197: The Price of Number One and the Prelude to Revenge

On August 30th, Victoria Park Stadium was filled with a tense, explosive atmosphere.

The sky was gloomy, with low-hanging dark clouds, as if foretelling an impending downpour. In the stands, Hartlepool United fans waved blue and white scarves, and their loud singing echoed throughout the stadium.

"Today is the top-of-the-table clash," Sky Sports commentator Martin Tyler adjusted his headphones. "Hartlepool United against Wolves, two teams eager to dominate the Championship League."

In the away team's locker room, Mick McCarthy was making his final tactical arrangements. The experienced Scotland coach had a stern expression, and his tactics board was densely marked with various arrows and circles.

"Ebanks-Blake, your speed is our greatest weapon," McCarthy pointed to the tactics board. "Seize any mistake from their defense and hit them hard."

Sylvan Ebanks-Blake nodded, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. The speedy forward had already smelled a goal.

In the home team's locker room, Old John's voice was a little hoarse. The continuous victories had subtly changed the players' mentality, and he could feel the complacency hidden behind their confidence.

"Lads, forget about the previous victories," Old John clapped his hands. "Today's opponent will not give us any easy chances."

Vardy tied his shoelaces, somewhat distracted. His continuous goals had made him a media darling, and the various interviews and praises had changed the young man's state of mind.

Henderson noticed his teammates' condition and stood up: "Guys, we haven't proven anything yet. Wolves are a veteran powerhouse, and they won't be intimidated by our reputation."

De Bruyne and Coutinho exchanged glances. The two prodigies could feel the subtle shift in the locker room's atmosphere.

The match began.

Wolves displayed extremely high tactical discipline from the start. They were not fooled by Hartlepool United's flamboyant technique, but instead played the game in the most straightforward and effective way.

Midfield battles, crosses from the wings, set-piece contests. Every detail was executed meticulously.

"Wolves are performing exceptionally well today," the commentator's voice conveyed admiration. "They are using discipline and experience to suppress this young team."

In the twenty-third minute, Hartlepool United's backline made a fatal error.

Smalling's back pass was too strong, and Schmeichel collided with Ebanks-Blake, who was rushing in, while attempting to save. The ball rolled towards an open goal, and Wolves' midfielder easily tapped it in.

0-1.

Victoria Park Stadium fell silent. Fans in the stands watched the goal in disbelief; their heroes were trailing at home for the first time.

In the executive box, Lin Feng watched everything expressionlessly. He was not angry, nor anxious, but simply observed every detail on the pitch quietly.

"Young people always have to pay tuition fees," Lin Feng murmured to himself. "This tuition fee comes at just the right time."

In the second half, Hartlepool United tried to equalize. Vardy's speed, De Bruyne's precise passing, Coutinho's nimble dribbling—all their weapons were deployed.

But Wolves' defense was as solid as a rock. They thwarted every attack in the simplest and most effective way.

Time ticked by, minute by minute, and the score remained 0-1.

The moment the final whistle blew, Victoria Park Stadium fell completely silent. Hartlepool United's winning streak came to an end, as they suffered their first League defeat of the season.

In the locker room, the players hung their heads, no one speaking. The taste of defeat made these young men feel the cruelty of reality for the first time.

Lin Feng pushed open the door and entered.

Everyone expected him to be angry, to scold, to deliver harsh criticism. But Lin Feng just stood there quietly, his gaze sweeping over every dejected face.

"Remember this feeling," Lin Feng's voice was soft, but everyone heard him clearly. "Before you reach the summit, any slackening will send you plummeting down the cliff."

Vardy looked up, his eyes filled with shame and unwillingness.

"Boss, we let you down."

Lin Feng shook his head: "Disappointed? No, I'm very satisfied."

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

"One defeat has made you understand what reality is. This is more valuable than ten victories," Lin Feng's voice remained calm. "Now you know that in this cruel world, no one will go easy on you just because you are young."

He turned and walked towards the door, stopping just before leaving:

"Next match, I want to see the real Hartlepool United. Not children intoxicated by victory, but true warriors."

The next day, England's newspapers were full of mockery.

The Sun's headline was particularly glaring: "The Boy Scouts' Bubble Has Finally Burst!"

