0 6 – Mansfield’s New Manager (3)

Maximilian.

"He's the person I want to bring in as the assistant coach, Chairman."

Lily looked momentarily surprised by my sudden formal tone but quickly adjusted her expression.

It was the same businesslike face I had seen at the café before.

"Welcome. I'm Lily, the chairman of Mansfield."

Lily pulled out a business card from her pocket as if she had prepared it in advance.

Max looked slightly flustered, then awkwardly pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses and hastily accepted the card.

"I didn't realize this was an interview, so I didn't bring my business card…"

"That's okay. Please have a seat. You must be tired from standing."

Max hesitated before sitting down, looking completely out of place and uncomfortable.

A faded knit sweater, jeans, and thick-rimmed glasses.

Unkempt, messy hair.

If not for his mature face, he would have looked like a typical engineering student.

His eyes darted around, unsure where to focus. His dry lips were constantly moistened by his tongue, his nose wrinkled slightly, and he kept pushing up his glasses in a restless manner.

It was amusing to witness the past awkwardness of a tactical genius, but the suffocating tension in the room was difficult even for me to endure.

"He's a friend currently working as an analyst in Germany."

"So, you met him while you were coaching in Germany?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"If his experience is in analysis, does he have any coaching experience?"

I glanced at Max.

Realizing that this was a question he needed to answer, he cleared his throat and spoke, his voice faintly trembling.

"I have no coaching experience."

"Then this would be your first coaching position… and you'd be starting as an assistant coach?"

Lily directed the question at Max rather than me.

I took another look at Lily.

Even though I had recommended him, she wanted to assess him personally.

I leaned back in my chair with a faint smile.

Max swallowed several times before speaking.

"Coaching starts with analysis."

"…"

"Analyzing the opponent's strengths and weaknesses to devise countermeasures, assessing our team to clearly identify advantages and disadvantages, and researching ways to maximize strengths while minimizing weaknesses—this is how you find the optimal coaching approach."

"So, you're saying analysis is fundamental?"

"That's right. Before coaching can begin, analysis must take place. We need to understand where our players are lacking and what their strengths are. Only then can we provide proper guidance and training. That is the role of a coach."

"I see. The importance of analysis… But how do I know that you're good at it, Mr. Maximilian?"

Max's eyebrow twitched.

You touched his pride.

He hated having his skills questioned more than anything.

His confidence was almost excessive, but his abilities warranted it.

However, right now…

"How do you want me to prove it?"

His tone turned aggressive in an instant.

Lily looked slightly taken aback.

This was precisely why a tactical genius like him had remained an unknown analyst for years.

I planned to keep this arrogant genius by my side.

Lily wouldn't reject my recommendation outright, but we needed to be on the same page if we were going to run this club together.

Just as I was about to intervene, Lily spoke coldly.

"You need to prove it clearly."

"So what method should I use?"

"That's for you to figure out, Mr. Maximilian. Do I have to tell you how to do it?"

"!"

"Or is that what you're thinking? That since I seem like a football novice, I wouldn't understand how you should prove it?"

Max's face turned red.

I could tell that Lily's words had struck a nerve.

"It's interesting. You seem like an unknown analyst, and I assume you weren't a professional player. Am I right?"

"…Yes."

Lily's eyes were sharper than I had expected.

Perhaps because business requires strong people skills, she was quick to assess what kind of person Max was.

"If that's the case, I imagine you've faced a lot of unfair treatment. People think sports are purely merit-based, but connections are just as important."

"…"

"As a non-player, it must have been hard to fit in with coaching staff who were former players. I bet you've been treated unfairly just because you weren't one of them."

Lily trailed off.

Max's face had lost all color.

"Someone who knows that kind of unfairness… reacts this way when they think they're dealing with someone who knows less about football than them."

"…"

"Sometimes, you get coaches who dismiss fans yelling at them during matches, thinking, 'What do they know about football?'"

Lily's voice returned to its usual tone.

"But you know, sometimes when those fans scream from the stands—'Sub him out! Put someone else in!'—the coach actually makes that change.

"Whether it was already the plan or they got influenced by the crowd, who knows? But it has happened."

It was common.

The voices from the stands were clear enough to reach the bench.

"And surprisingly, that substitution worked. The player who came on scored a miraculous winning goal.

"Was that just luck? Or did they guess right?"

"…"

"Even if they can't analyze tactics professionally, fans know. They know if the game is fun, if a player is good or struggling.

"Football might seem complicated when you break it down, but at its core, it's simple—score goals and win."

"Hmm."

"People who watch football don't not understand it."

"…"

"They feel football."

Max remained silent.

Lily got up from her seat, saying she needed to use the restroom.

After Lily Left

As she stood, she gave me a subtle glance.

'Make sure he convinces me.'

I couldn't help but smirk.

She had already decided to approve Max.

