CHAPTER 509: THE PRESSURE AND THE RELIEF

As long as it was a thrilling spectacle—even if City lost—it would still have been the talk of the town. But a cautious, creativity-lacking match like yesterday’s, where they only managed a 1–1 draw away to Sturm Graz, offered little to discuss.

There were plenty of clubs on the Champions League stage with more prestige and influence than Manchester City. For example, in Group D, Manchester United unexpectedly demolished Brøndby 6–1 at Old Trafford, and in Group C, Real Madrid also thrashed Rosenborg 5–1.

If City couldn’t showcase their own style—if their matches weren’t exciting or unpredictable—they were destined to be mere supporting actors on the grand European stage, overshadowed by the real powerhouses.

So, outside of England, mainstream media quickly lost interest in Manchester City. After watching their first three group-stage matches—yes, they remained unbeaten, but none of the games truly tested the team’s quality.

The performances weren’t flamboyant enough; the only match everyone was genuinely looking forward to was the upcoming fourth group-stage fixture, where City would face Inter Milan for the second time.

Two days after Richard finalized the Independent deal with INM Group, he returned to the training ground—only to be greeted by a squad that looked like they had just marched home from a war. The long trip to Austria had drained every drop of energy from them.

He even agreed with O’Neill’s plan—there was simply no choice but to give the players another day off to rest at home.

This situation was truly concerning. This year had been extremely unfortunate for City; the trip to Austria was still manageable, but next time they would be going to Russia. Who knew if the team would return as frozen ice cubes in that frigid cold?

Richard let out a long sigh. He imagined the future, with the Champions League expanding and more teams from Nordic countries or even further east in Russia participating. The amount of travel alone could exhaust even players who didn’t appear on the pitch.

He shook his head. Time to think about the next match.

The upcoming weekend league game against promoted side Leicester City had Richard nearly losing his mind—because Gallas who had only just recovered from injury!

Having played in the Champions League midweek, Richard advised O’Neill to bring both backup center-backs with him for safety. In the end, O’Neill decided to include Gallas, not only because he had recovered, but to help him regain some match fitness.

The plan was for him to play in the second half, while Cannavaro—who had already played two full matches in the same week—would finally get some rest.

So, for the weekend match against Leicester City, with most starters rotating for rest, the starting center-back pairing was still Cannavaro and Terry. In the second half, the pairing would switch to Gallas and Woodgate.

From the very beginning of the match, everything seemed fine. Manchester City scored the first goal.

Henry picked up the ball on the left, dribbled past his marker, and swept the ball cleanly into the far corner.

The second half, however, told a different story.

When Gallas replaced Cannavaro, he looked as if he were still caught in a fog. Because of that, when Leicester took a corner, his header was far too weak—dropping the ball perfectly into the path of Emile Heskey.

Heskey calmly brought it down with his chest before firing it into the net.

"Heskey! Brilliant control on the chest—strikes it! GOAAAL! Leicester are level! Emile Heskey with a clinical finish!"

After scored the equalizer though, he kept his head lowered as he walked back toward his half. His teammates understood—Manchester City was his former club, even if it was only a loan spell. So when he secured the level score for Leicester, they simply patted him on the head.

In the City side, seeing this, O’Neill shouted encouragingly to his player especially Gallas. He didn’t want to put too much psychological pressure on his player, especially since he had only just recovered from injury. But in the next twenty minutes, danger after danger appeared in front of City’s goal—and then Gallas gifted the opponent a penalty.

Richard stood with his hands on his hips, helplessly watching as Leicester prepared to take the spot-kick.

Mourinho, however, immediately called Gallas over. The defender stood there, serious and silent—clearly embarrassed.

"William, if I take you off now, it’ll be difficult for you to lift your head high in this team. It’s the 67th minute, and we’re two goals down at home. I can’t give up on this match. Leicester is brave enough to fight us head-on today. Our defenders will be tested. So now, you tell me directly—do you still want to play?"

Gallas replied quietly, "Boss, I’ll adjust myself. I won’t make any more mistakes."

"Don’t tell me that. Just answer: do you want to play?"

"I do."

"Louder!"

"I DO!"

"Good. Then get back out there and wake up! A penalty shouldn’t crush you. Show some courage! I won’t take you off unless you ask to come off—but staying on the pitch isn’t enough. You must win your teammates’ trust back!"

Gallas finally started to wake up a little. After returning to the field, he gradually got involved in the match. However, this late awakening still left City trailing 2–1 at home.

In this match, Richard noticed that O’Neill and Mourinho were putting in extra effort directing the players from the touchline.

"Jonathan! Jonathan! Get back and defend!"

"Michael, tell Jonathan to stop dribbling into dead ends! Work with your teammates—tell him I said that!"

With Makélélé and Zidane resting, and Pirlo still injured, City went with a 4-4-2 formation. Nakata and Gattuso played as the central midfielders, while Ronaldinho and Stanković took the wings—though truthfully, it was a lot to ask of them, as both were still not even twenty years old. Still, to build their defensive awareness and develop their all-around game, O’Neill had them play as traditional wide midfielders.

Gattuso and Nakata formed the double pivot, while the strike partnership consisted of Trezeguet and Henry.

