chapter 3 Merry Christmas friends, here the author wishes you a prosperous new year

Chapter 3

Before his journey to the past, Yang Hao had been an obscure online author specializing in football fiction. His favorite trope was the underdog coach: underestimated and ridiculed at first, only to rise through sheer determination and brilliance.

Readers ate it up.

Now, as the new head coach of Atlético Madrid, Yang Hao was certain his appointment would dominate the headlines across Spain.

Dismissing a veteran like Antic and replacing him with a complete novice? It was a storyline ripped straight from his novels.

Yang Hao even mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of criticism, knowing that public doubt was a necessary precursor to his eventual triumph.

Atlético's staff felt similarly. The club's public relations department braced itself for the media storm. Miguel Gil, ever the realist, reassured Yang Hao to stay calm and weather the initial backlash.

Yang Hao imagined his path unfolding like one of his novels: vilified by the press, mocked by the fans, but ultimately vindicated by success on the pitch.

But when the papers arrived the next morning, the coverage was nothing like what he'd expected.

El País reported that Antic's departure was due to his refusal to bear responsibility for relegation, compounded by his strained relationship with Jesus Gil.

Marca speculated that appointing a novice was a sign of the club throwing in the towel. No credible manager, it argued, would risk their reputation on a team destined for relegation. Even Zambrano, Atlético's reserve coach, had reportedly turned down the job.

AS echoed the sentiment: Atlético's management had already resigned themselves to relegation and were scouting candidates for next season in the second division.

The narrative was unanimous: Atlético had given up. Yang Hao was nothing more than a stopgap.

Some outlets, such as ABC, Mundo Deportivo, and Sport, barely mentioned Yang Hao. To them, he was a nonentity—an afterthought.

Others, like World Report, highlighted his infamous run-in with Florentino Pérez, framing him as an overambitious fool who'd been humiliated by Real Madrid's president.

"The man who couldn't impress Florentino has been handed the reins of Atlético. A cruel joke, perhaps?" the article sneered.

Yang Hao was livid.

Yang Hao slumped onto his sofa, feeling utterly deflated.

The media weren't scrutinizing his appointment; they were ignoring it.

They didn't even care.

For all their criticism of Atlético's decision, no one seemed to think Yang Hao mattered. He was a placeholder, a convenient scapegoat for the inevitable relegation.

Yang Hao had mentally prepared for mockery, but this… indifference? It stung more than he'd anticipated.

He called Parrales, hoping to gauge the fan reaction at the training ground.

"Any protests?"

"None," came the reply.

Yang Hao sighed. Not even the fans cared enough to be angry.

"Damn," he muttered, reclining into the sofa with a bitter smile. "I guess I'm just a nobody."

But the more he thought about it, the more determined he became.

Fine. Ignore me if you want. But I'll make sure you can't ignore me for long.

Morning Training

Before practice began, Yang Hao met with César Mendióroz, the club's newly assigned assistant.

A former Atlético player turned scout, Mendióroz had deep ties to the club. His first gift to Yang Hao was a hastily prepared scouting report on Barcelona. Though rough around the edges, it showcased Mendióroz's dedication.

Yang Hao appreciated the gesture.

During training, Yang Hao kept his distance, observing from the sidelines while the existing coaching staff ran the session. For now, he chose to listen, learn, and let the players acclimate to his presence.

Afterward, he resumed his series of one-on-one talks with the squad, steadily building rapport.

But just as he was about to take a break, Parrales rushed into his office with grim news.

"Coach, we've got a problem," he said.

Baybars—the team's defensive stalwart—had aggravated an old injury.

A Setback

Baybars' condition had been stable, but the intense training load seemed to have worsened his injury. The medical team confirmed he would miss at least the next few games.

Yang Hao clenched his fists.

Losing Baybars was a significant blow. As one of the team's most reliable defenders, his absence would leave a gaping hole in an already fragile backline.

Yang Hao had just begun formulating a game plan for the upcoming Copa del Rey semifinal against Barcelona. Now, he'd have to go back to the drawing board.

More importantly, Baybars' absence would test the team's depth—something Atlético severely lacked.

Yang Hao took a deep breath and reminded himself of his mantra: Adapt. Evolve. Overcome.

"Tell the medical team to prioritize his recovery," he instructed Parrales.

Then, glancing at the scouting report Mendióroz had given him, he began scribbling down notes.

If Baybars couldn't play, someone else would have to step up.

This wasn't just about tactics. It was about mentality—instilling a belief that every player mattered, that they could defy the odds together.

Yang Hao's era at Atlético was off to a chaotic start, but he wasn't about to let setbacks define it.

They might see him as a nobody. But soon, they'd know his name.

The Czech midfielder Bejbl had sustained an injury during the first half of the match against Deportivo La Coruña. At that point, the team was trailing 3-0. During halftime, he informed Antic, who then substituted him with Baraja.

At the time, the medical staff had diagnosed it as a minor strain, which explained why Bejbl had managed to train yesterday.

But by today, it was clear he couldn't continue.

Bejbl was a true ironman—one of Atlético's most dependable players this season. From La Liga to the UEFA Cup to the Copa del Rey, including matches with the Czech national team, he had only missed five or six games. His performances had been consistently solid, keeping Baraja confined to the bench.

During the first half of the season, Baraja had a brief stint as a starter during Bejbl's injury absence, playing three consecutive matches and performing well. Afterward, Ranieri attempted to shift Baraja to right midfield as a replacement for Aguilera, but the team suffered back-to-back heavy losses to Athletic Bilbao and Deportivo. The defeats sent Baraja back to the bench.

Neither Ranieri nor Antic wavered: Bejbl was an immovable presence in the midfield.

The Bad News

"The news about Bejbl's injury won't stay hidden for long," said César Mendióroz, Atlético's new assistant coach.

The coaching staff's expressions grew increasingly grim.

The team had yet to even kick off against Barcelona, and the locker room, which had only just begun to stabilize, was already suffering another blow.

"How about Fresnedoso, Hugo Leal, or Venturín for that spot?" someone suggested.

But Yang Hao immediately ruled out Venturín.

The Italian midfielder had been brought in by Ranieri last summer from Lazio for €3.6 million. However, after just three or four La Liga matches, Ranieri relegated him to the bench, and he had barely featured since. Now 32 years old, Venturín's technical attributes also made him an ill fit for Bejbl's role.

Hugo Leal, the young Portuguese talent, excelled in passing and playmaking but lacked the defensive acumen needed for this critical position.

That left Fresnedoso, a more plausible candidate. Standing at 1.84 meters, Fresnedoso was defensively solid and had been a key part of Atlético's 1995-96 double-winning team. This season, he had made multiple substitute appearances.

But here was the problem:

1995-96 had been Fresnedoso's peak. He'd once been on the brink of the Spanish national team, but his performances had steadily declined. By this season, he'd lost his starting spot, relegated to garbage-time appearances and cup games.

How far had he fallen?

Yang Hao knew from his research into Atlético's history that after the team was relegated to the second division, even in LaLiga 2, Fresnedoso couldn't secure a starting role.

And he was only 27.

Yang Hao's Decision

"Pablo García."

Yang Hao's voice was firm.

The young Uruguayan midfielder's career would later be marked by its frustrating trajectory, filled with poor decisions in team selection. After leaving Atlético, Pablo García joined AC Milan, where he failed to make an impact. A subsequent loan to Venezia didn't fare any better. It wasn't until his 2002 move to Osasuna that he finally found his footing, becoming one of La Liga's standout defensive midfielders.

By 2005, Real Madrid came calling, but that too ended in disappointment.

Yet Yang Hao, with his knowledge of Pablo García's untapped potential, felt confident. At just 23, the young midfielder had the ability and the right mindset to succeed.

While others saw an inexperienced second-team player, Yang Hao saw a rising star. García's defensive skills, combined with his underrated passing and playmaking abilities, could be the perfect solution.

Backlash

Yang Hao's decision shocked the coaching staff.

This wasn't just any match—it was a do-or-die clash against Barcelona. Pinning the team's hopes on Pablo García, a player who had never featured in a first-team match, seemed reckless.

Worse, pairing García with Baraja, another non-regular, meant Atlético would field two untested midfielders as part of a critical double-pivot in a 4-2-3-1 formation.

Some staff members argued for scrapping the formation altogether. A return to a 4-4-2, with Bejbl replaced by Baraja and Valerón in midfield, seemed like the safer option.

Yang Hao, however, was unwavering.

