Mitchell's goal made the England fans, who had been a little restless before, ecstatic. They hugged each other in the stands and cheered loudly. In faraway England, all the people who were watching the game were shouting Mitchell's name and cheering for him.
In the England team's technical area and substitutes' bench, people also jumped up and rushed to the sidelines, waving their fists and releasing their emotions to their hearts' content.
For the English people, it was a joyous moment. They were leading Spain by 3: 1 when the game was about to enter injury stoppage time. They were almost certain to advance to the final. If there was wine at hand, they would drink it. If there was someone around, they would hug.
But in this noisy and joyous atmosphere, only Mitchell knelt on the ground and did not join in.
The joy of advancing to the final had nothing to do with him. When the semi-final was over, his UEFA European Championship would end here.
At this time, he really could not laugh, even if he was a more optimistic person.
Rooney ran up and hugged his shoulders from behind, accompanying him on his knees on the ground. "Well done, Aaron!"
Mitchell did not respond to his senior's praise.
At this time, he even hoped that the semi-final would be a little longer. He did not want to leave so early.
"Aaron Mitchell. Although he has missed out on the final, he sent the team into the final with such a wonderful goal … It's a pity not to see him appear in the final at the Bernabéu … "John Motson said emotionally.
"England has lost a sharp tooth. I don't know how this loss will affect them in the final …" After seeing Mitchell's goal, the commentators from other countries said that Twain would probably have a headache for a while if he could not bring Mitchell to the final.
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Asenjo spread his hands and shook his head helplessly. In the face of such a goal concede, he really had nothing to say. England's counterattack was expected, but he did not expect Mitchell to choose such a way to shoot, a way that he could not do anything about.
Piqué stood in front of him, looking down at the turf. No one could see his expression, and no one knew what he was thinking.
Fàbregas held his head in his hands and pursed his lips. He could already foresee the team's failure. But when the powerful Spain faced England, they had almost no ability to fight back. What exactly went wrong?
Maybe Hiero knew. From the beginning of the game, England's change of formation was completely beyond his expectations, and in response to such a change, his adjustments appeared too slow. He almost did nothing throughout the first half and watched helplessly as England gained the upper hand.
Hierro, who was sitting in the manager's seat, had no choice but to painfully admit that he was still somewhat inexperienced as a manager. He had indeed made adjustments during the halftime interval, but it was all within Tang En's calculations. He was basically being led around by the nose.
Rather than saying that Tang En had won in terms of tactics, it was more accurate to say that his experience gave him the upper hand.
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There were four minutes of injury stoppage time. Spain knew that their chances of advancing were very slim, but they were not willing to let England go just like that. During these four minutes, they were completely bombarding England's penalty area. On the other hand, the entire England team pulled back to defend and defended the penalty area.
When the referee blew the whistle to signal the end of the game, the Spanish players collapsed on the turf, while the England substitutes rushed onto the field and hugged their teammates to celebrate this historic moment.
"The competition is over! 3: 1! England defeated Spain! Fifty years later, we have once again entered the finals of the World Series! Champion, here we come! " John Motson shouted, but his voice had been drowned out by the louder cheers at the scene.
Tang En ran onto the field and did not hug the others. Instead, he ran straight to Mitchell. He held out his hands to him and gave him a solid hug.
"You did a great job, Aaron."
He stroked Mitchell's hair to comfort him, who was lost in the joyous crowd.
Mitchell finally could not hold back his tears and wiped them all on Tang En's suit and shirt. "I want to play in the final, boss …"
In the face of his crying, Tang En could not say anything. He could only hug him tighter.
George Wood had originally intended to comfort Mitchell, but he was a step too slow and was held back by his enthusiastic teammates. When he saw Tang En hugging Mitchell and saying something, he stopped in his tracks and just watched quietly from a distance.
On a night like this, even if there were a million people happy, it would not make the young man in front of him happy.
Wood felt someone touch his arm. He looked back and found that it was Fàbregas. He pointed to the jersey on Wood's body. "Want to exchange?"
