CHAPTER 446: COMMUNITY SHIELD AND WINGER PHILOSOPHY

"How long did he play?"

"About twenty-four minutes," O’Neill replied, glancing at his clipboard.

"Do you have his player statistics?"

"Yes, right here." O’Neill flipped through a few pages and handed over a sheet.

Richard glanced at the sheet and frowned as he looked over Didier Drogba’s statistics. The numbers showed not only a lack of effort but also a failure to grasp the rhythm of the game — it was as if he were playing half-heartedly.

’I knew his early career was bad,’ Richard thought, ’but not this bad.’

Perhaps he never had the keen eye of a professional manager, relying only on the little knowledge he had. Well, seeing this data, Didier isn’t suitable for professional football at all — or at least not to become a star. It’s probably a cruel thing to say, but that’s likely the best conclusion for Didier Drogba at this point.

Perhaps he needs a harsh wake-up call — the kind of blow that could forge him into the Didier "Dragon" Drogba Richard believes he could become in the future.

But he felt he couldn’t say those words out loud. What could he do? A star player wasn’t someone a manager or someone like him could simply mold into being. It was up to the player. Talent and hard work were both essential. Work hard, and your talent will never leave you.

Both O’Neill and Mourinho realized that Richard had suddenly stopped talking. He was just frowning and staring at the television. They didn’t know what he was thinking, so they didn’t disturb him and simply watched the match in silence.

At the end of the day, Richard was still processing the recruitment of those three players — Didier Drogba, Deco, and Gennaro Gattuso.

Seeing that Richard was adamant and wouldn’t listen to them, O’Neill was fuming and decided to leave early, leaving only him and Mourinho in the room.

When only the two of them remained, Richard turned his head toward the future "Special One.""One day, you’ll understand why I decided to keep recruiting him," Richard said quietly.

Those were Richard’s only words before the meeting ended that day.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was already early August.

The 1998/1999 Premier League season was about to begin, but first, Manchester City needed to participate in the Community Shield against Arsenal, the FA Cup winners.

This season, many things happened for Arsenal. After David Platt retired, Ian Wright left the club to join West Ham United on a two-year contract in July 1998. Arsène Wenger initially intended to replace him with striker Patrick Kluivert, but high wages and interest from other clubs proved to be stumbling blocks. In the end, defender Nelson Vivas was signed on a £1.6 million deal to provide cover for Lee Dixon and Nigel Winterburn. Swedish midfielder Freddie Ljungberg also joined the club for an undisclosed fee.

Before the match, in the tunnel, Richard greeted Arsène Wenger before heading to the VIP room of Wembley Stadium.

The dialogue between strong teams is always the focal point of tactical battles, as the overall strength of both sides is closely matched. Thus, the formations chosen by the coaches become particularly interesting, directly influencing the outcome of the match.

PHWEEEE~

Arsenal started the game with more intensity and seriousness than Manchester City. Richard couldn’t help but want to applaud Wenger for this kind of play. He could see it in their running, aggressive pressing, and the positional connections among their players.

Both teams had almost identical attacking patterns — focusing on winning midfield battles, transitioning quickly through the center, and then exploiting defensive gaps down the left flank.

Manchester City relied on Ronaldo, while Arsenal depended on Overmars.

Wenger watched as Zambrotta made a through ball toward Henry on the left. Henry sped past Nigel Winterburn with the ball at his feet, Wenger’s heart racing as he muttered, "Damn it!"

As his former protégé back at AS Monaco, who didn’t know what this young man was capable of?

Thanks to Larsson’s sudden illness before the match, City was forced to use a 4-3-3 formation, featuring the trio of Henry–Ronaldo–Pires up front. Wenger, who had expected a 4-4-2, was caught off guard to see Henry occupying the left wing — something unusual for City’s typical setup.

Henry was a player who relied on his pace and elegant dribbling. He gave everything on the pitch, and every time he dropped back to receive the ball along the flank, the entire stadium seemed to come alive with excitement.

"Don’t cross..."

Richard muttered under his breath — and sure enough, he couldn’t help but rise to his feet and cheer for Henry’s lightning-fast dribbles and explosive breakthroughs.

From the stands overlooking the field, people could clearly see that whenever Henry picked up the ball, Arsenal’s defense retreated quickly, as if the entire stadium were shifting horizontally in response to his movement.

Well, that was no surprise — he and Ronaldo were practically a nightmare duo for any defense.

On the sidelines, Wenger was already instructing Nelson Vivas to start warming up. He had lost count of how many times Winterburn had been beaten on the left flank.

Captain Tony Adams and Martin Keown at center-back were equally exasperated. Before the match, Wenger had emphasized the importance of stopping City from cutting inside, and they had followed those instructions. But that defensive strategy was designed for a 4-4-2 formation. They had anticipated City would play as they did last season — attacking down the flanks before delivering a cross, not cutting inside. Like traditional wide men, City’s full-backs usually handled the flank attacks.

Winterburn tried to hold his ground, but Henry’s quick feet and sudden burst of pace left him flat-footed. Ronaldo drifted inward, dragging Keown with him and creating a pocket of chaos in front of the box. Tony Adams stepped up, barking orders, trying to close the gap before it was too late.

The crowd rose to their feet as Henry danced forward. A quick one-two with Ronaldo sent the Brazilian spinning around Keown before Henry cut inside, eyes scanning for an opening.

"Shoot!" someone shouted from the City bench.