"This isn't up for debate," he declared. "Make the necessary adjustments for this afternoon's training."

The staff exchanged skeptical glances.

Was Yang Hao leading the team to slaughter?

Silently, some began preparing for the inevitable backlash after the match.

When the team gets crushed, let's see if he still stands by this decision.

Unshaken Resolve

But Yang Hao remained resolute.

He knew the risks. He knew the stakes.

And he also knew one simple truth: in football, bold decisions often separated winners from losers.

If he could instill belief in his players—Pablo García and Baraja especially—there was a chance.

With that thought, Yang Hao dismissed the doubts swirling around him.

They'd criticize him no matter what. He might as well go down fighting.

Barcelona, Spain.

The afternoon training session at La Masia had just ended, and the complex had returned to its usual tranquility. In his office, Louis van Gaal, head coach of Barcelona, kept the lights on late.

In two days, his team would travel to Madrid to face Atlético Madrid in the Copa del Rey semifinal.

Van Gaal didn't feel the slightest apprehension about the match, even though it was an away game.

During his three seasons coaching Barcelona, he had faced Atlético numerous times, including a memorable 2-5 loss at the Vicente Calderón. But that had been a fluke, with the league title already secured, and Van Gaal fielding a second-string lineup only for Vieri to run riot.

Overall, Van Gaal's Barcelona had consistently dominated Atlético.

And he had no reason to believe this time would be any different.

Especially now, with Antic gone. Atlético appeared to have given up on the season entirely.

Still, Van Gaal wasn't one to underestimate an opponent. Barcelona itself was under tremendous pressure and in desperate need of a resounding victory to lift the team's morale.

Yet the real headache wasn't Atlético—it was their new manager.

The world knew almost nothing about Yang Hao, Atlético's newly appointed head coach.

Who was he?

What kind of tactics did he prefer? What types of players would he rely on? No one knew.

The only media coverage surrounding Yang Hao was the infamous report about his meeting with Florentino Pérez, where he had been unceremoniously mocked and shown the door.

Who could have imagined such a nobody would now be managing Atlético Madrid?

Van Gaal found the mystery unsettling. As a coach obsessed with control, he hated being forced to guess.

A Visitor

As Van Gaal wrestled with these thoughts, a knock came at his office door.

His assistant, José Mourinho, walked in.

At 37, Mourinho was a sharp, efficient operator. While his confrontational style often led to clashes, Van Gaal greatly valued his judgment and relied on him heavily.

During Van Gaal's time at Barcelona, he had three assistants: Ronald Koeman and Gerard van der Lem had already gone on to manage their own teams. Only Mourinho remained, though it was clear his departure was only a matter of time.

"What is it, José?" Van Gaal asked, turning to face him.

"Bejbl is injured."

"Truly injured?" Van Gaal's eyes widened in surprise, then a sly smile crept across his face.

"Our scouts were right," Mourinho continued. "He didn't come off early against Deportivo as a precaution for the Copa del Rey—he really picked up a knock. And this afternoon, he skipped training altogether."

Mourinho's expression mirrored Van Gaal's satisfaction.

Bejbl was a cornerstone of Atlético's midfield, a defensive stalwart. Without him, how could they possibly hope to match Barcelona?

Van Gaal chuckled. "It seems we've gotten confirmation."

In the packed schedule of a two-match week, every training session was critical. No coach would willingly bench a player for such a session just to play mind games.

Bejbl's absence could only mean one thing—his injury was real.

Adjusting the Game Plan

Van Gaal returned to his desk, where a large tactical board displayed both Barcelona's and Atlético's likely starting lineups.

Of course, the Atlético lineup was speculative, based on how Antic had been setting up his team:

Formation: 4-4-2

Defense: Molina (GK); Capdevila, Santi Denia, Gamarra, Gaspar.

Midfield: Solari, Valerón, Bejbl, Aguilera.

Attack: Kiko, Hasselbaink.

But now, Van Gaal removed the marker representing Bejbl from the board.

"Who do you think they'll use instead? Baraja? Fresnedoso? Hugo Leal? Or maybe Oscar Mena?" he mused aloud, listing Atlético's potential replacements.

Mourinho smirked. "You're forgetting about Venturín."

The joke made Van Gaal laugh aloud.

The absence of Bejbl, Atlético's defensive linchpin, left a gaping hole in their midfield. How could they possibly hold off Barcelona now?

To Attack or Not?

Mourinho leaned over the board. "Should we play even more aggressively?" he suggested.

Van Gaal studied his assistant, suppressing an exasperated sigh.

Mourinho's youth and ambition were evident in moments like these. His instinct to go on the offensive was admirable but occasionally too bold.

What Barcelona needed most right now wasn't flair—it was stability.

A solid victory would ease the pressure on the team, and that was more important than flashy tactics.

"José, I get the sense that when you get your chance to manage, you'll take more risks than I ever would," Van Gaal teased with a knowing smile.

It wasn't the first time Van Gaal had said this, and Mourinho responded with his usual self-assured grin. He knew his approach leaned toward attacking football, and he took pride in it.

Van Gaal chuckled again. "You just want to stir the pot, but I have to think about the bigger picture."

After a moment of thought, he reached a decision.

"Let Cocu start at center-back and push Guardiola into the pivot role. We'll aim to settle the tie in the first leg."

Van Gaal's plan was set, a careful blend of pragmatism and ambition.

The Mystery Persists

Despite the confidence in their game plan, one mystery remained unsolved: Yang Hao.

Van Gaal glanced at the speculative Atlético lineup on the board. Could the untested coach surprise them? Or was he truly as invisible as the media suggested?

Time would tell. For now, Van Gaal had his strategy, and he was determined to secure victory.

Barcelona's central defenders are at a height disadvantage, although Cocu is relatively tall.

As a versatile player, Cocu also has impressive attacking capabilities. When he anchors the defensive line, he can effectively help the team press forward, suppressing Atlético Madrid's overall formation and enabling the midfield and attack to capitalize on their opportunities.

After hearing this, Mourinho nodded immediately and jotted it down in his notebook.

"Still no news about Atlético's new head coach?" Van Gaal suddenly asked.

Mourinho shook his head. "None. Even the media hasn't picked up anything, so they're just ignoring it outright."

Van Gaal couldn't help but smile. Even the media couldn't uncover anything—that was quite peculiar.

"I heard from a Sport journalist that this guy seems to have appeared out of thin air. It's very strange. What we know so far is that a few months ago, he accidentally fell into one of Madrid's rivers and was rescued.

"After that, he went on to try and persuade Florentino but was chased away. Then came this."

Van Gaal nodded. "Where did he get his coaching license?"

Other things could be faked, but a license couldn't be, right?

"Funny you should ask—his license is legitimate. Both UEFA and the coaching associations have records of it. But no one remembers when or where this guy came into the picture. Isn't that odd?"

"What about Cologne's sports academy? Didn't someone say he graduated from the sports management program there?" Van Gaal looked even more puzzled.

"Yes, reporters looked into that. He's real; he graduated. But no one remembers him. Even the professors aren't sure if he ever attended their classes."

Hearing this, Van Gaal felt like he was in the middle of a thriller.

"Is this guy's presence just that low?"

"He's like an invisible man. If it weren't for this sudden spotlight, no one would even recall his existence. And get this—some reporters went to interview Florentino. Want to guess what he said?"

"He doesn't remember?" Van Gaal burst out laughing.

"Exactly! Florentino straight-up said, 'Who? I don't know him!'"

The two of them roared with laughter.

Atlético Madrid's new head coach was just too unremarkable, ignored to the point of being a nonentity.

This only reinforced the media's belief that he was merely a scapegoat, a fall guy Atlético had put forward to take the blame for relegation.

Otherwise, why would Atlético hire someone like him to coach the team?

"I can already imagine the chaos in Atlético's dressing room and the pervasive sense of unease. I think the Copa del Rey semifinals are a sure thing for us."

Mourinho looked deeply at Van Gaal.

During his three years coaching Barcelona, Van Gaal had won the La Liga title twice. Although he hadn't made significant progress in the Champions League, his achievements were impressive. However, it seemed unlikely he could wrest the league title from Deportivo this year.

Winning the Copa del Rey might be enough to secure his position.

At the very least, winning a trophy every year was satisfactory.

Van Gaal, of course, understood Mourinho's point, but the proud Dutchman wasn't interested in securing his job this way.

Mourinho, on the other hand...