The Daily Mail was even more blunt: "Lin Feng's Moneyball Suffers a Reality Check!"

But at Phoenix Training Center, Lin Feng was using this defeat for a deeper transformation.

The international break arrived, and key players like Schmeichel, Sigurdsson, and Snodgrass were called up by their respective national teams. This gave Lin Feng an excellent opportunity.

"Failure is the best teacher," Lin Feng told Old John, holding a thick match analysis report. "We must learn everything we can from this defeat."

He divided the players into groups, conducting specialized training to address each individual's problems exposed during the match. Psychological counseling, tactical reinforcement, physical conditioning—no detail was overlooked.

"Vardy, your positioning is too erratic," Lin Feng pointed to the footage in the video. "Speed is your weapon, but wisdom is your brain."

"Coutinho, your passing choices need to be more rational. Brilliant technique must serve victory, not just showboating."

"De Bruyne, your vision is excellent, but you need to learn to stay calm under pressure."

Every player underwent targeted transformation. Lin Feng wanted to ensure that the next time they faced difficulties, they would not make the same mistakes.

September 13th, Southampton.

This team, newly relegated from the Premier League, was striving to return to the top flight. Their strength should not be underestimated, with several experienced Premier League players in their squad.

But on this day, they encountered a brand new Hartlepool United.

The main players who returned from the Olympics were fully rejuvenated, and more importantly, their mentality had undergone a fundamental change. The lessons of defeat had made them more mature and more focused.

The match entered a heated state from the very first minute.

Vardy's positioning became smarter; he no longer blindly chased speed, but used intelligence to find the best attacking opportunities.

De Bruyne's passes were more precise, each pass having a clear purpose.

Coutinho's dribbling was more practical, his brilliant technique fully serving tactical needs.

In the eighteenth minute, Vardy received a through ball from De Bruyne and scored with a one-on-one finish. 1-0.

In the thirty-fifth minute, Coutinho's long-range shot from outside the box pierced Southampton's goal. 2-0.

In the seventy-second minute, substitute Snodgrass sealed the victory with a spectacular free-kick. 3-0.

A clean and decisive victory showed everyone the team's transformation.

"They're back," the Sky Sports commentator exclaimed. "After a defeat, Hartlepool United has shown even stronger fighting power."

The subsequent matches confirmed this assessment.

On September 16th, they defeated Preston 2-1 at home. Vardy's goal and Henderson's long-range shot made Victoria Park Stadium erupt again.

On September 20th, they secured a dominant 4-1 away victory against Coventry City. The brilliant combination of De Bruyne and Coutinho showed everyone the terrifying power of this talented duo.

In the League table, Hartlepool United re-established their lead. But more importantly, they had regained that kingly aura.

On September 23rd, the League Cup third-round draw results were announced.

When Hartlepool United's name was linked with Arsenal, the entire England football world erupted.

This was a fated reunion.

Last season, it was Arsenal's youth team that eliminated Hartlepool United in the League Cup. That defeat became a thorn in Lin Feng's heart and a crucial turning point in the team's growth.

Now, the opportunity for revenge had arrived.

"Will Wenger field his main squad?" The media speculated about Arsenal's lineup.

"Fabregas, Van Persie, Adebayor—these names alone are enough to strike fear into any opponent."

But at Phoenix Training Center, Lin Feng was undertaking unprecedented preparations.

He utilized all system functions to deeply analyze Wenger's tactics. The Frenchman's philosophical football, the technical passing and movement, every detail was thoroughly dissected.

"High press plus quick counter-attack," Lin Feng drew various lines on the tactics board. "We will use speed and passion to counter their technique and experience."

Old John diligently recorded every detail. This kind of targeted tactical preparation made him feel Lin Feng's true coaching ability.

"Henderson, your task is to mark Fabregas tightly," Lin Feng's voice was serious. "Stick to him like glue, don't give him any comfortable passing opportunities."

"Vardy, you need to use your speed to repeatedly attack their defense. Arsenal's backline is older, and speed is their weakness."

"De Bruyne and Coutinho, you need to create chaos in the midfield. Use your creativity to tear apart their defensive system."

Every player received specific task assignments. This was not just a match, but also an opportunity to prove themselves.

