Dynasty Awakening: Building My Own Football Empire-Chapter 254: High Line Suicide

Despite the intense pressing disadvantage, Tottenham’s manager did not seem agitated. His expression seemed as if he had expected such chaos in the first ten minutes. He didn’t yell out any additional orders, nor complaints, just stood there with his arms crossed like a statue.

The Spurs players also didn’t seem fazed; like robots, they moved onto the next phase of play without a word. Son Heung-min, who was leading the line, had already been briefed by the analysis team on what to expect, yet that didn’t stop him from sprinting at Vladimir Petrovic for an easy pressure trigger.

"Offside, flag up!"

Barnsley made their way back into shape and took their positions. Vladimir was standing on the edge of the box and warming up his aggression with Diego Nunez, sending controlled shoves to the attackers.

The first player that came surging into the Barnsley half was surprisingly the center-back. He had to be the most aggressive defender Michael had ever seen, even his running style was orthodox and violent.

Diego had Vladimir step up to the high line first to test the nerve of the attacker, only to be stunned when Romero swung his leg and connected with a long-range drive. The ball went straight between the midfield lines and towards the goal.

"Fuck." Michael quickly followed the ball with his eyes and pounced on the tactical error, shifting his body on the sideline and screaming at Jean Luc Dubois who had run over to cover the space.

"Block!"

The referee ignored the contact and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they could physically block the ball, there shouldn’t be any issues. He still hadn’t regained his full composure, likely due to the System’s interference with his stress levels.

If he were to have stayed silent, then the runner probably would have been through on goal.

"Nice cover." Michael called out to Vladimir, giving him a thumbs up.

Thankfully, Vladimir knew exactly what to do when Diego had left the defensive line. It could have been disastrous if no one covered the center when the Bull left to chase a butterfly or a winger.

"Just doing my job." Vladimir winked before heading back to the defensive line.

Ever since he had taken Kenji’s "Hidden Thorn" advice, his defending had improved by leaps and bounds. He was able to get more nastiness into his tackles and his positioning had become more consistent.

This in turn increased his confidence, giving him the aura of a true Vice-Captain. Although Michael had not used his True Vision ability on Vladimir during the match yet, he hoped that he would continue smashing people and reach a higher level.

Vladimir bullied the next two attackers fairly easily, however Michael noticed that they were able to keep possession on the majority of the balls, sending them into the wide zones.

The next couple of minutes went by without any clear chances getting created from either side. Tottenham’s possession-heavy and constricted high line proved effective, keeping Barnsley’s counter-attacks at bay.

Romero’s passes were sharp and managed to get past the midfield press and the tail end of the defensive block.

Despite not getting a shot on target, the Spurs players did not have any outward emotions of frustration or even disappointment from the outside. Seeming more like white-shirted robots than actual footballers.

He had not noticed this before in his previous analysis, but now that he was a little more aware of his surroundings thanks to the Tactical Eye, it was hard to miss.

Was it possible that their Manager’s rigid system had undermined the players’ love of the chaos? If he was in their shoes and forced to play a certain way regardless of the score, would he also turn out the same as these guys?

If he was honest, he would rather quit managing football if the only alternative was losing his love and passion for the unpredictable. This was saying a lot considering he already knew what it was like to lose his job in a past life.

But to Michael, losing his love for the game and losing the ability to create chaos were one and the same thing.

As he walked back to the bench, his gaze landed on the Tottenham manager. A wave of competitive disgust rose in the pit of his stomach as the big Australian looked back at him with an empty, calm smile.

There was not much that he could do to an opposing manager’s philosophy. The only thing that would make it feel right was if his Misfits could beat them soundly, rejecting his ideology and proving it wrong on the pitch.

Michael placed his hand on Arthur Milton’s shoulder as they watched from the dugout, determination oozing from his pores.

"Let’s destroy these guys," He said through gritted teeth.

"Huh? Ah, okay boss." Arthur seemed a little confused, holding a bag of jelly babies, but he still agreed.