Wood did not say anything. He took off his jersey and handed it over.
Fàbregas also handed his jersey to Wood.
"You guys played well. I'm sorry about Mitchell. That was not my decision … "Fàbregas tried to comfort Wood, who was not in a good mood.
Wood shook his head. "If it were me, I would have done the same."
"If it were you? Do you mean to foul or to bait the other side to foul? "
"Metropolis." Wood hung Fàbregas' jersey on his shoulder.
Fàbregas knew that Wood was not being polite. He would really do that. So he smiled and felt that it was a little stupid to say that to Wood. How could he forget what kind of person the other party was? They would do anything to achieve their goals. This was what their "boss" Tony Twain had always taught them. When did the winner need the sympathy of a loser?
"Good luck to you guys. The final will not be easy to play. But I'll go cheer you guys on. " Fàbregas patted Wood on the shoulder. The two had been enemies in the English Premier League for more than a decade. Outside of the game, they were like long-time friends. "I hope the team that eliminates us is the champion. If it's the runner-up, we can't afford to lose face. "
He waved his hand and bade farewell to the winner, Wood.
In the post-match press conference, Twain specifically talked about Mitchell. After praising his performance, he also admitted that losing such an excellent center forward in the final was not a small blow to himself.
When the reporter talked about how Lago was obviously targeting Wood, and if he had to choose between Wood and Mitchell, who would he choose to give up, he replied, "I won't give up either one."
In the England team, the joy of advancing to the final was slightly diluted because Mitchell was bound to miss the final. Everyone in the locker room was trying to comfort Mitchell, but none of their words of comfort could compare to Wood's hug.
Wood knew in his heart that it was Mitchell who sent him to the final. So this hug was especially powerful.
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In fact, Mitchell could be considered an optimistic person in nature. The next day, the team had breakfast in the hotel and was ready to set off for Madrid. He looked like he had returned to normal. His depressed expression was gone, and when others spoke to him, he was no longer silent and depressed.
This made the assistant manager, Des Walker, breathe a sigh of relief. If Mitchell was always frowning, it would definitely affect the team's morale and mentality, which would not be conducive to their performance in the final. Now it seemed that he had worried for nothing.
Advancing to the final did not give the players a chance to relax. On the night of their arrival in Madrid, Twain arranged for a night training session. During the training, Mitchell was more active than usual. Logically speaking, his UEFA European Championship was over, and there was no need for him to even participate in the training, but he still treated the training very seriously. Seeing him work so hard on the training ground, the players who secretly complained that they were tired had no reason to slack off.
In fact, he was not targeting his teammates. He just wanted to vent his excess energy and depressed emotions on the training ground — it was impossible for him to vent on the field.
The players also noticed Mitchell's actions, and they were secretly planning a move related to Mitchell.
"We have to do something for him." Someone whispered in a place that avoided Mitchell during the training break. It was a few strikers. "In such an important final, he has become a spectator. I believe he must feel bad. Don't be fooled by the way he acts. It's all an illusion. "As Mitchell's club teammate, Agbonlahor empathized with him.
"But we have comforted him several times, and it doesn't seem to have any effect …" James Vaughan was at his wit's end. He and Mitchell were not teammates at the club, and their contact was limited to the national team level. He could not say some overly intimate words, and words of comfort could only become a formality.
"Now is not the time to comfort him." Rooney expressed his opinion. "It's very simple. It's already happened. No matter how we comfort him, it's useless. He just can't play in the final. I think what we should do at this time is to let him feel that we are all together with him … "Rooney thought about it and looked up to the other two men to say," I don't know which one of us will be in the starting lineup in the final. "
As a veteran player in England, he was definitely not being modest or pretentious when he said that. Rooney was not that kind of person. The truth was that since the start of the first group stage game against Portugal, Tang En had been constantly adjusting the team. The starting lineup was almost always different. Anyone could be placed on the bench, and anyone could be in the starting lineup. It was foolish to say that one would definitely be in the starting lineup now.
