Cash replaced Gareth Williams. He had expended too much energy in the tug-of-war in the midfield against Wimbledon and would not be of much help if he stayed on the field.
Walker was a little puzzled when he saw that Twain had brought Cash on. "Tony, you said you don't care about ball control and beautiful scenes …"
"Des … There are no tactics that are rigid. There's no manager who doesn't know how to be flexible … If there are, then he's not a qualified manager. I did say I don't need extra ball control, but the team's current problem is that they can't even do basic ball control, so I let Cash go up. He can control the ball. Zero percent ball control will never win. The theory of 'useless ball control' doesn't mean completely abandoning ball control, but abandoning unnecessary and complicated ball control. Do you understand? "
Walker hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I think I roughly understand …"
Twain sighed in his heart. This was why some people transmigrated to become managers, while others could only become assistant managers after working hard their entire lives. "Des, you have to remember, what is the essence of tactics? It's just a way to win. If one tactic can't win, we'll change to another. It's as common as changing clothes. Maybe one day, I'll abandon the theory of 'useless ball control' and use tactics to control the scene again … "
"Ah! I understand now. No matter what the process is, you just want to win the game. As long as you win, it doesn't matter what tactics you use. "
Twain glanced at him. "You're enlightened, Des."
Cash quickly made use of a beautiful escape to create an opportunity for Johansson to shoot. Unfortunately, the latter's header was too high. Applause rang out from the stands, most of which was for Cash.
Wimbledon's players frequently snatched the ball while defending, and their movements were large. Perhaps they just wanted to use this method to show their imposing manner, but in Cash's eyes, this type of defense was his favorite.
Liking to snatch the ball meant that there was an opening behind them. Large defensive movements meant that they needed more time to complete their movements. There were more flaws, and it was easier to break through …
"Cash! Another pass! A beautiful escape! "
After this happened several times in a row, Wimbledon began to focus their defense on Cash's right flank. After being tackled to the ground once by the opponent. Tang En had Cash and Reid switch positions on the sidelines. Whichever side of Wimbledon's defense was empty, Cash could go there. He could even break through the middle.
He wanted Cash to mess up Wimbledon's defense so that they couldn't mark or find anyone to mark. In any case, Kashy was full of energy. He was not afraid that the kid would not be able to run.
After creating a few dangerous situations for the opponent's goal, the visiting team's manager could no longer sit still. Murdoch also made his own adjustments. He used his last substitution and used it very reluctantly. Previously, in order to take advantage of the victory, he had changed two offensive players in one go. He had quite the crazy spirit of the "Crazy Gang." Unfortunately, he had no choice but to change them back now. He replaced the physically exhausted Morgan with a tall defensive midfielder, hoping that, like Tang En's substitution, it would have the effect of controlling the midfield.
Seeing Murdoch's substitution, Twain knew what he was thinking. As time went by, it was a satisfactory result for the visiting team to be able to take a point. Especially considering that they were trailing by two goals in this game before equalizing, this point was even more valuable.
However, Tang En was not satisfied. This game was their home ground. How could there be such a passionate and generous home team when they let the opponent equalize when they were leading by two goals and then happily take a point?
He still had one last card in his hand. There were only three players left on the substitutes' bench. The substitute forward Craig Westcarr, the substitute defender Christian Edwards, and the substitute goalkeeper Barry Roche.
Tang En was not at ease with Westcarr's ability. Even if he was replaced, he might not be able to strengthen the offense. The remaining two players were defensive players, and the goalkeeper, Ward, had performed well. There was no need to change the goalkeeper. What's the point of changing a center back?
He turned his head to look at Edwards, who was still warming up on the sidelines. The kid was quite tall. Speaking of tall, Tang En suddenly remembered that in the game against West Ham, Captain Dawson had once scored a header. Unfortunately, it was disallowed by the damn referee.
Why couldn't it be like this?
So, he decided to make a final substitution. He let Edwards go up to replace Dawson as center back, but did not take off the captain. Edwards came on to replace the exhausted Hailwood and pushed Dawson to the front line.
