701 A Narrow Escape

Twain could not think about his relationship with Shania. Once again, he was plagued by the complicated and compressed competition schedule as well as the undulating and inconsistent condition of the team.

On November 15th, Nottingham Forest traveled north to the frigid Newcastle and lost 1:2 in the away game.

On November 24th, the Forest team returned to its home ground and struggled to beat Everton by 3:2 after a bitter battle. They finally managed to hold third place in the league tournament.

The team's results were not too bad based on the points table alone. Even though the gap was wide between their points and those of the teams ranking one and two, Nottingham Forest was still in the top tier.

Only people who were familiar with Nottingham Forest knew how dangerous the team's situation was. Every game won was always full of twists and turns. It was scary trying to win. The looming threat of injury was like a nightmare which could not be dispelled and followed, ready to pounce and bite hard when the Forest team was tired.

Tony Twain felt like he was walking a tightrope.

He did not know when the team would break. From last summer until the end of this year, his players did not have any time to rest, and their physical strength had reached the stage of collapse. How were they going to survive the cold winter? He had no idea at all.

They achieved victories by the skin of their teeth. If they even slightly loosened the grip, they might fall like a house of cards. If the constant taut nerves didn't cause them to collapse even earlier...

"I'm in awe of Tony Twain's approach to coaching, and I also admire the Nottingham Forest team's fighting spirit and will to win," the pundits on the television station analyzed the current situation of the Forest team.

"They reversed West Ham United and Manchester City to win, but lost to Liverpool at the last minute, and then overtook Everton. Twain proudly declared after the game against Everton that his team was the only one in the world which could turn the tide against their opponents, but I think he's just seeking to impress by exaggerating his abilities. What manager would want his team to win every game with such a thrilling reversal? I bet Twain is eager for his team to take a two-goal lead at the start of every game, and then win by a comfortable margin..."

Although the team's results were not bad and Twain said that they were in good shape, any fool could see that he was putting up a front.

The current crisis was not one marked by defeat and a plunge in the ranking, but that was likely coming soon for Nottingham Forest. The team was walking a tightrope, and if they missed a step, they could very well fall into the abyss.

※※※

Twain brought an exhausted team and flew to Minsk, Belarus, to face the local team. It was a crucial battle over whether Nottingham Forest could finally make it out of the group stage. If they did not break through the group stage as the defending champion, then he and his team would become the laughingstock of the entire world.

No matter how bad the team's situation was now, Twain would never allow that to happen to him.

He deployed the strongest squad he could send. Pepe, who had a minor injury, was also in the starting lineup as it was important to ensure that the team's defense was worry-free.

By the end of November, pure white snow had covered all of Belarus. The team went to adapt to the venue, only to find that they could not enter the field ahead of time because it was being cleared of snow. Twain frowned as he looked at the field in front of him.

FC BATE Borisov's Dinamo Stadium in Minsk did not have the same artificial turf field as Russia. If the geothermal and drainage system were not good enough, tomorrow's game would be a mud pit.

The players huddled together and looked at the pitch. They were all at a loss for words. Could they play their best at a venue like this?

During the pre-match preparations, Twain knew that the game would be tough. The tactics had been repeated more than once. Now there was no need for talk. He simply told the players that no matter what difficulties they encountered, the game must be won.

"I don't care how you do it," he said. "Even if you put the ball into the goal with your hand, as long as the referee does not see it!"

The Champions League was not just about his pride. After the financial crisis affected the Forest team, the Champions League tournament also meant economic benefits. The UEFA bonus was awarded for winning games. The more games they played, the more bonuses they received. The Forest team's financial losses would be huge if they were eliminated early in the group stage.

※※※

Thankfully, there was no snow on the day of the game. Although dark clouds loomed over the city, the snow that Twain was most worried about did not descend upon them. The lights at the Dinamo Stadium were kept on. The sky was calm and still.

The snow that had been plowed the day before was piled around the pitch, hemming in the green field.

Twain was a little relieved.

At the start of the game, Borisov used a long shot that brushed out of the goal to warn the visiting team that they were not pushovers who could easily be overpowered.

In the frigid weather, the Borisov players were able to move freely and with vigor. They played better than they did at Nottingham Forest's home game. On the other hand, the Nottingham Forest players, except for Arshavin, a Russian player, were unaccustomed to the weather. It was so cold that even though they'd had warmed up for twenty minutes before the game, their bodies were stiff.

The ground was slippery. With a little force, the footage of a complete mess would emerge. There were opportunities to shoot, but as the player's supporting foot slipped, they would shoot the ball directly into the stands behind the goal. They could barely strike the ball, and the shots were weak.

