838 Qualifying for Championship

"Fernando Gago! He scored a crucial goal! That goal pulled Nottingham Forest back from the edge of the cliff!"

There was a loud cheer in the stands of the Emirates Stadium as all the fans jumped from their seats and cheered with their arms raised. Arsenal's players moved quietly back into their positions, waiting for the celebration to end. Arsène Wenger sat in the manager's box, but he only expressed his displeasure by tipping his head back slightly.

Twain only rejoiced for a moment before refocusing on the game. While the crowd was still clapping and cheering, he pulled Mitchell over. "The warm-up is over, boy." Twain glanced up at Nottingham Forest's tall No. 9 player.

Mitchell nodded, and his face was calm. It had already been three years since his debut, and he wasn't a rookie in the Champions League anymore.

"We're putting you in a little early, so our opponents shouldn't have predicted this. I want you to go out there and play a bigger role, and that doesn't just mean scoring goals. Do you know what to do?"

"I know, coach. It's not the first time I've played. "

Twain laughed when he heard that, "Right, you're not a rookie anymore. Also, tell the others that Sagna and Criscito are very active in assisting. Take advantage of that." He pointed to both sides of the field and said to Mitchell, "Try to score another goal quickly."

Mitchell went forward after receiving the orders. Twain whistled as he walked to the side of the field, using gestures to direct the team to continue the attack.

Wenger really didn't expect the early substitution, especially since they had just scored. The team seemed to be doing well, and most coaches would try to ensure the integrity of the line-up, not interrupt the rhythm of the team. This adjustment should have been made after they lost the ball.

Mitchell entered the field and replaced Şahin. Şahin looked a little unhappy as he walked to the sidelines because it was too early. It was only fifty-five minutes. He had a dark look on his face as he high-fived Mitchell. Twain did not say anything as Şahin walked by, only raising his hand to touch his forehead.

From that goal, Gago seemed to be in good form that day. Twain directed Gago to get more involved in the attack with Wood defending at the back.

Seemingly aware of Twain's intentions, Wenger got up and gave new instructions to his players. The two wingbacks of Arsenal then stopped assisting the offense and stayed in the backfield.

"P*ssies," Twain grunted. The enemy was too cunning! He initially wanted to take advantage of Arsenal's instability and score another goal, but now it would become a stalemate.

Fortunately, Mitchell was able to control the ball on the pitch, so Nottingham Forest was able to play the possession game against Arsenal. But Twain still seemed a little worried…

From time to time, he got up from the coach's chair to walk to the sidelines, or raised his hand to look at his watch and the score on the big screen. Time went by minute by minute, and Nottingham Forest's attack still wasn't gaining much. And Arsenal's offense was not as active; it looked like Wenger was satisfied with taking a draw on their homecourt.

After all, Arsenal was six points ahead, so even a draw would be beneficial for them. Maintaining the six-point gap would almost certainly ensure that they would win the league in the end.

Wenger didn't want to exert too much energy in this game, especially considering that there would be another Champions League game in three days. That was the most important thing, where losing was absolutely unaffordable.

After 65 minutes, Wenger began to make substitutions. First, he replaced Fàbregas. As the core and driving force of the team, the captain's task had been completed this game. Wenger did not want to see him getting injured or exhausted in the last 25 minutes. Fàbregas did not express any displeasure, but he was by no means thrilled. He wanted to keep playing against Wood on the field.

So after seeing the fourth official raise the sign, he hesitated, shrugged, and pointed at himself, questioning the side court. Wenger nodded. Fàbregas then turned his head and glanced at George Wood, who was a distance away, then slowly walked down.

Nottingham Forest fans were very unhappy with this move. They thought he was deliberately delaying the game, and the stands began jeering at Arsenal's captain.

Francesc Fàbregas remembered that he was still wearing the captain's armband after walking halfway, so he turned back and handed the sleeve to Senderos as the jeers became louder. But soon, the boos were drowned out by the applause of the Arsenal fans, who stood up to greet their captain.

On the sidelines, Fàbregas turned to the pitch, raising his arms in response to the applause of the fans, but his eyes stayed on George Wood, who was standing near the center circle. He seemed to be looking at himself as well.

The two men's gazes met as Fàbregas turned and walked back to the bench. He shook Wenger's hand. Wenger patted him on the shoulder, signaling that he had done a good job.

Twain was happy to see Fàbregas leave the field. He knew that there was hope for this game. Wenger has clearly chosen to be conservative as he switched to a defensive midfield——Denilson, the Brazilian.

