Football has never been a graceful sport. So even Haruko Sakuragi, the only woman on the coaching bench, wasn't the least bit surprised by Gao Bo's foul language.
Isn't that just how football is? No one stays a gentleman when adrenaline kicks in!
Mark Hughes's face was grim. He no longer carried the demeanor of a coach for a top team with a transfer budget of 100 million euros. The first half wasn't even over yet, and his team was already two goals down.
What do losers talk about?
The broadcast camera zoomed in on Mark Hughes, and the frustration on the Manchester City manager's face was plain for all to see.
Right under Mark Hughes's nose, the Luton players celebrated wildly. Vardy pumped his fists toward the stands, and the cheers from over 10,000 fans grew even louder.
Then came the song—Luton's team anthem.
Though the melody wasn't particularly beautiful, when 10,000 voices rose in unison at Worth Road Stadium, the pride of Luton fans filled the air.
So what if it's Manchester City? So what if it's a Premier League team?!
We are Luton!! We are strong!! We are fearless!!
"Oh oh oh, Manchester City says they want to buy Adam White,
They think money can buy all the players,
But money can't buy victory!
Oh oh oh, here's our advice to the Arab teams..."
Luton fans improvised on the spot, mocking Manchester City with their chants.
Gao Bo was amused on the sidelines. Pointing to the stands, he said to Lin Sen, "These English folks sure are creative…"
Lin Sen chuckled. "I used to wonder, watching games on TV, how English fans always had new songs. Turns out they just make them up like this…"
Gao Bo stroked his chin thoughtfully. "How do you think Mark Hughes will adjust in the second half?"
"Maybe he'll switch to long balls targeting a tall center-forward. They've got Caceido and Ched Evans on the bench—both strong, physical strikers with great impact," Lin Sen replied, having analyzed Manchester City's tactics in detail.
Gao Bo nodded. He thought so too.
If Manchester City was going to play long balls in the second half, how should Luton respond?
Gao Bo's mind was already racing through the possibilities.
Meanwhile, Mark Hughes was grappling with the same problem. The first half had been a disaster. Now, with just five minutes left until halftime, his team was trailing 2-0. Manchester City's attack was toothless, and they were vulnerable to Luton's deadly counterattacks.
If Luton scores again, it's game over.
For now, they were only down by two goals. If they could get one back early in the second half, there was still hope.
But Manchester City looked lost. Luton had willingly surrendered possession, yet Manchester City didn't seem to know what to do with the ball.
Should they continue pressing forward? Luton had already punished them twice with counterattacks.
Robinho, once confident, was visibly frustrated. The smile that usually lit up his face was gone. Kanté's relentless marking was turning into his worst nightmare.
Robinho tried to dribble through the middle, only for Kanté to pounce again, leaving him sprawled on the turf.
This time, the referee finally awarded a free kick—but no yellow card for Kanté, much to Robinho's dismay.
But a free kick from the center circle posed no threat to Luton. Manchester City resumed play, but before they could mount an attack, the referee blew the whistle for halftime.
The players from both teams trudged toward the tunnel.
Robinho's face was dark, shadowed by frustration.
He'd been completely shackled by Kanté in the first half. He couldn't believe how a short, skinny Frenchman could be so difficult to deal with. It felt like an insurmountable wall in his mind.
"Stop following me!!! The first half is over!!!"
Robinho snapped when he noticed Kanté still walking beside him.
Kanté scratched his head, confused, and pointed toward the tunnel.
Yes, Robinho. The tunnel. That's where both teams walk back to the locker rooms.
Realizing his outburst had been foolish, Robinho glanced around, relieved that no one seemed to have noticed his little meltdown.
His face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration as he disappeared into the tunnel.
---
Manchester City Locker Room
"We're two goals down, but now's not the time to get frustrated!!"
Mark Hughes forced a smile, trying to project strength and confidence.
"We can equalize. We can even win!!" Hughes tapped his temple. "As long as we play to our true potential!!"
"Robbie, don't waste your energy on that damn little guy in the second half. Get into the box and wait for your chances! I'm bringing on Caceido!" Hughes turned toward the large, muscular forward sitting in the corner.
Caceido, 21 years old and standing at 188 cm, straightened up.
"We're going direct in the second half. They've packed the midfield, so we're skipping it altogether! Long balls straight into the box—right into their heart!! No more fancy footwork, no more useless midfield passes!! We go head-to-head!!" Hughes roared, pounding his fist.
"Robbie, stay in the penalty area, be agile, be sharp! You're the best player on the planet!!"
Robinho nodded, some confidence returning to his face.
---
Luton Locker Room
"Boys!! You did great in the first half!!"
Gao Bo burst through the door, greeted by cheers and laughter. The players were still buzzing from their performance.
"Jamie totally wrecked their defense… hahaha!"
"And Robinho? Not so special after meeting our big man Kanté!" George Parker added, grinning.
Gao Bo smiled, taking in the energy of the room. But he wasn't about to get complacent.
"The game isn't over yet!"
The room fell silent as he flipped the tactical board.
"Manchester City will adjust in the second half. They'll bring on a target man—Caceido or Evans. Either way, it doesn't matter. Our response stays the same."
He drew bold arrows on the board.
"For the first 15 minutes, we press high. They'll likely sacrifice a midfielder to add a striker. That's where we strike."
"Don't let them settle. Press them in midfield. Press them in their box. Make them panic. Make them doubt. Make them crumble!!"
Gao Bo's voice thundered through the room, igniting the players' fighting spirit once again.
"They want to play long balls? Fine! We'll meet them head-on!"