in the second half. But it doesn''t matter now. The score is the score." The next voice came quickly. Reporter: "How did you feel about the team''s performance overall?" Jake leaned forward slightly, tapping his fingers against the table. Jake: "First half, we gave them too much respect. Sat off a little, let them play. Second half, we showed what we''re capable of. We moved the ball well, controlled the game, created big chances. If we take them, it''s a different result. But I can''t fault the effort, the work rate. We came to play, and we did." A journalist near the back spoke up. Reporter: "How are the players feeling after this?" Jake''s expression didn''t change, but there was an edge to his tone. Jake: "Frustrated. And that''s a good thing. If they weren''t, I''d be worried. They know they can do better. They know we should''ve come away with more. We''ll use that in the second leg." sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A different reporter jumped in. Reporter: "You have the return leg at Valley Parade. How much of an advantage is that?" Jake smirked slightly. Jake: "Massive. Our fans will make it a different game. We saw tonight how much the atmosphere played a role for them. Well, now they''re coming into our house. And we''ll be ready." A final question came from the front row. Reporter: "Despite the loss, this was a historic night¡ªBradford''s first ever European match. Any words for the fans?" Jake nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. Jake: "Yeah. First European night. And we showed we belong. This club has come a long way, but we''re not here just to enjoy the occasion. We''re here to compete. We take this back to Bradford, and we go again. See you at Valley Parade." With that, he stood, the press officer signaling the end of the session. The cameras clicked, the murmurs returned, but Jake was already out the door, mind locked on the second leg. Fan Forum Reaction Disappointment lingered, but it wasn''t despair. Frustration, yes¡ªbut also fire. Bradford fans flooded online forums, social media, and group chats, dissecting the match, venting, debating, and, most importantly, looking ahead. The overwhelming feeling? This wasn''t over. Not by a long shot. ???? "We played better than them for large spells. Just couldn''t finish. At Valley Parade, that changes." ???? "Obi had to score that chance. That was the moment. But no point dwelling on it. We take them at home." ???? "Jake''s right. One goal isn''t the end. We bring them back to Bradford and we handle business." ???? "Rapid had the crowd. We had the game. Now, we flip it. Let''s see how they like 20,000 Bradford fans roaring at them." ???? "This team has fight. That''s all I ask. We gave them hell, and we''ll give them even more at home." ???? "First ever European match. We learn, we grow. And now we make Valley Parade a fortress." ???? "Emeka''s goal deserved more. What a hit. If it wasn''t for that counter, we''d be sitting at 1-1 right now." ???? "Fair play to Rapid, they took their chances. But we showed them who we are. And in a week''s time, we finish the job." The discussion wasn''t just about the match itself¡ªit was about what came next. Fans were already making plans, organizing meet-ups, rallying behind the team. The atmosphere at Valley Parade was already legendary on a normal night. But a European second leg? Under the lights? With everything on the line? It was going to be something special. The belief was still there. One goal to overturn. One chance to make history. The battle wasn''t over. News Headlines ¨C Bradford''s European Debut Ends in Narrow Defeat The footballing world took notice as Jake Wilson''s Bradford City made their long-awaited debut on the European stage. A hard-fought battle in Vienna saw them fall 2-1 to Rapid Wien, but the performance left plenty to discuss¡ªand plenty to be hopeful for heading into the second leg. BBC Sport: "Jake Wilson''s Bradford Show Promise but Fall Short in Vienna ¨C Second Leg Awaits" A valiant effort from Bradford City wasn''t enough to secure a result in Austria, but Jake Wilson''s men showed they belong at this level. With a crucial second leg at Valley Parade still to come, the tie is far from over. Sky Sports: "Wilson''s Men Push Rapid to the Limit ¨C Can They Turn It Around at Valley Parade?" Bradford weren''t intimidated in their European debut, taking the game to Rapid Wien for large spells. A late counterattack proved costly, but with a packed home crowd behind them in the return leg, there''s still everything to play for. The Guardian: "Bradford City Fall 2-1 in Vienna ¨C European Dream Still Alive" It wasn''t the dream start to European competition that Wilson and his squad had hoped for, but it was far from a disaster. A spirited second-half display saw them come close to equalizing multiple times, and the manager''s confidence suggests they believe a comeback is more than possible. Yorkshire Post: "Wilson: ''We''re Not Out'' ¨C Bradford Fall in Austria but Confidence Remains High" Jake Wilson''s post-match comments were full of belief and determination. "We had the chances, we just didn''t take them," he said. "But we''re not out of this. Valley Parade will be a different story." The Telegraph & Argus: "Emeka''s Stunning Goal Not Enough as Bradford Face Uphill Battle in Second Leg" Goalkeeper Emeka stole the headlines with a breathtaking long-range strike from a goal kick, an incredible moment that had fans on their feet. But in the end, it wasn''t enough to prevent a first-leg defeat. Bradford will need to summon something special in the return fixture to keep their European dreams alive. ESPN UK: "Bradford''s European Journey Begins with a Hard-Fought Loss ¨C All Eyes on the Second Leg" The step up to European competition didn''t faze Wilson''s Bradford side, who played with intensity and belief against an experienced Rapid Wien outfit. With just one goal separating the teams, the second leg promises to be a fiery encounter. The Athletic: "Wilson''s Side Shows Fight but Falls Short ¨C Valley Parade Set for a Huge Night" Bradford gave Rapid Wien plenty to think about and will feel