To Madrid, this little slip-up was not a nail in the coffin. With 40 minutes left to the match, they were confident that they could still come back.

Coach Michels did, however, note a potential problem: With Diarra spending so much time dribbling in center field, the safety of their goal seemed to be in jeopardy.

So, as Nottingham F.C. celebrated their goal, he called Diarra over for a word.

“Listen up, I think you’ve been holding on to the ball too much, and for far too long. Your puppy-guarding might have cost us that goal.” He stared solemnly at Diarra as he spoke.

The player realised his error and replied. “I understand, coach. So you want me to hold on to the ball less?”

Michels shook his head, replying “No, it’s not like that. If you hold on to the ball less, how’ll you move it around the field for us? No, what I want is for you not to keep it under your feet for so long.” And then he demonstrated what he meant, and as he did so, he was suddenly reminded of a rival player, George Wood. But when he opened his mouth again to speak, this name didn’t come out.

“All I mean to say is that the defense they’ve set up in the center field is pretty tight. If you cut down on the time you’re keeping the ball underfoot, it’s more likely you’ll manage to break their defense, and less likely you’ll get intercepted.

Diarra listened to this and nodded. “Alright, I got it, coach.”

Michels then continued, deciding that now he had voiced his criticism, it was time for some reassurance. “Listen, don’t take that goal to heart. We’ve still got forty minutes, and that’s plenty of time to make a comeback. If you see Gago breaking into the others’ formation, I want you to pay attention. Make sure you work with him.

Once Diarra had gotten the idea, he ran back out onto the pitch.

Then, standing at his post beside the field, Michels began clapping heartily, in support of his team. He was clapping in the hopes that they would stir themselves back into motion; that they would remember their strength and their vigor. He wanted for them to regain hope; to not be trodden down by their lost goal.

※※※

Florentino finally snapped to his senses and ran back to his position. As he went Evan Doughty, the big-shot from Spain, approached him wearing a smile. Florentino was tempted not to shake the man’s hand and instead say something provocative — but in the end, reason prevailed, and he decided to bury the hatchet, at least for the time being.

He passed Doughty by, wearing a steady expression on his face. It seemed as though he was simply still focused on figuring out how he had lost the ball, and hadn’t noticed Doughty whatsoever.

The two of them sat simultaneously, and focused their attention on the game as it continued on.

※※※

Once again, Nottingham F.C. took dominance over the pitch. They surrounded Real Madrid’s goal and targeted it with an unrelenting blitz of shots, leaving the opposing team little time to breathe. Unfortunately for them, Casillas was on top of things, and after successfully blocking three separate goals, he came out victorious.

However, he had some things to say about the holes in his team’s defense. Picking himself up off the ground, he called them out:

“Don’t let them get shots in so easily! I don’t care if they’re right up close or far away!”

“Watch out for Gago’s back plug!”

“Remember: the wings and the ribs!”

And finally, under his guidance, Madrid’s defense snapped back into action.

Nottingham Forest tried multiple times to break Madrid once again, but each time they were unsuccessful. Eventually, they began to draw back in order to regain their strength.

Then, the game fell into a stalemate. Both sides attempted to break through the other’s defenses, but were unable. So, the game was very much trapped in the midfield.

Diarra stayed true to his word and abandoned his preferred play-style. Instead of holding on to the ball, he got in the habit of holding it for no more than a second before passing it off again. This time, Nottingham wasn’t prepared, and it showed. Gago dove for the ball, but ended up kicking thin air. Diarra’s strategy also had the effect of exhausting Nottingham’s defense, keeping them ever on their toes with his rapid, unpredictable passes.

Dunn too noticed this sudden change in tactics, and he glanced over at Michel.

The Real Madrid coach was no ordinary man. He has seen the problem and not only had he solved it, but he had also managed to turn things to his advantage… Now, Dunn needed to find someway to open Madrid’s defenses again.

His only option was to temporarily take Gago off of Diarra’s back, thus solidifying Nottingham’s retreat and furthering the stalemate.

