"Sometimes I really don't want to be a football coach because you find that your destiny is no longer in your hands when you go on the pitch."

Hydward spoke to himself, and after a while he fell silent, and everyone in the stadium was silent waiting for the game to end. The rain began to fall again, and the streets of Cardiff were dark and uninhabited, and the heavy rain drove everyone into the house. The rain kept beating on the referee's head, warm as blood, and the field was foggy, and large droplets of water flowed down his face.

Less than a point into the original two-minute stoppage time, Mr Atkins blew the whistle for the end of the first half.

……………..

As usual, Edward stood at the door of the locker room, pasted a sign-in sheet on the door, and all the players had to sign in turn before they could enter the locker room.

Perhaps feeling that the starting performance was not good, Drinkwater, the main midfielder, was already preparing in the dressing room, changing into his shirt and checking his game boots. The same goes for Icardi, although the manager said before the game that he would not be played for this game and save his strength for the last game, but there are always some adjustments to play like this.

With a one-goal lead in hand, the atmosphere in the locker room was not particularly oppressive, with a few people gathered around to discuss the shortcomings of the first half of the game, or eat some food, while Walker wrote and drew on the tactics board, just copying what Hydward had originally written in his notebook. These things can be understood by the players at a glance, pay attention to the marking when defending, go to both sides when attacking, who fills whose position, who is in which area, and who is the key person in Cardiff City, all of which are marked.

It's not a big deal, these things have been said once in the pre-game arrangement, and now it's just fried cold rice.

When the discussion gradually faded, the players suddenly found that their manager did not come in, there was no lecture, no speech, not even criticism, Mustafi, who had prepared a lot of rhetoric and even rebuttals, the manager didn't even look at him at all, he was just staring at the players' sign-in sheets.

Saul? Seeing that Ward didn't mean to come in, Campbell took the initiative to stand beside everyone and played the role of coach, "We played like an emasculated eunuch in the first half, if God hates Portsmouth so much, then why let us play 4-0 at home? ......... Ward couldn't hear the words clearly, he took the form and walked in the direction of the court.

The rain was so heavy that there were few people in the stands at halftime, and some fans were leaving the stadium with umbrellas one after another, and they didn't plan to watch the whole stadium at all. He couldn't help but wonder how many people could be left in the second half, ten thousand or five? In or less.

Ward folded the note into a lump and put it in the pocket of his clothes, and searched the stadium, the rain was gray and the court was very large, and he looked past it and found nothing. He did not hesitate, and stepped into the storm, and the raindrops immediately converged into a stream and flowed down from behind. He continued to search, and in a matter of seconds he was soaking wet, Ward was drenched in the rain to the bone, and he didn't know what stupid he had done, or something else.

The rain turned heavier, stinging his eyes, banging on the ground, a black figure poured out from behind the billboard, the man sometimes raised his legs, sometimes sprinted, sometimes swayed from side to side, he saw the man who was used to holding his head high, now he was just running with his head down, for a long time Ward could only see this picture, the rain kept falling, and it kept falling, and it kept falling.

The shadow smelled of loneliness, and time seemed to have gone out of mind at this moment......

"Damn, I've got to replace you, you don't want to play..."

"When the game is over, you can kill me!"

Maybe at this moment, I can't tell the difference between the rain and tears on my face.

"Pierce!!" Ward shouted, perhaps because the rain was too heavy, and he didn't hear it, but focused on his warm-up and didn't lift his head.

He didn't say anything more, turned around and walked slowly back to the locker room, half a minute later, Ward found a magnet and pasted the player watch in his pocket on the board full of tactical instructions in the locker room, on the list, the players left a variety of signature fonts, the lower the name, the more people can't recognize what these brothers are called, except for the last line where the capital English letter "C" is marked is a blank, that is Pierce, the vice-captain Pierce who has been injured for more than a month.

Edward shook his wet hair, picked up the pen in his hand and crossed out Mustafi's name from the lineup, and then without making any superfluous statements, he went to the dugout five minutes early with his things without looking back.

"I'm old, I'm still a cripple covered in injuries, maybe one day I'll make a brief retirement statement, no bang, no championships, let more than ten years of playing career go with the wind, who will remember me? But something has to be done, McVeigh sees me as an idol, but I always have to prove that his idol can do anything, so that he will have the courage to live. "These are the words of a Portsmouth veteran, who a year ago was leading a broken team, a bunch of garbage teams that didn't know what victory was, bravely hanged Manchester United, and after most of the season, he could only train alone in the rain, seven layers of territory! Ward, what a bastard coach you are!

Hydward smiled wryly in the dugout and sat there not knowing what he was thinking. The rain was still falling, and Pierce trotted all the way through the rain, he just learned that he would be playing in the second half, so he rushed back to the dressing room to get a set of dry clothes, there was still a little time.

"Give." Ward put a neat set of neat jerseys and pants into Pierce's hand, "Let's change it here." ”

It was a white-washed No. 37 jersey, and his shoes were unlike anyone on the team, they were old and even patched in some places, but it was clear that the owner loved him very much.

Pierce smiled when he saw that Hydward had been staring at his sneakers, and said as he changed his clothes, "I'm used to wearing these pairs, those high-end new shoes don't fit my feet." After a few seconds, "When I was still playing in Croatia, I suffered a serious theft, when I was poor, and the only pair of sneakers was stolen, which my teammates bought for me with the money they pooled together, and I had to keep him for the rest of my life." ”

Ward just patted the veteran on the shoulder, took a clean white cloth and squatted down to wipe the boots himself, "Ward......" Pierce's voice seemed to be choked in his throat by something.

"Does the injury still affect the game?" Hydward's brain was completely occupied by the emotional side, and it was only now that he remembered to ask about the injury.

"It's totally fine, it's like a rebirth." Pierce looked at the stands, where his daughter, his wife, and his father were in that direction, "Is there anything else you would like to instruct?" ”

Hydward also looked in the stands, in the direction of the Portsmouth fans, and then the players came out of the tunnel one after another, and he adjusted his mood and said in a tone of seriousness that had never been seen before: "Take us to the Premier League." ”