Chapter 6: The End and the Beginning (6)

The field players, struggling to suppress their nausea, stared enviously at the goalkeepers who were exempt from the grueling fitness drills. But for Burnley's goalkeepers, the new training regimen was just as bewildering.

In traditional English football, goalkeeper training focused on diving to stop shots or punching away high crosses, with legwork limited to long kicks for goal kicks if necessary.

Nick Pope, England national team member and Burnley's starting goalkeeper; Wayne Hennessey, Wales national team member and Burnley's second-choice goalkeeper; and Will Norris, Burnley's third-string goalkeeper—all raised in this English football tradition—put effort into steadying their shaky legs as they worked on linking passes and dribbling in the new drills.

"Hey, you lot can't even do the basics. Don't go around calling yourselves footballers!"

*"But we're goalkeepers! The only position in football allowed to use our hands!"*

Their inner voices cried out in despair, but all three kept their mouths shut, focusing on dribbling the ball through cones spaced out across the grass.

Of course, the sarcastic jabs from head coach (interim) Arthur Brimelow didn't exactly keep their tempers cool. Still, after seeing the leadership group turn pale and move in lockstep at Arthur's every word from day one—despite half-listening to the interim manager—they'd mostly given up on resisting.

On the first day of training, Nick Pope, bolstered by his status as an England international, had casually questioned Arthur about the workload.

"Uh, Coach, since we're goalkeepers, shouldn't we focus more on—"

"More on what?"

Nick Pope faltered under the old man's piercing glare.

No, it wasn't just the glare—it was the unease sparked by vice-captain Jack Cork frantically shaking his head and crossing his arms in an X behind Arthur, and veteran Jay Rodriguez miming a throat-slashing gesture.

Realizing something could go terribly wrong, Nick Pope quickly backtracked.

"More… uh, I mean, we want to do more!"

Hyung-Min, passing by and overhearing, clapped encouragingly.

"Of course! These days, it's not enough for goalkeepers to just be good with their hands. You've got to use your feet too! You're footballers, after all—wouldn't it be boring to only do what basketball players can?"

*"No, I'd be fine with that kind of boring…"*

Nick Pope quietly swallowed his retort, glancing at Arthur—who was glaring as he oversaw the goalkeeper drills—and chose to focus silently on the training.

*"Whatever, it's just one game."*

---

But despite the players' grumbling and doubts, the results of the training were undeniable.

At some point during the relentless five-day regimen, Burnley's first team began instinctively passing short and moving without needing explicit instructions, just as Hyung-Min intended.

In the 65th minute of the second half, with the score still 0-0, Burnley had unleashed a staggering 15 shots while Everton could only muster 6 in response, leaving the latter team on the back foot.

Burnley's players, their morale surging, started dominating physical battles and dictating the game's flow.

"Brownie!"

Burnley's defensive midfielder Jack Cork intercepted a sloppy pass from Everton's center-back Yerry Mina into midfield and called out to his teammate orchestrating the attack from the center.

Grimacing at the unwanted nickname, Burnley's central midfielder Josh Brownhill darted over and took the ball with a short pass.

"One-two!"

Brownhill shouted as if he'd return the ball to Jack Cork, who was advancing past him into Everton's half.

But ignoring the Everton players preemptively lunging to block the pass between him and Jack Cork, Brownhill instead fired a long ball to Jay Rodriguez, who was cutting into the open space on the right.

A surprise long pass from a Burnley midfielder—one of only two, alongside center-back James Tarkowski, permitted to play long balls outside of crossing situations.

The Everton midfielders, who'd closed the gap to press Jack Cork and Brownhill, froze, caught off-guard.

While the midfield tussle unfolded, Everton's defense had been fully focused on Burnley's winger Dwight McNeil and full-back Charlie Taylor probing their right flank.

But with their midfielders pinned and unaware of the winger silently infiltrating their left side—coupled with the perfectly timed pass—Everton's backline descended into chaos.

"Cover! Quick!"

Suddenly facing a one-on-one, Everton's left-back Lucas Digne clung to Jay Rodriguez, desperately calling for support.

Meanwhile, Everton's center-back Ben Godfrey had been shadowing Burnley's central striker Chris Wood.

