Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid Chapter 238 - 236: Coach, Let Me Play Center-Back!

"Beautiful positioning, a sharp finish! The Panther, Samuel Eto'o, nets his fourth goal in seven league appearances since joining Everton! He's now climbed into the Premier League's top five scorers—Chelsea have been struck hard! David Luiz, oh no! The Brazilian center-back has paid the price for his recklessness!"

In the Sina Sports broadcast studio, Jun Jian shook his head slightly as he narrated the mont. This was John Terry's first absence of the season—and his younger teammate had imdiately committed a grave mistake.

You can't afford sloppiness in central defense. One mistake, and Chelsea had conceded. The cost of a single error was just too high.

Inside the box, Gary Cahill looked like he wanted to say sothing. But seeing the guilty expression on Luiz's face, he swallowed his words.

Here, one could clearly see the importance of seniority and authority within the squad.

Luiz had joined Chelsea a year earlier than Cahill, and in terms of tenure, he outranked him.

Moreover, Luiz had always been a lively presence in the locker room and was well-liked by many teammates.

So, unlike Terry—who would speak bluntly and without hesitation—most Chelsea defenders would weigh their words when addressing Luiz, out of camaraderie.

Petr Čech was an exception. He always said what needed to be said, regardless of who it was.

But before Čech could unleash his usual verbal volley, Leon was already back in the box, pulling Luiz aside and covering his mouth as they spoke quietly.

Seeing Leon handling it, Čech only muttered a few words and let it go.

"You all right, David?" Leon asked.

"I don't know, Leon. My mind just blanked for a second… I was trying to step up early and stop their attack. I'm sorry, brother…" Luiz replied, looking visibly shaken.

Leon patted his chest and pulled him into a brief hug.

"You need to trust us, brother. Trust and Nemanja. Just hold your line—we'll track back in ti. Also, listen more to Gary's instructions, yeah?"

He kept it short, but serious—just enough to snap Luiz out of it.

The match resud quickly, and Leon didn't say anything further.

Luiz was nearly four years older than him. By this stage of his career—turning 27 soon—he should already understand the responsibilities that co with playing as a starting center-back at an elite club.

Leon liked Luiz's personality—his optimism, his joy—but in elite professional football, a center-back losing his position like that and getting punished for it was no laughing matter.

All Leon could hope now was that Luiz would take the embarrassnt to heart and bounce back stronger.

Even if he didn't shine, as long as he obeyed instructions, held his position, and didn't make more reckless decisions, Chelsea would still be able to control the match against Everton.

After giving his teammate a pep talk, Leon returned to position.

As the match restarted, he received a back pass from Hazard and gestured for his teammates to spread wide and slow the tempo.

Everton, on the other hand, were keen to capitalize on their montum, pushing forward to create more shooting chances for the red-hot Eto'o.

But Leon's goal now was simple: slow everything down and force the match into a positional battle.

Eto'o might have looked sharp in chaos, but in a structured ga, without space to run into, his threat in Chelsea's box dropped dramatically.

Leon held possession calmly and signaled for Matić to drop alongside him. Under pressure from both Eto'o and Barkley, he showed no signs of panic.

He passed sideways to Matić, then imdiately dropped even deeper—near Chelsea's penalty area—motioning for the full-backs to stay wide and stretch Everton's shape.

With the press intensifying, Matić calmly passed the ball back to Luiz on the backline.

Luiz, despite his earlier error, remained technically gifted. In fact, his passing was the best among all Chelsea defenders.

Seeing Leon calling for the ball again, Luiz delivered a precise forward pass back to him.

Now positioned just outside Chelsea's box, Leon no longer looked like a midfielder—he was functioning as a deep-lying playmaker, a second center-back.

Everton had hoped to force errors from Chelsea's backline.

But Leon wasn't just another midfielder. Their pressing wasn't going to be enough.

Eto'o, clearly tiring, stopped pressing and instead tried to block passing lanes to other defenders.

Barkley, fired up, charged toward Leon with full intensity, trying to disrupt his rhythm.

