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After he pulled back the ball, Robben suddenly accelerated and dribbled it towards the end line!


Baines anticipated Robben doing just that. He guarded against it when he tried to block the inside line. And now he quickly turned around. He brought up the fastest speed he could muster and closely marked Robben. He was still stuck on the inside and did not give the Dutchman the slightest chance of overtaking him. Robben was now ahead of Baines by about a quarter of his body length, but he was not confident of shaking him off.


Seeing that the football was going to be dribbled past the end line, Robben suddenly stepped on the ball at the end line and braked. He and the still running Baines slid out of the field together due to the sudden stop.


However, one of them suddenly stopped on his own accord, and the other one reacted to the sudden halt. Next, Robben had the upper hand with his reaction speed. He turned his body and shook off Baines, who was lying on the ground. He wanted to get the ball back and dribbled it into the penalty area. He was momentarily stunned when he turned: the ball was gone!


The referee blew his whistle. Robben saw the assistant referee raising the flag in his hand and pointing towards the corner arc under his feet.


"Corner kick! Just when he lost his balance, Leighton Baines stabbed out the ball, which Robben had stopped at the end line! Nice defense!"


Enthusiastic applause rang out from the stands.


Baines's chest heaved as he lay on the ground. He knew that the applause was dedicated to him. But he was not happy because he knew that this time he had done his best and yet his opponent was still awarded a corner kick. He did not know what would happen next.


He wanted to get up and go back to the goal to defend but suddenly found that his right foot had no strength. He tried to use force, but instead, a piercing pain came over him. A thought suddenly came to his mind: I'm done...


Lying on the ground, Baines raised both of his hands, extended his index fingers, and slowly circled twice. This was a gesture to indicate to the manager that he could not play in the game any longer and needed to be replaced. After he did that, he covered his face with his hands and stayed still.


"Dammit..." Twain saw Baines's signal and swore under his breath.


Fleming had already run over with the team doctor. Baines had fallen on the sidelines. They did not need the referee's permission to enter.


"Gareth!" Twain shouted without turning his head, "Go warm up! You only have one corner kick's time!"


Bale sprang from his seat, not looking surprised. Without hesitation, he took off his vest and ran to the sidelines.


Kerslake stood up from his seat and walked over to Twain. "Baines is done?"


Twain nodded. "I think it was a sprained ankle. I saw that his angle was a little awkward when he shoveled the ball... He used force to shift his center of gravity while moving really fast."


"F**k..." Kerslake also swore. Albertini had just recovered from his injury, and now another player on the Forest team was injured. There were almost no major injuries in the previous two seasons. This season, when the Forest team needed to compete in multiple tournaments, there was one injury after another.


The two coaches stood on the sidelines and silently watched the field.


The referee saw Baines make the gesture for substitution and ran over to inquire. Then he routinely followed up with a wave of his hand to let the Forest team doctors come up. After he saw that the Forest team doctors already ran towards here, he returned to the field and signaled for the Chelsea player to reposition the football. Then he ran back into the penalty area.


The game would continue and would not be stopped because of a player's injury. The Forest team could only play with ten players. One less player might be an important factor in breaking the balance for them.


Mourinho also clearly knew that the corner kick was an opportunity that he could make use of. He waved for the entire team to advance, leaving only Paulo Ferreira and the goalkeeper, Petr Čech, in the backfield. The trio of fullbacks, John Terry, Ricardo Carvalho, and William Gallas all rushed into the Forest team's penalty area.


The atmosphere in front of the Forest team's goal suddenly heated up.


"This is our chance to equalize the score! Don't let go!" Terry shouted to rouse up his teammates.


"Defend! Watch them and mark them closely!" Edwin van der Sar also yelled at his teammates to mark Chelsea's lanky player. "Push outward, push outward!"


※※※


It seemed so near and yet so far. Nothing could better describe how Baines felt.


The Forest team's crowded goal area was five meters away from him. He could clearly hear the voices of both teams' players while they competed for positions. With his eyes closed, he could imagine what it would be like at this moment in the goal area. It must be chaotic.


But he was unable to do anything. His injury had caused the team to be short a player. Could they withstand the attack? Did they have someone to take over and stand on the right post?


Fleming squeezed his right ankle and asked him if it hurt. He did not even answer.


"It seems that the injury is serious since you can't even feel it." Fleming took an ice pack from the medical kit and pressed it on Baines' ankle, which he then wrapped in a bandage.


※※※



The rampage in front of the Forest team's goal finally subsided, but everyone knew it was only temporary. Just like the calm before the storm, it was filled with pent-up anxiety and restlessness.


The referee blew the whistle in his mouth as he withdrew from the penalty area.


Lampard raised his right fist high in the air, which was Chelsea's cue for the corner kick tactic. No one knew what it meant besides them.


The football shot out towards the goal. The two Chelsea center backs, Drogba and Carvalho, were still wrestling for control up until that moment. They had to jump to fight for the header, and the Forest team's center backs were not going to let them. But those two players were just decoys. The desperate display they put on in front of the Forest team's goal was just to attract the Forest team's defensive attention.


John Terry sprinted from the penalty spot and jumped.


He leaped high without anyone guarding him!


"John Terry... and a GOOOOAL!!"


Edwin van der Sar hurriedly tried to save the goal. He jumped up and waved his hands only to watch the football fly into the goal.


Great cheers broke out in the visitors' stands.


Hearing the unfamiliar cheer, Fleming, who was bandaging Baines, lowered his head and swore. "Dammit!" At the same time, he accidentally applied more force with his hands.


Baines finally reacted. He frowned and gasped.


Gareth Bale, who warmed up with sprints on the sidelines, also stopped in his tracks. He could not continue to warm up because the warm-up area was full of people now. The Chelsea players bolted to the area to celebrate the goal. Waving their fists at the Chelsea fans in the stands behind him, the Blues fans responded with cheers.


Bale coolly looked at the people. Suddenly he heard someone call his name. The assistant coach, Mr. Kerslake, waved at him. "Gareth! Come back! It's your turn to play!"


With another glance at the excited Chelsea people, Gareth Bale turned and ran towards the Forest team's technical area.


When he passed Chelsea's technical area, his eye was caught by the movements of Mourinho's wild celebration. The Portuguese manager even knelt and slid on the ground like a player who just scored! He wore a black windbreaker and glided with both knees on the ground!


He was once again the focus of attention.


Knowingly and unknowingly, the television viewers and the spectators in the stadium all turned their attention to the manager who never hid his feelings.


"Wow! That's is the best celebration from a manager that I've ever seen!" Motson shouted.


When Gareth Bale ran back to his team's technical area, he still turned to look at Mourinho.


"Don't look, Gareth." Twain's voice rang out from behind him.


"Ah, I'm sorry, sir..." Bale thought the manager must have been displeased.


Twain cleared his throat. "I've said many times that you shouldn't call me 'sir' on the First Team. Just call me boss or chief."


"Yes, chief..."


Twain glanced at Mourinho, who was still performing in front of the camera, and asked, "Do you think that's a cool move?"


Bale nodded at first and then immediately shook his head. "No. That's nothing, chief."


Twain grinned. "Now you have a chance to let me do the same. Baines is injured, so you're going to replace him as the left back. You have to plug in to assist when necessary."


"Not defense, chief?" Bale was a little puzzled. A left back's first responsibility should be to defend. After all, Chelsea had just attacked ferociously.


"If we keep defending, this is how it'll turn out." Twain pointed to the electronic scoreboard on the far side of the stand. "So, when you can, send the ball out."


Bale nodded to indicate his understanding.


"Go on then, play well! If you score, I'll give you a better celebration than that!" Twain winked at Bale.


The young man laughed. "What cool thing are you going to do, chief?"


"You'll know when the time comes. Score a goal for me, and you'll see!" Twain moved Bale towards the area just outside the center line.


After taking the lead in the first fourteen minutes, the Forest team was equalized, but it was not the end by any means. Mourinho, who caught everyone's attention with an unconventional celebratory move in the blink of an eye, knew very well that Tony Twain understood that too.


It's not over yet.




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