unlucky not to have come away with at least a draw. The second leg will be a test of their mentality, but if their second-half performance is anything to go by, Wilson''s men won''t go down without a fight. TalkSPORT: "Bradford Give Rapid a Scare ¨C Wilson Confident of Turnaround at Home" Rapid Wien may have taken the win, but Jake Wilson''s side showed enough to suggest this tie is far from settled. The manager remains bullish about their chances at home, and Bradford fans will be hoping he''s right. UEFA.com: "Rapid Wien Hold Off Brave Bradford ¨C Second Leg in England Set for Fireworks" European nights are special, and this tie is shaping up to be no different. Bradford proved they are no pushovers, and with a packed Valley Parade in the second leg, expect drama, intensity, and perhaps even an upset. The Story So Far¡­ Despite the loss, there was a sense that this was only the beginning of Bradford City''s European adventure. They had battled, created chances, and at times controlled the game. Emeka''s incredible goal will be replayed for years, but now the focus shifts to the second leg. Jake Wilson and his men have made it clear¡ªthey''re not done yet. Valley Parade awaits. Chapter 171 - 171: Back in Bradford & League Preparations August 6 ¨C The Flight Home The flight back from Vienna was quiet, but not in defeat¡ªmore like a simmering frustration. Not the kind that broke teams, but the kind that sharpened them. Jake Wilson sat near the front, arms folded, staring out the window though there was nothing to see but darkness. The match replayed in his mind in sharp fragments¡ªObi''s miss, Richter''s shot off the bar, Fletcher''s desperate lunge before Rapid''s counter. It had been so close. Behind him, the players were lost in their own thoughts. Some had headphones on, drowning in music. Others sat in silence, gazing at nothing, processing the loss. Costa and Richter exchanged quiet words about movement and pressing. Obi scrolled through his phone, jaw tight. He was still thinking about that chance. Jake exhaled through his nose. They had deserved more. Yet, football wasn''t about what was deserved. It was about what was taken. The wheels touched down in Leeds just after midnight. The players filed off the plane, boarding the bus for the final stretch home. The night was cool, the city lights flickering past the windows. Valley Parade was waiting for them. But before that¡ªwork. August 7 ¨C Training Resumes The sun had barely risen when the players arrived at the training ground. The air was still crisp, the grass slightly damp from the morning dew. Jake stood on the sideline, hands in his pockets, watching them warm up. He needed to shift their focus¡ªimmediately. Rapid Wien was still in their heads, but there was a league match first. That had to come before the second leg. "Short, sharp touches," Jake called as Ib¨¢?ez, V¨¦lez, and Silva moved through a passing drill. It wasn''t about fitness. It was about mentality. Coventry City was next, and a win there would set the tone. The starters from Vienna had a lighter session. Recovery, film work, tactical adjustments. The rest of the squad trained at full intensity. Costa and Richter drilled finishing patterns¡ªone-touch strikes, volleys, instinctive efforts inside the box. Obi watched from the side, arms crossed, eyes locked on them. Jake made a note to speak with him later. Fletcher and Barnes worked defensive drills, focusing on tracking runners. Kang Min Jae, sharp and aggressive, flew into a challenge during a small-sided game, winning the ball cleanly. Roney was relentless on the left, driving at his marker again and again. "More of that," Jake called. "That''s what we need next week." By the end of the session, sweat dripped from shirts, but the mood had sharpened. This team wasn''t beaten. They were preparing for what came next. August 8 ¨C Recovery & Rest Day No training. Jake wanted them fresh. Some players showed up anyway. Obi, of course, was one of them. Jake found him on the training pitch, running finishing drills on his own. Ball after ball struck at goal. Some flew in. Some didn''t. But he kept going. "Still thinking about Vienna?" Jake asked, leaning against the goalpost. Obi exhaled, shaking his head. "Should''ve scored." Jake didn''t argue. Instead, he shrugged. "It happens. You''ll get another one." Obi wiped his forehead. "Not gonna miss next time." Jake smirked. "Good. Now go home." Obi hesitated, then finally grabbed his water bottle. "Yeah. Alright." Jake watched him walk off. He''d be ready when it mattered. August 9 ¨C Matchday vs Coventry City Coventry City vs. Bradford City Rotation was necessary. Fresh legs for the league, key players rested for Rapid Wien. Jake stood in the away dressing room, eyes scanning his squad. "This isn''t just about three points," he said. "It''s about momentum. About setting the tone before Thursday. Go out there and show them what we''re about." Starting XI: GK ¨C Mathew Cox RB ¨C James Richards CB ¨C Nathan Barnes CB ¨C Kang Min Jae LB ¨C Reece Holloway RW ¨C Walsh CM ¨C Lowe CM ¨C Chapman LW ¨C Mensah ST ¨C Rin Itoshi ST ¨C Chido Obi Kickoff. 12'' ¨C Lowe won back possession in midfield, intercepting a careless pass. He quickly fed Obi, who had dropped deep to receive. Obi took one look, then split the Coventry backline with a perfectly weighted through ball. Rin was already moving. His first touch took him into the box. His second¡ªa low, composed finish past the keeper''s outstretched hand. The net rippled. Rin turned away, pumping his fist. The traveling Bradford fans erupted. 1-0. The perfect start. 27'' ¨C Bradford didn''t let up. Chapman took control in midfield, dictating the tempo with crisp, precise passes. Every time Coventry tried to build, Barnes and Kang Min Jae shut the door. Mensah was a nightmare on the left flank. The young winger twisted and turned, dragging his full-back all over the place. He whipped in a teasing cross in the 27th minute, forcing Coventry''s keeper into an awkward punch under pressure. The rebound fell to Lowe, who struck it first time¡ªjust wide. 42'' ¨C Coventry had barely put together an attack when Bradford struck again. Chapman, scanning the pitch, switched the play beautifully to Mensah. The winger took a sharp touch inside and laid it off to Obi at the edge of the box. This time, there was no hesitation. One touch to set, one to strike. His right-footed shot curled past the keeper, burying into the bottom corner. 