"José, I heard a Portuguese club is interested in you?" Van Gaal asked suddenly.

Mourinho didn't hide it and nodded. "I'm still considering it."

"Go for it. If you get the chance to coach your own team at the end of the season, take it!" Van Gaal urged.

He had always believed Mourinho wasn't content to play second fiddle. If he had served as an assistant for three years, it was only because he was learning.

Once he'd learned enough, he was bound to strike out on his own.

"I'll think about it. Honestly, I'm a bit apprehensive," Mourinho admitted with a wry smile.

Van Gaal burst out laughing. "You're not going to end up like Atlético's new head coach, are you?"

Mourinho laughed as well. "No, no, not that bad. I haven't fallen that far."

As Barcelona's assistant coach, if Mourinho were to strike out on his own, he would at least land a job with a top Portuguese team and be in complete control.

Ending up like Atlético's new coach, as nothing more than a scapegoat, was unthinkable.

While Van Gaal and Mourinho joked about Atlético's unnamed head coach at Barcelona's training grounds, Yang Hao was still burning the midnight oil at Atlético Madrid's training base in Majadahonda.

He had just finished a meeting with a few first-team players who were set to start the upcoming match, listening to their feedback and opinions while explaining his tactical plans and strategies for facing Barcelona.

After the meeting, he specifically asked Baraja and Pablo García to stay behind for a one-on-one discussion.

Especially Pablo García.

"You all said you'd fight for me. Now, the chance to prove it has come!" Yang Hao said sternly, fixing his gaze on the two players.

April 11, 2000, Tuesday – Vicente Calderón Stadium, Madrid, Spain.

The first leg of the Copa del Rey semifinals saw Atlético Madrid hosting FC Barcelona.

This match was the product of Claudio Ranieri's tenure—the Italian tactician had led Atlético into the semis before being shown the door in February. Now, the reins were in the hands of a completely unknown Yang Hao, tasked with rallying the struggling team against one of Spain's most formidable giants.

48,000 Atlético fans packed the Calderón for this marquee clash. Matches against top teams like Barcelona always drew a crowd, even as Atlético endured one of the darkest chapters in their history.

The Chairman's Return

It had been nearly four months since Jesus Gil—alongside his son Miguel Gil and Enrique Cerezo—was last seen in the VIP box. Their presence tonight symbolized solidarity and renewed hope.

When Jesus Gil appeared, the Atlético faithful erupted into applause. Despite the turmoil engulfing the club, Gil remained a revered figure among supporters. Many fans firmly believed that his leadership could still steer the team to safety.

Also returning to the public eye was Paulo Futre, now serving as the club's sporting director. The former Atlético legend received a hero's welcome from the crowd, with fans chanting his name as a symbol of nostalgia and defiance.

But behind the smiles and waves in the VIP box, the Atlético leadership was anything but optimistic. The loss of key midfielder Bejbl had compounded an already dire situation, leaving the board apprehensive about the team's chances against a desperate and dangerous Barcelona side.

Even the typically brash Jesus Gil found himself unusually subdued. Instead of scolding his son for looking nervous, he leaned in and offered some rare fatherly advice.

"Broadcast cameras are watching—try to look calm," he said coolly.

Miguel Gil, startled by the uncharacteristic tone, took a deep breath and nodded.

"You made your choice. Believe in it—whether it succeeds or fails."

Atlético's Starting XI

When Barcelona's coaching staff received Atlético's starting lineup, Louis van Gaal and José Mourinho exchanged looks of surprise.

Atlético Madrid XI:

Goalkeeper: Molina

Defenders: Capdevila, Santi Denia, Carlos Gamarra, Gaspar

Midfielders: Pablo García, Baraja (holding midfield); Solari, Valerón, Aguilera (attacking midfield)

Striker: Hasselbaink

"No Kiko?" Mourinho blurted out, raising an eyebrow.

Van Gaal studied the formation and nodded thoughtfully. "It's clear. They're switching to 4-2-3-1."

For a team that had almost exclusively played 4-4-2 under Ranieri and Antić, the sudden shift to a double-pivot formation was a bold departure.

"This coach thinks he can reinvent the wheel," Mourinho sneered.

Van Gaal remained reserved. "A 4-2-3-1 has always been designed with one primary goal: defense. The double pivot's purpose is to neutralize playmakers like Maradona. But there are two ways to implement it: pull one forward back into midfield, or sacrifice a striker for an extra defensive midfielder."

"They've clearly gone with the second option," Mourinho observed. "Young coach. Probably copying the trendy teams like Deportivo."

Indeed, both Deportivo La Coruña and Celta Vigo had successfully used the 4-2-3-1 system this season. However, Deportivo boasted midfield powerhouses like Mauro Silva and Flávio Conceição, while Celta had stars like Makelele and Celades. Atlético, on the other hand, was fielding a 23-year-old debutant in Pablo García and an unproven Baraja.

"It's like he's throwing everything at the wall and hoping it sticks," Mourinho muttered dismissively.

Van Gaal wasn't so sure. "Pablo García—this is his first senior appearance, isn't it?"

Mourinho nodded.

"Then they're trying to play it safe. Their coach knows they can't outgun us, so he's banking on defense."

Van Gaal smirked. "Start aggressively. Let's finish this tie in the first leg."

Yang Hao's Debut

For Yang Hao, stepping onto the Vicente Calderón pitch as Atlético Madrid's head coach was surreal.

Just months ago, he had been an anonymous face in the crowd, cheering from the stands. Now, he was at the center of attention, standing on the touchline before nearly 50,000 fans.

The sheer scale of the moment was overwhelming. The roar of the crowd was deafening. The pressure was suffocating.

Yang Hao scanned the packed stadium, taking a moment to steady his nerves. He knew this was his chance—not just to prove himself to the footballing world, but to the players, the fans, and most importantly, to himself.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jesus Gil watching from the VIP box, his expression unreadable. Miguel Gil sat beside him, visibly tense, but Yang Hao didn't have time to dwell on it.

The referee's whistle pierced through the noise, signaling the start of the match.

Van Gaal's Miscalculation

Barcelona came out exactly as expected—pressing high and aggressively. Van Gaal's strategy was clear: overwhelm Atlético's inexperienced midfield pairing of Pablo García and Baraja.

But Yang Hao had anticipated this.

Instead of trying to fight for control in the midfield, Atlético bypassed it entirely. Goalkeeper Molina and the defense repeatedly launched long balls into the channels, targeting Barcelona's sluggish full-backs—Bogarde on the left and the young Puyol on the right.

The strategy worked.

In the 8th minute, Solari intercepted a misplaced pass from Guardiola and surged down the left flank. His pinpoint cross found Hasselbaink, who muscled past Cocu and smashed a header into the net.

1–0 to Atlético.

The Calderón erupted. Fans who had arrived expecting a defeat were now chanting Yang Hao's name.

On the touchline, Van Gaal stood frozen, his confidence momentarily shaken.

Yang Hao, meanwhile, allowed himself a rare smile. He knew there was a long way to go, but this—this—was the perfect start.

Yang Hao finally understood the phrase he'd read in a previous life: "The timid would wet themselves on the spot."

Luckily for him, he'd already emptied his bladder before arriving at the stadium.

"Maybe you should go greet Van Gaal," César Mendiondo suggested.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Yang Hao nodded and made his way toward the opposing team's technical area.

Van Gaal had been keeping an eye on him. When Yang Hao approached, the Dutchman extended his hand with a polite but indifferent expression.

"Hello," Van Gaal said flatly as they shook hands.

It was brief, cold, and strictly professional. For a manager of Van Gaal's stature, such behavior wasn't unusual. His aloofness carried the weight of a coach who had seen it all—a subtle reminder of the gulf between them.

Yang Hao felt a pang of dismissal but didn't dwell on it. His attention shifted to the man beside Van Gaal—José Mourinho.

After shaking Van Gaal's hand, Yang Hao stepped toward the Portuguese assistant.

"Welcome to the Calderón, José!" he said with a grin.

"Thank you," Mourinho replied, briefly taken aback by the gesture.

His expression betrayed a hint of confusion: Why is he being so polite? Do we even know each other?

Yang Hao couldn't help but feel amused by Mourinho's reaction. Turning toward the field, he surveyed Barcelona's star-studded lineup: Kluivert, Figo, Rivaldo, Xavi, Guardiola, Cocu, Puyol—a veritable who's who of world-class players.