As long as Diarra kept on immediately passing, the other team would not bother him. But as soon as he held on to the ball for even a second too long, Gago would be on him like a hawk.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the pitch, Ribéry stayed glued to George Wood. Ronaldo and Higuain lay idly to the sides on their wing positions. Madrid’s new “shoot from the ankle” tactics were garnering plenty of boos and hisses from the audience. Their opponents, meanwhile, were given three yellow cards, but despite this, things didn’t look too bad. Madrid had obviously still not fully adapted to their new strategy. Huntelaar and Benzema had resorted to taking the middle field, where their threat on the enemy goal was too little.

※※※

Time went on slowly, second-to-second and minute-to-minute. Soon enough they had reached the final 30 minutes of the second half, and neither team had managed to break the other’s defenses.

Nottingham, on their part, certainly were not worried. Sure, winning with a one-goal lead was not an absolute guarantee, but given the fact that they were playing in the finals, it seemed relatively likely. Dunn’s team decided upon a strategy of consistently diffusing Madrid’s attacks, whilst waiting for opportunities to fire back.

Real Madrid steadily began to lose their patience. They were playing a home match and were still down one point, while only fifteen minutes remained on the clock. Losing this match would mean failing to win a cup in their own Bernabéu Stadium.

In other words, it was something that they could absolutely not let happen.

Michel went to work, making some bold changes that not even Dunn could have predicted. Instead of substituting in any players, he opted to move around the players he already had out on field. Marcelo was sent midfield, Higuain was sent to the front, Ronaldo was returned to his much preferred right side, and Ramos was sent backfield to be a rear guard.

And thus Madrid’s formation changed from a 442 to a decidedly more aggressive 343.

When Dunn saw this he wore at first a look of astonishment, which then turned into a smile, and he began to chuckle to himself. Surely these kind of all-in offense tactics were not suitable to Real Madrid and Michel Gonzales! It seemed hasty; not a terribly well-planned move.

Dunn thought a moment, then decided on a strategy: They would not pursue any immediate goals and would instead play heavy defense, tiring out Madrid’s players. Then, at the last moment, they would bear down and score one final, fatal goal.

He whistled to his players and began to convey this with hand signals.

The changes on the pitch were plain to see: all of a sudden, Madrid’s offense had strengthened considerably, and Nottingham’s counter-offence had all but ceased. Madrid’s fans, who had earlier been silent and disappointed, has been reinvigorated and had returned to cheering and chanting their team on. They were elated again, and they yearned for victory.

One reason that football is such a wonderful game is that no matter how carefully the coaches on either side arrange their teams, and no matter how methodically they plan their strategies, there is always a tendency for the unexpected to prevail, and for the game to rocket off into some unforeseen direction.

Take, for example, the plan set forth by Michel Gonzales. He set his team forth on an all-or-nothing offensive strategy, and for a time, it did work. However, Nottingham F.C. had a decade of hard tempered will on their side. An aggressive front line did nothing to scare or intimidate them. They kept their heads.

Five more minutes passed, and some intermittent hissing could once again be heard from the audience. Hearing this, Dunn started to laugh once more. So, Madrid’s fans are ready to start crying? Then let’s put the pressure back on their team!

※※※

Ribéry lay on the ground again, rolling around in pain from taking a vicious kick. The offending player from Nottingham, Rafinha, was given a yellow card; his team’s fifth accrued throughout the match. Madrid, on the other hand, had a squeaky-clean slate: no cards the entire match.

Pepe came over to investigate, peering at the man as he lay there on the ground — he was sure that the Frenchman must be faking!

But he stayed by his teammate Woodgate’s side. It was a fortunate thing that Woodgate had such a quick grasp. Otherwise, if Pepe had been allowed to descend aggressively on the downed player, what sort of trouble would he have attracted? Surely Madrid would have played up the offense enough to earn Pepe his second yellow card, thus taking him out of the match.

Pepe’s energy had been undeniable throughout the match, so naturally, all eyes were on him.

“Bastard! You’re faking!” Pepe yelled, still at Woodgate’s side.

Ribéry pulled himself up off the ground, but did not respond. Instead he headed off, with a slight limp still visible in his step. It was unclear if the limp was genuine or not.

But this was just a brief episode. In a final match, when tension is high and emotions run blurry and intense, such fights are expected, and quickly forgotten. The match continued on.

Ribéry took his free kick on Nottingham, and he gave their keeper, Akinfeev, quite a hard time indeed. Ronaldo descended, sending out an inner pass that darted straight towards the goal box. He thought, if another player could just come up from midfield at just the right time… we could have a goal in no time.