"I don't know which one of us can score a goal. If you can, hug him after the goal, or write something on your T-shirt. "
"That's a good idea!" Agbonlahor's eyes lit up. "I'll go tell the others …" He patted his butt and was about to leave, but he was held back by Rooney.
"Don't let him know. Give him a surprise!"
Agbonlahor made an "OK" gesture.
In fact, the way Agbonlahor and the others gathered together to whisper was really conspicuous. But at this time, Mitchell's mind was full of venting, and he did not care about the abnormal behavior of the others.
He rarely shot with great force when he was shooting, but the balls he shot out in training were powerful and heavy, as if the goalkeeper standing in front of the goal, Joe Hart, was his enemy who killed his father.
Mitchell did not notice it, but it did not mean that the others did not notice it.
"What are they doing?" He saw a group of players gathered together and looked around from time to time, looking mysterious. Assistant manager Des Walker frowned.
"Who knows." Tang En did not care much. He shrugged. Everyone had their own little secrets, and the players were no exception. They liked to get together and talk about topics that only they were interested in. There was no need for the coaches to interfere. "As long as they don't do it during training."
Tang En's mind was full of their final opponents. He did not care about the players' performance.
The opponents for the final had already been decided.
It was the Italian team that gave Tang En the biggest headache.
The Italian coaches were almost born to be masters of tactics. The final must be a tactical showdown. Coupled with Italy's defensive tradition, they would not give England any space to display their speed. The fast attack that England was most proud of would not be able to gain any advantage against them. Tang En could predict that the final would be very, very difficult.
With such a thing bothering him, how could he think about such a small matter as the players gathered together to discuss?
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Tang En was worried about their final opponent. The person who was also having a headache about the final opponent was Italy's old manager, Lippi.
The 68-year-old Lippi had decided to retire completely after leading the team to this UEFA European Championship, and would never come out to coach the Italian team again. Why did he say so? Because this was the second time Lippi had come back to save Italy. After leading the team to the 2006 World Cup in Germany, he had bid farewell to the national team, but his successor Donadel's Italy team's performance in the 2008 UEFA European Championship could not bear to gamble, and in the end, the Italian Football Federation invited Lippi, who was idle at home, back. This time, Lippi worked until the 2012 UEFA European Championship. Due to the poor results, he took the blame and resigned. But his successor's results were even worse than his. The dignified Italy was eliminated in the World Cup in Brazil without even making it out of the group stage. This time, there was a high demand in Italy for Lippi to come out again. Many enthusiastic fans even went to Lippi's house to sit and petition. This moved Lippi greatly, so he decided to come out to coach the Italian team again. But he only promised to coach this UEFA European Championship. After the UEFA European Championship, regardless of the results, he would retire completely. He also hoped that the enthusiastic fans would not disturb his private life again.
But perhaps even Lippi himself did not expect that his last coaching would lead the team to the final in one go. Now the Italian media were saying that Lippi was planning to use a UEFA European Championship title to draw a perfect end to his coaching career. Because when Lippi coached Juventus, he led the team to five league titles, one FA Cup, one Toyota Cup, and one UEFA Champions League title. By 2006, he reached the peak of his personal coaching career — leading the Italian team, which was not favored before the game, to win the World Cup in Germany. If there were any regrets for such a successful manager, it would be that he never achieved the King of Europe in the national team.
It was originally an unintentional move, but he did not expect it to become his biggest dream. Now he had hope to achieve this step so that he could leave his coaching career with no regrets. He would leave his most beloved job with honor and leave a legend in the world of football.
But before he could become a legend, he needed to defeat a difficult opponent — Tony Twain, the most dominant manager in Europe in the past decade, who was no less inferior to him in winning the championship trophy, as if a comet had appeared in the sky.
This was a showdown at the level of godfathers. The collision between the old godfather and the new godfather was also the transition between the old and the new in European football.
Only such a final would be worthy of the eliminated teams — the team that beat us is the best, not some random cat or dog. It is not shameful to lose to such an opponent …
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PS, I'm finally in the final, and I can finally ask for tickets ~
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