His gaze lingered on Guardiola. With his thick head of hair, it was hard to reconcile this image with the bald, tactically revolutionary "Pep" of the future.

Does his brilliance depend on him going bald? Yang Hao chuckled to himself. Well, now that I'm here, maybe I can prevent that transformation.

But his musings were cut short as the referee signaled the start of the match.

Barcelona's Blitz

Despite being the away team, Barcelona began the game with a ferocious attacking press.

The left flank was Rivaldo's playground, while Figo made his presence known on the right. Their relentless movement and technical skill forced Atlético to defend deep from the get-go.

Yang Hao smirked wryly. People say Rivaldo and Van Gaal don't get along? Strange. Sometimes players with the most grievances seem to play the hardest.

Barcelona quickly established dominance, creating their first dangerous chance in the opening minutes—a trademark left-footed strike from Rivaldo that whizzed just wide.

Yang Hao noted how Rivaldo's performance suffered from being stationed on the left wing rather than his favored central role. The Brazilian's frustration with Van Gaal's tactics was apparent, but Yang Hao also understood the Dutchman's rationale: a manager must balance the team's needs, not just an individual's.

On defense, Bogarde and Puyol pushed high up the pitch, compressing Atlético into their own half. The entire Barcelona backline advanced, supporting the midfield and allowing them to dictate the tempo.

Up front, Kluivert's imposing physicality overwhelmed Atlético's center-backs, forcing them into errors. With Barcelona controlling the wings and the middle, the home side struggled to string together meaningful passes.

First Blood

In the 12th minute, Rivaldo cut inside from the left, exploiting the gap between Gaspar and the central defenders. Gaspar's only recourse was a foul, conceding a dangerous free kick.

Rivaldo took the free kick himself, curling a wicked ball into the box. Santi Denia managed to clear with a header, but the ball landed at the feet of Guardiola, stationed at the edge of the area.

The Barça captain wasted no time, nudging the ball wide to Figo on the right. With a deft touch, Figo whipped in a cross before Capdevila could close him down.

The ball sailed over Kluivert, who drew the defenders with him, and landed perfectly for Cocu. The Dutchman charged in unmarked and smashed a close-range header past Molina.

1–0, Barcelona.

The Calderón fell silent for a moment before a collective sigh of disappointment swept through the crowd.

In the away dugout, Van Gaal and Mourinho leaped to their feet, pumping fists and exchanging celebratory embraces. The Dutch tactician wore a triumphant smirk—it was a textbook goal, executed to perfection.

Yang Hao's Frustration

Yang Hao glared at the pitch, his lips pressed into a tight line. Losing a goal this early was a blow, but it was the manner of the goal that infuriated him.

"Individual quality. We're nowhere near their level," Mendiondo muttered with a resigned shrug.

Yang Hao disagreed. Yes, Gaspar had struggled to contain Rivaldo, but that wasn't the root issue. He marched to the touchline and called out to Baraja, summoning him over.

"What the hell was that?" Yang Hao barked. "Why weren't you covering the space behind Gaspar?"

"I… I thought…" Baraja stammered, gesturing vaguely toward the midfield.

Yang Hao's glare silenced him.

"You're playing as one of two holding midfielders! How many times have I told you? Cover the full-backs when they're isolated! That's your job!"

Baraja's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He nodded hurriedly.

"And tell Pablo García to watch Figo more closely," Yang Hao added. "Oh, and one more thing—relax! Stop playing so tense! Let loose and fight!"

Baraja jogged back onto the pitch, visibly chastened. Yang Hao then signaled to Valerón, urging him to calm the tempo and maintain possession.

"There's still time," Yang Hao muttered to himself. "One goal doesn't decide a match."

The Calderón crowd, though momentarily deflated, began to find its voice again. As the fans rallied behind their team, Yang Hao tightened his grip on the tactical reins, determined to turn things around.

This wasn't over yet.

"Barcelona have gotten off to a fantastic start. Van Gaal's side broke the deadlock just 12 minutes in," the commentator announced enthusiastically.

"That goal came from a free kick on the left side. Figo's delivery set up Cocu perfectly for the header."

"You can see that Atlético's new coach has switched to a double-pivot midfield, but their defense remains as fragile as ever—especially in protecting the flanks."

"Facing players like Rivaldo and Figo, with their extraordinary individual talent, one-on-one defending just doesn't cut it. You need numbers, and Atlético simply haven't managed that."

"And as for the center-backs, they're no match for Kluivert physically or tactically. This has been a recurring issue for Atlético."

"Barcelona are back in possession now, pressing aggressively. At this rate, it looks like Atlético could be headed for a humiliating defeat on their home turf."

The Chairman's Doubts

"Still no improvement?"

From his seat in the VIP section, Jesús Gil looked as composed as ever, but his question carried an undercurrent of concern.

Those around him couldn't tell if he was speaking to them or simply musing to himself.

Miguel Gil furrowed his brow, deep in thought. After some hesitation, he finally spoke.

"I believe in him! He said he had a plan, and I trust that he'll deliver."

Miguel's resolute tone surprised the others, his unwavering confidence bordering on defiance.

Paul Futre and Enrique Cerezo exchanged glances. Both men knew just how much faith Miguel had placed in Yang Hao. It was almost as if he'd been brainwashed.

What could possibly explain this blind trust?

Jesús Gil glanced sharply at his son, letting out a couple of gruff chuckles. "Let's hope he doesn't disappoint you."

Ever since acquiring Atlético in 1992, Jesús Gil had thrown Miguel straight into the deep end, making him the club's general manager.

Fresh out of school and with little experience, Miguel was thrust into the chaotic world of professional football. It was a trial by fire meant to toughen him up.

But now, years later, Jesús Gil remained unimpressed.

His son lacked decisiveness and boldness—hesitant, overly cautious, and far too reliant on convention.

How could someone like that lead?

Yet, of all the decisions Miguel had made, replacing Antic with Yang Hao was the boldest and most controversial.

Everyone thought it was a reckless gamble. Everyone except Jesús Gil.

For the first time, he saw a glimmer of hope that Miguel might have inherited some of his own audacity.

In a world of chaos, boldness was key.

Barcelona on the Offensive

"Puyol, you're pushing too far forward. Stay back a little," Van Gaal barked from the sideline.

Just moments earlier, Puyol had overstepped his position, venturing ahead of Figo on the right flank.

Van Gaal didn't like it.

In his system, full-backs were forbidden from overlapping wingers. It wasn't just tactical discipline—it was essential to the team's defensive structure.

Figo wasn't the type of winger who relied on raw pace. Instead, he thrived on technical skill, rhythm, and precision passing to break down defenses. Puyol's overeager positioning left the team vulnerable.

"Atlético's left flank has been completely suppressed. They can't create anything dangerous," Mourinho remarked with a chuckle.

It was true. Twenty minutes in, Atlético hadn't managed a single shot.

Their counterattacks consistently ran through the left side, but Puyol's speed and defensive awareness shut them down every time.

Meanwhile, Guardiola provided cover whenever Puyol ventured forward, sealing off any potential gaps.

As for the right flank, Gaspar was struggling just to contain Rivaldo, let alone join the attack. Aguilera had to drop deep to assist in defense, which further blunted Atlético's offensive potential.

"Atlético's players are showing more effort than usual. Hasselbaink is pressing hard in the final third, and Valerón is working much harder off the ball, both on the flanks and in deeper positions," Mourinho observed.

"But effort alone won't save them. I think we can win by at least three goals tonight."

Van Gaal smirked. "You're always stirring the pot, José. But you're right—another goal before halftime would set us up nicely."

A Shift in Momentum?

From the stands, the match appeared to be a one-sided affair. Barcelona dominated possession, their attacks relentless, while Atlético struggled to string together meaningful plays.

But on the pitch, Pep Guardiola sensed something different.

As Barça's pivot, Guardiola was the linchpin of their midfield. His sharp footballing mind noticed a subtle but deliberate pattern in Valerón's movements.

Atlético had set up in a 4-2-3-1 formation, with Valerón operating as the central attacking midfielder. On paper, Guardiola was his direct counterpart.

Every time Guardiola had the ball, Valerón would press him aggressively. That wasn't unusual.

What caught Guardiola's attention was what happened when Atlético regained possession.

Valerón wasn't staying central. Instead, he drifted to the left, hovering between Gabri and Xavi, Barça's more advanced midfielders.

It wasn't a random movement. It was calculated.

By positioning himself on the left, Valerón was exploiting the space behind Puyol whenever the right-back advanced.

