57: The germination of "Northern seeds"

Victoria Park Stadium, 3 PM.

Today's opponent was Mansfield Town, a team hovering in the middle of the League.

Just ten minutes into the match, Vardy used his signature speed to tear through the opponent's defense.

He received a through ball from Sigurdsson,

and like a blue lightning bolt, he burst into the penalty area, faced the goalkeeper, and calmly slotted the ball into the net.

One-nil. A huge cheer erupted from the stands, and fans waved their blue and white scarves.

In the second half, Vardy struck again.

He received a throw from Schmeichel at the edge of the penalty area, chested the ball down, and without letting it touch the ground, unleashed a volley.

The ball flew straight into the top corner of the goal. Two-nil.

Vardy excitedly ran towards the corner flag, slid on his knees to celebrate, and his teammates swarmed him, surrounding him.

Robert Snodgrass also found an opportunity on the wing.

He got the ball on the right, faced the opposing full-back's defense, used a feint to create space, then cut inside, and unleashed a powerful long-range shot with his left foot.

The ball whistled through the air and nestled into the top left corner of the goal. Three-nil.

At the final whistle, the score was fixed at three-nil.

Mansfield Town's players walked off the field dejectedly, their faces etched with exhaustion and helplessness.

Hartlepool United's players, on the other hand, returned to the locker room with their heads held high, amidst the songs of their fans.

In the League standings, their lead was further extended, and their top spot was now firmly secured.

Lin Feng watched all of this from the VIP box. Victory had become somewhat "taken for granted," which made him feel a sense of alarm.

He knew that the team could not afford to be complacent. The real tests were yet to come.

Another field at the Phoenix Training Center.

The young players of the U16 and U18 youth teams were having an internal scrimmage.

David Pulis, the youth coach poached from Middlesbrough, stood on the sidelines with his arms crossed.

There was no smile on his face, but his eyes gleamed with focus, intently watching every detail on the field.

"Pass! Pass! Don't hold onto the ball!" Pulis suddenly roared, his voice startlingly loud.

A U16 player on the wing dribbled too much and was dispossessed by the opponent.

"Play with your brain, not just your legs!" he shouted again, "Do you think football is just running around? No! Football is thinking, it's judgment!"

On the field, a tall teenager named Liam was knocked down in midfield by an opponent.

Liam is sixteen years old and is a B-grade potential player marked in Lin Feng's system.

He got up quickly, without complaining, and immediately turned to press. He stuck to the opponent's ball-carrier like a piece of chewing gum, eventually winning the ball back.

After winning the ball, he didn't hesitate, immediately sending a through pass to the forward's feet.

Pulis's brow relaxed slightly.

This kid has resilience. Not only does he have good potential, but he also has a never-say-die attitude.

First-team training had ended.

Vardy didn't go straight back to the locker room as usual; he ambled over to the youth team's training ground, chewing on an energy bar.

He watched the half-grown kids jostling on the field, a playful smile on his face.

"Hey, lads! Shoot with some power!" he yelled towards the field, "Like you haven't eaten! Don't be so soft!"

The youth team players, hearing his voice, all got excited.

Their eyes sparkled, a mix of admiration for their idol and longing for their own future.

Vardy, Sigurdsson, Schmeichel—these names were not just first-team stars, but dreams within their reach.

Every day they toiled on the training ground, hoping that one day they could be like these older brothers,

cheered on by tens of thousands of fans at Victoria Park Stadium, or even at Wembley.

Pulis walked over to Vardy and patted him on the shoulder. "Jamie, don't scare them off."

Vardy grinned: "It's good to scare them, let them know professional football isn't playing in the mud."

In Lin Feng's office, John Stone held a new budget report, looking a bit troubled.

"Boss, this plan to improve the youth team's nutrition, accommodation, and education conditions... the cost is a bit high."

"We've only just turned a profit, and the League prize money hasn't fully arrived yet."

Stone chose his words carefully; he knew Lin Feng's emphasis on youth development, but the financial pressure was real.

Lin Feng didn't even look up, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

"John, this isn't an expense, it's an investment," his voice was calm and firm.

"Our future Vardy, our future Sigurdsson, our future Schmeichel, are all on that field."

"Letting them eat better, sleep better, will allow them to grow taller and run faster.

Giving them a better education will enable them to become more well-rounded players, and better adapt to the pressures of professional football in the future."

He looked up, his gaze falling on Stone's face. "Remember, youth development is the club's foundation, and our greatest asset for long-term development."

"Without first-class youth development, we will always be a flash in the pan. This money must be spent."

Stone opened his mouth, but ultimately swallowed the rest of his words.

He knew that when the boss made a decision, he was never wrong.

Lin Feng's vision always saw further than he could.

The Phoenix Training Center, with its advanced facilities and Lin Feng's "Midas touch," began to establish a good reputation in the North of England.

In the past, the youth academy here was deserted, but now,

every week, talented young players from surrounding towns, and even further afield, came for trials.

"Boss, these are a few kids who came for trials last week." Pulis walked into Lin Feng's office with a list.

"A few are indeed good, one of them is an outcast from Newcastle United, very fast, but his technique still needs refining."

Lin Feng took the list, glanced at it, and pointed to one of the names: "This kid named Tom, what's his potential?"