Leon smiled.

Facing the oncoming Barkley, he shielded the ball with his body and flexed his core, absorbing the contact.

Then he did sothing outrageous—he drove forward.

Barreling through, Leon bulldozed past Barkley with brute strength and balance.

Now it was Barkley who looked panicked.

Wasn't he supposed to be the one doing the disrupting?

Why did it feel like Leon was the unstoppable one?

No matter how hard he tried, Barkley couldn't even nudge Leon off his stride.

Leon wasn't just strong—he was relentless.

From the edge of Chelsea's penalty box, he powered his way into the midfield zone—pushing forward like a tank.

Only once he reached the third zone did he release the ball, passing smoothly to De Bruyne on the right flank.

Barkley stood there, dumbfounded.

He wasn't exactly lightweight. His physicality had never been in question.

But in this duel, Leon had absolutely steamrolled him.

And it hurt—physically and ntally.

This match was drawing a big audience. Barkley knew that.

He also knew that while Leon was already a star, he was supposed to be one of England's new-generation golden boys.

He couldn't take the humiliation.

He had to fight back—to prove sothing.

But the mont he lost his cool, Everton's entire midfield lost structure.

After all, Barkley was the team's No.10 in this ga.

Watching from the sidelines, Martínez was fuming.

What a waste of a promising position.

Leon's single carry had rattled Everton's young playmaker and disrupted their montum entirely.

The Spanish coach roared from the touchline, berating Barkley for losing his head.

Sure, Leon was world-class, but that didn't an Barkley should forget who he was.

Martínez debated substituting him for Osman, the veteran.

But seeing Barkley snap back to attention, he decided to hold off.

Leon sighed inwardly—sha. He was hoping to provoke Barkley further and make him implode completely.

Even so, the damage was done.

Everton's rhythm had been shattered, and Chelsea were now back in control.

Mourinho had been ready to signal for Leon and Matić to slow things down.

But seeing that Leon had already reset the ga with one powerful run, he didn't need to say a word.

The match was back on Chelsea's terms.

Leon, still dropping deep, orchestrated the build-up with poise and precision.

Up ahead, Oscar was already taking over the attacking duties, with Ibra drifting to link play.

Balance was restored.

Chelsea had already established solid control over Everton's midfield and defensive lines.

On the defensive end, Leon took it upon himself to have Matić cover the area in front of David Luiz more often. anwhile, he swept the space between the top of Chelsea's defensive third and the midfield arc.

Watching this, Coach Zhang couldn't help but chuckle from the Sina Sports broadcast booth.

"All roads lead back to Leon stabilizing the defense by playing holding midfielder again. If Chelsea's backline ever lacks players, Mourinho really doesn't need to worry—just plug Leon in. He could probably play full-back too! Apart from average crossing, his long balls, forward runs, and even shooting are all excellent…"

As Zhang rambled on, Chelsea mounted another wave of attack.

Oscar had a lethal late run and shot in his locker, and Ibra didn't mind laying it off for him.

With Everton's defenders focused entirely on Ibrahimović and Hazard, Oscar had multiple chances from the edge of the box, and his strikes were all quite threatening.

Add in De Bruyne on the right, swinging in dangerous crosses, and it was no surprise that Everton's box was in constant panic.

Leon kept observing. Once his teammates had pinned Everton inside their half long enough, he could confidently push forward to support the attack.

But today, Roberto Martínez clearly had no intention of giving up on counterattacks.

Even with his backline under heavy siege, he didn't have Barkley or Mirallas drop back to help.

An attacking midfielder, a winger, and a wily veteran striker—Everton's front three were clearly stationed in Chelsea's half to strike on the break.

Unfortunately for Chelsea, while their attack had rattled Everton's defense ti and again, the breakthrough still hadn't co.

By the 40th minute, Mourinho watched as Ibra headed wide again, then covered his face in frustration on the sideline.

He couldn't bla his attackers. Ibra, Oscar, Hazard—they were all performing well.

