130: declaration

Inside the tactical meeting room of the Phoenix Training Center, a striking newspaper was pinned to the most prominent spot on the wall.

Roy Keane's stern face occupied half the page, his eyes exuding arrogance and disdain.

Lin Feng stood in the center of the meeting room, his voice calm yet hard as steel.

“Gentlemen, what do you see?”

He pointed to the newspaper on the wall.

“Your opponents, and their head coach, look down on you.”

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly became heavy.

Anger was written on every player's face.

Vardy clenched his fists, his knuckles white from the effort.

Henderson's jaw was tight, his eyes burning with an unyielding fire.

Even Sigurdsson, usually the calmest, had a sharp glint in his eyes.

“They think we are just businessmen who know how to count money.”

Lin Feng's voice gradually rose.

“A bunch of players who got lucky in a lower League.”

He scanned everyone in the room.

“They are wrong.”

“Tomorrow, you will show them with your performance.”

“Businessmen can also forge the strongest warriors!”

As Lin Feng's words fell, the entire meeting room seemed to ignite.

The players' emotions instantly reached their peak.

“And warriors will use victory to shut up everyone who looks down on us!”

Thunderous applause erupted.

The desire to fight burned in everyone's eyes.

Old John watched all of this silently from the side, filled with admiration.

He knew that Lin Feng was not just cheering on the players.

He was also laying the psychological groundwork for the upcoming tactical arrangements.

After the emotional surge, Lin Feng gestured for everyone to quiet down.

The tactics board was pushed to the center of the meeting room.

The data interface of the World-Class Club Development Platform flashed in his mind.

Sunderland's detailed analysis report was clear at a glance.

“What are the characteristics of Roy Keane’s team?”

Lin Feng looked at Old John.

“Iron-blooded, tough, fierce in midfield pressing.”

Old John answered without hesitation.

“But.”

Lin Feng drew a few lines on the tactics board.

“Their attacking routines are relatively direct.”

“They rely on wing crosses and the individual abilities of their star players.”

The system's analysis data, with detailed figures, flashed in his mind.

Sunderland's midfielders' sprint counts, physical exertion curves, emotional fluctuation indices.

Every piece of data provided support for his tactical planning.

“So, we need to turn their strengths into weaknesses.”

Lin Feng drew a special formation diagram on the tactics board.

“The Sponge Tactic.”

Everyone looked intently at the tactics board.

“Our defensive formation should be like a sponge.”

Lin Feng's gestures were expressive.

“Let them press, absorbing all their impact.”

He paused, a glimmer of wisdom in his eyes.

“But the moment they let go.”

“This sponge, full of water, will be squeezed hard.”

“We will drown them with the swiftest counterattack!”

Vardy nodded excitedly, he had already grasped the essence of this tactic.

Lin Feng turned to Henderson and Tinkler.

“You two, remember.”

“Do not engage in meaningless midfield brawls with the opponent.”

“Use flexible runs and passes to lure the opponent into pressing.”

“Exhaust their stamina.”

Henderson nodded thoughtfully.

“Understood, Boss.”

“Let them waste their efforts.”

Tinkler also understood the cleverness of this tactic.

“Just like a matador.”

Lin Feng smiled contentedly, then looked at Vardy and Maloney.

“In attack, you have absolute freedom.”

“There is only one task.”

“Roam in the front field, like two hungry sharks.”

“Waiting for the scent of blood from the opponent's defense exposed by their forward push.”

A dangerous glint flashed in Vardy's eyes.

“We will make them pay.”

Old John looked at this ingenious tactical design, filled with awe.

Lin Feng's tactics board not only showed formations but also a net targeting the human heart.

It was a deep psychological battle.

It perfectly exploited the weaknesses in Roy Keane's character—pride and impatience.

When Keane found his team unable to score after prolonged attacks.

He would definitely become more impatient.

And then order his team to push more players forward.

This was the perfect opportunity for Hartlepool United's counterattack.

After the tactical meeting, the players left the room full of fighting spirit.

Outside, the town of Hartlepool was also buzzing.

The “Blue Ocean” event received an enthusiastic response from all fans.