But instead of rushing it, Henry hesitated — that split-second pause that made defenders panic. Ronaldo darted toward the near post, looking for space, but Keown had already recovered and was marking him tightly alongside Tony Adams.

Henry stopped, feinted, sending Winterburn sliding the wrong way — then spotted Pires free on the right, calling for the ball.

Henry decisively slid the pass across to him at the edge of the box. Pires met it cleanly, but his momentum carried him too far forward. Perhaps caught in the adrenaline of the play, his shot felt rushed — a light toe-poke aimed toward the near post.

Instead, the ball veered off his boot and crashed against the post with a sharp clang! that echoed through Wembley.

"How did you miss that?!" Henry blurted out, acting as if it were the end of the world.

Thankfully, the ball struck the far post. Pires lost his balance and tumbled past the goal line, staring in despair as it failed to find the back of the net.

In the very next heartbeat, the ball rebounded toward the penalty spot — where the ever-alert Zidane arrived just in time. With a graceful leap, he met it cleanly, deftly redirecting the ball toward goal.

"Manchester City take the lead!"

Pires’s shot might have lacked a touch of luck, but after rattling off the post, the ever-savvy Zidane was right there to pounce on the rebound! It’s 1–0 to City!

"What a moment — and what a buildup! Ronaldo and Henry have been electric throughout this first half, far more dangerous than they were last season. Their link-up play has been sharp, their movement devastating. You can really see how City’s tactical evolution is paying off. That 4-3-3 setup, if this continues, you have to wonder: will Manchester City stick with this formation next season as their new identity?"

After the go-ahead goal, Richard stood up with a broad smile, applauding his team. Once he sat back down, Marina asked in confusion, "Why do you insist on having him cut inside? Isn’t it standard for wingers to stay wide?"

Indeed, after yesterday’s meeting and the player assessments during the trials, Richard emphasized to both O’Neill and Mourinho that starting next season, wingers should focus more on cutting inside rather than crossing.

It wasn’t about enforcing a strict rule — Richard simply wanted to prepare for the inevitable shift in football’s evolution. It was about understanding the difference between classical wingers and modern wingers.

Richard simply shook his head, unable to find the words. It was a question that felt almost impossible to answer in today’s game.

Over the next decade, many roles in football would quietly fade into history — players once hailed as "classical": the playmakers, the wingers, the sweepers. The very word classical became an elegy of sorts — something that belonged to the past, not the present or the future.

The decline of these traditional players was no accident; it was the result of football’s relentless evolution. Modern teams pressed higher, defended as a unit, and chased every inch of space. In that environment, the artistry of a static player had little room to breathe. Classical wingers still had a fighting chance — their courage lay in one-on-one duels, punishing defenders who dared to press too close. "If you challenge me," they seemed to say, "I’ll beat you again and again."

But as defensive midfielders grew more dominant and strikers demanded consistent service from the flanks, the freedom once enjoyed by traditional wingers began to fade.

Take Overmars, for instance. His ability to cut inside was unquestionable, yet in the Netherlands’ 1998 World Cup squad — filled with towering strikers — his role was often reduced to delivering low crosses from the byline, feeding power rather than expressing his own creativity.

Spain, too, would later produce a generation of brilliant wingers, but they faced the same cruel reality. Even when their skill dazzled the world, the national team often faltered on the biggest stages. Over time, those wide artists found themselves marginalized — called up not as stars, but as supporting pieces in a system that no longer needed them.

The same fate befell the trequartista — the elegant playmaker once at the heart of every attack. Their static rhythm simply couldn’t keep pace with the modern game’s tempo.

Football had moved on... or perhaps, the kind of players who could still play that way had simply gone extinct? Even Richard couldn’t find the words to explain why.

In the City case, of course, the modern winger is far from perfect. In the end, attacking efficiency is measured by goals scored and shots on target. If a winger never takes a shot or constantly sends efforts wide, then all the fancy dribbling means nothing.

Richard wasn’t naïve — he couldn’t assume that every winger at City would master crossing, shooting, and dribbling all at once. But at the very least, rather than emphasizing endless crosses, he wanted to focus training on shooting techniques combined with ball control after dribbling.

In short, Richard hoped that the core of City’s future philosophy for wingers would be simple:"You can afford to have poor crossing, but you can no longer afford to lack scoring ability."

The game had evolved. A winger was no longer just a provider of chances, but a secondary striker — a constant threat in front of goal. With this shift, the burden of scoring no longer rested solely on the center-forward; goals were now expected from every area — the wings, the midfield, even overlapping full-backs.

Just like Shevchenko last season — who often played from the right wing — his responsibilities included short passing and cutting inside to score, while the longer passes and crosses from wide areas were left to the overlapping full-back, Zanetti.

Richard knew he couldn’t expect every player to be versatile — that was unrealistic. Every player has limits — of energy, time, and talent.

Returning to the pitch, after conceding the lead, Arsenal descended into a frenzy. Their passing became sharper, their pressing more desperate, and every red shirt surged forward in waves. City fans in the stands held their breath — every Arsenal attack looked like it could end in heartbreak.

Thankfully—PHWEEEEE!

The referee’s whistle pierced through the chaos.

Full time.

Manchester City had done it — Community Shield champions!

The City bench erupted, but it wasn’t wild jubilation. No one ran onto the pitch or threw their shirts into the air. Instead, there were quiet smiles, handshakes, and a few pats on the back. Zidane raised his arms calmly, Ronaldo and Henry exchanged a grin, and Pires jogged toward the tunnel, looking relieved rather than ecstatic.