The match day finally arrived.

Victoria Park Stadium was packed, with forty thousand fans filling every corner. The air was thick with tension and excitement.

Arsenal's team bus slowly drove into the stadium, Wenger sitting by the window, thoughtfully watching the fervent fans outside.

"This team has changed," Wenger whispered to his assistant. "They have an aura I've never seen before."

In the locker room, both teams were making their final preparations.

On Arsenal's side, Fabregas tied his shoelaces, his eyes gleaming with confidence. As a world-class midfield maestro, he didn't believe a Championship team could cause him much trouble.

Van Persie stretched his shoulders, the Dutchman's face full of ease. In his opinion, this was just a routine match.

On Hartlepool United's side, the atmosphere was completely different.

The fire of revenge burned in everyone's eyes. Last season's humiliation, the media's doubts—everything would be settled tonight.

"Gentlemen," Old John's voice echoed in the locker room. "A year ago, they humiliated us here. Tonight, it's time for us to return the favor."

In the player tunnel, the two teams stood side by side. Young faces contrasted sharply with mature countenances.

Fabregas glanced at Henderson beside him, a subtle hint of disdain on his lips. In his opinion, this young Championship player was not enough to be his opponent.

But Henderson's gaze was as firm as iron. He was ready to prove his worth on this night.

The referee's whistle blew, and the match officially began.

From the first minute, the game entered a white-hot state. Hartlepool United, following Lin Feng's deployment, launched a frantic high press against Arsenal.

Henderson shadowed Fabregas like a ghost, giving the Spaniard no comfortable space to pass. Whenever Fabregas got the ball, he would immediately close in, battling with body and willpower.

Vardy's speed made Arsenal's defense suffer immensely. With every counter-attack, he darted towards the opponent's penalty area like an arrow released from a bow.

In the twenty-eighth minute, De Bruyne successfully intercepted the ball in midfield, and a precise long pass found Vardy. The England striker used his speed to shake off the defender and calmly slotted the ball into the net.

1-0!

Victoria Park Stadium erupted instantly. Forty thousand fans roared in unison, the sound almost lifting the stadium roof.

But Arsenal proved worthy of being a giant club. They quickly adjusted their tactics and began to counter-attack, utilizing their technical superiority.

In the forty-fifth minute, Van Persie received a pass from Fabregas and calmly shot inside the box, equalizing the score. 1-1.

At halftime, both coaches were making tense tactical adjustments.

Wenger frowned; he hadn't expected this Championship team to cause him so much trouble.

Lin Feng, meanwhile, calmly observed everything from the executive box. The match's progression was entirely within his expectations; the real test was yet to come.

The second half began, and the pace of the game became even more frantic.

The two teams went back and forth, with the score seesawing. Adebayor's header gave Arsenal a 2-1 lead, but Coutinho's long-range shot quickly equalized the score.

As the game entered injury time, the score remained 2-2.

Just when everyone thought the match would go into extra time, a miracle happened.

In the ninety-second minute, De Bruyne took a corner kick. The ball arced perfectly through the air, accurately finding Shawcross at the far post.

The young center-back leaped high, heading the ball with immense power and force towards the goal.

Arsenal's goalkeeper made a save attempt, but the ball's power was too great, and the angle too acute.

Goal!

3-2!

A last-minute winner!

Victoria Park Stadium went absolutely wild. Forty thousand fans stood up simultaneously, their cheers echoing to the heavens.

On the pitch, Hartlepool United's players embraced each other, tears of excitement in their eyes.

The humiliation of a year ago was perfectly avenged at this moment.

The moment the final whistle blew, the entire England football world was shocked.

Hartlepool United, the team that had been eliminated by Arsenal's youth team a year ago, had now honorably defeated their opponent's main squad.

This was not just a victory, but a perfect revenge.

In the player tunnel, Wenger found Old John.

The Frenchman's face showed no signs of a loser's frustration; instead, it carried an appreciative expression.

"John, your progress is incredible," Wenger extended his hand and shook Old John's hand in greeting. "But what truly makes me curious is, what kind of person is your silent owner?"

Old John smiled, a mysterious glint in his eyes:

"Professor, he is a man who can see the future."