Wood quickly returned to Tang En's side. He looked at Tang En, and Tang En lowered his head to look at his watch. "Three minutes have passed so quickly? Alright, let me tell you what you should do once you get up there. " He pulled Wood back and pointed at Fàbregas, who was running on the field and passing the ball. "Look, that number 25 on the other side. Do you see him?"
Wood nodded. "I see him."
"He's Arsenal's midfield commander. He's the center of the team. He's the key to whether or not Arsenal can beat us in this match. His name is Francesc Fàbregas. Remember his name, his looks, and his number. Then go up and bite him one on one. Stare at him and freeze him. Don't let him easily receive passes from his teammates. Don't let him easily pass the ball out. If he wants to dribble the ball and break through, take him down. Do you understand? " Tang En turned his head to look at Wood. The lad seemed to be looking forward to his own match. He could not calm down at Tang En's side. He kept bouncing around, as if he was warming up.
That was right. Always with a cold face, looking like a robot. Who would like that? It was normal for a lad to be excited and expectant.
"Yes, I understand."
Suddenly, Tang En's attention was attracted by Wood's two dishonest legs. He frowned and looked at them before asking, "George, where are your leg guards?"
"I'm not wearing them."
"Why aren't you wearing them?"
"I don't like it. It's uncomfortable."
"That won't do. Go put them on. Wearing leg guards is to protect you from getting hurt. "
"I won't get hurt."
"Come on, don't talk nonsense. Go put them on, or I won't let you play! "Tang En said sternly.
It worked. Wood immediately ran back. Tang En shook his head helplessly as he watched him shove his leg guards into his goal-scoring socks. There was a saying that the lad might not be wrong. There was no one in this world who could hurt him on the field.
With a dead ball opportunity, the Forest team made a substitution. George Wood, who wore the number 55, replaced the number 18, James Beaumont.
Seeing Forest's substitution, Brady glanced at Wood's number. “55？” Generally, people who used such large numbers, other than personal preference, did not have a high status in the team. They were substitutes of substitutes. The good numbers had all been picked by others, and when it was their turn, they were left with useless numbers after 30. Putting on such a number was tantamount to announcing to everyone: I am a substitute, I have no ability!
He did not understand why Tang En would bring in such a person.
"Who knows who Number 55 is?" He turned his head to look at the coaching staff, the coaches, the team doctor … Everyone shook their heads in response to his question.
That's right. It was not just the Arsenal coaches. No one in the world knew who the tall boy with the number 55 was. What position does he play? How is his playing style? How is his footwork? What were his strengths and weaknesses? What's his temper like? Was he a genius or a good-for-nothing? Was he a rising star or an ordinary person destined to be mediocre?
For the football world, George Wood was a blank piece of paper. He could either write a thick and colorful stroke on this piece of white paper, or he could simply scribble a few strokes on it before it was crumpled into a ball and thrown into the trash bin.
Now, in front of a strong team, Arsenal, in front of Professor Wenger, who had a pair of discerning eyes, Wood was about to make the first stroke in his career.
It was something to look forward to!
George Wood, who came on, ran across half the field to the Arsenal player, Fàbregas. He then stopped and stared at him …
Tang En rolled his eyes. He could even hear Kerslake's sigh from behind him.
Arsenal's technical area was in a mess of laughter. Brady's laughter was the most exaggerated. His facial muscles looked like they were convulsing, and he could not even speak smoothly. "Alright … alright. Now we're clear. He's the person responsible for defending Fàbregas … Haha!"
On the field, Fàbregas looked strangely at the player who was taller and stronger than him. He was not a pure-blooded Caucasian, because his skin was the color of wheat, which represented mixed blood. Furthermore, he was quite good-looking and quite handsome.
Number 55 … Such a low number. You want to use such a person to defend against me?
He moved his gaze away from Wood and fixed it on the Forest manager, Tony Twain.
Hey, Mr. Coach. Can I interpret this as you looking down on me?
Off the field, even the Forest fans could not understand Tang En's substitution.
"Hey! Who's that number 55? Does anyone know? "
"Is he an idiot? Is he supposed to stand in front of the opponent like that? "Someone complained loudly. "What's Tony thinking? Substituting a big idiot would be able to defend against the opponent's number 25? "
The person had just finished speaking when he was dragged in front of John. Fat John's angry, wide face appeared in front of him, like a 22-inch widescreen monitor. It was quite a visual impact.
"Shut up! Don't look down on him! "John growled.