Wenger believed that even if Fàbregas were off the field, Arsenal's offense would still be strong enough with Wilshere. But in Twain's view, Wilshere couldn't compete with Fàbregas yet. It was not a matter of talent, but of experience.

Wood alone would be more than enough to deal with him, and after Wilshere got frozen, players like Walcott and Berra wouldn't be able to play their full potential. Nottingham Forest would have more energy to put into offense, and they could seek more chances to score goals.

In the remaining time, Nottingham Forest gradually took the initiative in midfield and began to put pressure on Arsenal's penalty area. Arsenal went on the defensive.

Nottingham Forest was aggressive, but they seemed to have forgotten the instructions that Twain had given them at half-time. Rafinha fired a straight shot after receiving the ball outside the penalty area twice in a row, with one kick deflected and one shot sent flying. That upset Twain, and he rushed to the sidelines and yelled Rafinha's name.

Rafinha became more patient after that, and he no longer shot blindly.

Twain muttered to himself as he walked back to the manager's seat. "What a waste of opportunity. Do they still think they're leading by three goals?"

Francesc Fàbregas was substituted in the 75th minute, and Nasri was also replaced by Ramsey. Twain sneered at Wenger's decisions, then he made his own adjustments. Bentley was replaced by Moke. Moke's task on the pitch was simple; he needed to use his technical skills advantage to create trouble for Arsenal's left-field defense. Since Lennon left, Nottingham Forest's right side was dominated by Bentley. Moke was still a little immature, but in some special circumstances, he had more use than Bentley.

Before Moke entered the game, Twain pulled him aside and told him to forget everything but breaking through Arsenal's defensive line. That was something that Moke did very well. He was not fast, but his dribbling was really good. Arsenal's defenders could not intercept the ball easily.

For a time, Clichy's side became the focus of Nottingham Forest's attack, with Arsenal's defensive core following the left. Nasri did not play long, as he quickly became a defensive forward.

They managed to hold on against Nottingham Forest's offense until the 80th minute.

Twain looked at the table. They were already at the eighty-minute mark, and he had one last substitution left. Several people had some fitness issues, and they seemed to need to be replaced so they could rest. Bale, for example, wasn't efficient in his offensive assistance anymore. After running forward, he no longer ran back actively to defend. Fortunately, Wood was still making up for him at the back and keeping Arsenal from seizing the opportunity to score.

Twain only brought Leighton Barnes as a left-back to come to play in the away ground. If he went on the field, the offense would definitely be reduced, because he needed Barnes' defense.

Should he let Bale rest for the Champions League match three days later? Or substitute into an offensive player and continue to strengthen the offense?

Twain considered for a while before calling Agbonlahor from the bench. He was going for an all-in.

A minute later, the fourth official signaled for Nottingham Forest's substitution as Agbonlahor replaced Gareth Bale. Removing a wing-back and replacing him with a striker—this was Twain's gamble. As he told his players at half-time, if they lost here, they wouldn't continue to qualify for the title.

He wanted to use the replacement to remind the players that he had not forgotten his words, so he hoped the players on the pitch didn't forget either. Victory would be their only goal.

Agbonlahor ran onto the field as the ball went out, and he called everyone over as he raised his fist and shouted at his teammates, "The coach wants us to continue to attack! We must win!"

After hearing this, the Nottingham Forest players all turned to look at Twain on the side of the field. His face was stern.

"What about defense? Bale's down, and Rafinha's not made for a center-back," Gago questioned, concerned.

"Don't think so much. Think about it after a goal!" Agbonlahor cheered.

"I'll be in charge of the defense. You guys don't worry about it. " Wood said, ending the argument.

"That settles it. Be sure to score goals. Be sure to win!" Agbonlahor raised his fist to cheer up the tired players. "Guys, think about being triple champions."

Gago took a breath and nodded. "Ten minutes to go. Find a way to get a goal."

The team dispersed.

A minute later, Nottingham Forest attacked into the penalty area, but Ibišević collided with Almunia during the scuffle. Almunia fell to the ground, and the referee summoned the team doctor to the pitch.

Nottingham Forest fans in the stands were complaining that Almunia had deliberately delayed the game, and Twain did not bother spending the effort to find the fourth official to reason with him. He took the time to call Wood to the sidelines and strategize.

"Cross! Pass the football through the air to the front of Arsenal's door and to Mitchell! But you're not doing this to let him score; he's not the main striker. Instead, let him grab the back spot and then swing the ball over. Do you understand? He's not the main offense, but we want to make the opponent think that he is," Twain said hurriedly, gesturing as he spoke.