Guardiola's instincts tingled. Something was brewing.

The Equalizer

The Calderón erupted in cheers as Atlético broke free of Barcelona's press.

A sharp diagonal pass from Pablo García found Santiago Solari, who surged forward on the left.

Valerón, true to form, positioned himself perfectly between Gabri and Xavi. Receiving the ball from Solari, he turned swiftly and threaded a through ball into the channel.

Hasselbaink timed his run to perfection, shrugging off Frank de Boer with raw power.

One-on-one with Hesp, the Dutch striker unleashed a thunderous shot into the roof of the net.

1–1!

The stadium roared to life as Hasselbaink celebrated wildly, pointing toward the bench. Valerón pumped his fists in triumph, his clever positioning finally paying off.

On the sideline, Yang Hao clenched his fists, letting out a guttural "YES!"

Van Gaal's Reaction

"Damn it," Van Gaal muttered under his breath.

It wasn't just the goal that frustrated him—it was how Atlético had exploited the very flaw he'd tried to address.

Mourinho frowned, his notepad in hand. "Puyol's overlap left too much space. And Valerón… he's starting to find gaps."

Van Gaal nodded. "Adjust. Pull Gabri deeper to cover the space."

Mourinho jotted down the instruction, his usual confidence shaken.

For the first time that night, the Calderón crowd believed. Their team wasn't out of this yet.

It was a clear signal—a deliberate effort to overload the left flank.

Pep Guardiola had noticed it. Every time Valerón moved left, it wasn't random. It was to provide support and create an outlet for Atlético's attacks on that side.

Guardiola knew Valerón's quality. If the midfielder got the ball in a dangerous position, with his vision and technique, it could spell trouble.

Atlético's left flank—Capdevila and Solari—was buzzing with activity. Unexpectedly, even Pablo García, a left-footed player, was drifting toward that side, creating moments when Atlético had four players converging on the left.

Was this a deliberate ploy to launch counters down the left wing?

Guardiola glanced at Puyol, who had been pushing forward with uncharacteristic abandon. The thought crossed his mind: If that's their plan, it makes sense.

He began shading to that side more often, calling out reminders to Cocu and de Boer to tighten their coverage on the left.

Hasselbaink's constant movement toward the left side only added to the pressure. Cocu and de Boer had no choice but to follow him closely—one-on-one, neither felt confident containing the Dutch striker.

As the game reached the 20-minute mark, Guardiola noticed something unsettling. Atlético's chaotic opening had subsided. Their players seemed to have settled into the game's rhythm, adjusting to Barcelona's tactics.

On the left, their combinations were becoming increasingly effective, forcing Guardiola to yell more frequent instructions to Puyol and Xavi. Yet, amidst the heat of battle, a nagging intuition gnawed at the back of Guardiola's mind: Something feels off.

But the game's relentless tempo left no time to analyze.

The Spark

"It's happening!"

Yang Hao, ever watchful from the sidelines, clenched his fists as his patience bore fruit.

Pablo García and Capdevila closed in on Figo near the left flank. García was quicker, jabbing the ball away just before Figo could shield it. As Figo tumbled to the ground, the referee waved play on, deeming no foul.

Yang Hao's face lit up. He gripped his fists tightly, his body vibrating with energy.

The loose ball rolled into Capdevila's path. The Spanish left-back surged forward along the sideline, drawing both Puyol and Xavi toward him. With Figo notoriously reluctant to track back, Barcelona's right side was exposed.

As Capdevila crossed midfield, he spotted Valerón gesturing for the ball just outside the angle between Puyol and Xavi. Without hesitation, Capdevila delivered a sharp pass.

Valerón met the ball as Guardiola rushed in. Barely pausing, Valerón played a deft one-touch pass out wide to Solari, who was already sprinting down the left flank.

Solari collected the ball and noticed Cocu closing in. He wasn't confident he could outpace the Dutchman for a direct cross. Instead, Solari stopped abruptly, feinting a cut inside. Cocu and Guardiola both advanced to box him in.

With calm precision, Solari reversed the ball back to Valerón, now in space.

Standing in a pocket of freedom, Valerón surveyed his options as Guardiola, Xavi, and Gabri rushed toward him. With a quick feint, he sold the idea of a through ball to Hasselbaink but instead slid the ball into the right channel.

The Decisive Move

Aguilera had ghosted into the space from the right flank, catching everyone off guard. As the ball reached him, he evaded the approaching Bogarde with a slick lateral touch, driving toward the top-right edge of the penalty area.

De Boer, seeing Bogarde beaten, stepped up to challenge.

But Aguilera, adept with both feet, used his left to thread a precise pass through the narrow gap between De Boer and Bogarde, targeting the right side of the box.

Hasselbaink, tightly marked by Cocu, made his move. First, he drifted laterally, feigning support for Aguilera. The instant De Boer committed to the press, Hasselbaink changed direction, darting diagonally behind him.

The pass arrived at the perfect moment.

Hasselbaink controlled the ball with one touch, adjusted with the second, and unleashed an unstoppable rocket with his right foot.

The ball shot forward like a missile, smashing into the roof of the net before Hesp could react.

1–1. All square!

Eruption at the Calderón

The Calderón exploded into jubilant cheers. Hasselbaink sprinted toward the corner flag, roaring in triumph and pointing to the bench. Valerón pumped his fists in celebration, his brilliant playmaking finally paying dividends.

Yang Hao let out a triumphant yell, his fist pumping the air with raw emotion.

Van Gaal's Frustration

"Damn it," Van Gaal muttered, his usually calm demeanor cracking.

It wasn't just the goal. It was the manner in which Atlético had exploited the very weakness he'd sought to prevent.

Mourinho scowled, flipping through his notes. "Puyol pushed up too far again. And Valerón… he's finding space between our lines."

Van Gaal nodded grimly. "Adjust. Tell Gabri to drop deeper and double up on Valerón when necessary."

Mourinho scribbled down the instructions, but the confidence he'd displayed earlier was clearly shaken.

Belief Restored

For the first time that evening, the Calderón crowd began to believe. Their team wasn't out of this yet.

Atlético had struck back, and in doing so, they had cracked Barcelona's veneer of invincibility.

And on the sideline, Yang Hao's mind raced ahead, already plotting the next move.

"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!"

"27th minute, Atlético Madrid's first shot of the game, coming from their top scorer, the Dutchman Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink!"

"What an absolutely powerful strike!"

"Hasselbaink unleashed an extraordinary thunderbolt of a shot, leveling the score for Atlético!"

"One to one!"

...

"Yeah!!"

On the sidelines, Yang Hao jumped straight up in excitement the moment he saw Hasselbaink fire that shot.

With his fists clenched tightly, he swung them wildly, like a boxer pounding away at an invisible opponent.

The entire Calderón Stadium, filled with 48,000 Atlético fans, erupted in astonished cries, quickly followed by overwhelming cheers and applause.

1–1!

Atlético had successfully equalized!

The Atlético players were just as ecstatic. They all rushed off the field to chase after Hasselbaink, celebrating together at the sidelines.

Even goalkeeper Molina, all the way at his goal, started running back and forth on his line, shouting and cheering to release his own exhilaration.

After being dominated for almost half an hour, they finally had a chance to let loose.

...

After the excitement settled, Yang Hao turned quickly, high-fiving Mendiódo, Pelizzaro, and others in succession.

On every face, he saw astonishment—completely filled with disbelief.

Indeed, before that goal, no one thought Atlético stood any chance of winning this game.

Especially after conceding a goal in just the 12th minute, their confidence had been utterly crushed.

But now, Atlético had scored, leveling the scoreline.

"The game is just beginning!" Yang Hao said with a hearty laugh.

He didn't care what his assistants were thinking, just like he never explained to them why the 4-2-3-1 formation would, for many years—even up until the time he had traveled back in time—still be widely used by many teams.

It wasn't because it was revolutionary, but because it was practical.

If Yang Hao had players like Figo, Rivaldo, and Kluivert as superstars, and Guardiola as a deep-lying playmaker, then there'd be no debate—just go for the 4-3-3.

But the question was: did Atlético currently have the pieces to play a 4-3-3? Did they have the resources to play attacking football?

The answer was a resounding no!

If they tried, they'd likely be torn to shreds by their opponents.

Not to mention, in Atlético's history, there was no tradition of playing 4-3-3; the players weren't used to it.

