Kapitel 8: Match Start!!
Aon Training Complex, Manchester United, Manchester.
3 PM, Summer.
The training grounds, unlike usual, were neatly and meticulously prepared for today's match. Although it was just a friendly, a dozen of cameras were set up early on the stands in preparation for recording the game.
A fierce contest among young boys was about to unfold here!
In Europe, where football youth training systems are highly developed, even these away friendlies for youth teams are nothing unusual.
Clubs invest generously in their youth teams, sparing no effort to create a better environment for young players to grow. After all, if they can cultivate a single talented player, the returns can be thousands of times the investment!
About ten minutes later, United fans began trickling into the stands after hearing news of the match.
Most of them carried popcorn and beer, fully prepared to watch the game in comfort.
"Come on, lads!"
"You can win this! It doesn't matter if you're on trial or have contracts!"
"Beat Liverpool!"
"..."
United fans shouted their support loudly. Those who came to watch youth matches were mostly die-hard supporters of the club—fans willing to give everything to support the team and its future.
But unlike usual, there was a noticeably larger crowd today—nearly 300 spectators.
It seemed they had also heard about Mr. Wenger's attendance and came hoping to see the first-team manager up close.
"Oh… here he comes! He's really here!"
They didn't have to wait long before a tall figure appeared at the entrance of the field, striding briskly toward the coaching area to sit with the coaches overseeing the match.
Clap, clap, clap… A round of applause erupted as fans showed their love and support for Wenger.
Hearing the cheers, Wenger turned back and waved to the fans in the stands, causing another stir of excitement.
***********
3:30 PM.
The players from both teams sarted to arrive on the pitch, both teams began warming up as the match was close to star, however collectiveley United appearead nervous and disoritentated.
On one hand, contracted players were under serious pressure on the other end under Ian's plan the team was co-ordinated to not play right, until the trial players are removed and his lackey's enter pitch.
'With Mourinho here, Hans will definitely not lose face, so I am sure after halftime he will absolutely remove the trial player!'
Ian was abosultely confident about this, he was even planing to concede goals in first off for his ambition to be achieve, he wanted the trial players out of the squad and he was ready to take it to any level, especially considering this was just a friendly match.
However, one guy on the pitch had other plans.
[Skill: Long Range Shooting Lv3]
[Proficiency: (1/800)]
[Description: With dedicated effort and training, your skill level has improved to equalize and score in a high press match with sufficient positioning and timing, that is.]
[Current Attributes: E-level accuracy, D-level power, F-level balance, F-level first touch.]
Innate Ability:
Power Shot : Can be triggered when you take a shot from a distance for 25 yards, increasing the force generated by player two folds; however, if employed, the ball can only travel in a straight angle, nullifying any curl or fake.]
'I should atleast aim for a hat-rick this match!' With determined gaze, Marcus positioned himself in the LW and waited for match to start.
He quickly assessed Liverpool's setup—a classic 4-2-3-1 formation. It seemed to mirror the tactical philosophy of their first-team manager, Jürgen Klopp, emphasizing a high press from the forward line to disrupt United's defenders and force them into errors.
'There'll be lots of aerial balls, but aerial duels aren't my strength. I need to focus on the second balls.'
"Tweet!"
The referee blew the whistle to officially start the match.
Liverpool U17 had the kick-off for the first half. Their tall, muscular striker passed the ball backward.
"Press! Push the midfield up to the halfway line, but don't go too high!"
United captain Gilbert directed his teammates with a wave of his hand, leading the three lines of players to push forward and apply pressure.
However, they did not opt for a high press. Liverpool's style was famously direct and aggressive—overcommitting forward would create significant pressure on United's backline to defend long balls behind them.
"Bang! Bang!"
After a couple of short passes in the backline, Liverpool launched a long ball toward United's right side, aiming to advance their attack.
United's right-back headed the ball out of bounds, diffusing any immediate danger.
But Liverpool had achieved their tactical goal—all their players were now pushed into United's half on the right side, lying in wait.
Marcus, farthest from the right side, wasn't overly concerned with the defense. Instead, he constantly monitored Liverpool's left-back, who was marking him, waiting for an opportunity to receive the ball.
"Bang-!!!"
Liverpool's attack ended with a poor cross that the United goalkeeper Hopkins easily collected.
After a quick glance, Hopkins noticed the large cluster of Liverpool players in United's half and decided not to play a short pass.
He tossed the ball up with one hand, turned his body, and smashed a long kick toward the midfield, aiming for Gilbert.
Though Gilbert wore the number 10 jersey, his height of 187 cm gave him decent ability in aerial duels.
"Thud!" Gilbert leaped up and flicked the ball backward, trying to catch Liverpool's defense off guard.
Such flicked balls were rarely precise, but if done right, they could drop into space for a teammate to chase down.
Gilbert quickly turned to observe the play.
He saw the ball drop to the left flank—right where Marcus was racing against Liverpool's full-back.
"It's mine!"
The Liverpool full-back, slightly faster, reached the ball first and prepared to pass it back to the goalkeeper.
But Marcus reacted immediately. Realizing he couldn't beat the defender in speed, he stopped chasing and instead rammed into the opponent's body with all his strength.
The Liverpool full-back, a small and nimble player, clearly lacked physicality.
"Thud!"
The sound of bodies colliding rang out, and the Liverpool defender fell to the ground like a kite with a broken string. Frustrated, he waved at the referee, shouting, "Hey! No foul?"
The referee shook his head, signalling for him to get up.
The defender quickly pushed himself off the ground, but Marcus had already taken the ball and cut inside toward the centre of the pitch.
"Bang!!"
Now within shooting range, Marcus wasted no time. He pulled the trigger and unleashed the first shot of the match.
His adjustment was quick, and the shot had impressive quality.
The ball narrowly skimmed over the crossbar, and judging by the Liverpool goalkeeper's stunned expression, had the shot been on target, it would've been a goal.
"Let's keep it up!"
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein