Became The Premier League’S Youngest Manager [EN]: Chapter 232

“Hey!”

With a face etched with anger and worry, team captain Nicolas Seywald sprinted into Real Madrid’s penalty box, only to be immediately blocked by Jamal Lewis.

“Wait! Treatment first!”

“Lorenzo, are you okay?!”

Beside them, team doctor Simon Morris and fitness coach Paulo Morao, who had raced from the sidelines, knelt beside Lorenzo Luca, who had collapsed on the field, assessing his condition.

“Uh… I’m okay…”

“Lorenzo, look at me. Can you see this?” Simon asked, holding up a finger.

“Um… I can see it.”

Simon Morris, relieved to see Lorenzo Luca’s pupils tracking his finger, let out a sigh.

“I don’t think it’s a concussion. But it’s a nasty bruise, and it’s going to swell up pretty badly, don’t you think?”

“Ugh…”

The bruising and swelling were already evident.

Even with the padding on the outside of the goalkeeper’s gloves, it was unlikely he’d be completely unscathed after being hit with that kind of speed and force, even by a fist wrapped in cotton.

Paulo Morao, seeing Simon Morris shake his head, turned and made a large X with his arms towards the bench.

“I’ll instruct them to bring a stretcher.”

At the referee’s words, Lorenzo Luca waved a hand dismissively.

“No. I can walk off… just need some support.”

Hearing this, Nicolas Seywald, who had been watching anxiously, immediately helped his large teammate to his feet.

“Waaaaah!!!”

The relieved crowd cheered and applauded as the fallen striker rose, but Lorenzo Luca, struggling to walk off the field, suddenly stopped.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Does it hurt somewhere?” Nicolas Seywald asked, concern etched on his face.

To the worried questions of Nicolas Seywald and Paulo Morao, who were supporting him, Lorenzo Luca slowly shook his head.

“Referee!”

“What is it?” the referee asked, quickly approaching the injured player.

Lorenzo Luca strained to open his eyes, already beginning to swell shut, and looked at him.

“Was that just now, a goal?”

“Huh?!”

The referee was momentarily taken aback, then put his hand to his ear and began a hushed, rapid conversation with the assistant referee, the fourth official, and VAR [Video Assistant Referee, a system used to review decisions].

The referee, concluding the conversation with a nod, blew his whistle.

Bweeep!

“Uwaaaaaah!!!”

With half the crowd cheering and the other half sighing in disappointment, the referee pointed to the center circle of the field.

49 minutes into the second half.

Burnley’s equalizing goal was allowed.

***

“Benjamin.”

“Ah, Manager.”

Hyeongmin approached Benjamin Šeško, who was standing near the fourth official, preparing to enter the game, warming up for the final time.

“You know the plan, right?”

“A direct attack towards the penalty box, create opportunities, and keep moving constantly.”

Benjamin Šeško, recalling Karolina’s instructions as he hurried from the bench, nodded and repeated them.

“Yes… that’s right. Now get in there and tell the others.”

“Tell them what?”

With a puzzled look, Benjamin Šeško turned to the manager.

Even though it was an accident, the manager’s expression, after seeing Lorenzo Luca helped off the field after being struck by the goalkeeper’s punch, was definitely one of fury.

“Forget the plan, just attack.”

“Pardon?”

Before he could ask any more questions, the fourth official raised the substitution board, and the referee gestured for him to enter the field.

“Uwaaaaaah!!!”

Benjamin Šeško, running towards Burnley’s formation awaiting Real Madrid’s kickoff, glanced over his shoulder at the roar from behind.

Their young manager, standing in the technical area, was looking at the players and waving his arms wildly towards Real Madrid’s goal.

There, players who would add more firepower to Burnley’s attack, such as Sebastian Szymański, Adam Hložek, and Dwight McNeil, were all coming off the bench and starting to warm up on the sidelines.

A clear message: all-out attack.

Burnley players, anticipating their substitutions, wore determined expressions, ready to make the most of the remaining time.

“Okay, let’s give it a try.”

The score is now 1 to 2.

Burnley’s counterattack has begun.

***

Thwack!

A player in a white uniform crumpled on the grass, and the referee’s whistle blew immediately.

Bweeep!

“Ah, you can’t seriously call that a foul!”

Captain Nicolas Seywald protested to the referee, but the referee stood firm.

The game was becoming increasingly physical as time dwindled.