I just didn't know exactly why she was handling it this way.

The moment Lily stepped away, Max gulped down the cold water in front of him.

"What the hell."

"What?"

"This was about the assistant coach position, wasn't it?"

"You're in an interview right now, aren't you?"

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"No, I thought you were taking over Bochum."

"They already hired a temporary coach and got relegated."

"I thought you'd start in the 2nd division."

"Do you think a rookie coach gets to start even in the 2nd division?"

"…"

"You have to start from the lower leagues. What, are you disappointed that this isn't a Bundesliga assistant coach job?"

Max opened his mouth, hesitated, then sighed.

"For a moment, yeah. But now I've come to my senses."

"…"

"I'm a freelance, unknown analyst without a team. Who am I to look down on anything?"

With a self-deprecating smile, he pushed up his glasses.

"This team… do you believe in it?"

"What do you think?"

"Eugene. You were so obsessed with games that you hired an analyst with your own money just for 2nd-team matches."

"No need to state the obvious."

"So, do you have that same obsession with this team?"

I smirked.

"Obsession?"

"...?"

"I'm going to win the league with this team."

"League Two? Yeah, that seems possible."

"No."

"…?"

"The Premier League, the Champions League, the FA Cup."

"!"

I don't know what he saw in my eyes.

But reflected in his glasses, my gaze burned with absolute determination.

He exhaled sharply and took off his glasses.

"I won't need these."

Max pulled out a thick report.

I glanced at the title and let out a sigh.

It was an analysis of Bochum's squad.

No wonder he had rushed over so quickly—he had assumed I was taking over Bochum.

But then, he reached into his bag and pulled out a tablet.

"I put this together just in case, after you suddenly told me to come to Mansfield."

As I flipped through the pages, I couldn't help but click my tongue.

Compared to the Bochum report, this one was sparse.

But in just a few pages, he had neatly summarized an overview of Mansfield's squad and last season's tactical tendencies.

"You only got the call yesterday, right?"

"Yeah."

"And yet, you prepared this much about Bochum and even made an overview of Mansfield?"

"You can see it, so why ask?"

He sounded a little annoyed.

"How? In just one day?"

"Bochum? I already had a lot of data on them. Gathering more wasn't hard. Mansfield had almost no data, but so what?"

"…"

"It was fun. Every team has its own style, its own tactics. Even if they use the same formation, the finer details are always different. Sometimes, a strategy that works brilliantly for one team completely fails for another. It's fascinating.

"I underestimated League Two, but each team has a unique tactical approach that suits their reality. It was interesting."

So, this wasn't about the interview.

In fact, we hadn't even told him it was an interview.

He just found it fun.

That's why he had put this together.

All in just one day.

Even if he had existing data, no ordinary person could analyze and compile it so quickly.

This was pure talent, driven by passion.

I silently studied the tablet.

His analysis aligned almost perfectly with my own.

A small smile crept onto my lips.

Right at that moment, Lily returned.

As soon as she sat down, Max spoke up loudly.

"I'll submit a complete analysis report on all the teams and players in League Two. Their tactics, squad situations, last season's playing styles, and projections for this season. Please review it and evaluate me."

"By next Thursday."

"…What?"

"I want the report by next Thursday."

"That's…"

"League Two has over 40 matches in a season. Playing two games a week is normal.

"We're a small club. Everyone has to do the work of two or three people.

"And if you're going to be the assistant coach, that applies to you too."

"…I'll do it."

"Good. I'll decide after reviewing your report."

Lily said that with a playful wink in my direction.

…I see.

Next Thursday.

That was the day of Lily's surgery.

So what she really meant was—

'I'll leave the decision to you, Eugene.'

Not because of connections, but based on actual ability.

But I wasn't worried.

Even now, Max was already a half-complete genius.

---

On the Way Home

As I was driving Lily home, I asked her,

"Why were you so cold to him?"

"Cold? Me?"

"I felt like I was freezing."

"If anything, you were way colder! The way you treated Alensky scared me."

"Don't exaggerate."

"I could tell just by looking. That guy has a strong sense of pride.

"You push someone like that too hard, and they either crumble or become sharper."

"Self-esteem?"

"Everyone was giving him looks because of the way he was dressed, but he walked in confidently and sat down like it was nothing."

"Maybe he just doesn't care about what others think."

"That's what having high self-esteem is. Not caring about what others think."

Lily was right.

Thinking back…

When Max was considered a legendary coach in my memories, no matter what the media said, no matter what the fans said, no matter what the club executives muttered, he firmly believed in his tactics and carried them out.

"But why? Why would you want to break that confidence?"

"At the very least, I think he's paying more attention to you than you realize."

"To me?"

"You were just a coach, and then suddenly, you became the manager. On top of that, he seems to have a bit of an inferiority complex about former players who become coaches.

