Football Dynasty-Chapter 531: The Special One Not Just Empty Talk

Chapter 531: The Special One Not Just Empty Talk
As the second half kicked off, Arsenal launched a lightning-fast attack. When tactics fail to break down an opponent, the key is often to change the rhythm of the game—and Arsenal did exactly that.
Highbury erupted instantly. The Gunners fans embraced this sudden burst of aggression. Although Arsenal’s penetrating attacks in the first half had produced no goals, they had clearly worn City down. City had likely expected more of the same after the break. Instead, Arsenal changed both tempo and intent.
City weren’t the only ones who had adjusted their strategy—Arsenal had too. The moment they abruptly shifted their playing style and pace, the ripple effect was immediate and dangerous.
Richard felt a knot tighten in his chest as he watched City’s players react. He became nervous almost instantly. As a former player himself, he understood all too well: the first five minutes and the last five minutes of each half were the most fragile moments in a match.
Usually, in the opening minutes, players needed time—sometimes precious seconds—to recalibrate their positioning, awareness, and rhythm. Hesitation was inevitable. And in the final minutes, as fatigue set in and the end seemed near, concentration could slip just enough to prove fatal.
That is why comebacks so often happen in the final minutes. At the end of the day, those last moments are no longer a contest of skill, but one of endurance and will.
At the start of the second half, Arsenal resisted the urge to launch the ball forward. Instead, Petit took his time. He drifted through midfield at an almost leisurely pace, like an old master controlling the tempo rather than chasing it. With a gentle half-turn to shield the ball, he slipped past Henry’s pressure with ease.
Petit then combined with Vieira in a sharp one-two, leaving Makélélé a step behind and visibly frustrated. As Pirlo stepped in to offer support, Vieira calmly switched play to the right flank, opening the pitch in one smooth movement.
Pirlo was taken aback as the ball rolled past him. He didn’t need to look to know what was coming next—someone was already flying past him from behind.
Winterburn.
Before Pirlo could recover and give chase, Winterburn immediately played the ball forward to Bergkamp. Bergkamp surged ahead with it, charging down the pitch like a whirlwind. He had been running relentlessly throughout the match, especially given his role drifting wide, and the fatigue was beginning to creep in. Still, he gritted his teeth, managing his stamina carefully. As the second half had just begun, he was determined to strike quickly.
Bergkamp’s dribbling tore into City’s defense at once. Even Pirlo was left stunned, watching the ball glide past him again, powerless to intervene.
"Shit!"
Thuram finally stepped in to confront him, but Bergkamp sold a perfect shoulder feint. Thuram shifted his weight the wrong way—just for a heartbeat—and that was enough. Bergkamp burst past him, drove to the byline, and whipped in a cross.
For a moment, it looked overhit. The ball sailed beyond the goalmouth before dipping sharply. Terry and Zanetti both misjudged it completely. When they turned to track its descent, it was already too late.
Anelka had slipped free of Lucio and was charging in at full speed. With no time to slow down or adjust for a shot, he launched himself into the air and met the ball with a perfectly timed header. The impact was thunderous—the ball slammed into City’s net with the force of a volley.
"Nicolas Anelka with another goal this season! Incredible! The 18-year-old has now scored his 11th goal of the campaign, drawing level with the league’s top scorers—Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink, Michael Owen, and Andy Cole!"
The noise inside Highbury surged to another level.
"At just eighteen years of age," Andy Gray continued, barely able to contain his excitement, "Anelka is standing shoulder to shoulder with some of the most established strikers in the league. And the only man ahead of him now is Dwight Yorke."
On the pitch, Anelka wheeled away in celebration, arms outstretched, his face lit with disbelief and hunger in equal measure. This wasn’t just a goal—it was a statement. A reminder that a new name was forcing its way into the Premier League’s elite scoring charts.
Highbury knew it.
And so did Manchester City.
This was only Arsenal’s third shot of the match, far fewer than Manchester City’s nine attempts in the first half. Yet it was this rare opportunity that Anelka seized without hesitation.
Buffon never touched the ball as it flew straight into the bottom corner of the net.
"Wow! The Frenchman scores with a header! What a magnificent goal—surely a contender for goal of the round! Arsenal have taken the lead at the start of the second half. What cruel luck for City: nine shots in the first half without reward, and Arsenal score with their third attempt!"
Anelka’s goal gave Arsenal the lead, and Wenger allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. But experience quickly tempered the joy. A lead was not an answer—it was a question.
Defend it, or press the advantage?
There was still too much time left to retreat into a shell. Dropping deep now would only invite pressure, especially against a City side that had already shown they could move the ball well. Wenger glanced at the pitch. City’s shift into a 4-2-3-1 had made them more compact, yes—but also predictable. Arsenal didn’t need to gamble. They only needed to stay disciplined, keep possession, and wait for spaces to appear.
On the opposite touchline, Mourinho stood still, arms folded, eyes fixed on the pitch. For several seconds, he said nothing.
