"Not even halfti yet, and Chelsea already lead 3–0! I don't think anyone watching expected this before the ga—not us, not the fans!"
"In terms of tactics, Schalke 04's manager has been completely outclassed. At this point, they've got no other choice—they need to start playing more aggressively.
You're already three goals down before the break. It's pointless to argue about whose fault it is, which defender underperford, or whether the goalkeeper should've done better.
They need to attack! It's do or die!
Even if they can't score, they need to reset their ntality before halfti and co out swinging in the second half."
In the CCTV 5 studio, comntators He Wei and Coach Zhang were now speaking more relaxedly.
They'd already exploded in celebration after Zlatan and Li Ang each scored. Now, from Schalke's perspective, Zhang offered so calm and reasonable advice.
When the match is already spiraling out of control, there's no point in dwelling on individual mistakes.
What matters now is using halfti to refocus, regroup as a team, and, if possible, salvage a goal or two for dignity's sake.
But if they couldn't shift their mindset in ti? Then the second half would be pure torture.
Back at Stamford Bridge, Chelsea fans were already celebrating what looked like a certain top finish in the Champions League group.
No matter what happened in the other match between Steaua Bucharest and Basel, if Chelsea could win tonight, they'd clinch the group with two rounds to spare.
In a season packed with a brutal fixture list, this was great news.
For the final two group matches, Chelsea could field youth and rotation players, letting their starters focus on the Premier League.
But for Schalke fans, tonight's result ant the rest of the group stage would be life or death.
If Basel beat Bucharest tonight, then Schalke would have to beat both Basel and Steaua in the final two rounds.
And not just beat them—dominate.
If they failed in either match, Basel could leapfrog them into second, sending Schalke tumbling into the Europa League.
Why would Chelsea fight tooth and nail in the last two rounds?
They'd already have first place locked up. They'd be rotating heavily.
Schalke fans understood what was happening. This 3–0 thrashing ant one thing:
Their fate was now entirely in their own hands.
At halfti, Schalke coach Jens Keller had also figured it out.
He made two tactical subs right away.
Clens ca on for the ineffective left winger Fuchs.
Then Max yer replaced the aging Jermaine Jones in midfield.
Coach Zhang slapped his thigh when he saw the move. "That's the right idea," he said.
Schalke also switched to a 4-3-3.
The new midfield combo of Boateng and yer gave them more drive and ball movent.
It wasn't enough to match Chelsea, but it was a better fit for their own attack.
And with their new mindset, Schalke's second-half offense was at least coherent.
Draxler pushed further forward, closer to Chelsea's box.
Now, even if Chelsea double-marked him, his passes beca more dangerous.
Defensively, even though they were committing fewer numbers, everyone had clearer responsibilities.
The pressure was still high, but they no longer had to worry about being sabotaged by a teammate's mistake.
At last, the Champions League clash turned into a proper back-and-forth.
The first half had been a massacre. The second was a counterpunch from a battered Bundesliga giant.
Mourinho didn't tell Chelsea to sit back, so they kept looking for goals.
The problem? Schalke still defended loosely against Chelsea's midfielders and full-backs.
But they locked in on Li Ang and Ibrahimović—the two executioners from the first half.
Every Chelsea player tried to feed Zlatan, hoping he'd complete a Champions League hat-trick.
But even after playing until the 80th minute, Zlatan couldn't find a third.
Still, before coming off, he added another stat:
He assisted Hazard for Chelsea's fourth goal.
Then, in stoppage ti, Lukaku capped off the ga with a lightning-fast counterattack.
Final score: 5–2.
Zlatan: 2 goals, 2 assists.
Li Ang: 1 goal, 2 assists.
Between them, they were involved in all five of Chelsea's goals.
After the match, the two were imdiately sward by reporters.
Mourinho, anwhile, shared a warm handshake with the defeated Keller.
But before Keller could stew in disappointnt, one of his assistants whispered in his ear.
Suddenly, Keller's face lit up in surprise.
Monts later, cheers erupted from Schalke's locker room.
Bucharest and Basel had drawn again—1–1.
Basel missed their chance to overtake Schalke. With only three points, they remained third in the group.
German dia couldn't praise Steaua Bucharest enough.
To be fair, Bucharest had shown real grit in these last two Champions League matches.
They couldn't beat Schalke or Chelsea, but against the stronger Basel?
They clawed out two points and preserved their pride.
Okay, that was the generous spin.
The harsher truth?
It was two diocre teams flailing at each other—and the bigger one choked.
Back in Chelsea's locker room, Li Ang and the others heard the result and chuckled.