"Now, someone younger than him—someone he knew—suddenly becomes the manager and generously offers him the assistant coach position."

"If he's a decent person, he should be grateful."

"He probably is grateful, but deep down, he might still see you as an equal rather than his superior.

"Instead of supporting you, he might feel like he's just helping you out."

I understood the difference.

I let out a bitter chuckle.

Lily might be right.

Even in the future, Max occasionally showed that side of himself.

And now?

At a time when he had yet to struggle and learn in the professional scene?

"So, our dear club owner deliberately put him in his place to maintain our dear manager's dignity! See, Eugene? Who else would go this far for you?"

"That reminds me of something."

"Hm?"

"Back when I was in the youth team. You said something similar then."

Lily's smooth forehead scrunched slightly as she tried to recall the moment.

"When I injured my knee."

"Oh! I remember now! That time when you got hurt, and even though you knew you couldn't play the next match, you still crawled to the training ground at night?"

"Crawled? Really?"

"Come on! I was speechless. Do you know how much trouble I went through trying to stop you? You stuck your lips out and didn't say a single word, huh?"

Did I really?

"Ugh, Eugene, you even cried back then."

"I didn't cry."

"Yeah, right. Your eyes were all teary, and I had to hug you while telling you that there were people who cared about you, so you shouldn't treat your body like that."

"That's right. You did say that back then."

"..."

Was she reminiscing about the past?

Or just lost in her memories?

In the strangely subdued silence, the sound of the car's engine felt unusually loud.

I glanced out the window.

Lily's reflection was faintly visible in the glass.

Maybe it was the glow from the streetlights and other cars, but her face looked slightly flushed.

Beyond her reflection, I looked up at the sky.

Maybe because we were in the countryside of England, the stars were exceptionally beautiful.

Just like back then.

I still remember the hazy starlight and Lily's voice comforting me, telling me not to give up.

In the quiet atmosphere, I found myself speaking.

"Thank you."

"… You're being too serious. It feels weird."

"Hiding what you want to say just because you're embarrassed is one of the dumbest things you can do."

"… Then, do you have anything else you want to say?"

A brief silence followed.

As if embarrassed, she suddenly let out a light laugh and changed the topic.

"I was just saying. Don't mind it."

"Even if I know it's dumb, sometimes it's hard to fight embarrassment."

"… I hope the day comes when you do."

"One day."

"One day?"

"Maybe when we reach the Premier League."

"Then we have to get there. For the sake of our team."

The time needed to gain direct promotion to the Premier League.

Four years.

Exactly four years.

The same amount of time she had left to live.

So before then… I needed to do what had to be done.

To leave no regrets.

---

The Next Day

I had Max report to my office first thing in the morning.

Honestly, his appointment as assistant coach was already a done deal.

I knew his abilities.

So I figured I might as well put him to use as soon as possible.

And the sooner he adapted to England, League Two, and Mansfield, the better.

That's why I had him join the coaching staff meeting right away.

"The person beside you is…?"

"He's the assistant coach. Let's just call him an intern for now."

"..."

Maybe it was the sudden appearance of a new coach, but…

Arlop and Alensky exchanged quick glances, their expressions momentarily betraying their unease.

Their intentions were obvious.

They wanted to take control of today's meeting, shape the discussion on rules and guidelines to their liking, and dull the blade that could later be used to rein them in.

"Maximilian, you just joined the club. Wouldn't it be better to familiarize yourself with how things work before participating in this meeting?"

At Arlop's words, I firmly shook my head.

"The four of us will be meeting like this often from now on. Think of this as a chance to get acquainted."

It wasn't a request.

It was a statement.

And there was no way someone as cunning as Arlop would miss that nuance.

His expression changed ever so slightly as he forced a smile.

"Then, I suppose he'll be joining today's discussion as well. This might take some time."

He looked at me.

As if he understood my intentions completely.

In the end, it was two against two.

A clear decision wouldn't be reached.

Dragging out the discussion, making things messy, and ultimately trying to impose my authority—that's what he thought I was doing.

And his eyes said he wasn't going to let that happen easily.

Unfortunately for him, I hate being read.

Especially by an opposing manager analyzing my tactics.

There's nothing worse than that.

After countless matches, I learned how to make sure no one could read me.

For example—

"There's a more important matter we should discuss first."

Throwing them off their expected course.

"A more important matter?"

"Yes. It's crucial. That's why I wanted to bring it up while both of you are here."

I drew their attention.

"Right now, the most important thing for this club isn't rules or codes of conduct. It's rebuilding."

"!"

"Isn't that obvious? Every season, teams rebuild their squads. And since we have a new manager, restructuring is inevitable.

"So—"

I deliberately cut my sentence short, letting a brief silence hang in the air.

I could feel their heightened focus, their attention solely on my lips.

"Make a list of the players we don't need. Draft the release list."

And with that, I dropped a bomb.