Chapter 8 : The Lilywhites
The night was quiet as Rahmat strolled through the dimly lit streets after the Liverpool match, deep in thought. The exhilaration of victory at Anfield had begun to fade, replaced by a fierce determination and a clear sense of urgency. Liverpool had nearly exposed his team's weaknesses, pressing their defense at every opportunity. Despite Wakabayashi's heroics and the brilliance of Barou and Aoyama, Luton's defense had looked fragile under pressure.
As Rahmat walked, his phone buzzed with messages from friends and fans congratulating him on the win. But one message caught his attention. It was from a scout he'd met during his brief time in Indonesia, a seasoned talent spotter with connections across Europe.
"Congratulations on the win. I heard about the game. If you're looking for defensive reinforcements, I might have some options for you. Let's talk soon."
Rahmat's mind raced. He hadn't considered bringing in players from less mainstream leagues, but perhaps that was the key to shoring up Luton's defense without blowing the budget. The Premier League was brutal, but if he could find a determined, gritty defender, it might be exactly what they needed to hold the line.
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The following morning, Rahmat gathered his team for a video review of the Liverpool game. They watched their performance, and the players could see where Liverpool had broken through and nearly scored.
"We did something incredible yesterday," Rahmat began, his voice steady but serious. "We beat one of the best teams in the league at their home. But look here." He pointed to clips showing Liverpool's near-misses. "We were exposed. They found the gaps in our defense, and if it weren't for that offside call, we'd have left Anfield with a different result."
Wakabayashi, sitting up front, nodded in agreement. "I'll do everything I can, Coach, but we need a stronger core in the back. I can only cover so much."
Rahmat nodded. "Exactly, Wakabayashi. Until we find reinforcements, I want everyone to focus on communication and positioning. We need to work together to support each other, close those gaps, and limit our vulnerabilities."
Turning to Barou and Aoyama, he continued, "This goes for the midfield and forwards too. Barou, Aoyama, you'll need to track back and help on defense. Every player's positioning matters."
Barou, always confident, nodded firmly. "Got it, Coach. I'll track back when needed, but when it's time to go forward, I'll make it count."
Aoyama nodded calmly, his analytical gaze fixed on the screen as he absorbed the tactical adjustments.
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Over the next week, Rahmat pushed his team through rigorous defensive drills. Wakabayashi became the voice of authority in training, directing the back line with authority. Rahmat knew that while they could tighten up as a unit, training alone wouldn't solve their issue. They needed a strong, experienced center-back, someone to anchor their defense and reinforce Wakabayashi.
Rahmat reached out to his contacts, scouring footage and player profiles and keeping his options open as he prepared before the summer transfer window closed.
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Matchday against Tottenham Hotspur arrived, and Rahmat knew it would be a grueling test. Tottenham's manager, Ange Postecoglou, had surely studied Luton's weaknesses, and he wouldn't hesitate to exploit them with pacey forwards like Son Heung-min, skillful playmakers like James Maddison, and the ever-dangerous Richarlison.
In the locker room, Rahmat addressed his team with conviction. "Today is another test. Tottenham will press us and target our weaknesses. We've worked hard this week to prepare, but it's up to each of you to hold strong, communicate, and play together. Everyone defends, everyone attacks. I want to see resilience and fight like I saw against Liverpool."
He looked to Wakabayashi, who gave a firm nod of understanding. The captain would be the anchor once again, rallying his teammates.
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The game kicked off, and Tottenham immediately pushed forward with intensity. Their front line, led by Son and Richarlison, moved with frightening speed and precision. Maddison orchestrated the midfield, pulling strings and distributing passes with finesse, constantly probing Luton's defensive line for gaps.
Rahmat watched from the sideline, analyzing Tottenham's approach. He called out to his players, "Stay compact! Close down Maddison, don't let him dictate the play!"
In response, Aoyama positioned himself to shadow Maddison, intercepting passes and disrupting Tottenham's rhythm. Every time Maddison tried to turn or find a gap, Aoyama was there, calm and calculating, blocking his paths and forcing Tottenham to reset.
