62: The struggle in the valley and the patience of the "fox"

The referee's whistle pierced the air at The Valley.

Charlton Athletic's players instantly surged forward, their movements carrying the aggression characteristic of a Premier League team.

Jerome Thomas received the ball on the right wing, his footwork incredibly quick.

He attempted to shake off Matty Robson's defense with two consecutive feints.

Robson's center of gravity dipped slightly, his eyes fixed on the opponent's shoulder.

He had learned Lin Feng's defensive mantra: watch the shoulders, not the feet.

Thomas's breakthrough was successfully thwarted, and the ball rolled out of bounds.

"Good play!"

Scattered applause came from the away fans' section; the voices of a few hundred Hartlepool United loyalists sounded especially precious in the 20,000-seat home stadium.

In the fifth minute, Charlton launched their first truly threatening attack.

Amadou Faye took the ball in midfield, looking up to assess the situation upfront.

Darren Bent was lurking in the penalty area, his runs extremely cunning, sometimes drifting wide, sometimes cutting inside.

Faye didn't hesitate, sending a diagonal pass directly.

The ball bypassed Hartlepool United's midfield defense, heading straight for the right side of the penalty area.

Chris Smalling reacted incredibly quickly, clearing the ball before Bent could reach it.

The ball flew to midfield, where Jordan Henderson leaped high, heading the ball to Mark Tinkler beside him.

"Beautiful defense!"

From the BBC commentary box, Mark Lawrenson's voice carried clear admiration.

"This young center-back's judgment is very accurate."

Guy Mowbray took the microphone, his analysis more specific.

"Hartlepool United's defense is like a flexible net; the distance between players is maintained perfectly, showing they've put a lot of effort into this match."

In the twelfth minute, Charlton attacked again.

This time they chose to break through on the left, with Dennis Rommedahl receiving the ball on the wing.

Danny Simpson went to meet him, and the two players collided.

Rommedahl, with more experience, used a clever drag-back to escape Simpson's challenge.

The cross flew high, heading directly for the center of the penalty area.

Marcus Bent leaped high in the middle, his header powerfully striking towards the left corner of the goal.

Kasper Schmeichel's body fully stretched out in the air.

His fingertips just touched the ball, tipping it over the crossbar.

"Incredible save!"

A deafening cheer erupted from the away fans' section.

Schmeichel quickly got up after landing, shouting his teammates' names loudly.

"Tighten up! Tighten the formation!"

The young goalkeeper's voice echoed above the penalty area, a commanding tone that brooked no questioning.

Smalling heard his teammate's shouts and immediately adjusted his position.

His eyes were fixed on Darren Bent, the Premier League Golden Boot winner, who was looking for an opening.

In the eighteenth minute, Charlton earned a corner kick.

The ball was delivered to the center of the penalty area, where over a dozen players crowded together in the small box.

In the scramble, the ball bounced to Matt Holland's feet.

Holland didn't hesitate, taking a shot directly.

The ball, with strong spin, flew towards the top right corner of the goal.

As if anticipating the shot angle, Schmeichel's center of gravity was already low, and with a swift dive, he firmly embraced the ball.

"It's Schmeichel again!"

Lawrenson's voice carried clear surprise.

"This young goalkeeper's performance is simply incredible!"

"He appears very calm on the field, not at all like a goalkeeper from a lower League."

Manager Alan Pardew on the sidelines began to grow anxious.

He constantly waved to his players, signaling them to quicken the pace of their attack.

No matter which direction Charlton attacked from, they would always find at least two Hartlepool United players waiting for them, their defense as solid as an iron plate.

In the twenty-fifth minute, Hartlepool United got a rare counter-attacking opportunity.

Tinkler intercepted the ball in midfield; he didn't hesitate, sending a long pass directly to the front.

Jamie Vardy began his sprint.

As he started, Charlton's defenders felt that desperate speed.

Djimi Traoré chased back frantically, but Vardy's explosive power left him only seeing a receding figure.

The ball bounced on the grass, and Vardy stretched out a leg to stop it, the ball obediently sticking to his feet.