The person mocking Wood was stunned. He forgot to nod or shake his head.
Someone beside him asked John, "John, do you know that number 55?"
Bill nodded and answered for John. "George Wood. Tony picked him up from the streets."
"How's his play? What position does he play? "
This time, Bill shook his head. "We've never seen him play before, but Tony thinks very highly of him."
Someone in the crowd whistled to express his displeasure.
"All of you, shut up!" Fat John threw the pitiful person in his hand to the side and roared, "No one is allowed to doubt his ability!"
"Why, John?" People asked all at once.
"Yeah, he hasn't proven his ability at all … What ability does he have?"
"Because … he's Gavin's idol! He's Gavin's favorite player, the player he thinks most highly of! "Fat John glared at everyone and roared.
The crowd suddenly quietened down.
Fat John cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He stretched out his hands and got into a stance. "Now, sing with me! Wood, Wood, Wood! Wood, Wood, Wood! Grow into a forest! "
"Pa pa pa!" This was Fat John beating the beat with his hands.
"Wood! Wood! Wood, Wood, Wood! Grow into a forest! Forest! Forest! "
"Pa pa pa!"
"Wood! Wood! Wood, Wood, Wood! Grow into a forest! Forest, Forest! "
"Pa pa pa!"
"Forest, Forest — Forest!!"
These people followed John and Bill and sang the improvised song loudly to cheer for George Wood.
Other than the relevant personnel of the two teams nearby, they had the most people and were the most concentrated. As soon as they started singing, they attracted almost everyone's attention.
Tang En looked back and saw John and the others seriously singing for Wood. He grinned.
Arsenal's technical area also noticed this sudden situation. Brady could not laugh anymore. He was a little taken aback. Could it be that this man was not a nobody? To have so many fans supporting and liking him, to the point that they had even composed a song for him, this should not be the treatment of an idiot!
Number 55, what kind of person are you? Is this Tony Twain's secret weapon?
Off the field, the attention of the two teams' technical area was not on the field. The same was true for the players on the field. Almost everyone turned their heads to cast strange and surprised gazes at the group of Forest fans. Under everyone's gaze, they continued to sing for Wood as if there was no one else around.
Wood? Wood?
The Spanish teenager standing in front of Wood tilted his head slightly. His gaze was also attracted by the group of fans singing loudly outside the field.
Only George Wood did not react after hearing the song. He still stared at Fàbregas in front of him.
Because Tang En had said to himself: Bite him, stare at him, freeze him … Finish him!
Clichy, the young French player who was Ashley Cole's substitute in the First Team, passed the football to Fàbregas in front. Then he buried his head in a sprint, hoping to do a wall-style one-two with his teammates. But after he ran over, he found that the football did not pass over as he wished.
Almost at the same time that Fàbregas received Clichy's pass, he was also hit by George Wood from behind. As a result, when he lost his balance and struggled to maintain his balance, he naturally could not pass the football to where he wanted to pass it. The football was directly kicked out of the sideline by himself.
Fàbregas complained to the referee that Wood's action was a foul, but the referee ignored it.
This level of physical collision was as common as eating and drinking in England. If a foul was called for when one was hit, then the game would be interrupted dozens of times. Not being able to hit the opponent only meant that your body was not strong enough.
Seeing Wood successfully defend against Fàbregas in a one-on-one, Tang En and Kerslake beside him high-fived in celebration. The kid's performance was better than anyone had expected. After ten months of training, he was no longer the young kid who was at a loss for his first time on the field and then broke the opponent's leg with a shovel.
Fàbregas was confident. George Wood was also very confident. Fàbregas did not have stage fright. George Wood also did not know how to write the word "afraid." So what if you're a young genius, the golden boy of the world? My George Wood, newborn calves are not afraid of tigers!
In order to prevent Wood from colliding with him when he received the ball, Fàbregas had to move his body forward to receive the ball. At the same time, he took advantage of the situation to kick the football back and make a big turn to adjust the direction of the attack. I've shaken you off this time, right?
No!
Fàbregas turned around to find that the hot breath from Wood's nose had already sprayed onto his face!
This bastard! Relentless pursuit!
Fàbregas, who found that the football under his feet was very dangerous, hurriedly adjusted his body again. He turned his back to Wood and finally protected the ball. But wouldn't all the effort he had put in before be for naught?
This opponent was very silent and did not make a sound. But Fàbregas could always hear the sound of breathing coming from behind his spine. It was like a ghost sticking to him and he could not shake it off …
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