They were cracking Everton's defense and generating quality chances. Maybe they just needed a little more luck.

Or maybe, if they pushed one more attacker forward, the goal would co naturally.

But glancing at the Everton trio waiting to pounce in Chelsea's half, Mourinho hesitated. He couldn't risk sending Leon forward just yet.

Regulation ti in the first half quickly ticked down. The fourth official held up the board: one minute of stoppage ti.

Both managers started ntally preparing for their halfti adjustnts.

On the pitch, Everton retained possession for one final push.

Leon and Matić double-tead Barkley, forcing him to pass wide under pressure. Mirallas, tightly marked by Bertrand, received the ball near the sideline.

With a sharp feint, Mirallas tried to burst past Bertrand—but Bertrand, fully focused, matched him step for step and stayed glued to his hip.

Before losing the ball completely, Mirallas swung in a hopeful cross.

It sailed toward the far post where Eto'o lurked—but no one in Chelsea's defense was too worried.

David Luiz and Gary Cahill had Eto'o boxed in, forming a strong double team.

Both were excellent in the air. Eto'o would have a hard ti getting a clean header.

Sure enough, Luiz leapt and cleared the cross decisively.

The danger seed to pass—until a sudden scream ripped through the stadium.

The cara cut to the scene.

David Luiz was on the ground, clutching his ankle.

And beside him—Gary Cahill, face twisted in pain, sitting down and grabbing his foot.

Confusion swept over everyone on the pitch—players from both teams rushed toward the Chelsea box.

Viewers at ho, however, already knew what had happened.

The replay showed everything.

Luiz had leapt high to win the header. On the way down, he landed directly on Cahill's foot.

Their montum stacked on top of each other, and the Brazilian's ankle twisted awkwardly on contact.

The cara zood in—slow-motion showed Luiz's left ankle bend unnaturally, and Cahill's foot absorbing the full impact.

Luiz collapsed screaming. Cahill dropped right after, grimacing in agony.

The situation was clear: Luiz had beco the unluckiest man on the pitch.

Mourinho's face turned pale as the replay played on the stadium's giant screen.

There was nothing he could do—he imdiately sent Kalas to warm up.

But now, he could only wait for the dical team's diagnosis.

Both teams retreated into the tunnel for halfti.

Leon rubbed his face, frustrated, cursing their bad luck.

Luiz didn't even make it back to the dressing room. He was stretchered directly into the dical van.

Mourinho's last hope shattered.

He tried to console himself—at least Cahill and Kalas had played together before. They'd been rotated in league and cup matches, so they had so chemistry.

Even if this was abrupt, and Kalas might not be fully ready, Mourinho had no other option.

But just as he was forcing himself to calm down and reshuffle his second-half tactics, Leon suddenly looked up after resting a few minutes and broke the tense silence in the locker room.

"Coach, let play center-back!"

The words stunned Mourinho—and the entire Chelsea dressing room.

Leon? Playing center-back?

He'd played every midfield position before, but never as a defender. Could he really do it?

Mourinho's first instinct was to say no.

But then he stopped and thought.

Leon's positioning was excellent—a vital trait for any defender.

One-on-one marking? World-class. Physically, Leon was strong, agile, and intelligent.

Tackling, intercepting, clearances—he was elite at them all.

His heading was solid too.

The more Mourinho thought about it, the more he convinced himself.

Leon checked all the boxes.

"If Gary commands the line, and Little Lion just plays stopper, shadowing Everton's most dangerous player… he can do it," Mourinho thought.

"Maybe… we try it?"

Because deep down, he knew—Kalas lacked top-flight experience.

And right now, Chelsea needed certainty, not risk.

If Chelsea had been playing a mid- or lower-table team outside the top ten, Mourinho might have been able to convince himself to trust Kalas with the defensive load.

But the opponent was Everton.

To play it safe, Mourinho would much rather have Leon fill in temporarily and extinguish the fire himself.

The fact that Leon had volunteered to shoulder the burden made Mourinho imdiately change his thinking.

He quickly sent Holland to call Lampard to accelerate his warm-up and join the halfti tactical briefing.

anwhile, Leon took the final ten minutes before the second half to communicate directly with Cahill.

Leon had never filled in as a defender at top-flight level, but he had always been observant—and had learned a great deal from playing alongside elite defenders.

He admitted to himself that if he were being asked to play as the deepest-lying center-back, organizing the entire defensive line from the back, he'd feel a bit unsure.

That job was far different from what he normally did as a defensive midfielder.

When playing the pivot at Real Madrid, Leon was the one directing his midfield partners and fullbacks to press forward while he stayed behind to clean up.

A center-back had far less room for error—any misstep could be fatal.

That kind of responsibility required a different mindset.

But as a ball-winning, front-footed center-back? He felt confident.

After all, he had worked and trained with Nesta, Thiago Silva, and Sergio Ramos—so of the best front-footed defenders in world football.

As long as he wasn't asked to marshal the whole backline, he believed he could handle the job.

So, after urgent tactical preparations, the second half began—and to the shock of fans and comntators alike, Leon was standing shoulder to shoulder with Gary Cahill on the edge of Chelsea's penalty area.

Lampard had co on to replace the injured David Luiz and paired with Oscar in central midfield. Matić held the anchor role just ahead of the defense.

Mourinho wasn't just assigning Leon to center-back duty—he was doubling down on offense as well, aiming to break Everton's resistance with a show of strength.

But none of that mattered to the fans right now.

All eyes were on Leon, playing center-back for the first ti.

That was the headline.

"I bet, Gary," Leon quipped as the whistle blew, "there are thousands of fans out there who think I've lost my mind, showing up back here."

Cahill didn't even know how to respond.

If it had been him who had to suddenly switch roles in a big ga like this, he'd probably be sweating bullets.

But Leon?

He looked relaxed—maybe even excited.

Cahill could only shake his head in admiration.

Superstars, especially the young ones, really were a different breed.

Still, with Leon's elite one-on-one defending and understanding of team structure, Cahill felt reassured.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about his new partner ignoring defensive instructions.

As the second half kicked off, both sides ramped up the intensity in midfield.

Without Leon sweeping through the center, Chelsea's midfield duels were a bit less dominant than before.

But once Matić joined the battles on Mourinho's signal, Everton were imdiately pushed back again.

Roberto Martínez, however, wasn't discouraged.

In fact, he seed delighted.

He wanted Chelsea to push up ten more ters, to pin themselves in Everton's half.

Now that Matić had joined the attack, Chelsea's defensive third had beco a wide-open racetrack for counterattacks.

Martínez had always believed Leon's greatest defensive strength was his ability to cover vast amounts of ground.

So to him, Mourinho's decision to put Leon at center-back was a massive waste of talent.

You'd taken a man with elite ball-winning range and stuck him in a role where he couldn't leave position.

It was, to Martínez, a classic tactical misstep.

And soon enough, Everton exploited the opening.

They survived Chelsea's opening flurry and countered with their signature weapons.

Mirallas drove forward rapidly, then fired a crisp diagonal ball across the field.

Eto'o made a dummy run to drag Matić out of position, letting Pienaar receive the ball in stride on the left.

It was the exact sa setup as Everton's first-half goal: bypass the midfield, go direct, exploit the space behind the defenders.

But this ti, Leon made a very different decision from David Luiz.

Instead of rushing upfield for an early challenge, he tracked back in sync with Cahill.

As Cahill called for the fullbacks to recover, Leon watched Everton's pace carefully and matched Cahill's step-for-step retreat.

To the naked eye, it looked passive.

So Chelsea fans in the stands felt nervous.

But to seasoned pundits, the move was textbook.

Chelsea's backline remained cohesive as they retreated gradually, slowing Everton's attack while allowing both Matić and Lampard to get back in ti.

Eventually, Eto'o had to settle for a shot from outside the box—a minor threat at best. The deflection earned Everton a corner, but the imdiate danger had been averted.