The away end wasn’t so restrained. Groans, whistles, and angry shouts spilled out. City had dominated large stretches of the first half, created chances, forced saves—and yet here they were, behind. Football could be brutally unfair.
Nine attempts. No goals.
Arsenal: three shots—one goal.
But Mourinho didn’t allow frustration to linger. He felt it, yes, but he redirected it. Anger was useful if controlled.
"Dejan, warm up."
The decision was practical, not emotional. Larsson had worked hard, but placing him wide had blunted City’s attack. He was neither stretching the defense nor arriving in dangerous central areas. City needed more verticality, more direct threat between the lines.
PHWEEEE~
The ball went out of play. Larsson looked toward the bench and understood immediately. He shook his head—not in defiance, but disappointment. He had wanted to fix it himself.
As he jogged toward the sideline, his fists tightened briefly at his sides. He avoided eye contact, passed Mourinho without taking the offered handshake, and headed straight for the tunnel.
Mourinho noticed. His expression darkened for an instant—but only an instant. He filed it away for later. There would be time after the match to deal with pride and professionalism.
Right now, there was a game to salvage. Football didn’t wait for wounded egos. Neither could he.
The counterattack began from a simple goal kick. Adams received the ball and calmly laid it off to Dixon, who immediately found Vieira in midfield. With one touch, Vieira switched play to Overmars.
Overmars exploded down the wing, his quick stops and sharp turns dazzling the crowd as he outmaneuvered Zanetti leaving the defender momentarily off balance. Cutting inside, he wanted slipped a perfectly weighted pass toward Anelka and Wright. Unfortunately for him, Zanetti recovered just in time, lunging in with a perfectly timed tackle to snuff out the danger before Bergkamp could turn the move into a decisive counterattack.
Throughout the entire sequence, City’s players barely managed a touch on the ball. The move was lightning-fast in execution—precise, direct, and ruthless—showcasing Arsenal’s ability to transition from defense to attack in the blink of an eye.
"Good counter!" From the VIP box, Richard watched the players’ positioning, but his attention after the counterattack was soon caught by one player.
That player was Zanetti, who had surged forward from the six-yard box.
He advanced at a steady pace, creeping up on Arsenal’s defense like a ghost.
Richard stood up instantly.
Wenger saw it too and shouted, pointing at Zanetti, "Martin, go mark him!"
Martin Keown was the closest, and upon hearing the shout, he abandoned Henry and dashed toward Zanetti, who had already reached the edge of the penalty area.
But it was too late.
With the ball at his feet, Zidane feinted a breakthrough in front of Vieira, creating space for himself. What looked like a pass was actually a shot, sending the ball skimming across the six-yard box.
It was a driven cross-field ball. Henry drew Adams’s attention, and the two became locked in a physical tussle. Adams assumed Henry would finish the chance, but the ball rolled past him instead.
To his shock, as Adams turned to follow the ball’s path, he saw Zanetti charging in. Seaman rushed out, diving to smother the ball—but how could Zanetti allow it? He calmly lifted the ball over the goalkeeper and into the net.
"Zanetti... oh, what a run! What a finish! The right-back was completely untracked, and now the City captain has stepped up for his team! He’s equalized! City, who had been under pressure from Arsenal in the second half, are finally showing their strength in this match. They’re relentless in their pursuit of goals through counterattacks. Let’s see how this match will end."
After scoring, Zanetti slowed his run and came to a stop near the advertising boards. He didn’t celebrate wildly. Instead, he stood there for a moment, chest rising, eyes fixed on the Highbury stands.
Indeed, how long had it been since they had been oppressed in this match? From dominating to being oppressed, and now regaining control again, they hadn’t just reclaimed their aura—they had improved their flair as well.
City fans went wild. Seeing Zanetti’ powerful stance after the goal, they pumped their fists and cheered loudly.
This is how it should be!
Martin Keown kicked the post in frustration.
The goal wasn’t really his fault.
And yet, he felt guilty. Who would have expected their right-back to make a run all the way from the defensive line to score?
Last season, this team’s center-backs had also joined the attack, but at that time Arsenal mainly defended with five players. Now reduced to four at the back, it was of course risky for central defenders to step forward—but Arsenal had always had a tradition of doing exactly that.
Such unexpected attacking threats were even more dangerous, as the approach was deeply concealed, and when center-backs surged forward during open play, they could catch defenses off guard.
Arsenal 1 vs 1 Manchester City
After the match returned to a stalemate, both coaches stood on the sidelines with crossed arms, their faces serious and unreadable.
Richard, too, watched intently, analyzing every movement on the pitch.
This period was particularly challenging for Arsenal. On paper, they looked trickier and more powerful than Manchester United. United often dominated through sheer force and relentless control, which paradoxically made them more susceptible to counterattacks.
Arsenal, under Wenger, approached the game differently: their strategy centered on solid defense, with offensive bursts primarily emerging through quick transitions. Opponents were often left guessing, uncertain how to handle Arsenal’s carefully measured approach.
Over the past ten years, Arsenal had shifted their philosophical identity—from George Graham’s emphasis on super-solid defense to Wenger’s transition that dazzled fans with fluid attacking football.
But when confronted with sustained pressure from a physically strong side, even their brilliant attacking style could falter. Too often, their composure would break, leaving gaps that opponents could exploit. It was a reminder that flair alone could not always withstand brute force; discipline and adaptability were just as essential in high-stakes matches.
Luckily for Wenger, Vieira and Petit commanded the double pivot with authority, providing a solid shield in front of the back line. Coupled with an experienced and disciplined defensive unit, Arsenal’s forwards could operate almost freely, as long as the defensive line maintained its shape when under pressure.
Now, once Wenger had refined Arsenal’s defensive transitions, the transformation was complete—efficient and balanced, just like the 2004 Arsenal team, capable of both creating and nullifying chances effectively.
As the match intensified, both teams exchanged blows that left the stands gasping in astonishment.
By the eighty-fourth minute, Stanovic was charging down the flank with the ball—but Vieira stepped in, dispossessing him cleanly. He immediately laid it off to Petit, sparking a golden opportunity for a counterattack.
Petit measured a perfect long pass to Overmars, who controlled it with precision. The Dutchman turned, eyes scanning for Wright making a diagonal run into the channel. Just as he looked to thread the ball through, Makélélé stretched a leg and intercepted it, halting the attack before it could reach its target.
Counterattack for Manchester City!
Wenger’s stomach dropped. Something felt off—eerily familiar. The tempo, the positioning, the sudden shift—it mirrored exactly how City had exploited Arsenal in their previous encounter. One mistake in a counter, and the opponent could turn it around, hitting Arsenal before they could even recover, throwing the entire defense off balance.
"Back! Go back! Protect the space first!"
Though the words were internal, the players seemed to anticipate Wenger’s intent instinctively, adjusting their positions in a heartbeat.
"Super Rob! Super Rob! Super Rob!"
The fans chanted in unison, their voices rising like a wave through the stadium, fueling the intensity of the final minutes
Pires remained composed. Having learned from an earlier mistake, he didn’t attempt to take on the defense directly and quickly played the ball back.
Pirlo surged forward, exchanging a sharp one-two with the retreating Pires that sliced through Vieira’s midfield. Now Pirlo faced Arsenal’s last line of defense just outside the box, with Petit and Bergkamp hustling back to cover in time.
Henry continued to draw the attention of both center-backs, while Stanovic simultaneously charged into the penalty area, forcing the defenders to split their focus. The distraction created just enough space.
Before Arsenal’s defenders could fully close down, Pirlo delivered a precise ball—not to Henry, nor to Pires, but...
Makélélé!
Who would have thought Makélélé, usually stationed on the halfway line, would be up front?!
The dynamo had timed an angled run perfectly from the left. Makélélé didn’t cut into the box; instead, he took a lateral step to create the ideal shooting angle. With a decisive strike from distance, he unleashed a powerful shot.
The ball arced beautifully between Seaman and Adams, flying straight toward the far post—a perfectly placed, unstoppable goal.
Highbury erupted—but unfortunately, not for their fans. The away supporters went wild, while Arsenal’s players were left stunned.
On the sidelines, Wenger held his breath. "Save it... save it... save it!" he muttered desperately.
Boom!
Highbury erupted—unfortunately, not for the home side. The away fans went wild, while Arsenal’s players were left stunned.
"Makélélé, from the edge of the penalty area, has pierced through Arsenal’s defense and found the back of the net! 2-1—Manchester City have completely turned the match around!"
Makélélé didn’t even wait—he ripped off his shirt and spun it over his head like a helicopter, twirling as he ran toward the away fans.
"Arrgggghhhhhhh!" he screamed, the raw emotion of the moment echoing through the stadium.
The away fans leapt to their feet, fists pumping and voices roaring, anticipating the star striker’s approach. Makélélé dove into their section, embracing the nearest supporters who were reaching out to celebrate with him.
From behind, Henry, Stankovic, Pires, Zidane, and the others were already surging forward, eyes alight, each leaping toward Makélélé mid-run. Their joy was palpable—a wave of sheer adrenaline and team camaraderie.
Even Mourinho had made his way onto the sidelines, clapping and gesturing excitedly, caught up in the moment as City’s players celebrated their remarkable comeback—all while Arsenal’s players stood frozen, stunned by the counterattack that had just flipped the match on its head.
PHWEEEE~
As the match restarted, Mourinho immediately made tactical substitutions—Zidane and Henry came off for Okocha and Gattuso.
With only minutes remaining, Arsenal’s approach grew more desperate. They launched high balls into the penalty area, hoping for a late equalizer, but City’s defense held firm. Each cross was met with precise positioning and clean clearances. In the final moments, Arsenal couldn’t even register a meaningful shot on goal.
PHWEEEE~
The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.
Richard erupted into applause, a broad smile spreading across his face. The comeback had been complete.
City had turned the tide with tactical brilliance and clinical execution. For the first time, all eyes were on Manchester City... and their new young manager.
Who did they say he was again?
Yes—the Special One.
It seemed it was not just empty talk.