2-0. A moment of confidence. A moment of redemption. Obi turned, arms wide, roaring in celebration. His teammates swarmed him, patting his back. He had needed that. And Jake knew it. Halftime. Bradford in complete control. Second Half ¨C Bradford returned for the second half with a commanding 2-0 lead, but Jake wasn''t satisfied. He knew football had a way of punishing teams that got comfortable. The message at halftime had been clear: Stay aggressive. Kill the game. Coventry tried to respond, pushing higher up the pitch, but they struggled to break through. Kang Min Jae and Barnes were an impenetrable wall at the back, stepping in at the right moments, snuffing out any hint of an attack. On the flanks, Walsh and Mensah continued to stretch the field, giving Coventry''s defense no chance to rest. 60'' ¨C Triple Substitution Jake watched from the touchline, arms folded. The energy levels were dipping, and with the second leg against Rapid Wien looming, he made his move. ???? Off: James Richard, Nathan Barnes, Lowe S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ???? On: Rojas, Bianchi, Ib¨¢?ez The changes brought fresh legs and new energy. Rojas slotted in at right-back, providing an extra layer of solidity. Bianchi''s presence in central defense kept things calm at the back. Ib¨¢?ez, meanwhile, added more urgency in midfield¡ªthe kind of player who could turn defense into attack in a heartbeat. Coventry still had no answers. 67'' ¨C Coventry''s Half-Chance For the first time, Coventry found a bit of space. A long diagonal ball caught Bradford''s backline slightly out of shape, and their winger managed to dart behind Rojas. He drilled a low cross into the box¡ªdangerous. Their striker stretched, meeting it with a first-time shot. But Mathew Cox reacted brilliantly, diving low to his left to push it away. Jake clapped from the sideline. That was as close as Coventry had come. They wouldn''t get closer. 73'' ¨C Chapman''s Rocket (0-3) Bradford weren''t done. Ib¨¢?ez, fresh and full of energy, intercepted a loose pass in midfield and immediately drove forward. Coventry''s midfield backed off, wary of committing. That was their mistake. Ib¨¢?ez spotted Chapman in space and rolled it into his path. One touch. One glance up. One swing of his right foot. The ball exploded off his boot, rocketing toward the top corner. The Coventry keeper barely reacted. Net. Rippling. Silence. For a split second, the stadium froze. Then¡ªchaos. Chapman turned away, arms outstretched, a small smirk creeping onto his face. His teammates rushed to him, patting his head, shoving his shoulders. Even Jake allowed himself a small nod of approval. Game over. 3-0. Final 15 Minutes ¨C Seeing It Out Bradford didn''t need to chase more goals. They managed the game expertly, slowing the tempo, keeping possession, frustrating Coventry. Ib¨¢?ez and Chapman dictated the midfield, passing Coventry into submission. Rojas and Holloway locked down the flanks. Coventry knew they were beaten. Jake made one last change in the 85th minute, bringing off Mensah for Rasmussen to ensure fresh legs on the left side. The final whistle was a formality. Full-Time ¨C Statement Made Bradford had been ruthless. Dominant. Professional. There was no wild celebration¡ªthis wasn''t a cup final. It was a job well done, another three points. The players shook hands, exchanged a few smiles, and walked off with heads high. Jake met them at the tunnel, nodding. "Well done." The players knew what came next. Rest. Recovery. Then¡ªRapid Wien. The real battle awaited. Fan Caf¨¦ ¨C Post-Match Buzz The Bradford fan forums were alive with discussion after the dominant 3-0 win over Coventry. It wasn''t just the victory¡ªit was the statement it sent. @BantamsLoyal ¨C "That''s exactly what we needed before Thursday. Controlled, clinical, no messing about. This squad is serious." @ChapmanFC ¨C "Chapman''s goal? My word. That''s what you call a rocket. Keeper didn''t even move." @Obi9Fan ¨C "Obi and Rin linking up nicely. Obi needed that goal after last week, and you could see the confidence come back." @SafeHandsCox ¨C "Cox with the save at 2-0. Don''t forget that. If Coventry score there, it''s a different game. But he steps up." @JakeWilsonTactician ¨C "The rotation worked too. Jake''s smart. Kept key players fresh for Rapid Wien." But while fans were happy with the win, all eyes were already on Thursday. Looking Ahead ¨C Valley Parade Awaits @CityTillIDie ¨C "The job was done tonight, but Thursday is the big one. Rapid Wien don''t know what''s waiting for them." @BradfordEuropeDream ¨C "2-1 down, but we saw the gaps in their defense. At home, with our fans behind us? We turn this around." @FletchersTackle ¨C "They celebrated like they''d already won the tie. Big mistake." @ValleyParadeFaithful ¨C "I need Valley Parade rocking. Let them feel the noise. Let them feel the pressure." @RapidWho ¨C "Rapid Wien? You''re in for a long night." The belief was there. The fight was there. Bradford City had made their statement in the league. Now, it was time to make one in Europe. Chapter 172 - 172: Bradford City Vs Rapid Wien UECL Play-off Round 2nd Leg Part 1 Valley Parade August 14 ¨C Matchday Pre-Match ¨C The Storm Before the War The air at Valley Parade was electric, thick with the tension of expectation. This wasn''t just another European night¡ªit was the night. A chance to overturn the 2-1 deficit. A chance to prove that Bradford City belonged on this stage. The floodlights bathed the pitch in white, illuminating the sea of claret and amber in the stands. Banners waved, scarves were lifted, and the chants were relentless, a wall of noise that rattled through the bones of every player stepping onto the turf. Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was different. Not loud. Not nervous. Focused. Jake Wilson stood in the center, hands on his hips, eyes moving from face to face. The players sat on benches, some lacing boots, others already locked in, staring ahead, visualizing. He spoke, voice calm but edged with steel. "We all know what happened last week. We all know what went wrong." A pause. "But we also know what we did to them. We played them off the park in that second half. We opened them up. We battered them at times." His gaze settled on Costa, on Richter, on V¨¦lez. "Tonight, we finish what we started." A beat. "They''re coming in here thinking it''s done. Thinking one goal is enough to kill us off. They''re wrong." Roney clenched his fists. Ib¨¢?ez nodded. Fletcher exhaled sharply, shaking his shoulders loose. "We don''t rush. We don''t panic. We play our game. One goal, and this stadium will take care of the rest." He let that sink in. "Look at each other. You trust the man next to you?" Murmurs of agreement. "Good. Because we fight together tonight. From the first whistle to the last. No regrets. No doubts. We take this tie." A hand clapped against another. A few more followed. The energy shifted¡ªtight, controlled aggression. Jake pointed toward the tunnel. "Let''s go to war." Kickoff ¨C Bradford City lined up in their familiar 4-4-2 formation, a setup designed for balance¡ªdefensive solidity and attacking intent in equal measure. Emeka stood tall in goal, commanding his backline. Rojas, Barnes, Fletcher, and Taylor formed a disciplined and powerful defensive unit. Roney on the right and Silva on the left provided width, tasked with stretching Rapid''s backline and driving forward. V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez controlled the midfield¡ªone shielding, the other pushing forward to link play. Costa and Richter led the line, a strike partnership built on movement, pressing, and clinical finishing. Across from them, Rapid Wien, leading 2-1 on aggregate, came out swinging. They weren''t here to protect their lead¡ªthey wanted to finish the tie before Bradford could grow into it. From the first whistle, their intensity was suffocating. Bradford tried to play through the press, but every touch was contested. V¨¦lez received the ball from Barnes, turned¡ªimmediately dispossessed. Rapid recycled it quickly, driving down the left before whipping in an early cross. Emeka, alert, punched it clear, but the warning was there. Bradford''s backline dropped a few yards, but Rapid smelled hesitation. 5th Minute ¨C Bradford were still trying to find their rhythm when Ib¨¢?ez received the ball just inside his own half. He turned, looking for an outlet, but Rapid had set the trap. Their midfield had pressed high, cutting off passing lanes before he had even scanned the pitch. The pass needed to be quick. Sharp. Precise. Instead, it was rushed. A fraction too slow, a fraction too short. A mistake¡ªsmall, but in these moments, small mistakes were everything. Rapid pounced. Their central midfielder was on it in an instant, stepping forward to intercept with a sharp touch, then immediately shifting the ball wide to the right flank. No hesitation. No wasted motion. The ball zipped across the grass, finding their winger already in full stride. Bradford''s defensive line shifted. Fletcher shuffled across. Barnes pointed, organizing. Rojas dropped, scanning the overlapping run. But Rapid were crisp, decisive, ruthless. One touch. Then another. A quick pass inside, immediately returned with a delicate flick. A one-touch exchange, intricate but devastating, pulled Bradford apart in an instant. Now, space had opened. Rapid''s No. 10 saw it first. One step, then another. He let the ball roll across his body, lining up his strike before anyone could close him down. Twenty-five yards out. A sudden, venomous strike. The ball exploded off his foot, low and driven, cutting through the air like a blade. For a split second, time stretched. The ball skidded off the damp turf, accelerating toward the bottom corner. Emeka reacted. A sharp push, a full extension¡ªhis fingertips brushed the ball. Not enough to redirect it, but enough to kill its sting. The ball smacked against his gloves, then dropped just inches from the line. A heartbeat of silence. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then, with reflexes honed by instinct, Emeka smothered it. Arms wrapped tight, body low, securing the danger before any Rapid attacker could pounce. A warning. A glimpse of Rapid''s intent. But it wasn''t heeded. 9th Minute ¨C After a shaky start, Bradford finally put their foot on the ball. It began at the back¡ªBarnes to Fletcher, Fletcher to V¨¦lez. Bradford shifted possession patiently, trying to break through Rapid''s press. Ib¨¢?ez found space and turned, this time with more awareness, feeding the ball wide to Roney. Roney darted inside. One touch past his marker. Then another. He saw an opening, an angle. Richter was already moving, pulling away from his defender. The pass was precise, slipping between two green shirts. Richter took it in stride, one touch to set, another to strike¡ª But Rapid were there. A lunging block, the ball deflecting high into the air before being cleared. It wasn''t a clean chance, but it was something. A sign of life. Yet, as soon as the momentum flickered, Rapid snatched it back. 14th Minute ¨C Bradford''s defensive line had been solid so far, absorbing the early pressure. But all it took was one misstep. Taylor, eager to push forward, found himself caught too high. Rapid''s right-back spotted the space and immediately fired a ball down the flank. Their winger chased, taking a single touch before whipping a pass inside. V¨¦lez was out of position. Ib¨¢?ez sprinted back, trying to cover the gap, but the damage was already done. A quick one-two at the edge of the box split the entire Bradford defense. The ball slipped through. One pass, one movement¡ªsuddenly Rapid were in. Barnes saw it late. He lunged, stretching every muscle, toe just grazing the ball, knocking it slightly off course¡ªjust enough to kill the immediate danger. Valley Parade exhaled. But not for long. Because Rapid weren''t done. The real danger was coming. And it would arrive