Sergio Ramos could sense how agitated Michael was as he stared daggers at the Spurs technical area from his position on the bench.

"Is everything okay Michael?"

"Oh, yeah sorry Sergio." He replied, originally intending to keep his feelings to himself. However, perhaps it was because he had the mind of a visionary, Michael spoke his mind.

"It feels like all of the Tottenham players are emotionless robots." He stated, casting his glance over the players executing the high line on the field.

"Hmm, I guess you could say that." Sergio Ramos nodded, adjusting his sunglasses. "Can you guess why that is?" He asked.

Michael didn’t have to think for long before naming the tactical system as the sole reason for the players’ behavior. It was clear as day that the manager was the perpetrator.

"The system is definitely one of the reasons for this, it may even be the cause. However, it’s not that these kids are emotionless robots..." The veteran defender paused as his experienced gaze roamed over the field.

"Let me put it this way. Why do you manage football?" He asked, turning his gaze back to Michael.

Michael was a little taken aback. It was such an easy question, yet he couldn’t answer immediately. Did he manage because he wanted to become a billionaire and build an empire? Did he want to prove himself to the media?

No, that wasn’t it. His mind returned to one of the many nights that he spent alone in his office in League One, clutching his head over a 1-0 loss and crying himself to sleep.

After a long pause, Michael finally answered the question. "Because I love football."

"And why do you love football?" Sergio asked, his face turning up in a small, knowing smile.

"Because it makes me feel alive," Michael whispered, watching Diego Nunez attempt a bicycle kick clearance for no reason. "Because of the chaos."

"Exactly," Sergio said, leaning back. "These robots... they have forgotten the chaos. They play for the system. We play for the soul."

Michael felt a chill run down his spine. Sergio was right.

He looked back at the pitch.

Minute 25

The score was still 0-0. But the energy was shifting.

Kaito Tanaka was starting to find space behind the robotic high line. The Spurs defenders were stepping up perfectly, but Kaito was faster than their logic.

"Hey Boss," Arthur whispered, pointing to the pitch. "Look at Mateo."

Michael looked.

Mateo Vega, the Painter, was standing in the center circle. He wasn’t running. He was watching the Spurs robots pass the ball. Left, right, left, right.

He looked bored.

Then, suddenly, Mateo smiled. It was a wicked smile.

"He sees the pattern," Michael realized. "He sees the code."

Romero played a pass into midfield. It was the same pass he had played ten times already. It was efficient. It was safe.

But this time, Mateo was there.

He didn’t intercept it with a tackle. He intercepted it with a flick.

He lifted the ball over the head of the receiving midfielder.

"Olé!" The crowd shouted.

Mateo didn’t stop. He caught the ball on his chest and volleyed a pass blindly over his shoulder.

It defied physics. It defied logic. It defied the system.

The ball flew over the high line.

Kaito Tanaka was already running.

"ZOOM ZOOM!" Kaito screamed, breaking the silence of the tactical battle.

The robots turned. But robots are heavy. Kaito was light.

He was through on goal.

The Tottenham manager finally uncrossed his arms. His calm expression cracked.

"Go on!" Michael screamed, stepping onto the pitch.

Kaito took one touch. Vicario, the Spurs goalkeeper, rushed out.

Kaito didn’t shoot. He squared the ball.

Why? There was nobody there.

Or so it seemed.

From the deep, a bald streak of lightning arrived.

Diego Nunez.

He had run seventy yards. He was puffing. He was red.

"I AM HERE!" Diego roared.

He slid.

The ball hit his shin. It hit his knee. It hit his face.

And then, it rolled into the empty net.

GOAL.

Barnsley 1 - Tottenham 0.

"Yes!" Michael punched the air. "Fuck your system! That is Misfit football!"

The stadium erupted. The robots looked at each other, confused. Their code didn’t have a line for ’Defender Scoring with Face’.

Sergio Ramos laughed on the bench. "See? Chaos."