105: The test at St Andrews

St. Andrew's Stadium.

The resentment of nearly 30,000 Birmingham fans, mixed with the dampness brought by the light rain, made the air here exceptionally oppressive.

There wasn't the pure roar of Elland Road here, but a hubbub belonging to a relegated team, mixed with unwillingness and arrogance.

They scrutinized the young faces from League One on the field with a condescending gaze, as if looking at a group of prisoners about to be executed.

“Although Hartlepool United has performed remarkably in the League, facing Birmingham City, who possess near-Premier League level players like Fabrice Muamba, Sebastian Larsson, and Cameron Jerome, their dark horse journey will come to an end.”

The local media's commentary accurately summarized the home fans' mindset at that moment.

In the Sky Sports commentary booth, Martin Tyler's voice was calm and objective.

“Birmingham City has fielded a half-strength lineup today, in a classic 4-4-2 formation.”

“Goalkeeper Colin Doyle, with the defense led by the experienced Stephen Kelly.”

“The midfield core consists of former Arsenal youngster Fabrice Muamba, and Swedish international Sebastian Larsson, who possesses a deadly free-kick.”

“Upfront is the highly impactful Cameron Jerome.”

“On Hartlepool United's side, we see a bolder rotation, also in a 4-4-2 defensive counter-attacking formation.”

“Goalkeeper Scott Carson, with a brand new, youthful defensive line of Danny Simpson, Chris Smalling, Peter Hartley, and Hugh Robertson.”

“The midfield is anchored by Liam Bridcutt and captain Mark Tinkler, while up front it's still Jamie Vardy, partnered with Shaun Maloney.”

The whistle signaling the start of the match was like a command to open the floodgates.

Birmingham City's players, like a pack of beasts released from a cage, immediately launched a fierce assault on Hartlepool's half.

Fabrice Muamba displayed physical qualities far exceeding League One level in midfield; his sweeping range almost covered the entire center circle.

Sebastian Larsson's right foot, meanwhile, was like a precise sniper rifle, constantly using accurate long passes to find gaps behind Hartlepool's defense.

The young Smalling and Hartley appeared somewhat flustered under this intense pressure.

In one clearance, Smalling kicked the ball directly to Jerome's feet. He turned and unleashed a powerful shot, which grazed the post and flew out of bounds, giving the away fans a scare.

On another occasion, Hartley was forcefully pushed aside by Jerome in a challenge, falling clumsily to the ground.

The entire defense was on the verge of collapse.

In the VIP box, Lin Feng's face was hidden behind the reflection of the glass, his expression as stern as ice.

On the holographic screen in his mind, the light dots representing Birmingham City players were assaulting his fragile defensive line at an extremely high frequency.

【Opponent Pressing Intensity: 8.7 (Premier League level)】

【Our Defensive Line Coordination Rate: 62% (Dangerous)】

The data was cold and cruel.

But he did not panic, not even a slight acceleration in his heartbeat.

He was waiting.

Waiting for that proud pack of beasts to show fatigue and impatience after a prolonged but fruitless attack.

He picked up his encrypted phone and sent an instruction to Old John on the sidelines.

“Hold steady! Tell the lads to hold out for these fifteen minutes, and victory will be ours. Remind them of the 'chain' movement and to keep the formation compact.”

Upon receiving the instruction, Old John calmly walked to the sidelines.

He didn't shout loudly, but merely made a gesture to the players on the field to contract their formation.

Captain Mark Tinkler immediately understood.

Like an experienced old wolf, he tirelessly ran, fiercely biting at every opponent attempting to approach the penalty area, using his body to share the immense defensive pressure on Bridcutt behind him.

His shouts, in the chaotic defense, were like a stabilizing force.

“Chris! Peter! Concentrate! Don't watch the ball, watch the man!”

In the 25th minute, Birmingham City won a free-kick in an excellent position in the attacking third.

Swedish international Larsson stood over the ball, his eyes focused.

The ball he struck curved in a perfect arc, bypassing the wall and flying straight into the top corner of the goal.

A yellow figure, however, soared from the goal line.

Scott Carson's body stretched to its maximum in mid-air, and with his fingertips, he valiantly tipped this certain goal over the crossbar.

This world-class save was like a shot in the arm, injecting new life into every Hartlepool player's heart.

Smalling clapped his hands hard and gave Carson a thumbs up.

Hartley also thumped his own chest forcefully.

They had endured the most difficult moment.

Birmingham City's offense remained fierce.

But Hartlepool's defense began to resemble a taut chain, the distances between its four lines compressed to the extreme.

Every penetration attempt would hit a moving wall.

Time passed minute by minute.

The inability to score for so long began to unbalance Birmingham City's players.

In the 32nd minute, Muamba's long pass from midfield flew directly out of bounds, and he shook his head in frustration.

Jerome also began to frequently complain to the referee, believing the opponent's defensive actions were too aggressive.

The boos from the stands, initially sporadic, became clearer.

A faint, almost imperceptible curve finally appeared at the corner of Lin Feng's mouth.

【Opponent Mental State Index: Decreased from 8.5 to 7.1】

【Impatience is spreading】

【Defensive Line Pressing Distance: +15 meters】

【Counter-attacking Space: Expanding】

The time had come.

He picked up his phone and sent the long-awaited, single-word instruction.

“Explode!”

Old John on the sidelines, upon seeing the message, immediately made a forward sprinting gesture to Vardy and Maloney in the attacking third.

The 40th minute of the match.

Larsson's long-range shot from outside the box was too central and was safely gathered by Scott Carson.

The young goalkeeper didn't hesitate for a second.

He immediately threw the ball, like bowling a ball, with great force to Danny Simpson on the right flank.

Simpson, after receiving the ball, quickly scanned the attacking third, then played a long pass to Bridcutt, who had dropped back to receive it.

This time, Bridcutt did not choose a safe horizontal pass.

As the ball came to him, he put all his strength into a through ball, low to the ground, sending it towards the edge of the center circle.

The ball, like a sharp bayonet, precisely pierced Birmingham City's already loose midfield line.

There, Jamie Vardy, like a ghost, had been waiting for a long time.

The moment he received the ball, the air in the entire St. Andrew's Stadium seemed to freeze.

The roar of over thirty thousand home fans came to an abrupt halt.

Danger!

Vardy didn't hesitate; he received the ball, accelerated, and, with the ball seemingly glued to his feet, sprinted towards Birmingham City's goal.

Muamba behind him desperately chased, but the distance between them continued to widen.

It was a chase between a cheetah and a buffalo.

Birmingham City's center-back tried to intercept, but Vardy, with a nimble change of direction, left him behind.

Goalkeeper Colin Doyle rushed out in despair.

Too late.

Vardy, at the edge of the box, calmly lifted his right foot.

The ball, like a cannonball, whistled into the bottom right corner of the goal.

Doyle's fingertips had already touched the ball, but he couldn't change its direction.

The ball grazed the inside of the post and slammed into the back of the net.

One-nil.

The entire St. Andrew's Stadium fell into a deathly silence.