Chapter 7

The person who called off the press conference was Xiao Hill.

Lin Sen did not ask anyone, and the news quickly reached him. The outside world did not know about this, which seemed to be a fortunate thing for Lin Sen. However, within the entire Atletico Madrid, no one was unaware of it. Now, everyone knew that Xiao Hill did not approve of the new interim coach. Of course, many people thought this was only natural. Wasn't it?

Lin Sen remained calm. He continued to lead the team in training, returned home on time, and went to bed at the usual hour, as if nothing had affected him.

The entire Atletico Madrid team participated in Lin Sen's bet. Lin Sen only took a dozen or so players to Valladolid: three goalkeepers, seven defenders, seven midfielders, and three forwards. On the surface, it was because this was just an away game, and Valladolid was not far from Madrid, so they could make a round trip in a day, and there was no need to go through the trouble.

The former head coach, Aguirre, was originally a proponent of the 4-3-3 formation. However, after taking over Atletico Madrid, he emphasized teaching according to the students' abilities and had Atletico play a 4-4-2 formation for nearly two seasons. Although the formation changed, Aguirre remained the stubborn Aguirre. Once he set the formation, he never changed it, whether at the start of the game, when trailing, or when leading. At most, he would substitute a tired player with a fresh one, or a lively one with a struggling one. By now, in football game terms, the 4-4-2 formation had full familiarity, while other formations? Well, they were at a loss. Therefore, for Lin Sen, as long as he did not seek his own doom, it was best to follow Aguirre's old ways.

Lin Sen did not know how Atletico Madrid's fans imagined what he, a novice, would say in the locker room before the game. In fact, he only announced the starting lineup, and then everything continued as usual. The players did not seem surprised, just waiting for the staff to notify them to enter the field and start the first gamble.

It was less than an hour before the game started. In a small, old-fashioned bar in one of Madrid's slums, the tiny bar was already packed. A group of old men gathered from all over the city, playing cards, drinking, and chatting. The sound of clinking glasses and hearty laughter echoed, making it the busiest time of the week for the bar.

No young people with their flashy nightlife, no rich people with their fancy gatherings. These, perhaps the hardest-working people in the city, had the purest hobbies and beliefs: football, Atletico Madrid. For them, who bore the burdens of life, being able to sit in the stands at the Calderon Stadium on every home game weekend was already everything. Following the team to every away game was a luxury far beyond their reach, but even so, it did not stop them from gathering in front of the same screen to cheer and shout for their beloved team.

"Frank, the lineup hasn't come out yet?" someone shouted at the bar.

"Damn it, you've asked me ten times already," the tall Frank replied irritably. The busiest time for the bar was also the busiest time for him, and this group always repeated the same question at this moment. "I said, I'll tell you when it comes out."

"Haha, aren't you anxious?" the man laughed without a care.

"Frank," another rough voice called out, "can't you get this dump a bit of internet? It's not the Stone Age."

"Absolutely not," Frank replied curtly, "if you want that, go somewhere else."

"Old stubborn," Tuck raised his head, took a big gulp of beer, and sneered.

In a small corner of the bar, Bal slowly drank his drink, quietly listening to the others' conversations. Perhaps others could not understand Frank's little stubbornness, but he understood. As Jimmy once said: some things are better old. It was not just out of nostalgia; if everyone only stared at their small screens, they might easily ignore the familiar faces around them. Although that might be the trend, everyone had their own bit of persistence.

Looking at the bustling crowd around him, Bal's lips curled, and he popped a sunflower seed into his mouth, shell and all, closing his eyes as if savoring the unique salty taste.

"It's out," Frank shouted a moment later.

"It's still 4-4-2," someone immediately shouted, "and the players are exactly the same as the starting lineup from the last game!"

"What's so strange about that? He's just a team doctor, what do you expect?"

"Damn Serez, isn't Atletico Madrid decadent enough? And Xiao Hill too."

...

Bal listened coldly to the others' cursing and discussions about the team and the new coach. The mindset of Atletico Madrid fans towards the new coach was the same as their mindset towards the game. They knew the team was not as strong as the opponents, they knew the score was impossible to catch up, but they always held out hope for a miracle. But if miracles were that easy to happen, they wouldn't be miracles.

Sometimes, Bal really did not want to use his other identity, one of the leaders of AAA.

AAA, the name of an extreme Atletico Madrid fan group.

Valladolid's home stadium could only hold over 20,000 people. Compared to the Bernabeu and Camp Nou, such a stadium in La Liga was almost embarrassing. The Jose Zorrilla Stadium, named after a Spanish poet, was anything but poetic when Lin Sen stood on the sidelines. The home fans started booing, seemingly targeting him.

