After taking a 3-1 lead, Swansea essentially took control of the match.
Hartlepool United were still making one final effort.
But in the 81st minute, after Nelson used his speed to break past Istead down the left wing, he created a threat that made Hartlepool's defensive line tremble.
He carried the ball to the edge of the penalty area and shaped as if he were about to cut inside, only to suddenly play it square into the middle. Cromwell, arriving from deep, slipped a first-ti through ball into the open space inside the box.
Villa followed up and used the outside of his foot to guide the ball into the bottom-left corner!
Hat-trick!
On the touchline, Keith Turner suddenly fell silent. He quietly turned around and walked back to the ho bench before sitting down.
It was over!
Hartlepool United were finished at ho!
The ho supporters, already out of patience, had reached their limit. They unleashed thunderous boos to show their dissatisfaction with the team's performance.
Lynn, anwhile, jumped up by the touchline and threw an uppercut into the air.
After landing, he laughed twice, refreshed and delighted, then also walked back to the bench and sat down.
4-1.
Swansea had sealed victory!
When the final whistle sounded, Lynn stood up and high-fived assistant coach Hughes. Then he smiled as he welcod the Swansea players coming off the pitch.
The players embraced one another on the field. Everyone was in an excellent mood.
They had won a match they might originally have lost without even playing!
Keith Turner took the initiative to co over and shake Lynn's hand. After shaking hands, Lynn even stepped forward and hugged him.
"Thank you."
Lynn's inexplicable "thank you" left Keith Turner completely confused.
After letting go of Turner, Lynn smiled and said, "The challenge Hartlepool United gave Swansea today will make Swansea more united and stronger. It will give my team even greater cohesion. Whether intentional or not, this has been a wonderful day. So enjoy it. Thank you."
Keith Turner was so furious that he almost wanted to swing at him!
Clearly, Swansea had treated Hartlepool United as a whetstone!
Enjoy it?
What was there to enjoy?
Only losing by three goals?
Swansea could certainly enjoy it.
Lynn embraced every player who ca off the pitch and even kissed their cheeks. Full of spirit, he said to them, "You were all brilliant. You fought like real n. I'm proud of you!"
After resting briefly in the dressing room, fitness coach Ernie Shackleton went to a nearby restaurant to buy food. They had prepared water themselves, but the nutritionist who normally traveled with the squad had not co with them today. They could only rely on Shackleton to prepare the players' post-match recovery food.
After resting, eating a little, and rehydrating, the players put on their own clothes and prepared to leave together.
In the indoor mixed zone at Victoria Park, the reporters waiting to interview the Swansea players were shocked to see the Swansea squad rush toward the parking lot like a swarm.
They looked as if they were staging a great escape!
"Hey, hey, hey!"
No matter how the reporters shouted, none of the players paid them any attention.
Because this group of players was going to fight over the supercars!
Such a rare chance to drive a supercar was not sothing they intended to miss!
Especially the players who had failed to grab the driver's seat on the way here — they were determined this ti, sprinting at full speed.
When Lynn and his coaching colleagues ca out, the reporters finally surrounded them.
Rona Whelan from Fleet Street's Daily Express beca the lucky one.
She was the first to reach Lynn and imdiately asked, "Why did Swansea's players all run away like madn?"
It was already getting dark, and Lynn wanted to go ho early, so he said to Whelan, "All right, today it'll be you. I'll only answer three questions. Your first question — my answer is: they didn't run away. They just want to go ho early. Or, more accurately, go ho in style."
"What does that an?" Rona Whelan asked, completely confused.
The coaches beside Lynn were all secretly laughing. Whelan felt as if she were an idiot being stared at by this group of Swansea coaches.
"Second question," Lynn said. "Because we ca here in sports cars. Now that we're going ho, they're fighting over the sports cars."
Rona Whelan felt as though she had asked two very stupid questions. No wonder the Swansea coaches were looking at her so strangely.
She composed herself and asked seriously, "I heard that the FA originally might have canceled this match. If it had been canceled, Swansea would have been punished with a loss and lost three points. What is your response?"
Lynn smiled and said casually, "The FA doesn't care about Division Three. What else can I say? This is England's league. I'm under no obligation to demand that England's leagues beco better and better. I only care about my club.
"Since we won today, the rest doesn't matter. This only reminds us of one thing: we must leave this ignored Division Three level as quickly as possible. Of course, I'm not saying we can accept a future where we rot away in non-league football."
After answering three questions, Lynn and the coaching staff chatted and laughed as they walked toward the parking lot.
Rona Whelan still wanted to ask sothing, but Lynn had already walked past her, leaving her only with his back. He raised his left hand and waved, as though saying goodbye.
The smarter reporters had already followed the Swansea players to the parking lot.
When Lynn and the coaches arrived there, the players had already gotten into the cars.