The commentator noted the intense battle in midfield, saying, "Aoyama is a revelation in this Luton team. He's practically reading Maddison's every move. It's like he knows where the ball is going before anyone else does!"
But Ange Postecoglou wasn't one to be outsmarted. Noticing the effect Aoyama was having, he barked orders from the sideline, "Stretch them wide! Use the wings and draw their midfield out!"
Tottenham's full-backs surged forward, creating overloads on the flanks and forcing Luton's defense to spread thin. The pressure began to mount, and Rahmat could see the strain on his defenders as they scrambled to cover the wide spaces.
Midway through the first half, Son found space on the left wing, slipping past Luton's right-back. He whipped a cross into the box, where Richarlison rose high, meeting it with a powerful header. Wakabayashi threw himself at the ball, deflecting it with a miraculous save.
"Another save by Wakabayashi!" the commentator exclaimed. "He's keeping Luton in this, but they can't keep relying on him alone!"
Rahmat shouted instructions from the sideline, his voice urgent. "Stay tight in the center! Don't get dragged out of position!" He could see Tottenham probing their defensive core, testing every inch for a weakness.
Tottenham's players heeded Postecoglou's commands, focusing their attacks through the center, forcing Luton's defenders into desperate clearances. Maddison slipped a ball through to Son, who managed to break through the back line, only to be met by another astonishing save from Wakabayashi. But Rahmat knew they were living on borrowed time.
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In the second half, Tottenham's intensity only grew. Maddison orchestrated a swift counterattack, threading the ball to Richarlison, who found himself with a clear sight on goal. He blasted a shot that flew past Wakabayashi and into the net—only for the linesman's flag to go up. Offside.
Rahmat exhaled, relief washing over him, but he knew they were dangerously close to conceding. He called Barou and Aoyama over to the sideline, urgency in his voice. "I need you both to drop deeper when we're defending. Support the back line and block those passing lanes. They're targeting the center, and we need everyone involved."
Barou clenched his fists, his competitive spirit evident. "Understood, Coach. I'll help cover, but once we get possession, I'll be ready to counter."
The match continued, and Rahmat's adjustments helped stabilize Luton's defense. With Barou and Aoyama dropping back, Tottenham found it harder to break through the middle. But Postecoglou was relentless, urging his players to increase the tempo.
"Keep the pressure up! Exploit every opening!" Postecoglou shouted, his voice carrying across the pitch.
Aoyama, in the midst of the chaos, remained a calming presence, threading precise passes to relieve pressure and finding openings to move the ball forward. Barou, on the other hand, was a force of nature. He intercepted a pass from Tottenham's midfield, muscled his way past an opponent, and charged down the field on a counterattack, leaving defenders in his wake. His shot was fierce, but Tottenham's keeper parried it, keeping the score level.
The commentators were buzzing, "Luton Town may be underdogs, but look at Barou! He's got the heart of a lion and isn't afraid to take on Tottenham's defense single-handedly!"
In the 80th minute, Tottenham earned a corner. The stadium was electric, the tension palpable. Maddison delivered a precise cross, and Richarlison once again rose high, directing a bullet header toward the bottom corner. Wakabayashi dove, fingers barely grazing the ball as it ricocheted off the post and out. The crowd gasped, the near-miss sending a jolt through both teams.
Postecoglou clapped his hands, rallying his players. "One more push, lads! We're close!"
The final minutes saw Tottenham throwing everything forward, but Luton's defense, though battered, held firm. Wakabayashi's voice rang out as he rallied his teammates, organizing them, encouraging them, reminding them that they were almost there.
As the final whistle approached, Tottenham had one last attack. Son dribbled through the left, sent a cross in, but Aoyama intercepted, calmly taking possession and clearing the ball upfield, giving Luton the breath they needed.
The final whistle blew. The match ended in a hard-fought 0-0 draw, with both managers sharing a mutual nod of respect as they shook hands. Rahmat knew they had survived by the skin of their teeth, but he felt immense pride in his team's resilience.
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Back in his office that night, Rahmat reviewed his notes. He could see it clearer than ever: the need for a solid center-back was urgent. Despite their grit, the team was stretched thin