Football Dynasty Chapter 132: Concept of Team of High Performance

Richard blinked several tis to confirm what he was seeing.

As the deafening shouts echoed through the stadium, it finally hit him — City had just suffered a coback. The cheers weren’t coming from the City fans; they were from the Eagles.

Armstrong was buried under a pile of his jubilant teammates, while the comntator excitedly announced, "In the ninety-first minute! Crystal Palace, Darren Pitcher! A stunning direct free-kick goal! They’ve sent Manchester City to hell! This keeps their hopes alive for a League Cup title this season!"

The roar from the Eagles’ supporters filled the seating area, rumbling like rolling thunder.

"God damn it!" Richard forcefully punched the seat beside him, and the fans surrounding him fell silent.

Losing in the League Cup was one thing, but suffering a coback in the dying minutes was another. It felt like a punch to the gut. The players on the field must have been feeling the sa way, and Richard couldn’t shake the worry—especially with the next match looming...

’Lincoln and the final boss, Manchester United...’

"FUCK!" Richard shouted under his breath, standing up from his seat. With a final glance at the pitch, he made his way toward the exit.

After the match, Richard stayed in the empty room next to the changing room, intending to eavesdrop and understand the current situation.

The defeat to Crystal Palace still hung in the air.

City had entered the match with confidence, aiming to seal a 1-0 win against a Premier League team, only to lose it all in the dying seconds. But football was ruthless—there was no ti to dwell on it.

The second division was still in full swing, and the FA Cup sixth-round tie against Manchester United lood large. If City wanted to keep their season alive, they had to move on.

Martin O’Neill, John Robertson (assistant), Steve Walford (coach), and Terry Gennoe (GK coach) discussed intensely before they headed into the post-match eting.

After everyone nodded in agreent, they collectively decided that the main priority going forward was to focus on the team’s ntality.

When they entered the changing room, it was imdiately obvious.

The players were drained. Campbell looked frustrated, Cafu barely spoke. Even Ronaldo, usually the funniest on the pitch, sat in silence with a towel over his head, his gaze lowered.

"They’re still thinking about the match," Robertson muttered as they watched the squad, clearly low-spirited.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

O’Neill struck the locker, the sound breaking the tension in the room and echoing through the silence. The players looked up, all eyes on him as he stood at the front, arms crossed.

"Listen up!" he said, his voice steady but filled with authority. "I know what you’re all feeling right now. But don’t let that defeat consu you. I get it, we were a minute away, but football is cruel—you all know that. The ga doesn’t care about how hard you fight or how much you deserve to win. It’s what happens when the final whistle blows that matters."

He let the words hang in the air for a mont, making sure each player was listening.

"We’re not going to sit here and mope about this. We don’t have ti. We’ve got bigger challenges ahead. We’ve got to put this one behind us—now—and focus on the next match. You’ve all got the quality, we’ve seen it. But we need the right ntality. We need to forget about the Palace match. It’s done. Finished."

He paced in front of them, his tone softer but no less firm.

"I want you to go ho, get so rest, clear your heads. Tomorrow, we move forward. That’s the only option we have. We’ll be back at it, stronger, and more focused. But don’t waste your energy on what’s already gone."

His eyes scanned the room, eting each player’s gaze.

"We’ve got work to do. So, let’s get back to it, alright? Now, go ho, take care of yourselves, and let’s get ready for the next battle."

With that, he nodded toward the door. "Dismissed."

The next day, unlike the usual lively training sessions, the players trained in near silence. O’Neill noticed it imdiately.

Robertson crossed his arms. "They need to get over it."

O’Neill nodded before clapping his hands sharply.

"Alright, listen up!"

The players paused and gathered around him.

"I know that loss hurt," O’Neill began. "I know it feels like we were this close to sothing special. But let remind you of sothing."

He locked eyes with each of them, his voice firm but steady.

"Our main objective is promotion. Not the League Cup, not the FA Cup, not even beating Premier League teams for short-term glory. Promotion — that’s the real goal."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"We proved we belong at the highest level. That was a Premier League team we faced — and we pushed them to their absolute limits. That ga wasn’t an ending. It was just the beginning."

A brief silence followed before a small smirk tugged at the corner of O’Neill’s mouth.

"And the only way we show that wasn’t a fluke is by winning the next ga. So, get over it — and focus on Lincoln, lads. Co on!"

Slowly, a few nods went around. Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Campbell — the leaders within the squad — straightened their backs with renewed determination. Even Ronaldo let out a deep breath, a small fire reigniting in his eyes.

The ssage was clear: The boss was right. It was ti to move forward.

Soon, while Richard was still working in his office, he heard shouting from outside.

"Pass the ball!" soone yelled.

"Get here, mate!" another voice followed, even louder.

His pen paused for a mont, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he continued working.

Ti slipped by unnoticed as he buried himself in his tasks. After what felt like hours, Richard finally stretched, feeling the stiffness in his back and shoulders.

He rose from his chair, grabbed a marker, and walked over to the whiteboard. With slow, deliberate strokes, he wrote — simple, yet powerful words:

—Team of High Performance—

As everyone know, so people in football make headlines; others work behind the scenes to make them happen.

For example, Nottingham Forest, the way they terrorized the current Premier League, even making Manchester United and Blackburn, who were in first and second place at tis, palpitate when Forest started chasing their points with results like 2-1 at Old Trafford, 4-1 at White Hart Lane, and a 7-1 win at Hillsborough.

The key figure behind this success is the current Nottingham Forest team’s High Performance departnt.

Richard tapped his fingers against the table, lost in thought. Suddenly knocking on Nottingham Forest’s door? That was definitely out of the question. So, how does one go about building a team like that from scratch?

He still wasn’t sure, so he imrsed himself in his work once again, searching for references to learn from. Richard sighed, feeling as though he had beco like Ranieri—reduced to nothing more than a tinkerer.

For the next match, City would face Lincoln City, currently ranked 18th in the second division this season.

Richard sat in the Maine Road director’s box, filled with anticipation for the match, looking forward to securing a victory.

And the result was?

Sixteen minutes into the match, Ronaldo put City ahead with an early goal. The atmosphere at Marine Road was electric, filled with roaring excitent.

However, just four minutes later, Lincoln’s defensive midfielder, Tom Bayliss, capitalized on a corner kick to equalize. It was his first goal of the season.

The cheers from Marine Road quickly died down. From there, City, buoyed by the support of the fans, launched a determined offensive against Lincoln’s goal.

The beleaguered manager of the away team was forced to make three consecutive substitutions, switching his offensive players for defensive ones, as his players insisted they would at least secure a point from this away match.

And after the 81st minute, his dream ca true. It was essentially a counterattack, with Lincoln placing nine players in front of their goalkeeper and one player waiting up front, ready for a change.

Manchester City maintained control throughout the match, boasting 68% ball possession, 14 shots on goal, seven corner kicks, and nine free kicks.

These statistics reflected their offensive style of play, yet they had managed to score only one goal.

In contrast, Lincoln had just four shots on goal and a re 32% possession. The only area where they outperford City was in fouls, committing 29 in total. Despite being jeered by the City fans and humiliated as "cowards," they left the stadium victorious, smiling as they secured their precious point, taking another step toward staying in the league.

This result left many fans extrely disappointed, and Richard was equally upset. He could even hear jeers coming from the stands. This was a warning to O’Neill that, if there were no improvents, he would soon lose the support of the fans.

With this result, City has now played 30 matches in the second division, and the winners — along with the promoted team — will soon be determined after another 16 matches.

1. Birmingham City - 59 Points (Promotion to the First Division)

2. Brentford - 55 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)

3. Bristol Rovers - 51 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)

4. Manchester City - 49 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)

5. Blackpool - 48 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)

6. Wycombe Wanderers - 45 Points