"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!"

  "Ih minute, Napoli has scored the opening goal!"

  "A crucial strike from Di María puts Napoli ahead!"

  "One-nil!"

  "Napoli's sudden acceleration in attack caught Bara pletely off guard. Their high-tempo press overwhelmed Bara's fragile defense, and the s simply couldn't hahe pressure."

  "This is a troubling sariuardio. His midfield and frontline have struggled to break dooli's defense, while his bae is riddled with vulnerabilities that Napoli exploited with precision."

  "Now, Guardio faces a signifit tactical dilemma."

  …

  When Di María's shot rolled across the line, Gao She into the air with pure, urained joy.

  One-nil!

  In a high-stakes match like the Champions League final, drawing first blood was a massive advantage.

  "Yessss!"

  Gao She out aatic yell, his ughter eg across the teical area.

  Zidane, Carlo, and the rest of the coag staff rushed over, joining in the celebrations.

  That eag sequence had sted less than three minutes. But Napoli's sudden ge of pace had left Bara disoriented and exposed.

  And that was no act.

  Napoli had maintained a sistent, measured tempo from the opening whistle, one Bara had grown aced to. Then, out of nowhere, they accelerated. The abrupt shift disrupted Bara's rhythm pletely.

  More importantly, Yaya Touré had been caught out of position. His failure to retreat left Busquets scrambling to cover iral defense, a task he wasn't prepared for. One mistake snowballed into another, and Napoli capitalized with ical precision.

  As his pyers jogged back toward midfield, Gao Shen strode to the sideline and called out instrus.

  "Stay calm! Stay patient! Slow it down again!"

  There was no need for Napoli to take unnecessary risks. Gao Shen wahem to revert to the trolled tempo they'd started with.

  At the same time, he made a few minor positional adjustments to address the vulnerabilities he'd observed during the goal-sg sequence.

  On his way back to the bench, he caught Zidane and Carlo exging relieved smiles.

  "Rex, guys," Gao Shen said with a grin. "Didn't I tell you? I'm a professional when it es to beating Bara!"

  Zidane chuckled, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."

  irked. "Arrogant as always."

  Gao Shen ughed heartily. He had every right to feel fident.

  Long before the match, he'd emphasized the importance of disrupting Bara's flow.

  "Don't let them get into their rhythm," he'd said repeatedly.

  Tonight, his pyers had executed that pn to perfe.

  Bara's hallmark was their intricate passing and trol, but without physical domiheir midfield trio Xavi, Ia, and Busquets could be suffocated.

  Napoli exploited that weakness relentlessly.

  Yes, Bara's midfield was teically brilliant. Their passing was world-css. But football wasn't just about teical ability, physicality mattered, too. When oppos pressed aggressively and denied space, even the most gifted pyers could struggle.

  Xavi was exceptional with the ball but less effective under intense pressure. Ia's grad agility couldn't pensate for his ck of strength in physical duels. Busquets, while tactically intelligent, was slower ourn.

  And what about the attack?

  Henry, though still dangerous, ast his prime. Eto'o oacher, not a dribbler. Messi was a magi, but his physique couldn't handle stant, close-quarters challenges.

  Napoli's defensive approach forced Bara's wide pyers to drift toward the fnks. Essentially, Gao Shen had thrown down a tactical gau:

  "Wele to Cross City."

  But Bara didn't like to cross. Their eag philosophy revolved around intricate tral py. Without that, they were left res to hopeful deliveries from wide positioly what Napoli wanted.

  Even Messi's positional shift to the middle hadn't helped. Napoli's defensive lines pacted immediately whenever he dropped deep.

  Bara's fallba was to rely on their full-backs.

  But tonight, that option was limited.

  Puyol was statio left-back, with Sylvinho benched. As a natural ter-back, Puyol rarely ventured forward. Alves, meanwhile, tried pushing high from the right, but Napoli's goal had exploited the space left behind.

  It art of the pn.

  Napoli's eactical blueprint revolved around dismantling Bara's rhythm.

  Ordinarily, Bara dictated matches with methodical, teral passing until they found an opening. When the moment was right, they'd accelerate to devastating effect.

  Tonight, Bara kept trying to pass the ball around, looking for their usual moment to accelerate.

  But every time they tried, they found they simply couldn't.

  Either a Napoli pyer itted a tactical foul to break the rhythm, or the ball was intercepted, or at the very least, Bara's pyers were physically jostled and thrown off their stride.

  By the time they attempted to speed up, Napoli's defensive lines were already set, turning the game bato a static positional battle.

  This calcuted disruption struck Bara's Achilles' heel, leaving them disoriented and iive.

  Their strengths, ball trol, quick passing, and dictating tempo had beeralized at the most critical moments.

  And the worst part?

  Napoli's fouls were textbook Serie A.