The 4-2-3-1, however, was different. The pressing and high-intensity style had already been introduced during Sacchi's time coaching the team, laying a foundational understanding. The players could adapt without much difficulty.

More importantly, in Yang Hao's previous life, players like Valerón and Baraja reached the peaks of their careers in this very 4-2-3-1 system.

Under such circumstances, Atlético using the 4-2-3-1 was the optimal choice!

Leaving his assistants dumbfounded, Yang Hao walked straight to the sidelines. He called out loudly to the Atlético players, who had just finished celebrating and were heading back to their positions:

"Control the tempo! Take it slow, and keep playing this way."

"Come on! Come on!! Let's aim for another goal! To hell with Barça!"

By the end, Yang Hao was so pumped that he even blurted out an expletive.

The fourth official, standing nearby, immediately turned and gave Yang Hao a stern glare.

Having just seen his team score, Yang Hao realized he'd gone too far. With a chuckle, he quickly turned and walked away.

"This guy really doesn't know the rules," Mourinho muttered with a sneer.

"It's just one goal. Does he need to act like that?"

But Van Gaal remained deeply serious.

His years of coaching experience had honed a sharp intuition. He knew goals didn't come out of nowhere. Something must have been done right.

So, what exactly had this rookie and Atlético done right?

Counter-attacks?

Van Gaal hadn't quite figured it out yet, but the game had already resumed.

...

After conceding a goal, the Barça players grew noticeably more cautious.

The equalizer had served as a wake-up call.

However, they soon realized that the Atlético players' morale had surged. This group's gaze had turned much more determined.

As professional players, Barça's squad understood exactly what that meant.

It meant their opponents now had a clear direction and objective. They knew what they needed to do and how to do it.

When De Boer advanced to collect the ball near the 30-meter zone, Hasselbaink immediately charged at him, startling the Dutch center-back.

As a national teammate, De Boer was well aware of Hasselbaink's physical prowess and wasn't keen on a direct confrontation.

He quickly made a lateral pass to Cocu.

But Hasselbaink adjusted his run, now heading towards Cocu. This forced Cocu to pass to the right flank, where Puyol awaited.

Hasselbaink, having done his job, eased off and strolled back to position, hovering between Cocu and De Boer.

Simultaneously, on the left flank, Solari charged straight at Puyol.

Valerón also took two steps forward, syncing with Guardiola's retreat, subtly interfering with Puyol's passing options.

Puyol, finding no other viable choice, was forced to pass back to goalkeeper Hesp.

A wave of applause rippled through the Calderón Stadium.

Atlético executed a solid defensive maneuver, forcing Barcelona to play the ball backward.

Barcelona, a team with a natural inclination for possession-based football, played with patience. Even after passing backward, they quickly reorganized and moved the ball forward again.

But Atlético's defensive strategy was intriguing.

When Barcelona held possession within 30 meters of the goal, Atlético refrained from pressing. However, the moment the ball moved outside that zone, Atlético's players would apply intense pressure.

If the ball retreated, Atlético's players would fall back as well.

After two or three failed attempts to break through, Cocu launched a long ball from the defensive third, aiming for Kluivert up front.

The Dutch striker, dominant in aerial duels, won the ball but found himself isolated with no teammates nearby.

Figo was on the right, Rivaldo on the left, but Barcelona's attacking trident was effectively split apart.

Although Kluivert had a physical advantage, he wasn't confident about challenging Atlético's two center-backs on his own. He had no choice but to pass the ball back to the midfield.

This is where the role of the double pivots came into play.

Baraja and Pablo García formed a formidable wall, making it extremely difficult for Xavi and Gabri to push forward.

Xavi managed to pass the ball out to the left flank, finding Rivaldo, but this time Baraja had learned his lesson. He immediately rushed to the flank, teaming up with Gaspar to double-mark Rivaldo.

Ultimately, this attack ended with Gaspar sliding the ball out of bounds, conceding a throw-in to Barcelona.

However, compared to earlier moments, Atlético's defense this time was far more composed and organized.

...

"Atlético's players are starting to find their rhythm and regain confidence," Van Gaal observed.

A former professional player himself, Van Gaal could discern the players' mentality with just a glance at the game. He knew the spirit of Atlético's players all too well.

Mourinho, on the other hand, lacked significant experience as a professional player. He didn't fully grasp the mindset of professional footballers, especially those in top-tier leagues.

"Was it that goal earlier?" Mourinho asked.

Van Gaal shook his head. "No, it's that rookie."

"Him?" Mourinho was taken aback.

He turned to look at the home team's bench and noticed Yang Hao still standing at the sidelines, intently focused on the match.

"Do you really think that just putting a dog on the bench of a strong team is enough to win games?" Van Gaal sneered, clearly disdainful of media narratives suggesting otherwise.

"The head coach's greatest role is to instill confidence in the players. Right now, Atlético's players feel that this rookie's tactics are working, especially their defense tonight."

Indeed, Atlético's defensive strategy tonight had impressed Van Gaal, particularly their structured setup between the 30-meter zone and midfield.

Since the 20th minute, it had become increasingly difficult for Barcelona to advance past midfield. Their attacks had lost the edge they displayed earlier in the match.

This was not a good sign for Barcelona.

...

While Van Gaal furrowed his brow, pondering solutions, Barcelona once again brought the ball to the midfield.

Gabri received it, preparing to turn, when Guardiola shouted a warning.

"Careful!"

Before Gabri could react, Baraja had already closed in on him.

Standing 1.77 meters tall, the Spanish midfielder exuded aggression as he lunged forward with a fierce tackle, cleanly taking the ball away.

The key moment was Baraja's quick recovery. After executing the slide tackle, he sprang back to his feet and chased down the ball.

Gabri, still dazed, vaguely heard Baraja muttering under his breath:

"Fight! Fight! I'll fight to the death!"

The Barça midfielder was completely stunned.

Baraja regained possession and quickly passed it forward to Valerón.

Valerón feigned a move toward the left, eyeing an opportunity to connect with Solari on the flank or Hasselbaink near the left side of the penalty box. This put Guardiola on high alert.

But it turned out to be a ruse.

Despite looking left and positioning his body in that direction, Valerón somehow spotted Aguilera on the right.

The ball zipped over to Aguilera, who deftly cut past Bogarde and drove straight into the penalty area.

De Boer was alarmed, rushing to block him, while Cocu trailed close behind, wary of Aguilera delivering a cross to Hasselbaink—a clear and present danger.

Once Aguilera entered the box, the defensive pressure eased slightly. However, he still found himself surrounded by three Barça defenders, leaving no openings toward the goal or central area.

Unable to find a direct path, Aguilera shielded the ball and slightly turned his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a red-and-white figure charging toward the edge of the penalty area.

Who was that?

Without overthinking, Aguilera laid the ball back toward the right edge of the penalty arc.

The player stormed in, meeting the ball without hesitation. With one fluid motion, he unleashed a thunderous right-footed strike.

The ball rocketed toward the top-left corner of the net, flying like a bullet.

Goalkeeper Hesp, stationed near the right post, had no chance of stopping it.

The long-range shot hit the back of the net with an audible crack.

Everyone was stunned beyond belief. It wasn't until this moment that their gazes shifted back to the edge of the box.

The scorer: Rubén Baraja!

Yang Hao's entire focus was consumed by the game, his emotions rising and falling with each twist in the action.

Yet, at the exact moment Baraja lifted his leg to shoot, an intense feeling overcame him—a premonition.

This one's going in.

Really, it was a uniquely vivid sensation.

That shot seemed to embody all the strength in Baraja's body, a culmination of his life's effort.

If fate truly existed for an individual, Yang Hao was certain this moment would alter Baraja's destiny, setting him on a path entirely different from the one he'd walked for over twenty years.

And so, he scored!

2–1. Atlético had turned the game around!

The entire Calderón Stadium erupted into a frenzy. 48,000 Atlético fans screamed Baraja's name at the top of their lungs, cheering and singing for him.

Baraja himself was overcome with emotion, sprinting off the field and dropping to his knees near the corner flag.

One by one, his teammates rushed over, piling onto him and celebrating the goal together.

Yang Hao, after finishing an impromptu display of "Taizu Boxing," turned around laughing and exchanged high-fives with Mendiódo and the other assistants. When his gaze returned to the field, he locked eyes with Baraja.

The Spanish midfielder, still electrified, raised his clenched right fist towards Yang Hao, brimming with determination.

Yang Hao responded from afar with a big thumbs-up, showing his full approval.

...