"Ah, Basel… we gave you the chance. But you just couldn't take it, huh?" Li Ang muttered with a shake of his head.
After grumbling internally for a bit, Li Ang tossed all thoughts of the remaining Champions League group stage matches out of his mind.
For Chelsea's starters, the group stage was effectively over.
Any more appearances would be seen by fans and the dia as stat-padding.
And even if Li Ang didn't care about public opinion, he had no interest in doing sothing so thankless.
What mattered now were the remaining Premier League fixtures in November and December.
The Champions League knockout stages and the FA Cup wouldn't begin until the new year.
Outside of the league, Chelsea only had one more match in the EFL Cup—a quarterfinal against Stoke City.
Tricky, sure, but hardly a real threat.
So at this mont, Li Ang was perfectly relaxed.
When Mourinho announced that every player who featured in the recent Champions League ga would get a full day off, Li Ang celebrated along with the others.
With the packed fixture list still ongoing, that one day of rest felt more precious than gold.
The next day, Li Ang didn't even show up at Cobham for extra training.
Instead, he stayed ho, slept in, and enjoyed a rare day of self-indulgence.
Of course, even Li Ang's "indulgence" included an afternoon jog and a swim.
He'd beco too used to moving—being totally sedentary was impossible for him.
On the morning of November 8th, Li Ang and his teammates arrived on ti for check-in and dical evaluation.
That afternoon, after training, Mourinho pulled Li Ang into his office.
One good news, one bad.
The good news? In the next league match against West Brom, Li Ang would be given even more tactical freedom on both sides of the ball.
The bad news? The dical team had recomnded resting both Hazard and Lampard, aning Li Ang would be losing two of his most reliable attacking partners.
In other words…
"Next match is going to be a tough one for you, Little Lion. I'll find a ti to give you a break after that."
Li Ang didn't buy it for a second. He just hoped that soday Lukaku would figure out how to properly play as a center forward.
No ti to waste—he told Mourinho not to worry.
With Matic anchoring midfield, Zlatan ahead, and Terry behind, even a rotated Chelsea squad should be enough to handle West Brom.
Mourinho clearly agreed. On the afternoon of November 9th, he surprised everyone by rolling out a 4-4-2 starting formation.
Backline: Azpilicueta, Terry, David Luiz, Ivanović.
Midfield: Matic and Li Ang in the center. Bertrand playing further forward as left midfielder, De Bruyne on the right.
Up top: Zlatan and Lukaku.
There was nothing wrong with this lineup. The pre-match dia consensus was clear: Chelsea had more than enough to beat 12th-place West Brom.
But then, to everyone's surprise—West Brom scored first.
Shane Long, who had notched 11 goals the previous season, found the net in the 29th minute after pouncing on a low cross from Amalfitano.
The West Brom away fans at Stamford Bridge exploded with joy.
David Luiz, who was supposed to block that delivery, was a step too slow. After the goal, he slapped his forehead in frustration.
Chelsea, who had dominated but failed to score, were understandably disheartened.
They'd been flowing well in attack. They'd already hit the post twice.
Luck just wasn't on their side.
Instead of shouting and riling up his teammates, Li Ang this ti took a different approach.
He pointed to his temple, then made a downward pressing motion with both hands.
"Stay calm, guys. We need to stay calm. Don't rush it. Start from the back and rebuild."
He raised his voice just enough to be heard across the pitch.
Then, he pulled Bertrand aside for a quiet chat.
Bertrand could both attack and defend. He was a natural left-back but could fill in on the wing when needed.
Li Ang told him to shift focus—drop back and help Azpilicueta shut down West Brom's right flank.
In the center, Li Ang and Matic locked things down.
With Chelsea shifting into defensive gear, West Brom's attacking montum fizzled out.
They had nothing left after that first strike.
Chelsea safely closed out the half, and Mourinho had no complaints about Li Ang's mid-ga tactical adjustnts.
In fact, in the tunnel, Mourinho praised him openly for his poise and clarity.
Back in the locker room, Mourinho fired the team up.
He sharpened their tactics, lifted their spirits, and helped them shake off the first-half pressure.
With morale reset, Chelsea ca out in the second half looking steady and composed.
No more forcing crosses down the flanks. Instead, they started probing through the middle.
Lukaku anchored the line, occupying West Brom's center-backs.
Zlatan dropped deep, linking play with Li Ang, who expanded the width of Chelsea's attacking lanes.
With patience, Chelsea pushed and pulled at West Brom's backline, drawing them out of shape.
In the 62nd minute, Zlatan again dropped into space and laid the ball off to Li Ang.
Without taking a touch, Li Ang imdiately pinged a long diagonal switch across the pitch.
