Ibrahimović had always spoken without much restraint, but Cromwell did not mind. Instead, he supported his right elbow with his left hand, rested his chin on his right hand, and began thinking seriously.
What Ibrahimović said made a lot of sense.
If a player did not constantly pay attention to the movent of the ball during a match, then what was he doing?
He must have lost focus!
So the basic premise of Cromwell's idea did not hold.
There was absolutely no need to turn the football into so kind of hidden weapon.
Jas Cook asked curiously, "Putting that aside, what are these machines anyway? I've never seen them before."
Cromwell ca back to himself and imdiately regained his enthusiasm. "Haha, these machines are modified football launching machines I applied to the Boss for after taking inspiration from the ball machines used in baseball and tennis training! The Boss really is generous. The mont he heard my idea, he agreed imdiately."
"Tony contacted the manufacturer to have them custom-made, and now, here they are in front of us. They even have a remote-control system. It saves manpower, so we don't have to keep picking up balls or asking soone else to serve them, and it also makes training more varied. Isn't it great?"
Cromwell genuinely admired Lynn's generosity from the bottom of his heart.
He really was a generous boss.
As long as an investnt helped the players train, he would pay for it without even blinking.
Jas Cook looked around and said, "It really is great. So how exactly do we use them?"
Cromwell said, "Although what Zlatan said just now makes sense, it doesn't affect the original reason I applied for these machines. We can still use them to improve training efficiency. How about this? We face the machine, wait for it to launch the ball, then react — control it, shoot, dribble, whatever you want. Whatever ability you want to improve, you can train it however you like."
Villa looked at the machines thoughtfully.
The goal of team cooperation was for the passer to deliver the ball more accurately to the target player's feet, allowing the receiver to handle it more comfortably.
But in real matches, very few passes that actually reached a player were perfectly comfortable.
The closer one got to the opponent's goal, the lower the chance of receiving a truly comfortable pass.
Because the player had to face tight defending.
On top of that, the passer was also under greater interference, which lowered the success rate of the pass and reception. Even if the pass succeeded, the difficulty of the next action would still increase!
The footballs launched by these machines had uncertain trajectories.
A player had to judge them in a short period of ti and make the best decision in handling the ball.
Whether it was controlling, passing, dribbling, or shooting, the machines could indeed strengthen those skills freely, just as Cromwell said.
After thinking this through, Villa said, "Let's try it. I'll go first."
Cromwell pointed at the machine on the north side of the indoor pitch. "All right, then we'll use that one. Get ready. About twenty ters should be fine."
Villa stood about twenty ters away from the machine and prepared himself.
Cromwell pressed the start button.
The machine launched a ball.
The football suddenly shot out, deviating from the straight line in front of it and moving slightly to the left.
Villa imdiately shifted to control it, but because the reaction ti was too short, the ball slid across the surface of his foot, took a slight deflection, and flew behind him.
Villa called toward Cromwell at the side of the pitch, "Again!"
The next ball, Villa did a little better.
He controlled it with his chest, but the ball bounced a little too high.
By the ti it dropped and he brought it under control, Ibrahimović shook his head beside him and said, "If that was inside the penalty area, that bounce would have left you with almost no chance. Unless you made a deceptive movent in the opposite direction and caused the defender to miss."
Villa nodded seriously, then signaled Cromwell to continue.
Cromwell simply set it on a tir, launching one ball automatically every fifteen seconds.
The four of them took turns attempting the challenge. To make it more competitive and enjoyable, Cromwell set up ga rules.
There were three categories: control, passing, and shooting.
For control, the ball had to be brought within one ter of the player, and it could not stay in the air for more than three seconds.
For passing, it had to be a one-touch pass.
A target point would be set, and missing that point by more than half a ter counted as failure.
For shooting, the ball had to be sent directly into the small goal on the indoor pitch. From the first touch to completing the shot, no more than two seconds could pass.
In other words, they could strike a volley directly, or control the ball before shooting, but the movent had to be extrely fluid and very quick.
After the four of them agreed on the rules, the competition began.
This kind of individual technical training was full of fun, and the four of them played enthusiastically without feeling tired.
After the third round ended, Jas Cook glanced at the ti, let out a startled cry, grabbed his backpack, and imdiately ran outside.
"Sorry, I have to go ho."
"Co on, Jas. Are you rushing ho to study again?"
Ibrahimović complained toward Jas Cook's retreating back.
Without looking back, Cook replied, "Yeah. My brother hired another new tutor for . I'm off. See you tomorrow!"
The three of them looked at Cook's back, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
They had to admit, sotis everyone agreed with the nickna Wellesley had angrily given Cook:
Study Baby.