"We've turned it around!"

"Did you see that, Dad? We've turned it around!"

"I told you, Yang Hao could do it! He wouldn't let me down!"

Miguel Gil was beside himself in the stands, more ecstatic than anyone on the field or even Yang Hao on the sideline.

Enrique Cerezo and Paulo Futre also wore broad smiles. They were clearly surprised by the team's two goals in under ten minutes but felt even more admiration than astonishment.

"Our new coach has some real skills," Paulo Futre remarked approvingly.

Whether a coach was the real deal could be judged from the game itself.

Yang Hao might not be a training expert, but his ability to communicate with and manage players was evident.

Most importantly, his tactical approach was distinct, even advanced.

His 4-2-3-1 wasn't the standard version seen in contemporary football. Instead, it was a system tailored specifically to Atlético's squad, revitalizing players like Valerón and Baraja, and even bringing out Aguilera's best.

"Indeed," Cerezo agreed. "He told me this system maximizes the strengths of our players. He even said that if players want to leave this summer, we should let them go. He's confident he can build a more competitive squad in just one transfer window."

After a pause, Miguel Gil added, slightly hesitant, "Of course, he'll need more time."

Cerezo and Futre chuckled.

Miguel Gil was now fully a Yang Hao fanboy.

Paulo Futre even considered seeking advice from Yang Hao at some point, curious about what kind of magic the coach had used to win Miguel Gil's absolute trust.

But as the mood grew celebratory, Jesus Gil remained stone-faced, his tone indifferent as he remarked, "The game isn't over yet. It's too early to say anything."

It was like a bucket of cold water poured over Miguel Gil.

He wasn't wrong, though. The first half wasn't even finished. Claiming victory now was premature.

However, Jesus Gil glanced at his son and, after a brief pause, asked, "Have you found the assistant coaches he needs?"

Miguel Gil's eyes lit up with excitement as he answered, "Yes, I've found a few and invited them. They should be watching the game from the stands right now."

Jesus Gil snorted dismissively. "Calm down. Show some composure. Don't be so reckless."

For some reason, Miguel Gil felt a flicker of defiance. Muttering under his breath, he said, "You're the one who punched someone before."

"You—! You—!" Jesus Gil faltered, unable to find a retort.

Enrique Cerezo and Paulo Futre pretended not to hear the father-son squabble, keeping their eyes firmly on the game.

In truth, both knew exactly what was going on.

Jesus Gil was grooming Miguel Gil as his successor. However, Miguel's personality and approach to problem-solving were entirely different from his father's.

To the strong-willed and combative Jesus Gil, this was a sign of weakness, indecision, and susceptibility to manipulation.

As the criticisms and scoldings piled up, Miguel Gil became increasingly lacking in confidence, eventually resigning himself to a passive attitude.

Fine, I'll just be like this. Do whatever you want.

But the more passive Miguel became, the more dissatisfied Jesus Gil grew, intensifying the cycle of scolding and criticism.

Moments like these were classic father-son dynamics—perpetual sparring partners.

...

As the match resumed, a small group of five people gathered in a corner of the executive box, engaged in discussion about the ongoing game between Atlético and Barça. They focused particularly on Atlético's 4-2-3-1 formation.

These five individuals shared one thing in common: each had experience coaching at least in the Spanish Segunda División, with some even having managed in La Liga.

By this point in the game, both teams had shown their tactical intentions, especially Atlético. Their two-goal comeback against Barça had ignited the passion of the Calderón Stadium, turning it into a cauldron of excitement.

In their discussion, the most frequently mentioned topic was counter-attacking football.

While familiar with Atlético's use of the 4-2-3-1 formation and the double pivot setup, the group was particularly impressed by the coach's ability to utilize his players effectively.

The positioning of Pablo García on the left and Baraja on the right was particularly effective in highlighting the players' strengths.

And then there was Valerón.

On the surface, Atlético's two goals seemed unrelated to Valerón. But in truth, the opportunities leading to those goals were both created by Valerón's passes—and both passes went to Aguilera.

This was no coincidence.

"Atlético's new coach seems to have a strong preference for attacking through the half-spaces," remarked one of the group, a relatively well-respected figure among them despite his youth. His insights commanded attention.

"Half-space attacks?"

"You must've noticed earlier—Valerón consistently feigned moves down the left half-space but then passed to the right. Aguilera, being smaller and more agile with excellent footwork, easily exploited the mismatch against Bogarde, who struggles in one-on-one situations due to his size."

Hearing this explanation, the others nodded in agreement.

The pattern was unmistakable across the two attacks.

The first resulted in Aguilera's left-footed through ball to Hasselbaink, and the second saw the Atlético captain charge into the penalty area, only to pass back when he found no opportunity—leading to Baraja's perfectly timed finish.

Looking back, both attacks relied on coordinated play through the half-spaces.

"Juanma, I think this 4-2-3-1 setup resembles the style you used when coaching Cultural Leonesa, though it's less aggressive. His forward line doesn't press as high, but the defensive line compresses the space just as tightly," one coach observed.

"That's the advantage—it gives Hasselbaink more room to operate while making it difficult for Kluivert to receive the ball in dangerous areas. It also isolates him from Rivaldo and Figo," he continued.

Juanma chuckled. "That's where he's clever. To implement such tactics within just three days of taking charge and tailor them to Atlético's players? That's no small feat."

The others nodded in agreement.

From the performance on the pitch, it was clear this wasn't the work of a mere novice.

After all, could a rookie coach so easily recognize and utilize the strengths of players like Valerón, Baraja, and Pablo García?

"Barça might be in for a rough night," someone commented with a wry laugh.

Van Gaal, with his notoriously arrogant demeanor, wasn't exactly beloved in Spanish football circles.

"Van Gaal probably didn't see this coming," Juanma muttered.

Everyone nodded knowingly.

Not that they were any better. Before this match, even they had dismissed Atlético's rookie coach, lumping him in with all the naysayers.

Frankly, had they not been left with no other options, none of them would have considered working under a novice like him.

But watching tonight's performance, their opinions had shifted dramatically.

"I'm particularly intrigued by his approach to half-space attacks," Juanma said with a grin.

"Why?"

Juanma's smile widened as his eyes drifted to a specific player on the pitch. "A friend of mine has long been haunted by half-space tactics. He's convinced it'll be the dominant strategy in football's future, though he despises the 4-2-3-1 for being too conservative."

This drew chuckles all around.

Indeed, the 4-2-3-1 formation had a reputation for being cautious—designed to prioritize stability.

Still, they all agreed on one thing: its adaptability made it likely to gain traction with more teams.

...

The first half ended with Atlético leading 2–1.

Thanks to goals from Hasselbaink and Baraja, Atlético had overturned the deficit against Barça on home turf.

But there was still the second half to come.

Standing at the entrance to the tunnel, Yang Hao greeted his players one by one as they made their way inside. Once everyone was in, he followed them into the dressing room.

Yang Hao was very pleased with the first half, especially the final 30 minutes or so. Atlético's defensive performance during that period had been excellent.

But it wasn't enough.

"We need to apply more pressure when pressing. This will force them into making more mistakes," Yang Hao explained his adjustments.

Unlike before, the Atlético players now fully trusted Yang Hao's words.

"Frankly, I can't predict what Van Gaal will do tactically in the second half. But one thing I do know is that we can't settle for a 2–1 scoreline. There's still a second leg, and we need a bigger advantage on our home turf."

"So, I have a bold plan: let's go for the kill right at the start of the second half."

Yang Hao grabbed the tactical board, circling two players: De Boer and Cocu.

Both Dutch defenders had struggled in the first half. Cocu, having played most of the season as a defensive midfielder, seemed out of place. Meanwhile, De Boer had difficulty handling Hasselbaink and failed to effectively respond to Aguilera's right-sided attacks.

"We'll continue to target these two points. I've noticed something important: Kluivert, Figo, and Rivaldo—they barely participate in defense. Not even token efforts."

Yang Hao grinned confidently as he made his point.

It was his trump card, his source of confidence.

What good are superstars if they don't defend?

I'm not playing one-on-one with you—I'm playing the team game!

"Tonight, we're going to crush Barça completely!"

"Juan, wait a moment."

After sending all the players out of the dressing room, Yang Hao called Valerón back.

Several players turned their heads, curious about the exchange, but most figured the coach wanted to give specific instructions to Valerón. His standout performance in the first half was undeniable; most of Atlético's attacks had originated from him.

