CHAPTER 523: DON’T JUST DRIBBLE—PASS THE BALL

After the press conference, the week naturally concluded with the Premier League match. The arrival of the new manager drew all attention toward Manchester City. Some were curious, some skeptical, while others were probably hoping for a miracle.

In the nineteenth round of the Premier League, Manchester City hosted Blackburn Rovers.

Four years earlier, Blackburn Rovers had been FA Premier League champions. Just a year earlier, they had qualified for the UEFA Cup. They were considered by some as outside contenders for another title challenge.

But everything soon went wrong for Rovers, who found themselves deep in a relegation battle. Manager Roy Hodgson paid the price with his job in November. Manchester United assistant Brian Kidd was appointed as his replacement since then.

Everyone expected Manchester City to win this match easily. It was precisely this favorable matchup that convinced Mourinho to experiment with a slightly more offensive tactical approach. Unlike the usual Mourinho, he refrained from giving a long tactical lecture in the pre-match locker room, choosing instead to boost the team’s spirit before they stepped out.

As an assistant manager, he had learned that the closer it was to kick-off, the less effective it became to remind players about tactics. In fact, doing so would only make them more nervous. The players should have already prepared their game plan the day before. There was no need to repeat strategies right before the match; that would only irritate them.

Ewood Park was filled to the brim as both teams made their way onto the pitch. The atmosphere felt tight and electric, the kind that only old English grounds could produce. Off to one corner, a cluster of travelling Manchester City fans—led by the infamous Blazing Squad—were already roaring out their chants, trying to drown out the home crowd and push their team forward.

"Where’s your title gone?

Where’s your title gone?

Four years ago you had it...

Where’s your title gone?"

As always, to support Mourinho in his first match of the campaign, Richard had arranged their attendance by providing fifty tickets to Carl Morran, allowing him to rally nearly a hundred members of the Blazing Squad’s. Together, they formed a striking presence in the stands.

As the teams lined up, Mourinho stepped out of the technical area and made his way toward the home dugout. Brian Kidd noticed him approaching and came forward. The two men shook hands firmly—no theatrics, just the formal respect expected between managers on a cold Premier League evening.

PHWEEEE~

Once the match kicked off, cheers erupted from the stands.

Blackburn’s home support was always strong. Local fans packed the stadium, eager to lift their team. For many everyday working people, nothing felt more liberating after a week of hard labor than shouting and singing in the terraces. They had no intention of being outdone by the Manchester City supporters.

Once the match began, the situation on the field quickly grew tense.

Blackburn’s overall strength was far weaker compared to four years earlier. Still, they had Tim Flowers, Chris Sutton, Kevin Davies, and former Manchester City player Keith Gillespie. What made Richard happy as he watched was that Blackburn didn’t resort to defensive tactics at home; they intended to fight properly.

Richard couldn’t help glancing toward the opposite bench. Their coach, Brian Kidd—his name was no stranger to Manchester City fans, as he had once played for the club from 1976 to 1979.

Unfortunately, Kidd was seated behind a barrier, making it impossible for Richard to read his expression. Internally, he mused, It seems they’ve prepared well.

For today’s match, City lined up in a 4-3-3:

Goalkeeper: Paul Robinson

Defenders: Ashley Cole, John Terry, Lúcio, Gianluca Zambrotta

Midfielders: Nakata, Zidane, Lampard

Forwards: Robert Pirès, Trezeguet, Ronaldinho

Zidane was always the one orchestrating Manchester City’s attacks through the middle, but in previous matches he hadn’t ventured deeply into the opponent’s penalty area, primarily serving as a transitional outlet. As a result, it was the two wide players, Ronaldinho and Pirès, who became the main initiators of City’s offense and posed the greatest threat.

Thus, Blackburn’s two full-backs immediately marked them tightly from the opening whistle.

It was almost like watching a game of chess.

However, the freedom Mourinho had granted Pirès and Ronaldinho to attempt dribbles seemed to have gone to their heads. The two of them kept showing off their footwork—every time they received the ball, their first instinct was to dribble, dribble, and dribble...

After being dispossessed two or three times in a row, they only doubled down!

By the thirtieth minute of the first half, even the fans in the stands could see that whenever Ronaldinho or Pirès got the ball, their next action was guaranteed to be another attempted dribble.

They kept trying to use sheer pace and explosive bursts to beat Blackburn’s rugged English defenders. Did they really think they could keep outplaying them with pure skill, especially when their intentions were so obvious?

It was as if they viewed the opposing players as nothing more than training cones.

"Should we remind them?" the new assistant manager, Baltasar Brito, whispered into Mourinho’s ear.

He couldn’t understand why City’s attack looked so stagnant—the issue was clear to everyone. The wide players were dribbling every single time they touched the ball. Yet Mourinho stayed calm in his seat, showing no intention of standing up to shout instructions.

This was an old Manchester City disease from the O’Neill era: too much freedom. The difference was that under O’Neill, it was usually Zidane who drifted wide while the wingers adjusted. Now it was the opposite—Pirès and Ronaldinho were the ones drifting everywhere, as if the players were trying to give their best first impression in this match.

Mourinho shook his head. "It won’t help to shout now; let’s give them time to settle. We’ll address it at half-time."

Richard, watching from the stands, couldn’t help reflecting that what Mourinho had told him a few days earlier might not have been an exaggeration after all.

Mourinho had spoken about this before. Manchester City’s tactics had long depended too heavily on the wing-backs. If they couldn’t break through, the responsibility immediately shifted to the attacking midfielders or the wingers. And once they finally delivered the ball, everything relied on the striker finishing the move.

It was a rigid chain of dependency—one broken link and the entire attack collapsed.

What Mourinho wanted was something entirely different.

He wanted every City player to contribute, anywhere, at any moment. A system where the team wasn’t waiting for one specific player or one specific area of the pitch to spark the attack. Whether they were in controlled possession or pressing aggressively and countering—the philosophy had to be the same: All eleven players must be alive, must be involved, must be hungry.

That was the identity he wanted to forge. Win duels, recover the ball, attack space, and suffocate opponents before they could breathe.

Richard rubbed his chin.

’What would you do in this situation, José?’

Manchester City’s current play was basically the same as under O’Neill. The structure, the rhythm, even the bad habits—everything looked familiar. Richard found himself increasingly curious about what Mourinho would change next.

Would he give the two wide players a harsh lecture at half-time?

Would he make substitutions?

Or would he simply warn them to stop dribbling at every opportunity?

The first half—flat, predictable, and lacking excitement—ended with the referee’s whistle. The crowd’s energy dropped instantly; some fans even began to nod off.

Manchester City still didn’t look anywhere near as threatening as they had last season. They had managed only two shots on target in the entire half, and the two forwards looked completely isolated, practically invisible by the time the whistle blew, with no meaningful support from the rest of the team.

Upon returning to the locker room, Mourinho didn’t change the overall tactical setup. Instead, he drew the positions of several Blackburn players on the tactical board, reminding the defenders to pay attention to their movement and spacing.

When the team was about to head back out for the second half, he waited until most of the players had already left the room. Then he deliberately called out: "Thierry, Robert—stay a moment." He paused, then added, "And you, David. Come here."

Trezeguet, who had been about to follow the others, turned back and joined them.

The three lingered near the back of the room, and Mourinho casually placed an arm around each of their shoulders—two on one side, one on the other. The gesture was relaxed but firm, the way a coach speaks to players he expects more from.

After having a few minutes to cool off during the break, Ronaldinho and Pirès both knew they had performed poorly. Their heads dipped slightly; neither wanted to meet Mourinho’s eyes. Their excitement from earlier—showing off dribbles, forcing plays, trying to impress—now felt embarrassing.

After all, the coach had given them freedom, and this was how they used it?

’How shameful...’

Mourinho’s voice was calm when he finally spoke. "You three worked incredibly hard in the first half."

"Eh?"

Pirès and Ronaldinho looked up at Mourinho, surprised and a little confused.

Incredibly hard? Not dismal? Not terrible?

Mourinho rolled his eyes and said flatly, "Come on. Even a fool could tell you were going to dribble the moment the ball touched your feet. Do you know what top defenders rely on? Strength? Power? No—they read you. If you show them your next move before you even make it, you’re giving them the answer key to the entire exam. At that point, stopping you is the easiest job in the world."

Both Ronaldinho and Pires had top-tier dribbling, no question—give them a 1-vs-1 and they could tear anyone apart. But once they were crowded by multiple defenders? Even Henry would struggle in that situation. Elite dribblers still need support, movement, and passing options to unlock tight defenses.

That’s why the team ended up facing the same problem as in their previous match: they struggled to break down the opposition once too many players were marking them at the same time. No matter how good your technicians are, when the structure around them doesn’t create space, their brilliance gets suffocated.

Pirès and Ronaldinho lowered their heads again.

"The tactics don’t change," Mourinho said, his tone steady and deliberate. "But your rhythm must. Listen carefully: when you receive the ball, don’t attack immediately. Make three, four, five passes first. Slow the game for a moment—force the defenders to shift, to adjust, to move out of their shape. You want them reacting, not waiting."

He pointed to the clipboard he was holding. "Once the ball has circulated and their defensive line starts stretching—even just a little—that’s when you strike. That’s when your dribble becomes deadly. If you go straight at them, they’re already set to stop you. But if you make them chase first, make them hesitate, your breakthrough becomes twice as easy. Understand?"

"And also..." He then turned to Trezeguet.

"And you, David—don’t just stand around waiting in the penalty box. Once in a while, drop deeper. Link up with them. Play with the midfield. If you keep drifting between their center-backs, you’re too easy to mark. Pull one defender out, and suddenly the whole line shifts. That’s when the space opens for the others."

Trezeguet nodded seriously.

Mourinho continued, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Football isn’t only about finishing. Your movement decides whether the others can breathe. If you drop at the right moment, Ronaldinho and Pirès will get the space they’ve been begging for all match."

He patted all three of them once more.

"Second half—we do this together. Understand?"

The three players straightened up, their earlier embarrassment now replaced with determination.