in just six minutes. Chapter 173 - 173: Bradford City Vs Rapid Wien UECL Play-off Round 2nd Leg Part 2 20th Minute ¨C It started from nothing¡ªa simple throw-in deep in Bradford''s half. Routine. Harmless. But Rapid made it dangerous. They worked it short, dragging Bradford''s defensive line toward the left touchline before switching play with speed and precision. A quick diagonal pass, then another. Suddenly, Bradford were stretched. Taylor had tucked in too far. Rapid''s right winger saw the gap. He darted into space, taking the ball in stride before whipping a cross into the box. The first shot came immediately¡ªa ferocious hit from the edge of the six-yard box. Blocked. The ball rebounded into a crowded penalty area, pinballing between legs. A second shot¡ªRapid''s No. 9 lashed at it, trying to force it through. Blocked again. Fletcher threw himself into the path, getting just enough to deflect it wide. But the danger hadn''t passed. The ball spilled loose. Chaos. Scrambling. A third attempt¡ªthis time, a curling effort from Rapid''s attacking midfielder, bending toward the bottom corner. Emeka reacted. A lightning-fast dive, fingertips grazing the ball, pushing it off the post. But the deflection fell kindly¡ªtoo kindly. There, waiting three yards out, completely unmarked, was Rapid''s No. 10. A simple tap-in. Emeka, still on the ground from his save, could only turn and watch as the ball rolled over the line. The net rippled. The away end erupted. Rapid''s players sprinted toward their fans, fists clenched, celebrating wildly. A sea of green and white shook behind the goal, flares sparking in the night sky. 0-1 on the night. 3-1 on aggregate. A gut punch. A dagger to the chest. For a moment, Valley Parade fell into stunned silence. But Jake Wilson didn''t. "HEADS UP! WE''RE STILL IN THIS!" His voice cut through the noise, sharp and urgent. He clapped his hands, stepping forward. "No panic! No rush! Stick to the plan!" On the pitch, Costa grabbed the ball from the net, sprinting back to the center circle. Richter called for calm, gesturing for focus. Bradford had been hit, but they weren''t broken. Not yet. 25th Minute ¨C The atmosphere inside Valley Parade was reaching its breaking point. Bradford needed something. A moment. A flash of brilliance. A reason to believe. Down 3-1 on aggregate, they had been battered, but not beaten. And they knew¡ªone goal could change everything. The ball rolled to Ib¨¢?ez in midfield. He lifted his head, searching, scanning. Then¡ªhe spotted Roney. Bradford''s number 7 was already on the move, hugging the left touchline, waiting for his chance. Ib¨¢?ez clipped a diagonal ball toward him, and with a single touch, Roney was gone. A blur of movement. A sharp cut inside. One defender beaten. A burst of acceleration. Another one left in his wake. The space opened. Roney glanced up. And there he was¡ªRichter, ghosting between the center-backs, perfectly timed, perfectly positioned. The pass had to be perfect. It was. A delicate, inch-perfect delivery threaded through a sea of green shirts, slicing Rapid''s defense wide open. Richter didn''t hesitate. A single, controlled touch. The goalkeeper rushed out, arms spread wide, trying to close the angle. Too late. Richter lifted it. A soft, elegant chip. The ball rose over the keeper''s outstretched gloves and dropped into the net with a whisper. GOAL. Valley Parade ERUPTED. The noise was deafening, a roar of belief shaking the stadium to its core. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Richter stood still for a moment, his chest heaving. Then, slowly, he turned¡ªhis eyes locking onto Roney''s. No wild celebration. No theatrics. Just a look. A silent promise. This wasn''t over. Not even close. 30th Minute ¨C Momentum was shifting. For the first twenty minutes, Silva had struggled¡ªmisplaced passes, hurried decisions, suffocating pressure. Rapid had forced him into discomfort, into hesitance. But now, he was adapting. He started demanding the ball, dictating the tempo, and carving through Rapid''s lines. 31st Minute ¨C A sharp exchange with V¨¦lez opened up space in midfield. Silva took a touch, head up, scanning. Roney. Bradford''s right winger had already started moving, positioning himself against Rapid''s left-back. Silva found him with a crisp pass, and Roney¡ªfull of confidence now¡ªtook control. A drop of the shoulder. A hesitation. Then¡ªboom. A sudden, blistering acceleration. His marker couldn''t react as Roney burst past, eating up ground before whipping a cross into the box. Low. Fast. Dangerous. Richter met it first. A smart flick, redirecting the ball toward the near post¡ªa striker''s instinct. The shot was on target. Powerful. Precise. But the keeper got down fast. A palm outstretched. A desperate reaction. Saved. Bradford fans groaned, then clapped. It wasn''t a goal, but it was a statement. They were here. They were alive. 35th Minute ¨C Another wave of pressure. Another opening. This time, it was Costa. He had spent the opening minutes wrestling with Rapid''s center-backs, battling for space, chasing shadows. But now, his moment came. Silva, in full control, drifted centrally and spotted Costa peeling away from his marker. A gap opened. Silva''s pass was sublime¡ªthreaded through a narrow corridor, slicing the Austrian defense apart. Costa pounced. One touch¡ªclean. Another¡ªinside, cutting past his defender. And then¡ªimpact. A brutal, clattering challenge. A last-ditch, full-blooded tackle inside the box. Costa went down. The ball rolled harmlessly away. The stadium held its breath. Then¡ªchaos. The Bradford bench erupted, bodies off their seats, arms raised, screaming. Jake Wilson stormed toward the edge of his technical area, fury in his eyes, voice cutting through the noise. "HOW?! THAT''S A PEN!" Costa was still on the ground, palms up, disbelieving. The referee waved play on. Valley Parade exploded in fury. Boos. Shouts. Chants of protest. Jake dragged a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. He turned to his assistants, shaking his head. Robbery. But there was no time to dwell. The game marched on. 40th Minute ¨C Bradford had them pinned. For the last ten minutes, it had been wave after wave¡ªSilva dictating, Roney and Costa stretching the field, V¨¦lez and Ib¨¢?ez winning second balls. Rapid were feeling it. And yet¡ªall it took was one moment. A Bradford corner was half-cleared, and before they could reset, Rapid pounced. One pass. Two. Suddenly, the ball was out wide, and Bradford were scrambling. Rapid''s right winger tore into space, his first touch setting him free down the flank. Rojas was chasing. Barnes and Fletcher¡ªretreating. Too much ground to cover. A quick look up. A curling cross¡ªvicious, spinning, dipping. It flashed across the face of goal. Two Rapid shirts lunged, desperate for a touch. Millimeters. A breath away. But nothing. The ball skidded past and rolled harmlessly out of play. A let-off. A reminder. One mistake, one lapse, and the tie would be over. Bradford reset. 