The fifty-five thousand fans who'd come to cheer on the home team filled the stadium's stands to the brim. Their enthusiasm even melted the snow beneath the stands. Some valiant fans were topless and rode on the grandstand railings to wave their scarves in their hands, singing and clapping loudly as they shouted for Borisov. The Borisov players' every move elicited thunderous cheers. Whenever the Forest players took the ball on the sidelines or tried a corner kick, white snowballs would fall from the air and strike the ground beside the players. Some of them were even packed with lighters or coins. It would be unthinkably disastrous if one of them struck a player.

The attack of the Forest team was messy, and they could not enter their game form due to the pressure brought on by both the opposing team and fans.

The first half was entirely Borisov besieging and bombing Nottingham Forest's half of the field indiscriminately. The Forest team only had the strength to ward off the attacks and was powerless to retaliate.

They managed to keep it to a tie after much difficulty. The first half was over, and they had not lost yet.

In the second half, Borisov began to withdraw while the Forest team fought back, with both sides deadlocked near midfield.

In the seventieth minute, van der Vaart was inattentive and fell to the ground when he picked up the ball in the front field because the ground was too slippery. The football was given directly to the Borisov player next to him. How could Borisov let go of such a big gift? They immediately organized a counterattack and rushed into the Forest team's penalty area after a series of quick passes. With a two-versus-one pass in front of the goal, they tricked van der Sar and easily pushed the ball into the empty goal.

The Dinamo stadium erupted into thunderous cheers, vibrating and making every structure groan as if the sky was about to collapse.

Looking at the dazzling white light in front of his eyes and listening to the roar in his ears, Twain only felt his chest tighten as if a needle was stuck in it. He gritted his teeth and stood still.

The Borisov fans reveled while the Nottingham Forest players hung their heads dejected. Faced with such weather, such an opponent, and such an away trip...they were somewhat powerless. Just as everyone was at their wits' end, they heard Twain's roar from the sidelines.

"What did I say? We must win! We must win! I will not accept anything less than victory! I don't care what you do, damn it!"

He turned around and summoned Žigić.

"Five minutes!" He opened up five fingers on his left hand. "You only have five minutes to warm up. I want you to come back immediately after your warmup. Just go!"

Žigić stumbled and ran to warm up. Five minutes later, he stood in front of Twain again.

"We're going to change tactics. The ground coordination and breakthroughs from the two wings obviously won't work. I don't mind making the game look uglier. The traditional English style of play is suitable in the face of such a situation. Do you know what to do when you go on?" he asked as he stared at Žigić.

The Serbian player had performed averagely after scoring his one goal against Manchester City. He had not lived up to expectations, and his inability to adapt to the pace of the Premier League made many feel like Twain had made an error in judgment.

Žigić was under a lot of pressure. He was a substitute at Valencia and ended up as a substitute again when he'd come here. He was desperate to be able to prove himself. He nodded forcefully.

"Batter them in the penalty area," he said.

"Make good use of your height and jump!" said Twain. "Go up and tell them to pass the ball to your head. Where you are, that's where the ball goes!"

After he pushed Žigić onto the field, Twain continued to stand on the sidelines. The temperature had dropped below zero, but Twain felt warm. A layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. He was perspiring on his chest and back, and his shirt was drenched. He opened his black coat and unbuttoned his shirt. A cold wind flowed straight at his chest, and yet he felt more relaxed and comfortable.

If the team lost the away game to Borisov...Twain dared not even think about such a situation. He must not let this come true.

Within minutes of bringing on Žigić, Twain replaced Lennon with Beckham. The situation was obvious. He wanted to use the side passes and headers in the middle to overcome the disadvantages brought on by the field conditions and weather.

Having done all this, he was out of moves. He had done all that there was to be done. What was next? He did his best. Could he leave it up to fate?

Twain looked up at the dark sky.

He suddenly squinted his eyes. A chill passed over his face. This icy feeling spread from his face directly to the bottom of his heart. It was snowing.

After holding out for a day, the snow had started to fall. The fluttering flakes soon filled the air in the city and the sky above the stadium.

The needle-like pain in Twain's heart became increasingly noticeable. He clenched his teeth and stared at the sky. White snowflakes were visible to the naked eye under the light.

In the area next to him came a smattering of cheers, the Borisov players and coaches saw the snow and knew the situation was in their favor. The head coach was already plotting how to best compete with FC Kyiv Dynamo for advancement in the group.