"Damn, what did I do to you?" Lin Sen felt extremely unlucky, but fortunately, the game was about to start.

If you looked at the team sheets, Atletico Madrid clearly had an absolute advantage. As Lin Sen put it, if this were a card game, he could wipe out the other team in one go. Unfortunately, football was not a card game. Looking at his eleven players, they were all transparent, while the other eleven were at least light green, as if the whole team had taken a performance-enhancing drug.

This is not scientific, Lin Sen lamented.

As everyone knows, in the latter stages of a football league, there are two types of teams you cannot provoke: one is the title contenders, who are like wolves and tigers, ready to bite anyone. The other is the relegation battlers, who, to put it crudely, are like thugs with martial arts, unstoppable by anyone.

Don't believe it?

0:1...

Lin Sen almost spat out a mouthful of blood before he could even assess the situation. Damn, was that too fast? He checked the time; only three minutes had passed.

The Jose Zorrilla Stadium erupted in cheers.

Whatever.

Lin Sen shook his head. After all, his third bet was that the team would concede more than five goals. The players on the field should at least try to avoid conceding goals, even if they did not want to score. But as Lin Sen shook his head, the TV commentator got excited.

"Atletico Madrid conceded a goal at the start, and Lin has already started shaking his head. It seems this young Chinese man has not adapted to his coaching role. As a head coach, doesn't he know that a coach should not easily show his emotions in front of his players, especially actions that clearly lower morale?"

"Maybe Lin is just reminding his players not to get injured. Don't get injured..."

"Don't be so harsh, Luis. Lin is now a head coach, not a team doctor anymore, ha ha..."

...

Lin Sen did not know that his subconscious action was being openly mocked on TV in front of countless people. He stared at the field, trying to understand why, with Atletico Madrid's current overall strength, they should not be losing like this, looking like a team that anyone could bully. Now, the problem was clear.

Everyone knew that football was a team sport of eleven players. The Atletico Madrid in front of him had clearly forgotten the word "team." To put it nicely, each line had its own responsibilities. To put it bluntly, the defenders only cleared the ball, the midfielders only controlled it, and the forwards only kicked it. The lines were disconnected, and the team was dying together.

Seeing the problem, Lin Sen should have solved it, but he did not want to, nor could he. The former was because he needed to make the players understand why a team needed a head coach. The latter was because his bet had not even started, and he had not yet earned the respect to solve anything.

Lin Sen looked at the colors of his players on the field. Two were gradually turning green: one was the left-back, Anthony Lopez, and the other was the Uruguayan forward, Diego Forlán. After all, they were professional players, and the pride of a star could never be easily eroded. Lin Sen smiled inwardly.

In the 31st minute of the first half, Atletico Madrid was advancing in midfield. When Maniche saw the opposing player charging at him like a mad dog, he cursed inwardly and passed the ball to Forlán, who was making a run back. The ball was not fast, but Forlán was the closest player to it. Unfortunately, Maniche forgot that Forlán was not known for his speed.

The opposing player, Alvaro Rubio, was already eyeing the ball. Seeing the slow pace, he did not hesitate and charged forward to try to intercept the ball before Forlán could control it. Forlán did not even flinch. They almost touched the ball at the same time, but the taller Forlán had the advantage. However, he was also immediately tackled and was facing away from the goal.

Lin Sen's eyes suddenly lit up. Forlán's color instantly turned deep green, and the color above his head seemed to spread downward.

Forlán leaned against the opponent, pulled the ball with his left foot, and quickly turned, his movements fluid and graceful. He easily shook off Rubio and faced the goal.

"It's coming!" Lin Sen shouted in his heart.

Sure enough.

Forlán glanced at the goal, took a light touch, and, without hesitation, despite being over 30 meters from the goal, unleashed a powerful shot!

"Diego! Forlán!!! GOALLLLLLLLLLL......"

The Spanish commentator's elongated tone ignited the bars in Madrid, large and small. At that moment, countless glasses clinked, countless arms waved, and countless throats roared. On the field, Forlán raised his hand high. This was his 15th goal of the season, 15 goals in 32 games, not a very high goal efficiency, but definitely worthy of the current Atletico Madrid.

"Damn, that's what a star is!"

Lin Sen silently cheered on the sidelines, but on the surface, he remained cool and collected.

If there were more players like this, maybe, really, a head coach would not be necessary? Lin Sen began to fantasize about a better future.