45th Minute ¨C Just before halftime, Rapid struck again. This time, from distance. Bradford were pinned, numbers back, seeing out the half. But Rapid''s number eight found a pocket of space, set himself, and struck from 25 yards. A clean hit. Rising. Then¡ªa deflection. Barnes stuck out a leg¡ªjust a slight touch, but it changed everything. The ball looped, spinning, twisting toward the top corner. Emeka reacted. His weight was already shifting the other way, his body leaning left¡ªbut the ball was curling right. For a fraction of a second, the stadium froze. Then¡ªhe moved. A desperate twist of his hips. A sudden push-off. He stretched. Fingertips. The ball clipped the post and spun wide. A moment of pure silence. Then¡ªa roar of relief. Rapid players threw their heads back in frustration. Their coach held his hands to his face. Bradford had survived. Barely. Halftime ¨C The Locker Room Inside, the air was thick. Not just from the heavy breaths, the sweat, the exhaustion¡ªbut from something else. Frustration. Because they were so damn close. Some players sat hunched over, shirts clinging to their backs, sweat dripping onto the floor. Others just stared, deep in thought. The scoreboard read 1-1 (2-3 on aggregate). Close. But not enough. Jake Wilson clapped his hands. Once. Sharp. Loud. "Look at me." Heads lifted. "That was their punch," he said, voice steady. "That was their best shot." A pause. "And we''re still standing." Silence. Then¡ªmovement. Costa shifted forward in his seat, arms resting on his knees. V¨¦lez nodded. Jake took a step, eyes moving across the room. "We grew into that half. They''re tiring. I can see it, and so can you. Second half, we step it up." He turned to Silva. "Push higher. Make them uncomfortable." To Roney. "Take him on. Again and again. He won''t last." He straightened. "We get one, and they crumble. We get one, and this place erupts. So let''s get it." Jake turned for the door. "45 minutes to change everything." No one needed telling twice. As they stepped back onto the pitch, Valley Parade believed. The fight wasn''t over. Not even close. Chapter 174 - 174: Bradford City Vs Rapid Wien UECL Play-off Round 2nd Leg Part 3 Second Half ¨C Bradford''s Comeback Begins The players emerged from the tunnel with renewed fire. Valley Parade roared them back onto the pitch, sensing that momentum was shifting. The deficit was still there¡ªRapid had the aggregate lead¡ªbut the energy had changed. The first half had been a battle. The second half would be a war. 46th Minute ¨C The whistle blew, and Bradford erupted into action. From the first touch, it was clear¡ªthey weren''t waiting. V¨¦lez, sharp and aggressive, immediately pressed high, stepping into Rapid''s passing lane. The Austrian midfielder barely had time to react before V¨¦lez stuck a boot in, winning the ball cleanly. The turnover sent Valley Parade into a frenzy. With one touch, V¨¦lez shifted forward, head up, scanning. He spotted Roney on the right, already surging into space. No hesitation¡ªV¨¦lez played a sharp, driven pass out wide. Roney took it in stride, his first touch perfectly angled to keep momentum. The Rapid left-back, already backpedaling, hesitated for just a second. That was all Roney needed. A feint. A drop of the shoulder. A sudden burst of acceleration. He was gone. The fullback lunged desperately, but Roney had already left him behind, cutting inside before shaping his body to deliver the cross. It came in hard and low, skimming across the box, fizzing past the near post. Richter, making a late run, reacted. A shift of balance. A quick step. Then the strike¡ªclean, first-time, redirecting the ball toward the far corner. For a second, Valley Parade held its breath. The shot flashed just wide. Richter let out a frustrated yell, hands on his head. So close. Jake Wilson clapped loudly from the sideline. "That''s it! Again!" he barked. The crowd responded, the energy crackling. Bradford had thrown the first punch. The message was clear. They weren''t waiting. 52nd Minute ¨C Rapid Wien were on the ropes. The energy inside Valley Parade was suffocating, each Bradford attack tightening the noose. The visitors, once comfortable, now struggled to complete simple passes. Bradford smelled blood. Ib¨¢?ez, calm in the storm, dropped deeper to orchestrate play. His footwork was immaculate, rolling the ball away from an onrushing Rapid midfielder before turning into space. He lifted his head, eyes scanning. Then¡ªa moment of brilliance. A disguised pass, splitting the lines, slipping between two defenders as if he had guided it with his hands. The weight was perfect. Costa, already on the move, read it instantly. His first touch¡ªsilky. A quick pivot, using his body to roll past his marker, leaving him flat-footed. Suddenly, he was in. The angle was tight, the keeper rushing out, but Costa didn''t hesitate. He struck low, driving the ball toward the far post. The stadium gasped. The Rapid keeper, fully stretched, threw himself to his right. The faintest touch¡ªjust enough. The ball glanced off his fingertips, skimming past the post. A corner. Bradford weren''t done. Silva jogged over, lifting his arms to signal the play. The box was crowded, bodies jostling. Fletcher positioned himself at the penalty spot, eyes locked on Silva''s delivery. The cross came in¡ªa perfect arc, curling into the danger zone. Fletcher rose. Towering above his marker, he met the ball with a thunderous header. It flew past the goalkeeper. Valley Parade erupted¡ªuntil a blur of white appeared on the line. A Rapid defender, scrambling back, lunged with everything he had. A desperate swing of the boot. Contact. The ball bounced clear. Fletcher let out a roar of frustration, pounding the turf with his fist. But the pressure was mounting. Rapid were surviving¡ªjust barely. 