The ball soared to the right wing, where De Bruyne had pulled wide into space.
The sudden shift caught West Brom off guard.
Their entire defense shifted left, trying to cover the exposed wing.
De Bruyne, now a rising star known for his pinpoint deliveries, took his ti—and then whipped in one of his signature deep-arching crosses…
Lukaku sprinted toward the ball, his sheer force making West Brom's two center-backs panic imdiately.
But De Bruyne's curving cross bypassed all three of them.
At the perfect mont, Zlatan—who had deliberately stayed a step behind—brought it down with composure.
West Brom's Irish keeper Myhill rushed out to cut the angle, trying to force an error.
But Zlatan feinted a powerful shot, then sharply pulled the ball back with a deft fake, sending Myhill the wrong way before calmly slotting it into the empty net.
With the equalizer secured, Zlatan didn't overdo his celebration. He simply clenched his fists and raised them inside the box.
Then he and Li Ang, who had dashed into the goal to retrieve the ball, jogged back toward the halfway line together.
Chelsea's players, now surging with energy, couldn't care less about a prolonged celebration.
They roared, pumping fists, urging one another to go again.
West Brom, anwhile, looked shaken.
In their last ten Premier League matches, they had scored and conceded ten goals—a respectable defensive record, diocre in attack.
But after Chelsea struck the post twice in the first half, and now with this breakthrough goal, the gap in quality was painfully obvious.
They wanted to hold the line.
So did manager Steve Clarke, who was desperate to protect the point.
So as soon as they restarted, West Brom shrank back and focused on controlling the ball to run down the clock.
Chelsea responded by pushing high up the pitch again, completely spreading out and launching wave after wave of attacks.
Zlatan's goal had proved Mourinho's tactical shift was the right move.
Chelsea's players followed instructions faithfully, continuing to probe patiently, passing and pulling at West Brom's shape.
Now that Zlatan had scored, he beca the focal point of West Brom's defense.
But that didn't an he could be easily shut down.
His technical ability and physical dominance made him the perfect pivot—drawing pressure, opening space for others.
Chelsea kept getting chances.
Even if they weren't scoring yet, they never lost faith.
And Li Ang? He was locked in—waiting for the next crack in West Brom's armor.
In the 84th minute, it ca.
While Zlatan tangled with his national teammate Olsson inside the box, Lukaku suddenly made a darting run toward the right channel.
A montary pocket of space opened up.
West Brom's defenders adjusted quickly, doubling up on Lukaku.
That's when Li Ang struck.
But instead of feeding Lukaku, he sent the ball across the pitch—to Bertrand, who was cutting in from the left.
Seeing the mass of bodies in the box, Bertrand realized a pass would likely be cut out.
So he took a risk.
With his stronger left foot, he rifled a low, powerful strike—half shot, half cross.
It was wild. It might've gone in, or it might've sailed past the post.
But Bertrand was willing to gamble.
West Brom's defenders weren't.
Approaching his 34th birthday, veteran center-back Gareth McAuley threw himself in front of the shot, blocking it with his chest.
Pain exploded across his ribs, but his mind stayed clear.
And in that mont of clarity, he saw Li Ang adjusting his steps just behind the ball.
Li Ang didn't feel confident. Not really.
He'd scored a stunning volley weeks ago, yes—but he knew those chances ca once in a while, not every week.
Hitting a clean volley is hard. Even for him.
But he had no other choice. He had to try.
If he missed? So what. Let them laugh.
He could live with that.
But what he couldn't accept—was doing nothing when the mont ca.
So as the ball fell into his zone, he didn't think.
He just moved.
Deep breath, footwork adjustnt, asure the bounce—
Then swing.
The ball t his laces flush.
He tried to keep it low, tried to guide it toward goal rather than blast it over.
In that instant, he saw Myhill spring off the ground, flinging himself at the ball.
He saw McAuley's shocked expression as he twisted to watch.
But Li Ang didn't see the ball's full flight.
He only heard it.
Half a second later, he saw it—nestled inside the net.
The roar was instant.
Over 30,000 Chelsea fans erupted as one.
It shook Stamford Bridge to its core.
He Wei, on comntary, lost control entirely.
His words ca flying out like machine-gun fire.
Beside him, Coach Zhang couldn't even get a word in—just burst out laughing, caught in the euphoria.
Sky Sports comntators were left in awe.
"Once again, the savior! Eighth Premier League goal in his debut season! Eleven gas, eight goals, six assists! Most goals created in the league! Top three in goals and assists! Defensively dominant!"
"This—
is Li Ang!"
Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon/johanssen10
User Comments
0 comments from readers