On the sidelines, all the Wushia College players were panting and almost sticking out their tongues. They had run so hard, worked so hard to score in the first half, that they were physically and mentally exhausted.
"Was that just the first half?" Kuwabara, the diminutive right back, sat on the ground, sweat dripping from his face.
"Don't get discouraged, don't get discouraged! You're doing great, you're controlling the game!" Mr. Yamamoto said, gesturing with his hands. "But you have to be more patient. Having the ball is also about playing systematically until the opposing players make mistakes. It doesn't make sense to rush into space and end up making simple passes like we did in the last five minutes."
The few minutes of rest during the break were filled with strategic discussions and words of encouragement.
Mr. Yamamoto detailed new instructions for the starting players to try to find gaps in Karaso's impenetrable defense.
When the players returned to the field for the second half, they had only had a short rest.
At the same time, Lucas began stretching in the warm-up area. Then he began to trot back and forth. It was important to keep the blood circulating in his legs so that his movements wouldn't get stuck when he played.
This did not go unnoticed by Mr. Yamamoto. "Lucas, why are you warming up? I haven't told anyone to warm up yet."
Lucas didn't stop trotting, but looked his coach straight in the eye and replied with unwavering confidence:
"I know I'm going into this game to change the rhythm of the team. So I'm already warming up."
Mr. Yamamoto was left without an answer. The determination in Lucas' eyes was something he didn't see every day. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded and allowed Lucas to continue his warm-up.
At the start of the second half, the game seemed just as intense as the first, but this time it was the other way around. Colegio Karaso came out harder than before. They weren't just defending like before; they were marking high to steal the ball from Wushia College.
The Wushia players, still trying to recover from the wear and tear of the first half, found it difficult to maintain possession.
Every time they tried to move forward, the Karaso players were there, pressing, surrounding, and smothering any attempt to react.
Tsukada, Wushia College's number 10, was the main target of the tight marking. Known for his ability to create plays and dribble, he was under constant pressure. As soon as the ball reached his feet, it was fiercely contested by two or three opponents. Just when it looked like he might be able to dribble and move forward, he would be fouled.
The first time he lost the ball was three minutes into the second half. Tsukada received a pass from Kuwabara, and as he turned to move forward, he was tackled by a Karaso College defender who anticipated his move. Tsukada fell to the ground with a look of frustration on his face, while the Karaso player was already moving forward with the ball to launch a dangerous counterattack.
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This counterattack was only stopped by a miraculous save by Toshinori, the goalkeeper of Wushia College.
As the minutes ticked by, the situation was getting worse. The Karaso team seemed to be one step ahead in every play, and with each mistake made by Wushia, their opponents' confidence grew.
Ten minutes later, Tsukada lost the ball again. This time, he tried a quick pass to Takahashi, but it was intercepted by a Karaso midfielder who threw himself in front of the ball with perfect timing.
The Karaso fans in the dugout roared with joy.
'How can I prevent this pressure marking from continuing when I come on?' Lucas tried to find the answer by mentally putting himself on the field.
[It is impossible to maintain a rigid defense and high marking. High marking spreads the players out more and open up space for crosses and through balls].
'If I can get the ball through for someone to finish, I'll totally break the marking!'
Fifteen minutes into the second half, Mr. Yamamoto couldn't wait any longer.
"Lucas!" Mr. Yamamoto called out. "Get ready to go in."
Lucas nodded, his eyes shining with fierce determination. He took off his warm-up jacket and tossed it aside, revealing his number 5 Wushia College jersey. As he approached the sidelines, Mr. Yamamoto placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Listen, Lucas, you're going to go out there and do what you do best. Control the ball, make accurate passes, and above all, stay calm. We need someone to reorganize our midfield, and you're the one to do it. I trust you."
Lucas nodded again, even though his heart was beating fast. The moment the ball went out to the sideline, the referee blew the whistle for the fourth official to raise the sign signaling the substitution.
Tsukada looked at Kenji and said:
"Oh, man! You played well. It's a shame you have to come off now."
It was always like that. Although Kenji was a No. 5 and Lucas Tanaka was a No. 8, which in professional soccer are usually players with very different skills, Lucas Tanaka was a midfielder who was very similar to Kenji in terms of passing, so they rarely played together. However, Mr. Yamamoto had a different plan for this match, a wager that could be the difference between victory and defeat.
"No. 10 must come off for No. 5!" the fourth official shouted as he raised the sign.
Tsukada was stunned. "B-but what? Me? Something must be wrong. Tanaka and I are in completely different positions!" He thought aloud.
Then Tsukada pointed at himself while looking at Mr. Yamamoto to make sure there was nothing wrong with the sign, but the gray-haired coach didn't move a muscle.
Tsukada felt a wave of frustration and disbelief hit him like a punch in the stomach as he walked off the field to make way for Lucas Tanaka.
Tsukada, his face flushed with anger, walked past Mr. Yamamoto without saying a word, avoiding the coach's gaze. As he sat down on the bench, he kicked a water bottle on the ground, sending it flying across the grass.
The reserve players of the opposing team couldn't help but comment on the situation.
"Could it be that their coach is going crazy?" one of them laughed. "Taking off a skilled No10 to put on a reserve No8? I bet he's only got the number 8 shirt because nobody else wanted it!"
As he trotted out to the midfield to take his position, Lucas thought that many might be confused by this substitution, as even he was a bit confused . But replacing Tsukada or Kenji didn't change his goal.
The moment Lucas reached midfield, his eyes met those of a blue-haired girl sitting in the opposite stands. It was the same girl he had seen outside the bus earlier that day. Lucas was sure that the question on her mind was the same as everyone else's, including his teammates', but he was determined to prove that he could play as a 10 if need be...
[Copy Conditions Achieved].
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