  The pyers always operated within the boundaries of Howard Webb's le interpretation of physical tact. As a Premier League referee, Webb allowed more robust challenges, and Napoli exploited that perfectly.

  Bara found themselves trapped in a tactical stranglehold.

  …

  "What's the step?" Zidane asked, his voice ced with excitement.

  The Fren g Gao Shen, whose calm expression suggested he already had the game figured out. Zidane could almost feel the Champions League trophy being from the sidelines.

  If Napoli won tonight, this would be Zidane's first Champions League title siransitioning into coag.

  Even as an assistant coach, the achievement would be a signifit boost to his burgeoning coag career.

  Gao Shen didn't immediately respond. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the opposite teical area, where Guardio stood he toue.

  Though Guardio maintained a calm exteriao Shen knew better. He could sehe internal turmoil brewih that stoic facade.

  "What do you think Pep is thinking right now?" Gao Shen asked with a sly smile.

  Zidane followed Gao Shen's gaze tuardio. He hesitated, then shook his head.

  "How would I know?"

  Gao Shen chuckled, suddenly recalling a joke from his past life:

  "Guardio once spent €400 million to build a tactical 'nuclear bomb' for the Champions League only to lose 1–0 to Tuchel in the final."

  The Emperor of Overthinking.

  "I'm waiting for him to ge his formation," Gao Shen said, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

  Zidane froze.

  "What? Guardio ge his formation? In the Champions League final? No way."

  Carlo and the others also turao Shen, equally bewildered.

  Bara's 4-3-3 formation was fual to their identity. Everyone k was noiable.

  "You're right," Gao Shen said, nodding. "Bara's 4-3-3 is their core identity. And everyone knows that. Including Guardio."

  "But that's exactly why he'll ge it."

  His assistant coaches exged uain gnces.

  "Pep hates predictability," Gao Shen tinued. "He knows people have figured out his system. The closer the game, the more he worries about being outmaneuvered. So, when the pressure mounts, he tries to innovate on the spot."

  "Even in a Champions League final?" Zidane asked skeptically.

  "Especially in a Champions League final," Gao Shen replied with a grin.

  He shook his head and sighed. "Holy, I was a bit disappointed with Bara's opening tactics tonight. I expected something more… creative."

  "But don't worry. Just wait. The moment Guardio tweaks his formation, the trophy is ours."

  Zidane, Carlo, and Lucas were still trying to their heads around Gao Shen's logic.

  If Guardio had made it this far with his tactics, why ge now?

  But then realization dawned.

  If Bara was already pying their best possible game, any tactical shift would only weaken them. ging the formation mid-match would make them less stable, not more.

  So, yes.

  If Guardio ged the formation, Napoli would have the upper hand.

  Zidane leaned back, rubbing his . "So… we should hope Guardio ges his tactics?"

  "Exactly," Gao Shen said, giving a thumbs-up. "And knowing Pep, he won't be able to resist."

  …

  Oher sideline, Guardio stid, his mind rag.

  He felt exposed, as though Gao Shen had stripped him bare a him standing, vulnerable, for the entire footballing world to see.

  Gao Shen knew him too well.

  If someone asked Guardio to he person who uood his football best, he wouldn't say Cruyff. Nor his mentiristain. Not even Vinova.

  It was Gao Shen.

  Their time together in Naples had fed an almost telepathiderstanding.

  Guardio had absorbed tless tactical insights from Gao Shen, cepts that ter defined his coag philosophy. But the downside was that Gao Shen now knew his pybook almost as well as he did.

  From the first whistle tonight, Napoli had beeep ahead.

  Baright dominate possession, but what ossession without peion?

  Xavi and Ia kept retreating to collect the ball. Messi was dropping deeper and deeper to escape Napoli's suffog midfield block. Even Busquets was being forced to slide into the bae to help circute the ball.

  This wasn't trol. This was tai.

  Guardio felt trapped.

  His pyers were exeg the system he'd drilled into them, yet Napoli's pressing nullified every advahey'd worked to build.

  If they kept this up, they'd lose. He was sure of it.

  And then that voice started whispering in his head.

  ge it.

  Subvert everything.

  But how?

  Messi, Xavi, Ia, Busquets, Bara's core quartet. If he removed one of them, it would certainly disrupt Napoli's structure.

  Or destroy his own.

  Substituting one of those pyers wouldn't be tactical innovation; it would be tactical suicide.

  His brain spun through endless permutations. Eaew sario left him more disorieha.

  Then, as if to stop the spiraling thoughts, he turo his assistant.

  "Tito," Guardio said abruptly. "We o make a substitution at halftime."

  Vinova blinked, startled.

  "A substitution? Who are we taking off?"

  Guardio said nothing.

  He didn't know.

  All he knew was that something had to ge.