Mourinho exhaled deeply on the touchline.

On the pitch, Cahill high-fived Leon with a smile, praising his calm maturity.

Then ca the corner.

Leon locked down Eto'o completely, denying him any space to break free for a header.

Cahill beat Distin in the air and cleared the ball outside the box.

And that's when Stamford Bridge erupted.

Because Leon had already shaken off Barkley's mark and was sprinting forward at full throttle!

Just outside the box, Lampard collected the loose ball and, without hesitation, delivered a through ball with perfect timing.

Leon's acceleration was staggering.

He tore past Gareth Barry like he wasn't even there.

Now the field opened up.

Jas McCarthy and Seamus Coleman were the only defenders between him and Everton's goal.

They didn't charge blindly. Instead, they kept their distance and retreated slowly, trying to narrow Leon's angles.

A smart move—against anyone else.

But Leon didn't slow down.

Instead of continuing down the middle, he veered toward the wing, catching both defenders off guard.

Coleman had no choice but to track wide, which left McCarthy all alone in the center.

Leon's gamble had paid off.

He knew Ibrahimović wouldn't be nearby. The Swede had dropped deep to help defend that corner, and couldn't sprint the full length of the pitch in ti.

Leon was alone, and he didn't mind.

But Li Ang knew that his teammates would be able to keep up with the rhythm and pace of his counterattack.

So he didn't stop running. Confronting Coleman, Li Ang chose the most straightforward and direct way to break through.

"Take this, my mini power dash!"

On the bench, Lukaku, who saw Li Ang mimicking his wing-charging style, imdiately tore off his training bib and stood up excitedly, shaking it with all his might!

Coleman was dumbfounded—he couldn't beat Li Ang in terms of speed, and Li Ang was much taller and stronger than him. Once he got going, there was just no stopping him!

The sheer force of his charge was so overwhelming that Coleman couldn't even commit a tactical foul.

Just as he reached out to try and hold Li Ang back, Li Ang suddenly exploded with a burst of acceleration, throwing Coleman off balance and ultimately sending him tumbling onto the turf!

The Chelsea fans at Stamford Bridge were already in a frenzy.

Their thunderous roars seed to fuel Li Ang even more as he cut inside and surged into Everton's penalty area.

Faced with the desperate McCarthy charging at him, gritting his teeth in frustration, Li Ang exhaled slowly, then smiled as he calmly rolled the ball across to the left side of Everton's penalty area.

Bertrand, who had sprinted almost the entire length of the pitch alongside Li Ang, reached the left side of the box first. Without hesitation, he controlled the ball and pushed it toward goal in one fluid motion, giving Everton's veteran goalkeeper Tim Howard no ti to react!

As the ball finally hit the back of the net, soaring past the goal line, the Chelsea supporters erupted with deafening cheers that shook the stadium!

Inside the Sina Sports studio, comntator Jun Zhang and analyst Coach Zhang were already on their feet celebrating in excitent!

"He scored——!!! Chelsea equalizes just eight minutes into the second half!!! A long-distance dash, a lone hero saving the day!!! Li Ang, summoned in a mont of crisis, not only helped stabilize Chelsea's defense but also unleashed his full potential in attack.

With a nearly 70-ter solo run, he pierced through both layers of Everton's defense and assisted his teammate for a simple finish!!!"

"That was pure superstar football! That's the charm of a true elite player! Li Ang's performance is just sensational! This replay has to be watched several tis—it was football perfection!"

Back in China, fans were erupting with celebration, while on the sidelines, Mourinho was completely unrestrained with his passion.

He jumped up and down with his assistant coach Holland, embracing and shouting joyfully!

But while Chelsea's players were also visibly excited, they didn't celebrate for long. Under Li Ang's wave as he held the ball, they quickly returned to their own half.

On the other side, Martinez—who had just been slapped in the face by that counterattack—was left staring blankly at Li Ang.

It wasn't until the referee's whistle signaled the resumption of the match that he snapped back to reality with a nudge from his assistant.