Richard rubbed his chin as he studied the formation.

In previous Premier League matches where City had dropped points, he realized O’Neill had been asking too much from Ronaldinho and Stanković—forcing them to balance defensive responsibilities while also performing like modern attacking wingers. This caused them to drift away from the team’s tactical structure. His own high expectations for them had actually been misplaced.

It would be better to assign them simpler, more focused roles—tasks they could handle well while staying connected with their teammates.

Modern wingers are required to operate in huge spaces, and young players often struggle to keep the rhythm. Playing as wide midfielders was simpler: defend deep when needed, stretch the pitch in attack, and only cut inside when space opened up.

As the match entered the 70th minute, City were still one goal behind.

Thankfully, once Gallas stopped being a liability in defense, Stanković grew more active down the flank, giving City a new burst of attacking momentum.

Richard watched him repeatedly beat his marker and deliver crosses, nodding in approval. The twenty-year-olds were starting to find their rhythm and confidence; being able to control the ball well in tight spaces was already a huge improvement.

Ronaldinho also began to grow bolder the longer he stayed on the pitch. With every touch, his confidence surged—this was where he shined most. One-on-one duels were his playground. In fact, based on the match statistics, his dominance was undeniable: a remarkable 86% dribble success rate!

This was Ronaldinho—football expressed through fearless creativity. Though he still had some physical weaknesses, and in direct confrontations he often struggled unless he relied on his footwork, Ronaldinho would likely get pushed aside by more physical players.

Richard wasn’t confused or worried about this. Ronaldinho was, after all, a player destined for La Liga—where technique is king—unlike the Premier League, which prioritizes physical battles.

As the two wide players began to make their mark, City started to gain the upper hand in the final minutes.

In the 85th minute, Zambrotta stormed down the right flank, reached the byline, and whipped in a cross.

Trezeguet met it at the near post with a sharp header—pulling Manchester City level.

PHWEEEE~

City fans leapt to their feet—some screaming, some hugging strangers, one guy even dropped his hotdog and didn’t realize it.

Richard punched the air so hard. "VOILÀ! THAT’S HOW IT’S DONE!"

Trezeguet, usually calm and cool, slid on his knees toward the corner flag like he had just scored the winner in a cup final. Ronaldinho hopped over like an excited puppy, hugging everyone in sight—opponents included. Stanković spread his arms wide, roaring to the fans like a winger turning into a superhero.

After the goal, the team’s morale surged, launching them into an all-out attack, forcing Leicester to retreat to their defensive third.

Leicester City were completely pinned back, while Manchester City pushed everyone forward into attack!

Extra time was nearly up — this was the final chance. It all started from an Ashley Cole foul.

PHWEEEE~

The left-back surged down the wing and was brought down hard by Frank Sinclair.

He immediately picked up the ball and tried a short pass, but it was blocked and deflected out for a corner. With less than four minutes left on the clock, he immediately snatched the ball and sprinted to the corner, as his teammates poured into the box, desperate for one last chance.

Meanwhile, the Leicester bench erupted in fury at the fourth official.

Manager O’Leary threw both arms into the air, his face red with disbelief. "Stoppage time’s already passed thirty seconds! How much longer do we need to play?! What is this, are we waiting for City to score before ending the match?!"

The referee ignored the protest and pointed firmly to the corner flag, allowing play to continue. Nakata calmly placed the ball down — the Japanese maestro taking charge of the final, decisive moment.

Richard stood up from his seat, eyes narrowed.

This was it.

The last attack. His heart pounded in rhythm with the crowd’s anxious roar.

Nakata curled the corner toward the far post. Jonathan Woodgate leaped into the air and won the header — but instead of aiming toward goal, he knocked it back into the crowded penalty area!

What kind of header was that?!

Normally, from a corner, you direct your header toward the goal—either downward or upward depending on the height of the ball. But this one dropped straight into chaos.

The ball bounced once. Leicester defenders froze in shock. Then—someone swung a boot... no, a knee!

The ball was awkwardly knocked toward goal, and the fans behind the net erupted, arms raised wildly.

IT’S IN!!!

"Woodgate nods it back into the mixer—nobody’s cleared it—Gallas! OH MY WORD, HE’S SCORED! WILLIAM GALLAS WITH AN ABSOLUTE SCRAMBLE OF A FINISH! MAINE ROAD HAS ERUPTED!"

O’Neill and Mourinho exploded from the sideline, sprinting onto the pitch and pumping their fists in pure adrenaline-fueled joy!

From the swarm of bodies, two figures burst out celebrating—Trezeguet and Henry—neither fully understanding what had just happened. All they saw was the ball in the net... and then the unlikely hero responsible for it.

William Gallas.

"Look at that! He came into this match under pressure, and now he’s written his redemption in bold letters!"

The ball wasn’t meant for him. It wasn’t even close to where he stood. But when it suddenly dropped at his feet, he didn’t hesitate—he just swung and hoped.

And somehow... it found the back of the net.

Gallas rushed straight to Woodgate, grabbed him tight, and even planted a kiss on his forehead—the stress and self-doubt from earlier melting away in one euphoric moment.

That goal—chaotic, unbelievable, and completely unexpected—lifted the weight from his shoulders at last.