131: The "Sponge" of the Stadium of Light (Part 1)

On the stands of Victoria Park Stadium, a blue and white ocean surged with fervent waves.

The roar of nearly ten thousand home fans shook the entire stadium.

Every flag fluttered in the night wind, and every shout carried the stubbornness and unyielding spirit of the North.

"Hartlepool!"

"Never Retreat!"

The sound waves crashed over the stadium, one after another, as if threatening to overturn the old arena.

In the Sky Sports live broadcast room, Martin Tyler's voice echoed through microphones into thousands of homes.

His tone carried the unique passion of a professional commentator, but even more, a genuine anticipation for this match.

"Welcome to the heated North Derby!"

He paused for a second, allowing the audience to fully absorb the atmosphere.

"League One leader Hartlepool United hosts Premier League team Sunderland!"

The camera panned across the stands, capturing the excited faces of the fans. Every face bore the same expression—a craving for victory, a desire to prove themselves.

"The showdown between Roy Keane and the mysterious 'Shadow Coach' Lin Feng is full of highlights!"

The pundit beside the commentary desk nodded, his gaze fixed on the coaching bench by the field.

Old John was making a final check of the tactics board, his fingers tracing something in the air, his lips moving slightly.

He was silently reciting every detail Lin Feng had instructed, every possible variable.

Meanwhile, in the VIP box, Lin Feng sat quietly.

A cup of coffee sat before him, steam still rising in wisps.

But his attention was entirely focused on the real-time data streaming from the World-Class Club Development Platform.

Sunderland players' physical condition, psychological fluctuations, technical characteristics—every piece of information flashed in his mind with precise numbers.

"Let's look at the starting lineups for both teams."

Martin Tyler's voice rang out again, and the camera switched to the large screen in the center of the stadium.

"Away team Sunderland has fielded almost their full-strength squad, in a 4-4-2 formation."

The large screen displayed Sunderland's starting lineup, every name representing Premier League-level strength.

"The goalkeeper is Scotland international Craig Gordon, a goalkeeper who has performed excellently in international matches."

Under the camera, Gordon's eyes calmly swept across the pitch, as if this was not a lower-tier League Cup match, but a World Cup final.

"The defense is led by captain Dean Whitehead."

Whitehead was communicating with his teammates, his gestures firm and powerful, his captain's armband gleaming under the lights.

"The midfield core consists of Grant Leadbitter and Kieran Richardson."

The two midfielders passed the ball around the center circle, their movements fluid and precise. This was a display of Premier League-level skill; even their warm-up seemed effortless.

"Up front are target man Kenwyne Jones and pacey forward Michael Chopra."

Jones's height advantage was very obvious; every jump in the penalty area easily surpassed the surrounding players.

Chopra, meanwhile, sprinted back and forth on the wing, testing his speed.

"Now, let's look at the home team, Hartlepool United."

The camera turned to the home team's half, where the blue and white jerseys appeared particularly vibrant under the lights.

"They have also fielded their strongest lineup, in a 4-3-3 formation."

"The goalkeeper is Kasper Schmeichel."

Schmeichel was performing save drills in front of the goal, his movements agile and explosive. Each save was like a rehearsal for the battle to come.

"The defensive line consists of Walker, Shawcross, Nelson, Robson."

The four defenders stood in a line, discussing their defensive positioning.

Walker's young face showed determination, and Shawcross's eyes gleamed with a desire to fight.

"The midfield trio is Henderson, Sigurdsson, Tinkler."

Henderson ran back and forth in midfield, every step firm.

Sigurdsson's white breath was clearly visible under the stadium lights, the chill from him seemed heavier than the North Sea's evening breeze, even the surrounding clamor couldn't disturb him.

"The front line is Maloney, Vardy, Snodgrass."

Vardy was doing sprint drills, his speed drawing glances from the surrounding staff.

Maloney and Snodgrass warmed up on the wings, their coordination appearing seamless.

"They clearly want to go toe-to-toe with a Premier League team!"

No sooner had the commentator's words faded than the referee's whistle blew.

The match officially began.

Sunderland immediately showed the demeanor of a Premier League team.

They had no hesitation, launching a fierce offensive from the very first second of kickoff.

Leadbitter's first pass in midfield was full of menace, the ball accurately finding Richardson on the right wing.

Richardson received the ball without stopping, directly sending in a cross.

The ball arced through the air, flying precisely towards Jones in the penalty area.

Jones leaped high, his height advantage fully demonstrated at this moment.

Shawcross, despite his best efforts, still could not prevent the opponent's header.

Schmeichel reacted extremely quickly.

He dove to his right, his palm accurately striking the ball. The ball changed direction, hit the post, and bounced out for a goal kick.

The entire crowd gasped; it had been less than two minutes since kickoff, and Sunderland had almost scored.

The corner kick was taken, and it was another header from Jones.

This time, Schmeichel chose to come out, making physical contact with Jones in the air, but still successfully claiming the ball.

Sunderland's offense came in waves.

They used their Premier League-level physical confrontation and game tempo to constantly pressure Hartlepool United's half.

Every pass carried a strong purpose, every run seemed well-organized.

Kenwyne Jones demonstrated a powerful pivot role in the penalty area.

He was not just a goal threat but the core of the entire attacking system.

His headers, lay-offs, and hold-up play caused huge problems for Hartlepool's defense.

As soon as Henderson received the ball, the opposing defensive midfielder was almost on his back, the force making him feel like he had hit a wall.

He had never experienced this level of physical confrontation in League One; every touch of the ball became a gamble.

But Lin Feng's "Sponge Tactic" began to take effect.

Hartlepool United retreated en masse, their formation kept extremely compact.

Four defenders formed a solid defensive line, with three midfielders creating another barrier in front of them.

Henderson's midfield line was like a moving shield.

He constantly ran, filling every possible gap.

When Sunderland's players attacked from the left, he would quickly move to the left; when the opponent switched to the right, he would quickly cover the right side.