But startled by the attack unfolding to his left, he glanced around, only to realize that Chris Wood—acting as a decoy—had lured him out of position from the Everton goal without him noticing.

Seeing his positional lapse had isolated his teammate, Ben Godfrey abandoned Chris Wood and scrambled to reinforce the vulnerable left side.

On the other hand, Everton's right-back Seamus Coleman and center-back Yerry Mina were pinned, unable to move as they kept tabs on Burnley's Dwight McNeil and Charlie Taylor combo threatening from the left.

With Everton's midfielders and defenders either tied up or unable to intervene, Chris Wood—freed from Ben Godfrey—strolled into the gaping center of Everton's stretched defense.

Jay Rodriguez, starting as Burnley's right winger and now with the ball at his feet, glanced over Lucas Digne's shoulder at Chris Wood, who was freely penetrating the penalty box's center.

In football, a defender without the ball is almost always at a disadvantage against an attacker who controls it and can dictate the next move.

Facing a tense Lucas Digne, Jay Rodriguez grinned, subtly dropping his left shoulder as if to dart left.

It was a simple feint, and it'd take Lucas Digne only a breath or two to recover his balance.

Everton's center-back Ben Godfrey, rushing to support, would arrive in another breath or two.

But if a player couldn't deliver a short cross in that window, they didn't deserve to play in the world's top league—and whatever anyone said, Jay Rodriguez was a seasoned veteran with every qualification.

As Jay Rodriguez lofted a smooth ball between the goal area and the penalty mark, Burnley's towering striker Chris Wood launched his massive frame into the air.

With Everton's defense completely beaten and staring in despair, their last line, goalkeeper Jordan Pickford, flung himself desperately.

**Boom!**

Not the sound of a ball being struck, but a cannon-like blast rang out as Chris Wood ruthlessly headed the ball into the bottom left corner of the net.

"Goal! Goal! In the 66th minute of the second half, the Clarets' number 9, Chris Wood~!!!"

As Everton's players stood dejected, Burnley's players swarmed Chris Wood, their cheers blending with the stadium announcer's excitement and the roar of the home fans. On the Burnley bench, Hyung-Min and Arthur embraced.

"It worked! It worked! We did it!"

"Haha! We did it! This ridiculous tactic actually worked! Hahaha!!!"

Mid-embrace, Hyung-Min suddenly froze and pushed away Arthur's arms.

"What did you say? Ridiculous?!"

"Hahaha!!! Ridiculous, sure! Shaking up Rafa Benítez's Everton with simple full-pressing and wing play—that's ridiculous! Hahahaha! But it worked! It worked!!!"

"Ugh! I'm not talking to you, old man!"

"Hahaha!!! They say simple's best! First goal!"

Ignoring Hyung-Min, an ecstatic Arthur, shoulders shaking with glee, shouted at the Burnley players returning to their positions.

"Hey, you lot! Stay sharp and hold the lead!"

"Oh, just get back to your seat, old man!"

The Burnley players smirked at the bickering in the technical area, but the looks they exchanged were serious.

*"This game—we've got a shot!"*

As the match resumed, Hyung-Min stood in the technical area for a while, staring at the away team's bench. Arthur approached and asked,

"What're you looking at so hard?"

"Something's off."

"What's off?"

Arthur glanced at the opposing bench but saw nothing unusual, prompting him to ask again.

"It's too quiet. They've conceded, but the manager and staff are way too calm."

"Maybe they're just stunned—coming to an away game and conceding to a lesser team?"

Hyung-Min shook his head, unconvinced by Arthur's suggestion.

"I don't think so. Rafa Benítez is a master who's won La Liga and the Champions League. He's a veteran who's managed giants like Valencia, Liverpool, Inter Milan, Real Madrid, Chelsea… He'd be rattled by a single blow from an underdog? Wouldn't he be barking orders or prepping subs instead?"

"Or maybe he trusts his players. Thinks they'll turn it around without him saying a word."

"That could be it."

Hyung-Min's tone remained unconvinced.

And as the game continued amid the home fans' fervent cheers, it concluded with the away bench maintaining an eerie silence to the end.