Reborn in Football to Build Top Clubs from English League Two

83: Champion’s PreludeThe halftime whistle, like a rest, temporarily halted the one-sided slaughter at Gigg Lane.

But on the faces of the Bury players, there was already a look of doomsday despair.

As they walked into the player tunnel, they didn’t even dare to look up at the blue and white ocean of the away fans, who had already begun to celebrate prematurely.

In the Hartlepool United locker room, the atmosphere was as lively as a party.

The players high-fived each other, laughing loudly, sweat and joy mixing and steaming in the air.

”Jamie, that header was f*cking beautiful!”

”Gylfi, did your free-kick have a GPS? It flew straight into the top corner!”

”Robbie, well done! I knew you’d pass it!”

When Lin Feng walked into the locker room, the noise quieted down a bit.

He had a smile on his face, looking at these young men who were already giddy with victory.

”Lads, well done!”

He clapped his hands, and everyone’s eyes focused on him.

”You played with a lot of grit and aggression in the first half, this is the Hartlepool I want!”

He paused, his smile unchanged, but a hint of calmness entered his eyes.

”However, there are still forty-five minutes left in the match.”

”Anything can happen before the final whistle.”

”I don’t want to see a repeat of what happened against Grimsby.”

The smiles on the players’ faces receded a bit, and they all remembered that rainy night and the manager’s thunderous rage, and a chill ran through them.

”In the second half, go and enjoy your championship moment!”

Lin Feng’s tone became relaxed again, ”But remember, until the final whistle, the game isn’t over!”

”Champions! Hartlepool!”

In the locker room, the players shouted in unison, their voices filled with a desire for victory and faith in their manager.

The second half began, and Bury seemed like a different team.

They had clearly been given a severe ”hairdryer treatment” by their coach during halftime.

Their eyes were no longer hollow, but burned with the fierce glint of a cornered beast fighting back.

They tried to launch a counterattack, but their morale and confidence had been completely shattered by Hartlepool United’s three lightning-fast attacks in the first half.

The Hartlepool United players, on the other hand, completely controlled the rhythm of the game.

They no longer attacked as frantically as in the first half, but patiently passed the ball around in the midfield and defense, running down the clock and wearing down their opponent’s last bit of fighting spirit.

Jordan Henderson in midfield was like a calm conductor, every pass clear and precise.

Bury’s central midfielder, Simon Whaley, with a look of unwillingness on his face, launched a fierce sliding tackle towards Henderson.

This was a test, a collision charged with gunpowder.

Henderson’s ankle flicked lightly, the ball jumped up, evading the tackle, and he himself lightly leaped, not even looking back at Whaley lying on the ground when he landed.

Contempt was the best response.

Danny Simpson constantly surged forward on the right wing; his assists were like a sharp knife, keeping Bury’s left-back defense scrambling.

Chris Smalling in the defense, on the other hand, was like an increasingly steady statue, every clearance clean and decisive.

These young prodigies, in the last game of the season, showed maturity and dominance beyond their years.

Sky Sports commentator Martin Tyler sighed, ”Hartlepool United have completely controlled the game; they are playing with such confidence, such composure.”

”They look like an experienced Premier League team playing an exhibition match.”

”It’s hard to believe this is just a League Two team that was fighting for survival last season.”

In the sixtieth minute, Bury lost their temper.

Their center-back Colin Woodthorpe, the guy who had been humiliated by Vardy’s speed in the first half, finally found an opportunity for revenge.

Vardy received the ball with his back to goal in midfield, preparing to turn.

Woodthorpe slammed into him from behind.

This was not aimed at the ball.

This challenge was a malicious foul with a hint of bloodlust.

Vardy flew out as if hit by a truck, rolling several times on the turf, clutching his waist in pain.

The Hartlepool United players instantly erupted.

Captain Nelson was the first to rush over, pushing Woodthorpe away and yelling at him, pointing at his nose: ”What the f*ck are you trying to do? Are you trying to cripple him?!”

Smalling and Henderson also rushed over, shielding Vardy behind them, staring coldly at the Bury players.

Players from both sides shoved each other, and the scene became somewhat chaotic for a moment.

The referee arrived in time, forcibly separated everyone, and unhesitatingly showed a direct red card to the offending Woodthorpe!

Woodthorpe was still muttering curses, walking off the field unwillingly, but in his eyes as he looked at Vardy, there was a hint of fear.

This little incident also completely ignited the anger of the Hartlepool United players.

They knew that Bury had completely given up on the game and started resorting to the dirtiest tactics to vent their frustration.

Vardy, lying on the turf, slowly got up after some simple treatment from the team doctor.

He twisted his waist, his face expressionless, only giving Woodthorpe a middle finger as he walked off.

Then, he walked over to Sigurdsson and whispered, ”Gylfi, make them pay.”

The game restarted.

Hartlepool United, with a man advantage, played even more effortlessly.

But their passes were no longer just to run down the clock.

Every pass was like deploying an army, searching for the weakest point in the opponent’s defense.

In the seventy-fifth minute, Old John, at Lin Feng’s instruction, made a substitution.

Target man Kevin Kyle came on for a somewhat fatigued Adam Boyd.

This was the final checkmate in Lin Feng’s chess game.

Bury’s defense, with one man down, was already torn to shreds.

In the eighty-second minute, the opportunity came.

Sigurdsson received the ball on the left wing; he didn’t choose to cross but suddenly sent a diagonal long pass, accurately lobbing the ball towards the right side of the penalty area.

Robert Snodgrass surged forward at high speed; he didn’t trap the ball but directly headed it back into the center of the penalty area!

That was a deadly open space!

Jamie Vardy and Kevin Kyle, one tall and one fast, like two beasts unleashed from a cage, simultaneously rushed towards the landing spot!

Bury’s two center-backs were completely in disarray; they didn’t know who to mark.

In the instant they hesitated, Kevin Kyle’s towering figure rose like an iron tower!

He hung in the air, overpowering the defender beside him, with a powerful, undisputed flicked header!

The ball, like a cannonball, smashed fiercely towards the goal!

Two-nil!

This goal completely killed the game and utterly destroyed Bury’s last shred of dignity.

Gigg Lane fell into a dead silence, with only the blue and white ocean of the away fans singing wildly.

The last few minutes of the game completely turned into Hartlepool United’s celebration time.

The players passed the ball among themselves on the field, with championship smiles on their faces, waiting for the final whistle that symbolized glory.