Reborn in Football to Build Top Clubs from English League Two

80: The Oath of the Miserable SoldierThe rain in Grimsby seemed to follow the team bus all the way to Hartlepool.

The atmosphere at Phoenix Training Center was even colder than the rain that day.

After Lin Feng’s Northern Storm, not a single joke could be heard on the training ground.

The players seemed to have had their souls sucked out, or perhaps new souls infused.

They no longer laughed, no longer messed around; everyone’s face was taut, their eyes burning with the fierce determination of those who had been humiliated and were holding back their strength.

The training volume was set by Old John, but the players doubled it themselves.

Before dawn, Vardy was already wrestling with barbells in the weight room, sweat streaming down the tattoo on his neck.

He did bench presses over and over, softly cursing the names of the Grimsby defenders, each exertion as if to completely crush the shame of that day.

Chris Smalling and Jordan Henderson, the two new lads, dragged Captain Nelson to repeatedly practice defensive positioning and covering, only stopping to gasp for breath when Nelson called it.

Every time Smalling defended a ball, he would glare fiercely at Henderson, as if to say, ’Watch closely, lad, this is what a professional player does!’ Henderson was not to be outdone; every pass was precise, giving Smalling no room for criticism.

Old John had also changed completely.

He was no longer the kind old man; he would rage on the training ground over a single misplaced pass, slamming the tactics board to the ground and yelling at the player who made the mistake.

He would shout at Vardy: ’Jamie! Who do you think you are? A Manchester United forward? Run for me!’

He would even personally step onto the field to demonstrate, and although his movements were clumsy, his earnestness made the players not dare to slack off in the slightest.

But at the same time, after training, he would quietly walk over to the player who had been fiercely scolded, pat his shoulder, and hand him a bottle of water, saying nothing.

He knew that what Lin Feng wanted was not subservient obedience, but a fiery spirit that came from deep within.

The entire team was like a pack of wolves, battered but not dead, licking their wounds, their eyes glowing green; they had become a desperate army.

On the way to the away match against Torquay United, the bus was deathly silent.

Every face showed gravity. Torquay United was struggling in the relegation zone, and this match was a life-and-death battle for them; they would bite like mad dogs.

The players all knew this would be a tough fight.

From the start of the match, the Hartlepool players displayed a completely different spirit from the previous game.

They had no fancy combinations, just the simplest tackles and the most direct physical confrontations.

Jordan Henderson was like a perpetual motion machine, sprinting all over the field; his sliding tackles were more aggressive each time, disrupting the opponent’s midfield.

He no longer hesitated, no longer was careless; every touch of the ball had a clear purpose.

Chris Smalling was like a wall in the defense; every header to clear the ball was clean and decisive, without any sloppiness, and he relentlessly marked the opponent’s forwards, giving them no chances.

However, the Torquay United players, desperate to avoid relegation, also gave their all.

They set up a ’bus parking’ defense, with ten men packed in front of the penalty area, and no matter how Hartlepool attacked, they couldn’t break through.

Vardy broke into the penalty area several times, only to be fouled by the opposing defenders with moves that seemed like fouls, and the referee’s whistle blew constantly, but no penalty was given.

Gylfi Sigurðsson’s long-range shots always hit the crowded defense, were saved by the opposing goalkeeper, or blocked by defenders with their bodies.

They gave their all but were still unable to break through the opponent’s goal.

The ninety-minute battle ended with a score of zero-zero.

In the locker room, although the players hadn’t won, no one was dejected.

They knew they had given their best; that feeling of pushing until their legs cramped made them find themselves again.

They patted each other on the shoulders, their eyes showing no frustration, only the calm of having regained their dignity.

Lin Feng walked into the locker room, his face showing neither anger nor a smile.

He simply looked at everyone calmly and said, ”Although we didn’t win the match, I saw your change and determination. You proved with your actions that you were not crushed by the previous defeat. As long as you maintain this mental state, I believe the League title will ultimately be ours!”

His voice, though calm, was like a beam of light that shone into the players’ hearts.

The players looked up, and the light returned to their eyes. They knew that the boss had seen their efforts, and that was enough.

However, this draw reduced Hartlepool’s lead at the top of the League table to just one point.

The League title’s fate would only be decided in the final round.

They had to defeat Bury away in the last round to bring the championship trophy home.

As the season was nearing its end, the club’s contract renewal work also began.

Lin Feng instructed Sporting Director Richard Arnold and John Stone to speed up the process, offering new contracts to key players like Captain Michael Nelson and veteran midfielder Mark Tinkler.

Nelson looked at the attractive weekly wages and bonuses in the new contract, as well as Lin Feng’s promises for the future, his eyes filled with the reward for loyalty and anticipation for what was to come.

For the young talents like Vardy, Schmeichel, Sigurdsson, Smalling, and Henderson, their existing contracts were extended, their salaries increased, and most importantly, the release clauses in their contracts were raised to a level that even surprised them. This was both an affirmation of their performance and an investment in the future, as well as a barrier to prevent top clubs from easily poaching them.

Sophie Green published a report in the Hartlepool Mail titled ”Northern Storm’s Final Test: League Title Suspense Continues to the End.”

She analyzed all the possibilities for the final round in detail, keeping all the fans on the edge of their seats.

Her report was no longer just a record but more like a preview of an impending epic.

On the bus returning to Hartlepool from Torquay, Captain Michael Nelson walked to the front. He held the match data report and approached Lin Feng and Old John, with Vardy, Smalling, Henderson... almost all the key players standing behind him.

Nelson took a deep breath and said in a hoarse but incredibly firm voice, ”Boss, Coach, please believe in us! In the final round, we will definitely defeat Bury at Gigg Lane and bring the League championship trophy back to Hartlepool!”

In his eyes, the obsession with victory and the championship burned, a determination that was beyond doubt.

The other players also nodded, their eyes gleaming with the same fire.

They knew this was their final promise to themselves, to Hartlepool, to Lin Feng, and to all their efforts throughout the season.