Pulis was taken aback; he didn't expect Lin Feng to directly point out that name. "Tom Davies? He's very talented, Boss, a defensive midfielder with excellent vision, but his physique is still a bit slender."

Lin Feng nodded, saying nothing more.

He knew that time would prove everything.

The reputation of the Phoenix Training Center would become increasingly prominent.

On the first team's training ground, Chris Smalling and Jordan Henderson had completely integrated into the team.

Their arrival was like two catfish, stirring up the previously somewhat stagnant atmosphere within the team, bringing about healthy competition.

During an internal scrimmage, the tall striker Kevin Kyle attempted to win a header in the penalty area; he was tall, strong, and experienced.

But Smalling, like a wall, preemptively positioned himself, using his tall stature and strong leg strength to firmly push Kyle behind him.

He cleanly headed the ball away, giving Kyle no chance.

Kyle landed and looked at the teenager, nearly ten years his junior, with some surprise, a smile of appreciation on his face as he patted his back.

"Well done, Chris!" Old Captain Michael Nelson shouted from nearby.

Smalling just gave a shy smile, then focused intently as Nelson quietly advised him on how to better utilize his body.

His learning ability, like a dry sponge, greedily absorbed everything about professional football.

In another corner of the training ground, the sixteen-year-old Jordan Henderson was like a tireless engine.

His running covered the entire midfield, every breath he took producing white mist,

as if he never tired. Every touch of the ball had a clear purpose.

He was fiercely competing for every inch with the veteran Mark Tinkler, and Henderson's running, interceptions, and precise passing made Tinkler feel somewhat strained.

Tinkler was a veteran of the team, experienced, but Henderson's vitality and desire to win made him feel unprecedented pressure.

"This kid is a monster," Tinkler panted to Sigurdsson during a break.

Old John Mcdonald watched everything on the field, feeling both happy and worried. He walked over to Lin Feng and whispered:

"Boss, these two kids will be able to establish themselves in League One next season. Your vision... it's simply incredible."

John was now completely convinced by Lin Feng.

He habitually ran his hand through his thinning hair.

He felt that his outdated tactical ideas were struggling to keep up with the team's growth rate.

He began to increasingly and proactively visit Lin Feng's office, like a humble student seeking guidance.

He would carefully knock on the door, then sit down with a touch of apprehension.

He would describe in detail the observations he made during training, then wait for Lin Feng to provide precise instructions.

He knew that he had to closely follow Lin Feng's "advanced concepts" that transcended the times to effectively manage this team with unlimited potential.

In the office of the Hartlepool Mail, Sophie Green's pen moved quickly across her notebook.

She had just finished an exclusive interview with Gylfi Sigurðsson, and the report had caused a huge stir locally. Now, her attention turned to Hartlepool United's youth academy system.

She believed that the untold stories were the most moving.

She planned to write a feature report titled "Future of the North: An Exploration of Hartlepool United's Youth Academy."

She wanted to show the outside world this small club's ambition and efforts in nurturing young players.

She interviewed Pulis and also chatted with some young youth players; their pure love for football, evident in their eyes, deeply touched her.

"They are like seeds sprouting." Sophie wrote in her notebook.

"Lin Feng is using his philosophy to water this barren land, allowing hope to take root and grow here."

At the same time, the club's commercial value continued to ferment.

With the team's excellent performance in various competitions and the continuous rise in the club's reputation, new commercial cooperation opportunities also began to emerge.

Lin Feng was in talks with a well-known local supermarket chain about a community cooperation project.

He not only wanted sponsorship fees but also hoped that through this cooperation, football could be brought into communities and schools, supporting the development of local school football.

He knew that future fans and future players were among these children.

All matters, all efforts, ultimately converged on the same goal—the upcoming second leg of the EFL Trophy Northern Area Final.

In the tactical analysis room, the lights were dim, with only the faint hum of the projector.

On the projection screen, the first leg match against Doncaster Rovers was repeatedly played.

In the first leg, Hartlepool United led two-one at home, but the opponent had an away goal.

This meant that in the away game, they had to be more careful and more resolute.

Lin Feng stood personally in front of the screen, his laser pointer drawing red circles between Doncaster Rovers' defense and midfield.

"Wembley is right in front of us," he said loudly.

"But the road there is never easy. The away game will be a tough battle, harder than any game you can imagine."

He looked into the eyes of every player, saying word for word: "We lead two-one from the first leg, and they have an away goal."

"This means that if they score just one goal and we don't, they can eliminate us."

"So, we cannot be conservative, nor can we attack blindly. We need balance, we need wisdom."

"Defense must be more focused than ever. Midfield must be more aggressive than ever. Counterattacks must be more lethal than ever," Lin Feng emphasized.

"Every run, every pass, every shot, must have a clear purpose."

"Don't give them any chances, and don't waste any of our own chances."

He reiterated the importance of the match: "The experience of playing at Wembley Stadium is a priceless treasure."

"The call of Wembley, each of you should hear it. For our fans, for this small town, for ourselves, we must bring victory home!"

The players' faces were filled with focus and desire.

Vardy's fists were clenched, Schmeichel's eyes were fixed on the screen, as if he could already see the Wembley Stadium pitch.

Sigurdsson, meanwhile, quickly jotted down every instruction from Lin Feng in his notebook.

Yes, the call of Wembley motivated everyone.

They knew this would be a destiny-defining match.

They were ready, for that dream, for that green sanctuary.