Chapter 510: Big Trouble

Whether Guardiola will be troubled or forced to adjust his formation on the spot is something beyond Gao Shen's control.

What Naples can do and do well is their preparation.

The next morning, the team had a scheduled training session, though it was light and led by Pintus. It was a muscle-awakening routine conducted in the hotel gym.

As Pintus explained, it was all about activating the muscles to get them ready for that night's game.

Gao Shen trusted his expertise.

After the training, the players had a meal together, took a short rest, and then gathered in the conference room for their morning tactical meeting.

Gao Shen remained convinced that Barcelona would stick to their 4-3-3 formation.

With Abidal suspended due to accumulated yellow cards, all signs pointed to Guardiola deploying Puyol as the left-back.

Goalkeeper: Valdés.

Defense: Puyol, Piqué, Yaya Touré, Alves.

Midfield: Busquets dropping deep, with Iniesta and Xavi in central roles.

Forwards: Henry, Messi, Eto'o.

This was expected to be Barcelona's starting lineup.

Given the composition of their squad, even if Guardiola considered a tactical shift, he'd have few options.

Three-at-the-back?

Impossible. That would be suicidal against Napoli.

Over the past few weeks, Napoli's training sessions, tactical drills, and team discussions had all focused on countering Barcelona's setup and style of play. Gao Shen and his staff had drilled into the players every detail they needed to be aware of.

At this morning's meeting, Gao Shen primarily reinforced these key points while issuing his final instructions.

"This is going to be a tough, tough battle," Gao Shen said with certainty. "You need to be mentally prepared. This might be the hardest, most painful game you've ever played."

The players grew solemn.

The stronger the opponent, the more flaws they would need to expose and the more difficult the task would be.

No one knew what awaited them in the final, but everyone believed they had a shot at glory.

Of course, belief alone wouldn't win the game. Strength would.

Barcelona had been the strongest team in Europe this season, there was no disputing that.

But Gao Shen made sure his players understood something else: Napoli was just as strong.

"In my eyes," he declared firmly, "we're not inferior to Barcelona at all. In fact, we're even stronger!"

Coming from anyone else, these words might have sounded like blind bravado. But Gao Shen said it with such conviction that his players believed him.

Napoli had no superstars, no household names, not yet. But this belief came from their coach, a coach who had taken them to the Champions League final.

"But remember," Gao Shen continued, "our strengths differ from Barcelona's. We need to challenge them in areas where we have the advantage. Don't fight them in areas where they are strongest."

The players nodded. They got it.

"Also, understand that games like these are unpredictable. We might concede first or even go two goals down early. Things might go wrong in ways we can't anticipate. But no matter what happens, stay calm. Stay composed. Keep your heads clear and stick to our plan."

Most of Napoli's players were young, with tremendous physical attributes but limited big-match experience.

For them, this final was the biggest game of their lives.

It was like a student stepping into the exam hall for the university entrance exams: no matter how well you'd prepared, nerves were inevitable.

By contrast, Barcelona had seasoned stars: Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, Henry, Eto'o. They'd been here before, whether in Champions League finals, European Championships, or World Cups. Their experience would give them an edge in handling the game's intensity.

"Don't worry," Gao Shen reassured them, his voice steady. "I'll be right there, on the sidelines, as always, watching you, fighting alongside you!"

These final words sent a wave of calm through the squad.

---

After the tactical meeting, Gao Shen held brief one-on-one talks with players. With limited time, he kept each conversation concise and to the point.

There was one exception: Thiago Motta.

In a 4-3-3 system, the role of the deep-lying defensive midfielder is pivotal.

Look at Chelsea: Mikel's limitations were obvious, yet manager after manager kept him as their holding midfielder.

Or Manchester United: Carrick had clear strengths and weaknesses, but Ferguson always entrusted him with that role.

The reason was simple: this position sits at the crossroads of attack and defense.

Modern football had blurred the lines between traditional roles. Players had to be flexible, adaptable.

Take Messi, for example. What was his position exactly? False nine? Winger? Attacking midfielder? Shadow striker? He could do it all, dropping deep to build play or leading the line.