"Nottingham Forest looks like it's going to be in trouble," the ESPN commentator announced in a calm tone. "Once it starts to snow, the team's performance will only be worse. I think their players must be freezing. The ground is completely wet, and the drainage system at the Dinamo Stadium is terrible. The Belarus team doesn't have these troubles. They are used to the grounds, and playing in the snow is as common as breathing. What does Tony Twain have in mind? Maybe he wishes his team had a home field that was two miles above sea level."

※※※

"I don't accept failure!" George Wood said to the two full-backs while the opponent was preparing for a free-kick. He had a serious expression as if a fire was burning in his eyes. "All of you go up during the attack. Just leave the back to me!"

"Are you going to be okay?" Rafinha was a little worried. Borisov was strong in its counterattacks.

"We still have more than ten minutes to go. What difference does it make if we concede one goal or ten goals?"

Bale nodded. "Got it!"

Rafinha followed suit.

Borisov's free-kick was slightly above the crossbar, which still drew cheers from the stands.

"Those bastards! The Belarus team is getting the better of us!" Twain was hopping mad and raining curses on the sidelines. "Get your spirits up! We're the damn defending champion! We can't lose to a team like this! You have to run even if you can't! If you don't run now, you may not get a chance to run again in the future!"

He was aware of the players' physical condition and knew that it was more physically draining to play in a stadium like this in today's game. However, in the present circumstances, he could only let the players grit their teeth and persist. If they conceded here, the season would be over.

They had to advance from the group stage whatever it took!

The Forest team's full-backs began to provide frequent assists, which were stronger than ever. Sometimes Pepe would dribble the ball himself to rush ahead and get involved in the attack. George Wood stood alone in the backfield, waiting for Borisov's counterattack.

Rafinha dribbled the ball ahead, and when he saw the opponent trying to intercept, he hurriedly passed the ball to Beckham. He ran forward, hoping for a one-two combination with Beckham.

David Beckham did not pass the football back to him. He stood in place and suddenly swung his leg for a shot, ten meters away from the penalty area. It was a diagonal pass at a forty-five-degree angle!

Žigić was entangled with the opposing defenders. When he saw Beckham swing his leg for the diagonal pass, he suddenly charged out, and leaped high after a sprint!

"He's so tall---GOOOOAL! Eightieth minute and Nottingham Forest leveled the score!" yelled the commentator.

Twain turned and threw a punch at the underside of the awning in the technical area. The snow was getting heavier, but he no longer cared about such minor details.

"It's not over yet!"

After he vented a little nervousness, he turned back and made threatening gestures toward the field as he shouted to remind the players to continue to work hard.

Žigić also knew the team's current situation. He did not wildly celebrate his goal. Instead, he picked up the football from inside the net and ran back, surrounded by teammates.

"Aerial shots! High passes! Blow open their goal!" Twain leaped and jumped on the sidelines as if he was deranged.

Foul language spewed continuously from his mouth. He was caught in a dead-end. Just like he warned the players, if they did not go crazy now, there would be no future.

Borisov also had to give up the idea of a home win over the Forest team. They needed to try to play well defensively first. The two center backs kept an eye on Žigić, and Beckham was also given extra attention. Then the Borisov players began to try their best to waste, the time in the game.

The slightest touch would send them falling painfully to the ground. In quick succession, they would hold their calves and fall to the ground with cramps. If they kicked the ball from the goal, the ball must be repeatedly placed twice. To throw in an out of bounds ball, they would wait for the full-backs to slowly walk up before they launched...

Every time he saw the Borisov players fall to the ground because of an "injury" and the Forest team kicked the football out of bounds on their own due to sportsmanship, Twain's chest would violently heave up and down.

It was not the first time he had witnessed such a "reasonable" use of the rules to delay the game time, but it was extremely unpleasant to experience it personally. He was so out-of-sorts that he felt like he might explode

One of the Borisov players fell to the ground during a scuffle with the Forest players. Pepe did not see what happened behind him. He intercepted the ball and passed it to George Wood in front of him.

The Borisov player was still holding his wrist and lying motionless on the ground.

The Nottingham Forest players did not see it, but the Borisov players did. In fact, in the final stages of the game, they were watching their players at all times other than when they were defending. Whenever someone fell to the ground, a series of hands were raised to signal that they were injured and the Forest players would carry forward the spirit of sportsmanship and politely kick the ball out of bounds.

This time, when the players raised their arms to ask George Wood to kick the football out and let their player receive treatment, George Wood remained unmoved. He bypassed the opposing players easily, and they could not believe what had just happened in front of their eyes.

When George Wood bypassed another man, no matter how much the Borisov players on the opposite side gestured, and no matter how many people in the stands booed him, he continued to dribble the ball forward and attack as long as he did not hear the referee stop the game with his whistle.