Reporters were scattered beside different supercars, conducting interviews. Cromwell and Jas Cook had climbed into Lynn's Lamborghini.
"Oh, this has been a wonderful day. We won. I heard Cardiff City drew, right? Very good. We've climbed to second in the table. We're only one point behind Brighton. We'll soon kill our way to the top. Brighton — hey, Brighton, can you hear ? Be careful. One little slip, and Swansea will overtake you! Now, we're going ho. Goodbye!"
Cromwell waved toward the ITV reporter and caraman. As he spoke, he put on the fashionable sunglasses that had originally been inside the Lamborghini and revealed a cool smile.
Just as he turned to face forward, soone took the sunglasses off his face.
He imdiately shouted, "Hey, who took my glasses?"
"These are my glasses."
The person standing outside the car, who had just taken the sunglasses off Cromwell's face, was none other than Lynn.
Cromwell imdiately smiled. "Boss, lend them to !"
After putting on the dark sunglasses himself, Lynn lowered his head and looked down at Cromwell inside the car, smiling. "There are more inside. Find them yourself."
"Haha, all right!"
Surrounded by reporters who wanted to ask questions and take photos, Lynn got into the bright red Ferrari he had driven here. Without showing them any courtesy, he started the supercar.
Then ca the low rumble of engines, one after another. Eleven supercars drove out of Victoria Park's parking lot in orderly fashion.
Outside the stadium, the local television station recorded the entire scene of Swansea's players and coaches leaving.
It was absolutely shocking!
After Lynn drove the Ferrari away from Hartlepool and onto the motorway, he reminded the players not to drive too fast. After all, it was already dark.
He had Hughes connect a call to Ibrahimović.
"Zlatan, have you returned to Swansea?"
"Hey, Boss. Angelos and I are eating. There's actually an amazing Spanish seafood restaurant here in Telford! Do you want to co eat with us?"
"What? You're eating?"
"Of course. It's seven in the evening. Dinner ti."
"You actually have the mood to eat?"
"Of course. We're celebrating the team's victory!"
"Do you not feel even the slightest sha, guilt, or apology?"
"Uh, I do. But I recovered from that four hours ago. We can't stay imrsed in negative emotions. In the end, we still have to enjoy life, right? Angelos?"
Inside the restaurant, Ibrahimović winked at Charisteas.
Charisteas, who had been wolfing down food, imdiately slowed his movents and did not dare make a sound.
Lynn felt that if he continued discussing this topic with Ibrahimović, steam would definitely start coming out of his head.
"Why haven't you gone back to Swansea?"
"Boss, the car was impounded! The owner has to collect it personally. The car is registered under your na, right?"
"Then I can go get it now. You two can take a bus or train back to Swansea!"
"How can that be? We ca out in a supercar. How can we go back by bus?"
"Zlatan, do you want to fight , or are you trying to piss off to death?"
"Boss, what did you say? The signal here isn't very good. Hello? Hello? That's strange, suddenly there's no signal. I'll send the Boss a ssage later… beep… beep…"
Listening to the disconnected tone on the phone, Lynn's expression beca terrifyingly dark.
Four hours later.
On the third floor of a four-star hotel in Telford, Ibrahimović and Charisteas were lying comfortably on beds, enjoying massages from hotel masseuses.
Suddenly, a group of people rushed in from outside.
Cromwell was the first to charge into the room. He jumped onto the bed, squatted beside Ibrahimović, lowered his head, and laughed. "Haha, Zlatan, you really know how to enjoy yourself! We were fighting for our lives in Hartlepool!"
Ibrahimović sat up and gently pushed Cromwell. Cromwell laughed as he fell backward. Jas Cook and Horatio Nelson stood behind him, bracing him with their backs.
Cromwell laughed at Ibrahimović. "See that? At Victoria Park, I had this many brothers behind . Did you have a good day? Was the Spanish seafood feast delicious? And this massage too — beautiful ladies, he didn't flirt with you, did he?"
The two beautiful masseuses who had been massaging Ibrahimović and Charisteas were already standing by the wall, smiling as they watched this group of young n who had suddenly burst into the room.
Naturally, they knew these were Swansea players, because Ibrahimović and Charisteas had been boasting for over an hour.
Coach Shackleton threw their clothes onto the bed and said to them, "Co on. Ti to go ho."
Charisteas got up and began dressing. "Where's the Boss? I don't see him. Is he angry?"
Shackleton smiled. "I don't know whether he's angry, but collecting the car at this hour is probably going to take him so effort."
After all, this was no longer normal working ti.
After the Swansea players went downstairs and left the hotel, they headed to the parking lot, got into the supercars, and drove toward Swansea.
Lynn was one step slower. After retrieving the impounded Maybach, he and Hughes each drove a car back to Swansea.
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