Shops in the streets and alleys hung Hartlepool United flags.

The blue and white team flags fluttered in the autumn wind.

The entire town was dyed in the home team's colors.

Lin Feng walked on the street, watching all of this, a warm current welling up in his heart.

This was the charm of football.

Being able to unite people from an entire city.

Fighting for the same goal.

The club's public relations department also fully cooperated with this event.

They published a welcome message for Sunderland fans on the official website and local newspapers.

The wording was appropriate and full of gentlemanly demeanor.

But at the end of the welcome message, a highly provocative sentence was added.

“Welcome to Victoria Park, but victory will remain on this side of the North.”

This sentence quickly spread on social media.

Sunderland fans were even more enraged after seeing it.

The online war of words between the two sets of fans intensified.

But Hartlepool fans did not show any weakness.

They expressed their support for the home team in various ways.

Sophie Green's pre-match report added more fuel to the fire for this match.

The title of her article published in the Hartlepool Mail was very striking.

“Businessmen and Warriors: A Northern Derby for Glory”

The article analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of both sides in detail.

She did not stay on the surface but defined this Derby as a clash of two football philosophies.

The clash between the commercialization of modern football and the traditional iron-blooded spirit.

A contest between technical football and power football.

This article was reprinted by major sports media outlets.

Making this already highly anticipated match, its popularity soared again.

The town of Hartlepool was brightly lit on the eve of the match.

The usually quiet streets were bustling with people.

The pubs were packed with fans.

They sang team songs loudly, their voices echoing throughout the night sky.

“Blues go forward, never retreat!”

“Hartlepool, our pride!”

The singing was full of anticipation for the upcoming Derby battle.

Excitement and nervousness were written on every fan's face.

They knew tomorrow would be a decisive battle.

Not just to advance to the next round.

But also to prove the strength of Hartlepool United.

To prove that they were not weaklings to be slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Lin Feng was in his office.

On his desk lay the club's commercial report for the next quarter.

Numbers and charts were densely arranged.

His expression was focused and calm.

As if tomorrow was just an ordinary match.

But if one observed his eyes closely.

One could find an unquestionable desire for victory flickering within them.

It was a burning flame hidden beneath a calm exterior.

A confidence and dominance belonging to a winner.

He knew that tomorrow's match would be a turning point.

If they could defeat Sunderland.

Hartlepool United would truly gain national recognition.

If they failed.

All their efforts could be in vain.

But he would not let that happen.

He had made thorough preparations for this match.

Tactics, psychology, logistics, every detail had been meticulously arranged.

Now, all that remained was to wait for tomorrow to arrive.

Waiting for this good show to unfold at Victoria Park.

Night deepened.

From afar came the sound of fans singing.

It was the melody of the Hartlepool United team song.

Lin Feng put down the documents in his hand.

He walked to the window and looked out at the brightly lit town.

Tomorrow would be the moment of truth.

On the morning of the match day, Sunderland's official media outlet, the Sunderland Echo, published an opinion piece.

The article was accompanied by a stern photo of Roy Keane.

His eyes exuded an air of insufferable arrogance.

The title was even more provocative.

“Teaching the Little Brother a Lesson”

This article quickly spread throughout English football.

Hartlepool fans were furious after seeing it.

The club's official website message board was once again flooded with angry condemnations.

“Keane, that old bastard!”

“Just wait to be slapped in the face by us!”

“Tonight, we'll show them what a miracle is!”

The players also saw the article during training.

Disbelief was written on everyone's face.

Vardy kicked a training ball into the top corner of the goal.

The force was so great that even the net trembled.

“Tonight, we'll let them know who the real warriors are.”

Henderson said through gritted teeth.

Sigurdsson did not speak.

But he practiced free kicks twice as many times as usual.

Every shot accurately hit the top corner of the goal.

Old John looked at the players' state, feeling both relieved and worried.

Anger could ignite fighting spirit.

But it could also lead to distorted technical movements.

He had to remind the players to stay calm again before the match.

But now it seemed.

This angry emotion was exactly what Lin Feng wanted.

This mysterious Chinese Boss.

Always managed to calculate everything perfectly.

Including the players' psychological state.