Wood nodded. "I understand."

"Tell them about the change, and tell Gago that if we succeed in a pass, he's to run into the penalty area and ignore the defense of the midfield."

"Do I defend?"

Twain nodded. "Yes!"

"Okay, no problem."

Wood ran back to the field and told the team about Twain's adjustment.

While Almunia was being treated, Wenger called Senderos to the sidelines and told him to keep his eye on Mitchell. Senderos was the only Arsenal player on the pitch who was able to compete with Mitchell for headers. At such times, Twain would certainly use the simplest approach—a cross into the penalty area, allowing Mitchell to fight for the header—to try to score.

After the game resumed, Wenger began to take comfort in his previous arrangements. Mitchell did become Nottingham Forest's main offense, and Senderos was fighting hard from the start.

But then things started to go badly for Arsenal. Senderos had been running for almost 90 minutes, and he didn't have enough stamina to keep up with Mitchell, who only joined in the second half. Tactically, Mitchell was not really the endpoint of Nottingham Forest's offense.

When George Wood intercepted the ball successfully in the backfield, his position was on the right side. He did as he said he would, guarding the right-back as well.

At that time, Walcott was aiming to use his pace to force a break against Wood. Unfortunately, Wood's accurate position made it impossible for him to increase his speed, and the ball at his feet was easily tackled by Wood. He tried to snatch Wood's ball and run back, but Wood did not pass the football to Gago in the midfield, as the commentator thought he would. Instead, he made a move that surprised everyone: he dribbled the ball straight through the sidelines!

Walcott did not expect Wood, being a temporal wingback, to bring the ball up like an authentic wingback. He stood completely unresponsive and watched Wood run past him.

When Wood crossed the middle line, the Arsenal defenders were still thinking he would pass the ball to Gago in the middle, or Fernandez in front. Their defensive attention was on the two at the back, so they watched Wood continue to dribble the ball along the sideline.

"Ah, ah! George Wood's still dribbling the ball! There's not a single Arsenal player going up to defend, because they're focused on Gago. Some were moving to Fernandez, and some are even turning to Mitchell. But no one's going up to defend George Wood. He's still dribbling!"

The commentator got excited, because whenever Wood did something unusual, things would get interesting.

"Don't leave him alone!" Wenger roared as he lurched up from his seat, abandoning his calm facade. As an experienced veteran coach, he sensed danger from Wood's unusual move.

Like him, Fàbregas had shot up from his seat as well. He had changed his clothes as he sat on the bench with a towel, chatting with his teammates. At this moment, he could not help but leave the bench, walking to the sidelines and staring intently at George Wood dribbling crazily on the sidelines.

He really has a lot of stamina, Fàbregas thought first. Then he realized, This is bad!

At the manager's loud reminder, Arsenal's players started to move. Just as Sagna was preparing to leave Fernandez to go to defend Wood, Wood passed the ball. He passed the football to Fernandez.

When he saw this pass, Sagna suddenly had a wonderful feeling. Wood had finally passed the ball!

He threw away his head coach's instructions as he turned around to pounce on Fernandez. In the inertial thinking of the Arsenal players, George Wood would never run to the sidelines.

But they were wrong.

Fernandez discovered that Wood, after passing to him, did not stop running. Instead, he continued to speed forward. He did not make any gestures to ask for a pass, but Fernandez felt that he should pass the ball instead of dribbling it himself.

So when the football came over, Sagna was still following from behind. Fernandez did not hesitate to pass the ball out again, aiming for the space on the sidelines that Wood was running through at high speed.

"One-two?" The commentator's tone was surprised. Apparently he hadn't expected Nottingham Forest to play the game from there. Since Bale stepped down, the commentator had repeatedly said that Tony Twain wasted one sideline. But the situation he was looking at now embarrassed him.

Wood's style of play was very simple; his focus now was on handling the ball. He was not like other wingers, who received the ball and passed it again, even though he had lost his best passing opportunity at that time. No one knew exactly what habit it was; perhaps it was simply to get the football to stay at his feet for a little longer. He was also not like other wingers, who liked to break through from outside.

He watched the football roll toward him, and he did not stop the ball but immediately kicked the ball toward the goal.

Until this moment, many Arsenal players were still counting themselves lucky. None of them went up to defend Wood, because they thought Wood's passing technique would definitely be bad, because no one had seen him make any decent passes...

