Chapter 130: Attack And Defence

Hallam’s thoughts: I am a champion manager, Chelsea are a club that fights for titles, and the score is level. That is nothing to be happy about, least of all against a boy.

Saint’s thoughts: I can’t let my real feelings show. I can’t be anxious. The whole country is watching, especially those wretched reporters, and the players need me to set the example.

To put it plainly, both men were pretending.

But the effect was clear. Seeing Hallam’s stony, embarrassed face, the Chelsea players realised that they had only drawn level, and against a promoted side they were supposed to look down on.

At the same time, when the Villa players saw their manager so relaxed, their tension over the lost ball began to fade. They even wondered whether he had planned it all along. After all, the opponents were Chelsea.

As for the supporters watching, each had their own interpretation, but none of them made any difference to Saint or Hallam.

"Chelsea are pressing again!" After the restart Chelsea began to press hard straight away.

Villa, having been burned once, were not going to let them have it easy, but even so, Chelsea’s pressing was causing real trouble for Villa’s attack.

"Gaffer, what do we do?" On the touchline Cadman couldn’t help asking.

"What do we do?" Saint turned and looked across at Hallam on the other side, then walked forward.

It was Hallam’s challenge to him, but it was also Saint’s own idea.

Although Hallam took Saint seriously, Saint was not yet at the level where Hallam felt the need to challenge him in person. The reason Chelsea kept up their pressing was simply that Hallam believed in his own side.

"In that case, I’ll go along with you." Saint strode to the edge of the technical area and, taking advantage of a dead ball, shouted instructions at the Villa players on the pitch.

At the sound of his voice Villa’s attack began to change dramatically.

When the ball next came to Villa, Reyes did not hold it. He played it directly out to Jurek.

"Jurek, and Candler! He’s gone past him!" Changing direction and accelerating, Jurek beat Candler in one move.

Verhagen, after Jurek had gone past Candler, stepped up decisively to intercept, with Candler desperately chasing back.

The Czech winger was past thirty-one, but he knew exactly what he was doing. After he had drawn enough defenders towards him, Jurek flicked a back-heel pass.

"Colley! The Villa right-back has come charging forward!"

"A cross! Tomlin, Dimitriou, up they go, a header, Tomlin gets to it!" Tomlin was a few centimetres shorter than the Greek, but in physical terms he was no worse, and he faintly had the better of him in that duel.

"A little weak, though, Tomlin’s header lacks power." He had beaten Dimitriou in the air, but Dimitriou had done what he needed to do.

Chelsea took the goal kick quickly. Pickford rolled it out to Brewer, and then it was Villa’s turn to press, with Tomlin charging at Brewer.

Brewer played the ball diagonally out to Cartwright. Rocher came across to harass him, and although Cartwright was not afraid of the Frenchman, he stayed solid, like the veteran he was.

At Chelsea, the real centre of the side was Okafor, higher in Hallam’s tactical plans even than Strickland.

You could tell by the way Hallam carried him around with him. When Hallam took over at Chelsea, his first act was to bring Okafor in. Years earlier, a big-money move abroad to a star-studded giant had gone badly for Okafor, and for a while the gifted midfielder had slipped out of the spotlight.

These days, though, he was among the best midfielders around. With Conlan stepping up to press him, Okafor stayed calm, and under Conlan’s harassment forced his way into Villa’s half with the ball.

Strickland dropped to link with him, and as Okafor pushed forward the Chelsea captain pulled back decisively, but Reyes had come across as well.

It was the most direct meeting of midfielders on the pitch. On paper, Villa were at a disadvantage. Conlan was not a natural ball-winner, although he had worked on his defending recently. In Saint’s system he was more of a box-to-box player, which meant the opposition were limited by how far he could run.

Put simply, Conlan’s role was similar to that of a top box-to-box midfielder, but in terms of individual ability he could not be compared with the very best in that position, and Saint wanted him to focus more on defending, which was why he had put so much extra training into that area.

But at that moment Conlan was standing in front of a genuinely top-class opponent. As for Reyes, his defending depended more on judgment and awareness.

They were at a disadvantage, and against Strickland and Okafor, Villa really were outgunned. But football has too many uncertain factors, and quality is only one part of it, otherwise the stories of famous big-money flops would never have happened.

And Strickland and Okafor were not a perfect pair, either. Both of them had the same big weakness, which was that they were slow.

So by the time the two men had made their way slowly into Villa’s half, past Conlan and Reyes, almost all of Villa’s defenders had already got back.

"Fast, too fast! Villa pressed aggressively, but the moment they needed to defend, they dropped back at once!" That was one side of it, and the other was how slow Chelsea were.

Or to put it another way, Strickland and Okafor were extremely confident in themselves, and extremely confident in their team. Although Chelsea had fallen behind early, that did not change how they felt.

They were one of the strongest sides in the country, even in Europe. And Villa? Just a promoted side. No matter how well Villa had played in a few rounds, nothing would change the fact that they had come up from the Championship.

Especially now that Chelsea had equalised so quickly, the Chelsea players felt even surer of themselves.

But now Villa were telling Chelsea with facts that although they were promoted, they were not to be looked down on by anyone, not even a former champion and one of the biggest names in Europe.

"Lovely, just lovely! Villa’s defence has been brilliant, and Chelsea’s proud attack cannot break through the wall they’ve built!" Pemberton cried.

On the touchline Saint gave a small nod, and Cadman let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

"They keep running into the same wall," Cadman said.

"Because they can’t see it yet," Saint said. "Give them ten more minutes."

Behind them Teale was barking at Barzley to hold the line, Reyes was dropping into the gaps, and Conlan was running himself raw. It was everything Saint had drilled for weeks, and for the first time all afternoon it looked like it was working exactly as planned.

In the Chelsea technical area, Hallam rubbed the bridge of his nose and said something quietly to his assistant. The assistant nodded and began making notes. Neither man looked especially pleased.

In the stands, the home supporters had gone quiet again. A few minutes earlier the stadium had been a cauldron, and now there was an edge of unease in the noise, the faint sense that the afternoon was not going the way it should.

Up in his box, Kessler checked his watch.