The Coaching System

The stadium was small, only housing about 4,000 people, yet the mood was tense.

Bradford City's second match under Jake Wilson was about to begin, and the atmosphere was different than the previous one. The fans weren't angry yet, but they weren't confident either.

The humiliation against Eastleigh had set expectations dangerously low.

Nobody expected Bradford to win today. Not the crowd, not the commentators, not even the players.

With his hands in his pockets, Jake stood on the touchline, looking around the field.

The opposition, Chesterfield FC, were also near the bottom of the table. Another struggling club fighting for survival. A must-win game for both sides.

The perfect opportunity.

The first half was a disaster.

Jake had set the team up in the high-pressing 4-2-3-1 he introduced in training.

For fifteen minutes, they pressed hard, forcing Chesterfield into mistakes. They won possession quickly, launched attacks—but couldn't finish.

Then, reality hit them.

Bradford's players weren't used to pressing for long periods. After twenty minutes, they lost all of their stamina.

By the 40th, they couldn't keep up at all.

Chesterfield saw the weakness and pounced.

The first half's final five minutes were devastating. Bradford was unable to maintain possession after being forced back into their own half.

Without Nathan Barnes' last-ditch goal-line clearing, they would have conceded before halftime.

The referee blew the whistle.

0-0.

First Half.

The players trudged into the locker room, heads down.

Jake followed, his mind already working.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was heavy.

Players slumped against the benches, dripping with sweat.

Holbrook threw his water bottle against the wall. "This isn't working!"

No one disagreed.

Jake stepped in, closing the door behind him. Silence fell.

He let it hang for a moment before speaking.

"We're abandoning the press."

The players looked up in shock.

"What?" Holden wiped sweat from his brow. "But you made us train for this all week!"

"And?" Jake raised an eyebrow. "Did it work?"

Silence.

"We don't have the legs for a high press." He walked over to the tactics board, wiping it clean. "So we change."

A blue screen flickered in his vision.

[Ding! System Analysis Complete.]

[Recommended Formation: 4-4-2 Compact Counter-Attack]

Jake's eyes narrowed.

It made sense.

Instead of pressing, they would sit deep, absorb pressure, and hit Chesterfield on the break.

He grabbed the marker and redrew the formation.

"We switch to a 4-4-2. Two banks of four. We sit deeper, stay compact, and counter with speed."

Some of the players exchanged looks.

"You want us to park the bus?" Price asked.

"No." Jake turned to David Reece, their fastest winger. "I want you to break the bus."

Reece straightened slightly.

"When we win possession, we attack immediately," Jake continued. "We stop wasting energy pressing and start using it for quick transitions. Direct, fast, aggressive."

The tension in the room shifted.

Jake saw the players thinking.

It wasn't what they trained for.

But it made sense.

"We're not trying to play beautiful football today," Jake said, stepping back. "We're trying to win."

No one argued.

"Get back out there."

The second half started.

Bradford dropped deeper, forming two defensive lines.

Chesterfield maintained possession but couldn't break through.

Then, in the 63rd minute, the moment arrived.

Holbrook intercepted a sloppy pass in midfield and immediately launched a ball over the top.

Reece took off like a bullet.

The Chesterfield defenders were caught off guard, expecting a slow buildup.

Reece stormed into the box, one-on-one with the keeper—

A low shot into the bottom corner.

GOAL.

1-0, Bradford.

The away fans erupted.

Jake clenched his fist, but didn't celebrate yet.

For the next twenty minutes, Chesterfield piled on the pressure.

They sent cross after cross into the box.

Bradford held firm.

Barnes and Price headed everything away.

Williams blocked passing lanes.

The referee checked his watch.

91:45

Jake stood still, watching.

92:30

Chesterfield launched one final attack. A cross, a header—

Straight into the keeper's hands.

The whistle blew.

Full-time.

Bradford City 1 – Chesterfield 0.

Jake exhaled slowly.

His first win.

The locker room was a strange mix of emotions.

Some players were celebrating. Others were silent.

Jake could feel it.

They had won—but the players still weren't sure about him.

Holbrook sat on the bench, arms crossed.

He looked at Jake, his expression unreadable.

Jake met his gaze and simply nodded.

Holbrook didn't say anything.

But this time, he nodded back.

But a step nonetheless.