This time Wood's pass still seemed quite bad...

It was very high.

Twain raised his head and squinted his eyes to stare at the silver-white football that was high in the dazzling light.

The people below even had enough time to compete for positioning.

Senderos looked up at the ball while he was grabbing Mitchell's uniform to prevent him from slipping away.

Wood, who had passed the ball, lost his center of gravity and fell down, sitting on the ground as he watched the ball fly past Arsenal's goalmouth.

"Watch out for his header!" Almunia nervously reminded his teammates in front of the goal. "Watch out for Ibišević!"

There were two center-backs, one of which was guarding Mitchell, and the other guarding Ibišević. Senderos and Mitchell jumped at the same time. The Swiss center-back felt like he was stuck in position, but it was only half of it. Mitchell still found a little space, twisting his body in the air and pushing Senderos aside.  Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.

The football fell. Almunia gave up the idea of jumping straight into the air and competing for the ball. With a center-back, he did not want to risk a foul.

While in the air, Mitchell felt like he was flying. He always felt like that whenever he jumped, and he enjoyed it. He saw the football in the air, and he also saw Senderos's forehead, then he found himself jumping a little higher than his opponent…

He was looking for someone. Ibišević was blocked, so he could not pass there.

Gago. Where was Gago?

A yellow figure appeared at the corner of his eye.

That person was his target, whoever it was.

Mitchell swung his head with much effort. Senderos hit nothing with his header at the front. Instead of flying towards the goal, the football flew in the opposite direction.

In the crowd, the yellow figure ran out. Even under the pull of Denilson, he still struggled forward, stretching his legs back to kick!

Gago felt he had kicked football, but what happened next, he was not sure.

Almunia realized he had made a mistake. He should not have put two big men like Senderos and Mitchell in front of him. He couldn't see what was happening!

When he saw the football flying over, his brain was still blank. He didn't try to dive for the ball; he just stared as the ball flew past him and scored.

Was the ball in?

Arsenal's players and fans were surprisingly calm at this moment, as they were just asking themselves, Did the ball really go in? When the match still has a minute before injury time?

The ball's in! How could that be!

The Emirates Stadium, which had been dormant for a moment, suddenly filled with the crowd's deafening roar.

"Unbelievable! Unbelievable!" The commentator pressed both his hands on the soundproof headphones and screamed, for he was unable to hear his own voice.

Twain rushed out of the coach's chair with the screams of Arsenal fans behind him, his arms open, his teeth clenched. He looked like deranged and hysterical.

Immediately behind him, more Nottingham Forest players and coaches rushed out of the coaching staff, hugging and kneeling on the ground to thank God.

Eastwood was crying with excitement, his eyes red, as he grabbed the chair in front of him and started screaming. No one could hear clearly what the Romani was shouting about.

Gago, who was pulled down by Denilson, took a peek at the goalmouth by habit, and when he saw that the football really was lying in the goalmouth, he went crazy.

His eyes were wide, his pupils shrinking, and blood surged from his neck and into his head, dyeing his face red.

He clenched his fists as he felt himself grabbing onto fate by its throat.

"If we give up here, we won't be eligible to win the championship! If we don't win against Arsenal, we can't win the league! If we lose here to Arsenal, we won't win the Champions League match three days later! If such an opportunity is not worth our whole team gritting their teeth to fight, what else is there in this world that we're fighting for? What else!"

The passionate voice of their coach rang in every Nottingham Forest player's eardrums. Now they could proudly claim to be the team that qualified for the title.

He got up from the ground, shook off the entanglement of his teammates behind him, and ran to the corner flag, taking off his jersey and throwing it to the sky. He did not care if the referee gave him a yellow card, as this time he was venting everything he had. Gago was usually elegant, and this was the first time he had stripped as a celebration after a goal. It really seemed that the Argentinian was losing his mind.

Even George Wood, who rarely let his emotions out, was waving raised fists. Then he was hugged by Mitchell, who rushed forward.

At the Emirates Stadium, in front of 60,000 Arsenal fans, Nottingham Forest's players were celebrating their last-minute goal, completely ignoring the home team's mood and feelings, and venting as if they were the owners of the stadium.

The Emirates Stadium was silent. On the coaching seat, Arsène Wenger had his head in his hands. He kept his face down, not wanting to see the scene in front of him.

He had nothing to say about the result. But there was still a thought in his heart: Champions League.

In three days, let us have a battle to decide it all, Tony. This time, it will be a true battle to the death!