He looked up at the goal; goalkeeper Scott Carson had already come out to the edge of the six-yard box.

Vardy chose a low shot, the ball flying along the ground towards the goal.

But the angle was slightly off, and the ball grazed the post and went out over the byline.

Vardy clasped his hands to his head, his face full of frustration.

But this counter-attack sent shivers down the spines of Charlton's defenders.

They no longer dared to push up to assist as they had before.

In the thirtieth minute, Smalling faced his biggest test of the day.

Darren Bent received the ball with his back to goal in the penalty area, intending to forcefully turn and shoot.

Smalling stuck tightly to his back, their bodies pressed together.

Bent tried to use his body to push past the young defender, but Smalling's strength was beyond his expectation.

The young center-back's legs were rooted to the grass, as steady as a rock.

Bent's turning movement became stiff, and his shot also lost its threat.

The ball softly rolled into Schmeichel's embrace.

Captain Nelson rushed over and clapped Smalling on the shoulder.

"Well done, Chris!"

Smalling's face showed no expression of pride; he merely silently adjusted his position.

Ready to face the next attack.

In the thirty-fifth minute, Charlton's attack became even more fierce.

They began to frequently use crosses from the wings to create threats.

Thomas received the ball on the right, and facing Robson's defense, he chose to force a breakthrough.

Robson's defense was well-positioned, but Thomas's experience was greater.

He used a feint to get past Robson, then immediately crossed the ball.

The ball flew to the center of the penalty area, where Marcus Bent leaped high in the middle.

But Smalling's judgment was more accurate; he had already taken up position.

The young center-back's header cleared the ball out of the dangerous area.

The ball landed at Sigurdsson's feet, and he immediately organized a counter-attack.

The Icelander's pass accurately found Snodgrass on the wing.

Snodgrass advanced with the ball, but Charlton's defense was already in place.

This counter-attack didn't pose a threat, but it temporarily halted the home team's offensive.

In the thirty-eighth minute, Henderson received a yellow card for a tackle in midfield.

His tackle was indeed a bit fierce, but that reckless fighting spirit was impressive.

The young man rubbed his sore shoulder, gave a "no problem" gesture to his teammates, and in his eyes, there was no sign of fear after being cautioned with a yellow card.

Time passed minute by minute, and Charlton's players began to show signs of impatience.

Their passes started to become inaccurate, and their coordination was not as fluid as at the start of the match.

Faye's pass in midfield went directly to the opponent, and Tinkler unceremoniously intercepted the ball.

In the forty-third minute, Charlton attacked again.

This time they opted for a long-range shot tactic, with Holland taking a shot from outside the penalty area.

The ball, with strong spin, flew towards the bottom left corner of the goal.

Schmeichel's reaction was still lightning-fast; he dived sideways, firmly holding the ball.

The first half was nearing its end, and the scoreboard still read 0-0.

Hartlepool United had successfully withstood Charlton's fierce attacks.

Their defense was like an impregnable Great Wall; no matter how the opponent attacked, it remained unmoving.

The referee looked at his watch and blew the whistle for the end of the first half.

On the way back to the changing room, everyone was breathing heavily.

Their jerseys were soaked with sweat, but their eyes were still full of fighting spirit.

In the away team's changing room, Old John's phone rang.

It was a call from Lin Feng.

"Boss, we held them in the first half!"

Old John's voice trembled slightly; he tried to suppress his inner excitement.

Lin Feng's calm voice came from the other end of the line.

"Very good, John. The players' performance exceeded my expectations."

"In the second half, we need to target their left-back."

"Thatcher's slow recovery after assisting is our opportunity."

"Let Snodgrass and Simpson push forward boldly, attacking their left flank."

"Also, prepare to bring Kyle on; we need a high point in the penalty area."

Old John nodded vigorously, even though Lin Feng couldn't see his movements.

"Understood, Boss. We will definitely seize the opportunity."

After hanging up the phone, Old John looked at the players gathered around him.

Their young faces were filled with determination and desire.

They had already proven their ability to contend with a Premier League team.

Now, they had to prove their ability to defeat them.