When Edwards heard the manager's decision, he thought he had heard wrong. Tang En told him very clearly to pass on all these words to Dawson, to let Dawson go to the front to fight for headers. If there was a chance, he would shoot. If there was no chance, he would pass it to his teammates.
After Edwards came on, he told Dawson all of Tang En's instructions. Dawson looked to the sidelines in surprise, and Tang En gestured for him to go forward.
Hailwood apologized to Tang En after he came off. "I'm sorry, Boss."
Tang En found it strange. "Why are you apologizing, Malone?"
"I didn't score more goals …"
Tang En laughed. "You've already scored two. How many more do you want to score? You've done enough. Don't think about anything else. Go take a shower and change your clothes. "
After sending Hailwood away, Tang En did not return to the technical area. Instead, he stood on the sidelines and watched the game with his arms crossed. He always thought that this was the only way to give the players some confidence and the belief to persevere. A manager who sat in the technical area at all times was not qualified.
Time passed by, and the score remained unchanged.
"If it weren't for those four goals, this game could be said to be extremely boring," Motson complained.
He was right. From the looks of it, both teams were not playing the type of football that would make neutral fans happy. Most people would definitely turn the channel at the first instant they saw such a game. However, it was different for the fans of the two teams. What they were most concerned about was not which side played better, more gorgeous, or more artistic, but which side could win.
Tang En was like the fans. He did not care whether his team played better or not. He only cared about whether they could win this damn game.
There were five minutes left before the game entered injury stoppage time. So far, other than the substitutions of both sides, the game had not been interrupted much. The injury stoppage time should only last three minutes.
In eight minutes, they had to score a goal.
Dawson's header to the front caused a panic for Wimbledon. Unfortunately, his players did not grasp the opportunity. Dawson was not a striker, nor had he played as one before. Other than headers, he did not know how to shoot. His passing and dribbling were average. Tang En letting him go up was originally a gamble. If they won, everything would be fine. If they lost … he might have to bear the infamy of using tactics indiscriminately and substituting players indiscriminately.
The football world was so cruel. The winner was king, and the loser was a bandit.
Tang En did not want to be a bandit. He wanted to be a king. Who did not want to be a king?
He felt his legs turn to jelly. A huge pressure hovered over his head, waiting for the moment it would finally fall. But on the surface, he did not show anything. He did not want anyone to see his weakness, especially those annoying omnipresent cameras.
Another three minutes passed. The singing of the Forest fans in the stands grew louder and louder. On the contrary, the Wimbledon fans were completely silent. Tang En glanced at the stands. There were still countless arms waving. It was almost a sea of red. The fans had not given up. His team had even less reason to give up.
"Attack! Attack! I don't want a draw! "Tang En stood by the side of the field and roared." A draw is a f * cking failure! All of you, press forward! "
He was not worried about Wimbledon's counterattack. Eugen Bopp's performance in this match was simply too perfect. From the left to the right, the midfield was all under his control. Wimbledon could not attack at all.
The fourth official had already raised the stoppage board on the side of the field. It was just as Tang En had expected: three minutes.
Tang En looked at the board in the fourth official's hand and bit his lip. Hope was slipping away from him bit by bit. A draw like this would undoubtedly be a failure. If the opponent could even equalize with a two-goal lead … F * cking hell!
Tang En turned back to look at him behind the technical area. He wanted to see what Michael's expression was. He must be very disappointed. He did not win the match against West Ham. It was the same for this match. But what did he see?
“Forest`Go！ Go！ Forest！ Forest！ Forest`Go！ Go! "Michael, like all the Forest fans, clapped and shouted, cheering for his team. They were uniform, and their rhythmic cheers rang throughout the stadium. Tang En suddenly felt his nose sting. These were the true traditional English fans. They were loyal and had no regrets. They loved their team more than anything else. With such fans, why would they worry about the team's future being hopeless?
The 90-minute match time was up, and the match officially entered injury stoppage time.