It was clear that Yang Hao relied heavily on him.

Valerón was an introspective man, thoughtful yet reserved. He carried a lot on his mind but rarely expressed it outwardly.

"How's your stamina?" Yang Hao asked with concern.

This was one of the challenges Yang Hao faced—he had no clear concept of his players' physical limits. In a game like Football Manager, player stamina was displayed as numerical data, but reality wasn't so convenient.

Yang Hao thought to himself that he should probably hire a good fitness coach and use analysis software and models to estimate player fitness. That way, he could have a clearer picture of their physical state.

"I'm fine, no problem," Valerón replied with a nod.

Yang Hao nodded in response and gave Valerón a friendly pat on the shoulder. Walking side by side, they made their way toward the players' tunnel.

"You played very well in the first half," Yang Hao said, "but I think you can do even better."

Valerón gave his coach a surprised look. Two assists in the first half, and it still wasn't enough?

Noticing Valerón's gaze, Yang Hao turned to him with a smile. "In my eyes, you have the potential to be even more outstanding."

That one sentence left Valerón unsure of how to react.

Loyalty to a mentor who recognizes your worth?

Or is the coach just being overly demanding?

"I've always believed that on the football field, even in top-tier leagues, a team is like a group of lost travelers in the dark. Most players are groping their way forward, heads down, afraid to stumble."

Yang Hao's words carried a touch of philosophy, but he was confident that someone as sharp as Valerón would understand.

In high-stakes football matches, most players did operate this way—focused on their immediate steps, not seeing the bigger picture.

"That's why every team needs someone to step forward, hold the torch high, and lead the way for their teammates," Yang Hao continued.

Valerón stopped in his tracks, looking up at his coach in disbelief.

"I've told you before: rather than having everyone run aimlessly, it's better to have them rally around one person—the torchbearer. For Atlético, right now, that person is you."

Valerón was speechless.

For the first time, he felt a deep sense of trust and reliance from his coach.

A man prone to overthinking, Valerón often questioned every word a coach said. But in this moment, he felt no doubt. He was genuinely moved.

Through his actions, Yang Hao had repeatedly shown how much he valued Valerón.

"Trust me, Juan," Yang Hao said, placing an encouraging hand on Valerón's shoulder. "Open up. Trust your teammates. You'll find a whole new world awaiting you."

With those words, Yang Hao walked ahead, leaving Valerón standing still.

Watching his coach's retreating figure, Valerón lifted his head, his gaze resolute and his heart filled with newfound determination.

If the first half had been characterized by Atlético reversing a 1–0 deficit while still under heavy pressure from Barça, then the start of the second half caught everyone off guard.

Atlético came out of the gates with a completely different approach, launching an aggressive offensive against Barça right from the whistle.

No longer passively retreating to the midfield line, Atlético pressed high up the pitch with conviction and urgency.

The reversal in the first half had dealt a heavy blow to Barça's morale. During the halftime break, Van Gaal had specifically instructed his players to focus on the connections between Atlético's half-spaces, with a particular emphasis on shutting down Valerón.

But as the second half began, everyone noticed something different—Valerón was even more active than before.

His enthusiasm for the game had visibly increased. He was throwing himself into defense and contributing heavily to the attack.

Just three minutes into the second half, Valerón executed a slick one-two with Solari down the left half-space, suddenly threading a diagonal pass through a sea of defenders to the left flank.

Capdevila, though not the fastest winger, had excellent positional awareness. Timing his overlap perfectly, he surged past Solari, receiving Valerón's pass in stride.

Advancing along the left flank to the edge of the penalty area, Capdevila glanced toward the box and delivered a curling cross toward the center of the six-yard box.

There, Hasselbaink arrived like a freight train, using his strength to muscle De Boer out of position. Without even jumping, he met the ball with a powerful header, sending it straight into Barça's net.

Hesp reacted too slowly to stop it.

"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!"

"48th minute! In the 48th minute, Atlético score again!!"

"My God! Just three minutes into the second half, Atlético deliver a brilliant left-wing cross, and Hasselbaink finds the net once more! It's 3–1!!"

"Who would have thought that Atlético would come out swinging at the start of the second half?"

"Look at this sequence down Atlético's left side."

"The one-two between Solari and Valerón drew several Barça defenders out of position, leaving the left flank wide open. Capdevila's perfectly timed overlap was crucial."

"Of course, the highlight was Valerón's pass. Precise like a scalpel, it sliced through Barça's defense with surgical accuracy."

"Tonight, Atlético are playing out of their skins, and they're only getting better."

"Hasselbaink scores his second of the night—this Dutch striker is on fire!"

...

Conceding another goal right after the second half began, Van Gaal showed no intention of retreating. Just four minutes later, he substituted Xavi for Litmanen—a clear signal of bolstering Barça's attacking threat.

Barça's formation shifted as well. The traditional 4-3-3 gave way to an irregular shape, emphasizing the attack.

Yang Hao remained unfazed, immediately signaling his players to intensify their pressing and capitalize on their momentum to put Barça away.

During this period, Atlético's relentless high-pressing tactics created enormous pressure for Barça, who struggled to adapt. Meanwhile, Atlético, riding a wave of goals and growing confidence, played with increasing vigor.

In the 59th minute, Pablo García fouled Litmanen during a defensive challenge and received a yellow card.

Barça quickly took the free kick, hoping to catch Atlético off guard, but Santi Denia intercepted the ball in time, defusing the danger.

Baraja gained possession and passed it to Valerón, who carried the ball forward before delivering a precise through pass.

Inside the box, Hasselbaink, with his back to Cocu, received the ball and turned. Cocu, who had been in close physical contact with the Dutch striker, attempted to pivot with him but inexplicably slipped.

De Boer rushed over to cover, but it was too late.

Hasselbaink's turn was sharp and fluid, and with a powerful swing of his leg, he unleashed a ferocious strike. The ball rocketed into Barça's net, unstoppable.

"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!"

"Atlético again! And it's Hasselbaink once more!!!"

"4–1!!!"

"A hat-trick!!"

"Atlético have scored twice in the second half, and Barça's defense has been utterly unable to contain their attacks."

"The situation is dire for Van Gaal's team. Their attack lacks bite, and their defense is riddled with mistakes."

"As we've said before, Barça may be packed with star players, but they're disjointed. This season, internal conflicts in the locker room and between players have left the team fragmented."

"Atlético, by contrast, had also been in poor form, but tonight's performance shows us a competitive team once more. The question is, can they carry this form into the league?"

"It's common for teams to show inconsistency—performing brilliantly in one competition while faltering in another. This often comes down to player psychology and team confidence."

"Let's hope Atlético can overcome this challenge."

The broadcast cameras shifted to the sidelines, focusing on Hasselbaink, who was celebrating his hat-trick with his teammates near the touchline, shouting joyously into the lens.

A hat-trick—against Barça!

Rijkaard, are you watching?

...

Standing by the sidelines, Yang Hao turned to glance at Van Gaal, who had slumped back into his seat on the visitors' bench, a look of helplessness on his face. The assistant beside him seemed to be rambling incessantly.

Yang Hao had no interest in guessing their discussion.

As he saw his players returning to the pitch after their celebration, he gave Hasselbaink and the others an enthusiastic double thumbs-up—a universal 666 gesture of praise.

There was no clearer way to show approval.

Seeing this, the Atlético players laughed, some even waving back at their coach.

At this moment, Yang Hao finally let out a small sigh of relief.

4–1. This scoreline, at least, gave Atlético a secure cushion.

Now, the challenge was preparing for Barça's inevitable counterattack.

Yang Hao had already planned the next substitutions. Aguilera, who had spent much of his energy, would be replaced by Fresnedoso. The veteran would focus on reinforcing midfield defense, particularly protecting the left flank, which would ease the strain on his teammates as fatigue set in.

Given the current intensity of matches and the double-game weeks, it was unrealistic to expect Aguilera to keep up the pace.

Next, Kiko would replace Hasselbaink, allowing the latter to conserve energy for the weekend league match.

The final substitution would remain flexible, depending on how the game progressed.

As expected, Barça made their second substitution shortly after, bringing on Reiziger for Gabri.

Reiziger moved to right-back, Puyol shifted into the center-back role, and Cocu was pushed forward into midfield.

At this point, Barça had morphed into a makeshift 4-2-3-1, with Van Gaal making a last-ditch effort to salvage the game.

(End of Chapter)

Merry Christmas friends, here the author wishes you a prosperous new year