58th Minute ¨C For all of Bradford''s momentum, Rapid Wien remained dangerous. A moment of brilliance could kill the tie. And in the 58th minute, they nearly did. A flicker of space, that''s all their right winger needed. He cut inside from the flank, dragging Taylor with him before a sharp one-two left the Bradford left-back stranded. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Suddenly, a sight of goal. The shot came quickly¡ªdriven low, angling toward the far corner. Emeka reacted instantly. A full extension dive, left arm stretching out¡ªfingertips made contact. The ball skidded off his gloves, deflecting away from immediate danger. But the danger wasn''t over. The rebound dropped right into the path of an onrushing Rapid attacker, just eight yards out. The away end rose, expecting the net to bulge. A first-time strike¡ªpowerful, no hesitation. Then, Emeka again. Sprawling, this time kicking out his left leg mid-air, somehow deflecting the ball away. The force of the save sent him rolling across the turf, but he was up in a flash, barking at his defense to stay switched on. Valley Parade erupted, chanting his name. Bradford''s No. 1 had just kept the dream alive. 65th Minute ¨C Substitutions and Tactical Shift Jake Wilson paced the technical area, arms folded, his mind working furiously. Bradford had taken control, pushing Rapid deeper and deeper, but the final piece of the puzzle was missing. It was time to change that. He turned toward his bench. Substitutions: Kang Min Jae replaced Noah Fletcher. Fletcher had worked tirelessly, but his legs were fading. Kang, fresh and full of energy, slotted into the defense. More mobility, sharper reactions¡ªhe would help deal with Rapid''s counterattacks while also offering quicker distribution from the back. Lowe came on for V¨¦lez. V¨¦lez had been instrumental in midfield, but a sudden muscle cramp forced the change. Lowe, a composed and technically sound midfielder, brought fresh legs and a calming presence in possession. The tactical shift was subtle but crucial. Kang''s introduction allowed the Bradford backline to push up higher, compressing space and forcing Rapid deeper. Meanwhile, Lowe''s arrival gave Ib¨¢?ez more freedom to push forward, linking up with the attack and adding another body around the box. Bradford''s shape adjusted¡ªmore direct, more aggressive. The energy inside Valley Parade mirrored the shift on the pitch. The fans could sense the moment building. On the touchline, Jake clapped his hands. "Keep the tempo high! Move it fast!" Lowe immediately got involved, finding space in midfield and spraying a sharp diagonal pass to Roney. The winger controlled it smoothly, took on his man, and whipped in a dangerous cross¡ªRichter stretched but couldn''t quite connect. The pressure was mounting. The equalizer was coming. It felt inevitable. Chapter 175 - 175: Bradford City Vs Rapid Wien UECL Play-off Round 2nd Leg Part 4 73rd Minute ¨C Against the relentless Bradford pressure, Rapid found a rare moment to breathe¡ªand nearly delivered a knockout punch. A simple yet devastating switch of play did the damage. A diagonal ball, curling through the floodlit air, sailed over Taylor''s head. The fullback turned, scrambling to recover, but Rapid''s overlapping right-back was already in full stride, galloping into space down the flank. One touch. Head up. A driven cross, low and vicious, slicing through the penalty area. The ball skidded past Kang and rolled toward the penalty spot. Danger. Rapid''s striker, lurking in the perfect pocket of space, pounced. Six yards out, right in front of goal. Time seemed to slow as he pulled his foot back to strike. This was it. A sure goal. A dagger to the heart. But Barnes had other ideas. Reacting purely on instinct, the big center-back threw himself across, stretching out his leg in a last-ditch attempt. His outstretched boot clipped the ball, altering its path just enough to send it spinning agonizingly wide of the post. The away end groaned¡ªtheir celebration cut short. A massive let-off for Bradford. Emeka wasted no time, sprinting to retrieve the ball and restart play. There was no room for relief¡ªBradford needed to make their dominance count. 80th Minute ¨C Then¡ªdisaster. Bradford had been in control, pushing forward, dictating play. But football is ruthless. One moment, one mistake, and everything changes. It started with a hopeful cross from Rapid''s left flank¡ªmore out of desperation than precision. The ball hung in the air, dipping awkwardly, forcing Kang Min Jae to adjust his position inside a crowded box. A deflection. The ball ricocheted off Silva''s shin, taking an unpredictable bounce. Kang, caught mid-step, swung his boot to clear¡ªbut mistimed it. Instead of making clean contact with the ball, his foot clipped the Rapid striker''s shin. The attacker went down. The whistle shrieked. For a split second, there was silence. Then, chaos. The referee pointed to the spot. A wave of disbelief crashed through Valley Parade. Jake Wilson exploded off the bench, arms wide, fury in his voice. "NO! NO WAY!" He stormed toward the fourth official, veins visible in his neck. "That''s soft! He barely touched him!" The Bradford players surrounded the referee, protesting, pleading. Roney shook his head in frustration. Emeka sprinted forward, demanding an explanation. Kang Min Jae stood frozen, his hands on his head. He knew. He knew it looked bad. The Rapid players, meanwhile, smelled blood. Their No. 10 grabbed the ball, holding it under his arm, already positioning it on the spot. The away fans bounced in the stands, chanting, sensing the kill. Jake turned back to his bench, rubbing his face. "This can''t be how it ends." Everything Bradford had fought for, every drop of sweat, every tackle, every run¡ªnow hanging by a thread. All eyes turned to Emeka. Bradford''s last hope. 82nd Minute ¨C Emeka''s Moment of Glory The Rapid captain stepped forward, placing the ball on the penalty spot with practiced calm. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders, steadying himself. Emeka stood on the goal line, bouncing lightly on his toes, his frame imposing, unshaken. His eyes never left the taker''s. He studied the stance, the angle of the run-up, the slight tension in the striker''s posture. Mind games. He stretched his arms wide, making himself as big as possible. Then, just as the taker stepped back, Emeka pointed to his left and muttered something under his breath. A bluff? Or a challenge? A hush fell over Valley Parade. The whistle blew. The Rapid captain took off¡ªa short, confident run-up. The strike. Emeka exploded to his left. Lightning reflexes. Pure instinct. A perfect guess. His hands met the ball with unshakable force, stopping it dead before it could skip away. No rebound. No second chance. He collapsed over the ball, clutching it tight to his chest, his body a fortress. For half a second, the stadium froze. Then¡ªan eruption. A wall of noise. A roar of disbelief and triumph. Jake Wilson punched the air, his voice lost in the chaos. The Bradford bench spilled onto the touchline, fists clenched, screaming. Rapid players stood stunned, hands on heads, faces pale. Their chance¡ªwasted. And before they could even process the failure¡ªBradford broke. Emeka was already on his feet. A quick glance. A decision. Go. He launched the ball forward, an arrowed throw to Ib¨¢?ez, who took off at full speed. Bradford were on the counter. Valley Parade held its breath. 83rd Minute ¨C Emeka, heart still pounding from his penalty heroics, wasted no time. The moment his feet hit the ground, his mind was already racing ahead. No hesitation. No delay. He scanned the pitch. Ib¨¢?ez. Already on the move. With a single fluid motion, Emeka launched a bullet throw, the ball slicing through the night air, arrowing toward midfield. Perfect weight. Perfect accuracy. Ib¨¢?ez barely needed to adjust. His first touch was velvet, absorbing the momentum as he spun into space. Rapid were reeling. Still retreating. Still dazed. Ib¨¢?ez surged forward, the pitch opening up before him. Bradford''s white shirts flooded ahead, sensing blood. Then¡ªhe saw it. Richter. Peeling away from his marker, timing his movement to perfection. He ghosted between the center-backs, unseen, untracked. Ib¨¢?ez didn''t hesitate. A crisp, threaded ball, dissecting the defense with surgical precision. Richter met it in stride. One touch¡ªsmooth, instinctive. A second¡ªto steady, to feel the moment. Then¡ªthe strike. Low. Ice-cold. Clinical. The keeper rushed out, arms flaring, eyes desperate. Too late. The ball slipped past him, kissed the inside of the post, and rippled the net. For a second¡ªa beat of silence. Then¡ªdetonation. Valley Parade erupted, the stands quaking under the sheer force of celebration. A wall of sound, pure and deafening. Richter turned, arms stretched wide, face contorted in sheer elation. A roar¡ªprimal, unrestrained. His teammates swarmed him, bodies crashing into bodies, an avalanche of white and claret. Ib¨¢?ez was first, leaping onto his back, Roney and Lowe piling in, the moment swallowing them whole. On the sideline, Jake Wilson lost himself, fists hammering the air, veins bulging in his neck. The bench emptied, substitutes sprinting down the touchline, staff embracing like madmen. They had done it. From staring into the abyss to dragging themselves back from the dead. From desperation to belief. From elimination to resurrection S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 90+3: The final seconds ticked away, tension clamping around Valley Parade like a vice. One mistake. One lapse. That was all it would take to shatter everything Bradford had fought for. Rapid Wien knew it. They threw bodies forward, desperation pushing them past exhaustion. Their midfielders bombarded the box with crosses, their defenders abandoned their posts to join the attack. Bradford stood firm. Holding. Absorbing. Waiting. Then, in the chaos, Lowe saw it. A loose touch. A half-second hesitation. All he needed. Lowe pounced, stepping in just as the pass was played, his boot cutting through the tension as he intercepted it cleanly near the top of Bradford''s penalty area. A pause. A flicker of realization. Then¡ªacceleration. Lowe didn''t hesitate. His first touch set him forward, his second sent a crisp, sharp pass to Richter. Richter, pressed from behind, felt the weight of a Rapid midfielder crashing into him. He didn''t panic. He planted his foot, using his body to shield the ball, waiting for the right moment. A delicate flick. Just enough. The ball rolled to Silva, who took off like a shot. The roar of the crowd surged with him, a crescendo of pure adrenaline. He drove forward, legs pumping, lungs burning, but his mind was clear. Rapid''s defenders scrambled¡ªtoo late. Silva had already picked his pass. Costa. Breaking right. Space ahead. Silva''s through ball was perfection. Weighted. Timed. Inevitable. Costa sprinted onto it, the entire stadium rising with him. One-on-one. The Rapid keeper rushed out, arms wide, trying to close the angle. Costa breathed in. The moment. The weight of it. He swung his boot. Mistimed. The connection was weak. Scuffed. The ball rolled, tame and helpless, into the grateful gloves of the goalkeeper. For a second, there was only silence. Costa stood frozen, hands on his head. His teammates, mid-sprint, skidded to a stop, the energy in their charge dissipating like smoke. Jake Wilson''s expression twisted into something between fury and disbelief on the touchline. Then¡ªthe whistle. A piercing sound that cut through the night, final and absolute. Full-time. 3-3 on aggregate. Bradford had fought back from the dead¡ªbut they hadn''t won yet. Thirty more minutes awaited. Extra time.