Chelsea had equalized, and from the looks of it, they had gained montum and were now looking to take the lead and widen the gap.

Now it was up to Martinez to make a tactical decision.

Should he park the bus and try to hold on for a draw?

Or should he stick to the first-half strategy, target Chelsea's defense, and keep playing the counterattack ga?

Martinez hesitated briefly, but soon made his choice.

He wasn't willing to give up the three points that had been within his grasp. He was going to take the gamble—endure Chelsea's pressure and keep attacking!

It was a risky call, but Martinez chose to take it.

Seeing their coach make such a bold and fearless decision, Everton's players felt a boost in morale!

No team had broken Chelsea's unbeaten ho record at Stamford Bridge this season.

If they lost this match, it would just be one point turned into none. But if they won—it would be worth more than just the three points. They'd gain trendous prestige and attract massive dia attention!

That was an exciting prospect for many players in the Everton squad.

So they went all in!

But on this risky road to opportunity, Everton didn't walk away empty-handed.

In the 67th minute of the second half, Hazard danced outside Everton's box, twisting past McCarthy with a slick move, then curled a beautiful shot with his right foot!

His technique was exquisite—the ball bent around goalkeeper Howard, but once again lacked a touch of luck and slamd into the post, bouncing back out into the penalty area.

Jagielka was first to react, clearing the ball with a powerful kick.

Barkley, who received the ball near the halfway line, didn't dare waste ti.

He quickly passed it wide, finding Mirallas, who was already sprinting at full speed.

Chelsea's players, all pressed up in Everton's half, scrambled to retreat.

Bertrand, having pushed up during the previous attack, was desperately tracking back.

There were barely any Chelsea defenders ahead of Mirallas.

Gary Cahill again shouted for teammates to fall back quickly.

But Li Ang, after seeing Barkley get locked up by Matic and Everton's left midfielder Pienaar unable to get past De Bruyne, made a decision in his heart.

"Gary, I'm going for it! Can you keep an eye on Eto'o?!"

Li Ang called out quickly, and after scanning the field, Cahill gave a firm nod.

"Go! I've got this!"

He didn't say more, but his commitnt to defense was rock solid.

Seeing that, Li Ang imdiately moved wide to intercept!

His aggressive presence made Mirallas flinch.

Mirallas had planned to throw in a few feints and try to shake Li Ang off with a direction change.

But Li Ang didn't waste ti.

The mont he got close, he went straight in with a sliding tackle from the side!

Mirallas tumbled off the field while Li Ang cleanly hooked the ball away, got up in one motion, and started dribbling the other way!

"My God! A perfect tackle and ball win from Li Ang!!! Is he going to pull off another miraculous run?!"

The Sky Sports comntator was beside himself, voice cracking with excitent!

But this ti, after a quick look around, Li Ang didn't carry the ball forward himself.

Instead, he sent a fast, flat, and precise long pass!

The ball flew over most of the players on both teams, only beginning to descend after it had crossed the midfield.

Zlatan Ibrahimović held his position with his back to goal, controlling the ball with his chest before nudging it sideways to De Bruyne, who had stopped midway through his retreat and was now pushing forward.

Everton's coach Martinez was already jumping and yelling on the sidelines, urging his players to get back fast!

But it was too late.

De Bruyne, just like Li Ang, took two strides, adjusted slightly, then sent a deadly through pass!

This lofted ball, full of spin and arc, curved in from the right straight toward the left side of Everton's penalty area—exactly where Hazard was charging in!

Hazard leapt slightly, bringing the ball down with his chest in front of him, and instantly followed up with a sliding volley!

When the ball flew into Everton's net a second ti, Stamford Bridge erupted like a volcano!

After the cara lingered briefly on the celebrating Hazard, Ibrahimović, and others, it shifted dramatically—to the backline, where Li Ang stood with his arm raised high, roaring in triumph!

Across China, fans watched that scene with pride and passion surging through their hearts.

That's Li Ang!

A man who props up a crumbling tower, who turns the tide at the edge of collapse!

A true hero!

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