In Napoli's tactical plan, Thiago Motta was crucial. His task: track Messi when he dropped deep, monitor Iniesta's forward runs, protect the defense, and help cover Alves' attacking surges down the right flank.

It was a monumental responsibility.

Gao Shen knew Motta had the tactical intelligence to handle it. His worry lay elsewhere.

Motta was a product of Barcelona's La Masia academy. He was a self-proclaimed Barça fan. Rumors suggested he might return to Camp Nou that summer.

Could he maintain his composure and commitment against the club that shaped him?

To lighten his workload, Gao Shen instructed Biglia to drop deeper and assist Motta when necessary.

Still, the uncertainty lingered.

Motta had battled injuries throughout his career. After leaving Barcelona, he'd bounced between clubs—Atletico Madrid, Genoa, Inter Milan—without ever reappearing on Barcelona's radar.

Right now, Busquets is still young, Yaya Touré lacks consistency, and Thiago Motta is in his prime. His skills and attributes happen to combine elements of both Yaya Touré and Busquets. How could Barcelona not be tempted?

That's exactly why Gao Shen found himself facing this dilemma.

He had spoken with Thiago Motta several times before. This time, their conversation largely revisited the same themes, with Gao Shen mainly trying to gauge Motta's current mindset.

After all, at 26, Motta was already something of a "veteran" with years of top-level experience. His mood seemed positive and composed.

"Don't worry, boss," Motta reassured him with a calm smile. "Once I step onto the pitch, nothing will affect me."

He paused, then added with a chuckle, "Like you said before, even if I do want to go back to Barcelona someday, wouldn't it be more meaningful to return as a Champions League winner? And even better, a champion who defeated Barcelona to win it, right?"

Motta laughed openly as he finished speaking.

Gao Shen listened attentively, his eyes fixed on the midfielder's face. He studied Motta's expression and gaze, searching for any signs of hesitation or doubt. Only when he was convinced that the player's confidence was genuine did he finally relax.

Thiago Motta held a deep sense of respect and gratitude toward Gao Shen.

Ironically, his downfall had begun with Gao Shen's Real Madrid defeating Barcelona. Yet his career revival also stemmed from the same man.

When Barcelona discarded him, leaving his career in limbo, it was Gao Shen who extended a lifeline—offering trust, patience, and the right medical care. Step by step, Gao Shen helped Motta regain his confidence and reach his peak once more.

Without that faith, there would be no Thiago Motta standing here today.

Suddenly, Motta's eyes turned red with emotion. His voice caught in his throat.

"Boss!" he said, his tone trembling slightly. "Tonight, I'm not just playing for the team, the fans, or even myself. I'm playing for you. For everything you've done for me these past two years. No matter what, I'll give everything to win that Champions League trophy for you!"

The raw sincerity of those words hit Gao Shen hard.

He forced a smile, shook his head, and pointed at Motta. "You're getting sentimental on me now?" he said with mock disapproval.

Motta burst out laughing, wiping at his eyes.

Some emotions didn't need long speeches or dramatic gestures. Between men, some things were better left unsaid.

But at that moment, Gao Shen was genuinely reassured.

"Go out there and show them!" He clapped Motta on the shoulder, his grip firm.

…

After Motta left, Gao Shen sat in silence for a moment.

His chest tightened, and a faint soreness stung his eyes.

It wasn't just Motta's words that affected him. It was everything—this team, these players, and the memories of the past three years.

He was human. He had emotions.

From day one, he'd poured his heart into this project. Slowly, piece by piece, he'd built Napoli into what it was today.

And now, it was all coming to an end.

Tonight was his final game as Napoli's coach. Motta's words had brought that reality crashing down on him.

The sadness and reluctance surged through him but only for a moment.

He quickly steadied himself. He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, and forced the emotions aside.

This wasn't just any match. It wasn't just his last game. It was the Champions League final.

And because of everything they'd built together over the past three years, Gao Shen knew one thing:

They had to win.

That afternoon, after the lunch break, Gao Shen received a visit from an unexpected but very important guest.