When he bypassed the second man, the Borisov players finally understood. Nottingham Forest simply did not intend to carry out any sportsmanship this time!

One of the players charged up and wanted to use an aggressive foul to shovel Wood along with the ball to force a halt to the game.

Wood did not give the other side a chance to foul. He passed the ball to Bale in the wing and then jumped up to dodge.

Bale also seemed to hesitate. The Borisov player across from him stepped back to defend while asking him to kick the ball out.

"Keep attacking!" Wood yelled.

Bale sent the football into the penalty area.

The Borisov players were bewildered by the Forest team's attack. Some of them rushed to face the attack, but they simply could not make up effective defensive protection.

When the ball flew toward their goal, no one cared about sportsmanship and how the Forest team had acted shamelessly. The arrow on the bowstring was ready to be fired!

Žigić leaped high again, and the two center backs jumped close to him, trying to squash him. The Serbian player did not shoot his own goal, and he ferried the ball to the unmarked Arshavin behind him.

Arshavin did not hold back. He swung his leg to kick right away, and the ball volleyed into the net!

"Arshavin! Arshavin---Nottingham Forest turns the game around!" screamed the commentator. "Now they're ahead! Although the goal is somewhat controversial, the referee signaled that it was valid!"

Twain knelt with both knees on the ground and pointed two fingers at the snow in the sky. He opened his mouth wide and shouted in Mandarin.

"If this is Heaven's Will, then I will defy you, wily God!"

The Borisov players angrily blocked the referee and tried to reason. The others came at George Wood in a rage, looking murderous. The Forest players rushed over before they could celebrate the goal.

"This is lacking in sportsmanship!" The young Borisov manager, Goncharenko, roared angrily at the fourth official on the sidelines.

The fourth official was a pathetic character that the two teams' coaches would vent at. He had to let their anger go in one ear and out the other and not take it to heart.

"This is disgraceful! We want to appeal!" yelled Mr. Goncharenko.

"What are you going to appeal, Mr. Goncharenko?" asked Twain, who had finished yelling to the sky,

He had a smirk on his face as he appeared on the other side of the fourth official. He looked at the somewhat hysterical opponent. "My players have the right to decide whether to kick the ball out of bounds. As long as the referee doesn't blow the whistle to stop the game and we don't kick it out, what can you do? The FIFA rules do not state that if the opposing player falls to the ground, the player with the ball must suspend the attack. You won't win if you appeal to FIFA!"

"You...no sportsmanship!" Goncharenko pointed to Twain's nose this time and scolded him.

Twain shrugged. "At least my players did not deliberately waste the game time. A manager, whose goalkeeper was shown a yellow card for procrastination, is unqualified to say that about me."

After saying that, he turned around and walked away, letting the poor fourth official continue to suffer the venting from the already thunderous Goncharenko. The UEFA also did not want a team like Borisov, which had no market prospects, to advance to the final sixteen teams in the Champions League. Nottingham Forest at the top was easier to deal with. Borisov, who'd played in the Champions League for the first time, was tender.

The situation on the pitch was a bit chaotic. There was physical contact on both sides, and the referee had to show four yellow cards to four players in a row before the situation was brought under control.

George Wood stood at the heart of the struggle. No matter how angry the opposing players were, he clenched his fists and celebrated the decisive winning goal with his teammates, completely ignoring the other side's anger. It was his blatant attitude that infuriated the Borisov players, making them want to punch him.

After the players on both sides squandered the game time, there was little left. Once the experienced Nottingham Forest team overtook them with a goal, Borisov's fighting spirit was depleted. They felt ill at ease and were completely unable to concentrate on the game. Their minds were full of anger and regret.

How could such a team pose a threat to Nottingham Forest?

The snow was still falling, but no one cared anymore. Nottingham Forest had won because the game was over. Tony Twain had won!

When the final whistle sounded, Borisov's head coach immediately rushed to the pitch and got hold of the referee. He demanded to know why the ref did not suspend the game when Borisov's player had fallen to the ground. He pulled the referee's shirt and paid the price for his recklessness when he was directly sent off with a red card!

Twain was not in the mood to watch the young manager's passionate performance. He did not even hug and celebrate with his players, who'd had a narrow escape. He slumped in a chair and took a deep breath. A weight was lifted off his chest, but a heavier weight was hanging above his heart.

The life of a professional manager was a rollercoaster.

Even if it was clamorous around him, he could still clearly hear the rapid throbbing of his heart as if it were echoing in his ears.

The game was over, and he'd won, but the sound did not slow down. It kept beating at that pace, just like the speed in which Nottingham Forest had suddenly risen in the European continent for the last three seasons.

This was worrying. He did not know when that taut string would break...