But no such player came, and soon both teams flocked in on the ball all at once, generating a tangle of scrambling players. Akinfeev darted in and kicked the ball, hard.

The ball flew up and away from the goal, but all was not over yet. Right as the ball was careening away, a Madrid player was seen on the ground where the crowd of players had formed. From the stands, bellows were heard. “Penalty kick! Penalty kick! Penalty kick!”

The referee said nothing, but the player who had fallen, Christiano Ronaldo, attracted a furious glare from his opponent, Bell. The man came over and got very close to Ronaldo, his eyes blazing and his nostrils flaring as he sputtered angry abuse at the downed player.

Akinfeev and two Madrid players quickly dashed in and separated the two.

“That’s a penalty kick!” Benzema yelled at the referee while shoving Bell away.

“Why don’t you go kick your mother?” Someone yelled back. It was Rafinha, still seething after taking a yellow card.

Seeing the building conflict, the remaining clear-headed players on each team rushed in to deescalate.

Because there was no direct physical violence between many of the players, the referee decided not to give out any cards. Instead, he called Rafinha, Benzema, Ronaldo, and Bell aside, and he gave them all verbal warnings. He tried to get them to shake hands and forget about their conflict, but the four men turned their backs and sauntered away, paying him no further attention.

He shook his head in disappointment. This game, it turned out, would be no different from all the others: both sides were reflexively hostile, and they would be til the end. He just hoped no one would overstep their bounds… if that was even possible.

The referee stood still awhile in the same place, his expression reading equal parts disappointed and angry. But, he knew his best option was to turn the other cheek, and let the game go on. The players were set in their hostile ways, and there was little more he could do about it but to try and bear through the rest of the match.

Dunn watched this from the sidelines, wearing a smile. Go ahead and keep whistling, he thought, and stretch the final ten minutes out with more injury time!

Michel saw Dunn’s expression and knew what he was thinking. He jogged up to the side of the field, not showing the usual elegance of a big-shot coach, and he yelled out to his team, “Come on, get back in there! Let’s get this going! We’re still behind!”

His shouts prompted Real Madrid to drop their anger with the referee, and they snapped back into the mindset of playing the game.

Seeing this, Dunn blew his whistle. Sure enough, he thought, he isn’t a complete dunce. Maybe he isn’t so stupid after all.

※※※

The match continued again, and the energy from the stands was not lessened at all. Real Madrid’s fans and players alike all felt that the referee had been unfair, and the anger of both teams was quite apparent as time went on. Nottingham Forest had taken to shooting from the heel for nearly 45 minutes, and Madrid’s fans were getting noticeably angry.

Both teams’ plays started to get bigger and more dramatic, and pushes for goals became much more frequent.

Ultimately, the referee had no choice but to give Madrid a yellow card, which soothed tensions on the pitch a little. Since this was the team’s first yellow card in the match, Dunn stood up and clapped for them. The mocking nature of this gesture was quite clear, though, and he was chided by a fourth official, who called out, “hey, watch it!” The official came over and said to him “you need to mind the way you conduct yourself, Tony Dunn.”

The game was at 87 minutes and the score was 2 to 1, with Nottingham Forest F.C. in the lead.

Nottingham’s benched players all stood at the side of the pitch, buzzing excitedly. They were eagerly awaiting the moment when they would at last be awarded their Treble, for which they had waited so long.

Even Dunn’s co-coaches were up, and they stood with the players, just as excited.

Dunn was excited too, but he had to hide it. If his team were to see him looking happy already, they would get smug, and then they would get sloppy. Even if there were only five minutes left, plus a few more for injury time; he knew that they could still be in serious danger if they didn’t have their wits about them.

At this point, he knew that it would be no good to keep striving for more goals. Instead, it would be best to play defensively, thus keeping their lead for the remaining time. At the 80 minute mark, he had traded out Sahin for Kompany, who joined up to make a three-point defensive line. The coach conveyed this new strategy to the rest of the team.

Gago’s strategy was to change as well. Instead of being there to assist, he was told to work with Wood in the midfield, such that they could pull apart Madrid’s offense.