Eugen Bopp snatched the ball from the feet of a Wimbledon player with great vigor and immediately passed it to Andy Reid. The heavy responsibility of the team's offense now fell on the shoulders of the 20-year-old lad. In the final stages of the second half, Wimbledon's Norwegian defensive midfielder, Trond Andersen, came up to find trouble with Reid. The two men tangled together, and it looked like the Forest team's attack would end without a hitch.
The Norwegian was ruthless, kicking Reid's ankles several times. If it were any other time, he would have fallen to the ground and rolled in pain. Not only could he make the opponent get a card, but he could also earn a free kick, killing two birds with one stone. But now, he could not gain any advantage by making the opponent get a card. A free kick from more than 40 meters away from the goal was not threatening at all.
Reid was infuriated by Anderson's kicks. He tried his best to block the opponent behind him. No matter how the opponent kicked him, he protected the ball and began to look for him.
Where's Cash? Where's that kid?!
Cash also saw Reid's predicament, but he could not shout, because that would attract the attention of the opposing defender.
At this time, Bopp found that the team's offense was in trouble. Although the manager only asked him to defend, he still decided to go up and help Reid.
"Hey, Andy!" Bopp's voice came from behind Reid. "Give me the ball!"
Reid could not see his teammates, but he still passed the ball out by relying on his voice.
Bopp received the ball without hesitation. He directly kicked a long pass to where it should have been long ago — on the right side of the field. Brian Cash plugged in from behind. He was not marked by anyone, and he beautifully unloaded the long pass! But just as he stopped the ball, the opposing two defenders surrounded him …
No one had any hope for the Forest team's attack this time, except for their own fans. Motson commentated the last three minutes of the game at a normal pace and tone. Who knew if this would be the Forest team's last attack of the game?
"Brian Cash, he's facing two Wimbledon players … Oh! He went over! "
There were loud cheers in the stands. Cash drilled through the gaps of the crowd like a loach, bringing the ball with him! There were large sections of blank space in front of him!
What else was he waiting for if he did not speed up at this time?
Cash pushed the ball forward and no longer cared about the opponent who turned and chased after him. He rushed to the end line.
"Legtwood came up to defend him. He's very fast. He did a flying tackle! Cash … Beautiful! "Motson roared.
What excited Motson, who had been commentating on matches for 31 years, was naturally Cash's spectacular dodging. The Irish kid poked the ball to the side the moment Legtwood stretched his leg over. Legtwood's shovel missed, and Cash took advantage of the situation to leap high and fly over his head. He then caught up with the ball. At this point, he was already close to the end line.
Tang En stared nervously at the field. When he saw Cash dodge Legtwood's tackle, he repeatedly muttered a word, "Pass, pass, pass … Pass!"
Cash seemed to have heard his roar. After a slight adjustment, he passed the ball toward the front of the goal.
"Cash passes the ball, Michael Dawson! Header … Johansson — Yes! Yes！ Johansson! Johansson! Gooooal!!! "Motson jumped up from his seat with the microphone raised. "This is a goal in the 90th minute! A kill! David Johansson! 3: 2, Forest Team! "
When Johansson poked the ball Dawson had set down into the goal, the City Ground Stadium suddenly shook. The stands, the VIP boxes, the coaches' seats, the substitutes' seats, and even behind the goal … in the bars outside the stadium, in the taxis, in front of the radio and television … Everywhere, people jumped up, raised their arms, and cheered for victory.
Johansson, who had scored, was pinned under his teammates. Even the goalkeeper, Ward, ran from the front of the goal to the front field to participate in the celebration. This was their first victory since the 24th round of the league tournament on December 21st last year!
Tang En excitedly squatted down and punched the turf. Then he got up and looked back at the huddled group in the technical area. He saw Walker hugging Bowyer, and he also saw Bowyer's originally meticulous white hair had long been scattered in the air. Jess, Williams, and Harewood, who had been substituted off the field, jumped down from the substitutes' bench and rushed toward their teammates who were celebrating on the field. That speed … was completely unlike people who had been running on the field for dozens of minutes.
This was the joy of victory …
Victory! I f * * king won!
He raised his fist and shouted.
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