Cook left, but the three of them did not stop the ga.
With Cromwell around, training was never dull. He always found ways to make the content more interesting.
The three of them sweated heavily, took off their shirts, and continued challenging the ball-reception and ball-handling drills bare-chested.
From that day on, this training room beca the most popular place among Swansea's players.
Almost every day after training, players would co here alone or in groups to strengthen their individual technical ability.
Lynn was now in high spirits.
The club was flourishing, and the team's results were steadily improving, filling him with confidence for the future.
The day before the twelfth round of Division Three fixtures, Lynn's car had just left the club when reporters surrounded it.
Raleigh shouted at him, "Lynn, Blackpool manager McMahon said he wants to stop Swansea at ho. Don't you want to say sothing?"
Lynn stopped the car, rolled down the window, and smiled at the reporters crowding around him.
"What should I say? I respect Blackpool's ambition, but we will work hard to disappoint them."
Carter said, "Co on, everyone knows Blackpool have three forr Swansea players. Lynn, when O'Leary, Jenkins, and Jones left Swansea, all three of them made harsh remarks. They said they would make Swansea suffer in the league! Surely you won't respond so weakly?"
Lynn smiled. "See you after the match."
Without giving them any face, he drove away.
He was not the kind of person who would say whatever the reporters wanted to hear. If he did that, he would only beco a puppet in their eyes, creating news for them.
Blackpool?
Lynn did not take them seriously.
The next day, Swansea set off northward. As soon as they crossed the northern border of Wales, they entered Blackpool's territory.
In the dressing room, Lynn emphasized once again the key points from yesterday's pre-match eting.
"Blackpool's right-sided combination is made up of two forr Swansea players: Jones and Jenkins. They want to beat us to prove that letting them leave was my greatest mistake. So in this match, we must take advantage of the fact that they will definitely commit more bodies forward in attack. Rember that!"
The players nodded seriously together.
Then Lynn asked out of habit, "Where are we in the league?"
The players answered in unison, "Third."
"How many points are we behind second place?"
"One point!"
"How many points behind us are Blackpool?"
"Four points!"
"Good. Today's target is to open the gap over Blackpool to seven points, then see whether the team in second slips up and lets us move up one place. Gentlen, give it everything."
At so point, Lynn had begun routinely asking the players these questions before league matches.
What position were they in? How many points did they have?
How far were they from the team above, and how far from the opponent?
He did not care whether this put pressure on the players. In any case, he valued points greatly. More points ant his team would beco stronger!
After motivating the players, Lynn was the first to walk out of the dressing room.
Bloomfield Road was not exactly a small stadium. It could hold more than seventeen thousand people, and today, every seat was filled.
Blackpool's supporters had rather complicated feelings toward Swansea.
On one hand, they were grateful that Swansea had sent them three decent players before the season began.
Defensive midfielder O'Leary, right midfielder Jenkins, and right-back Jones.
All three now played important roles at Blackpool.
But on the other hand, Blackpool were also one of the promotion favorites.
Aside from Brighton and Cardiff City, whose strength was more outstanding, there were still two promotion spots up for grabs, and many teams were fighting for them.
Swansea had been reborn from destruction, were now third in the league table, and were looking better and better. That made Blackpool fans feel uneasy.
If Swansea took the third automatic promotion place, then the battle among the other teams for the final promotion spot would beco even more brutal.
Even more cruelly, if a team failed to make the top seven, they would not even get a place in the play-offs!
Because of the pressure in the league table, this match was a six-pointer!
When Lynn appeared on the touchline, the ho supporters in the nearby stands began hurling abuse at him.
They attacked his arrogance, insulted his identity, and made no attempt to hide so of their racist remarks.
Lynn's expression did not change. He simply stood calmly at the side of the pitch, waiting for the match to begin.
Blackpool manager Steve McMahon had no deep hatred for Lynn. His remarks had not been targeted either; they were simply competitive in nature.
But now, he did not dare underestimate Lynn.
Swansea's series of excellent results showed that this manager did have so ability.
After carefully studying many of Swansea's recent matches, McMahon reached one conclusion:
They had to crush Swansea within the first sixty minutes!
Across the past ten matches, Swansea had scored twenty-three goals in total.
Eighteen of them had co in the final thirty minutes!
This distribution of scoring tis showed that Swansea's combat power in the latter stages of the second half was simply explosive.
William Randall, the host of Voice of Swansea, had proudly given Swansea a new nickna:
Closing-Stage Monsters!
Once a match reached its closing phase, that was Swansea's ti to dominate!
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