The indignant murmuring of the crowd grew and grew, and increasingly it became hard to tell whether they were angry at Nottingham, Madrid, or the referee.

Up on the stand, the two men there were unable to hide their feelings. Florentino wore a grave expression, and Evan Doughty had an unmistakable grin. Undoubtedly, he was smiling because at long last, it seemed as though the great Real Madrid would be forced to bow its head.

He cheered internally for Tony Dunn, and tried not to look too visibly arrogant… wow, he thought, this is hard.

※※※

Michel stood to his side, almost appearing as though he no longer had a plan. In the last 10 minutes, he had switched out two players: Diarra had been replaced by De la Red, and then shortly after, Vallejo had replaced David Luiz.

Seeing these two substitutions, Dunn couldn’t help but grin. He figured Michel must be crazy after all.

We’re right at the final stretch, he thought, you can’t kill me now! Don’t you see that it’s I who shall kill you?

A man who is barefoot doesn’t fret wearing shoes, but the opposite is not always true. Now, it appeared that the great and dignified team Real Madrid, practically royalty, would have no choice but to get its feet in the mud.

Seeing that Real Madrid was beginning to play more aggressively, and with more imposing strength, Dunn began to doubt his team’s safety. Their only option, he told himself, was to keep on retreating. The game was getting ugly, and he needed to maintain his team’s safety.

All they needed to do was hold out for a few more minutes… a few more minutes…

Dunn repeated those words to himself over and over in his head, not realising that he had now clenched both of his fists. Sweat dripped down his brow.

※※※

Real Madrid’s sudden shock-and-awe, almost lunatic tactics succeeded in finally frightening some of Nottingham Forest’s players. Three forwards, five midfielders, and two defenders had managed to encircle the team onto one half of the pitch.

Real Madrid had abandoned shooting from the ankle, and they held their position on Nottingham’s half of the pitch with strength and persistence. They were no longer worried about how Nottingham would play the rest of the game — as long as the ball kept coming to them, they kept launching attacks. They were relentless.

As this transpired, Nottingham F.C. shrunk back into their shell, like a threatened turtle

On the stand, Evan Doughty’s smile had begun to fade. Next to him, Florentino watched the match as though he was just a fan. His gaze darted around nervously, paying no attention to the people around him as their expressions began to change.

The fourth official stood to the side, holding up his electronic board. He thought to himself, it looks like I’m going to have to call injury time soon.

Dunn shot glances at the fourth official, wishing he would stop standing around, looking cute. The sooner he got onto the pitch and called injury time, the sooner they could end the match. He knew they couldn’t be that far off from the 90 minute mark.

Call it, he thought, just call injury time! We’ve been here for 90 minutes, haven’t we? Don’t tell me there’s still more time left on the clock!

Inside, he cheered himself and his team on, deciding it would do no good to keep obsessing over how much time was left. Then, he looked over and saw that unexpectledly, Ribéry had finally broken past Wood in a sudden attack!

Wood’s face wore an expression of utter shock. Not long before, Ribéry had been limping, his foot apparently injured. It was for this reason that Wood had slacked a bit when defending against the player — he didn’t expect the guy would suddenly spring back into action!

In that period of time, Ribéry had already closed the distance to the penalty box.

Pepe immediately rushed in, and yelled “They’re in! Come on, they’re in! Wake up, you old geezers!”

But he was moving just a little too slow, and Ribéry was already getting too close, almost ready to line up a shot. Pepe reached out and lightly pushed the player’s shoulder with his hand…

Ribéry, who had just a moment earlier been darting like a rabbit, all of a sudden came crashing down like a bomb.

He crashed to the ground and sprawled out on all four limbs.

Everyone was totally shocked by this sudden development.

Tony Dunn was standing now.

“Penalty Kick! Penalty kick! Penalty kick!” Now it was not just the crowd who was yelling, but the commentator had joined in as well, sounding outraged with what he had just seen.

Everyone turned their gaze to see the referee, who was running out onto the pitch, gesturing with his hands… for a penalty kick.

Up on the stand, Evan Doughty’s expression had shifted to something akin to one who has just eaten a plate of live caterpillars. How exciting, he thought, how very exciting it is, this match… (To be continued! Head to www.qidian.com to read more, support the author, and to show your support for real writing.)