The frustration of Burnley players, who had dominated possession and initiative in the first half but had conceded two goals and failed to score themselves, was palpable.

Conversely, the wounded pride of Real Madrid players, who had been pinned in their defensive zone and battered throughout the first half, was evident.

The subdued atmosphere, initially present thanks to the courtesy Burnley fans had shown to Karim Adeyemi, who had scored the opening goal with a fantastic counterattack in the first half, began to dissipate due to Lorenzo Luca’s injury, which occurred shortly after the start of the second half.

And as time ticked away, fierce battles erupted all over the field between the Burnley players, desperate for an equalizer, and the Real Madrid players, struggling to protect their one-goal lead.

As Real Madrid midfielder Aurélien Tchouaméni, who had recently fallen on the grass after a clash, was helped up by his teammates, Nicolas Seywald, with a dissatisfied expression, put his hands on his hips and surveyed the field, checking the positions of both teams’ players.

A position that had not yet crossed the halfway line.

The position itself wasn’t immediately threatening, but Real Madrid, with players capable of delivering pinpoint passes from anywhere on the field, was never an opponent to underestimate.

Nicolas Seywald, satisfied that the Burnley players were properly positioned defensively, nodded and quickly retreated.

Bweeep!

“Uuuuuuu!!!”

The referee’s whistle blew again, and Burnley fans booed Real Madrid’s pass, which aimed to maintain their lead rather than advance, as the game resumed.

Even for the midfielders of Burnley, who had conquered the Premier League, Real Madrid’s midfield presented a formidable challenge.

“Nicky!”

Sebastian Szymański’s urgent warning came from the side, but it was already too late.

“Damn it!”

Burnley captain Nicolas Seywald gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the fierce pressure from Aurélien Tchouaméni, who was crashing into him again.

He is tall, possesses excellent physical condition, and is technically gifted.

Indeed, all three of Real Madrid’s midfielders are like that.

Uruguay national team ace Federico Valverde and French national team midfield’s rising star Eduardo Camavinga.

And Aurélien Tchouaméni.

In particular, Aurélien Tchouaméni, who displaced Casemiro, the undisputed defensive midfielder, to the bench just one month after transferring to Real Madrid, ultimately forcing his transfer, is a tall player at 188 cm [approximately 6 feet 2 inches] with tough defensive skills, relentless energy, and technical prowess.

That young midfielder from Real Madrid, who has built such a global reputation, lunges in from the side to snatch the ball that Nicolas Seywald is desperately trying to protect, stretching out his long legs.

Nicolas Seywald turned his body around the ball under his feet, using his back to shield the opposing player.

“Tsk!”

Aurélien Tchouaméni clicked his tongue at the momentary power struggle.

He couldn’t win a pure strength contest with Nicolas Seywald.

It wasn’t just about physique or strength, but about the technique of applying force.

He shifted his shoulder at the sudden pressure, subtly altering the direction of the force.

Aurélien Tchouaméni, pushed back further than he intended, desperately stretched out his foot to try to touch the ball, but it was already too late.

Nicolas Seywald, finally shaking off the opposing player’s relentless pressure, swung his right foot and sent the ball straight forward.

“Uwaaaaah!!!”

The cheers of the crowd, sensing an opportunity, erupted, and the recipient of the ball was Patrick de Paula, who had instantly surged through the midfield and reached just outside Real Madrid’s penalty box.

Burnley players, moving into attacking positions in a flash, gestured and shouted for the ball.

“Patrick!!”

“Give it to me!!”

Adam Hložek, responsible for the right flank attack, and Dwight McNeil, in charge of the left flank attack, simultaneously stormed into the penalty box, hugging the sidelines.

The positions they vacated were now occupied by Luka Pellegrini and Amar Dedić, respectively, who had charged up to the front line along the sidelines.

Burnley’s attack, now involving five players, pressed Real Madrid’s defense in a near-straight line.

Meanwhile, Burnley’s central striker Benjamin Šeško, engaged in a battle of wits with Real Madrid’s two central defenders, forced Antonio Rüdiger and Éder Militão, responsible for the central defense, to make a decision by constantly moving up and down.

Whether to follow him out.

Or to abandon him and cooperate with the fullbacks to block Burnley’s wingers who were penetrating.

The two defenders, watching Benjamin Šeško’s back as he drifted out of the penalty box with his back to the goal, seemed to have decided to support the fullbacks, positioning themselves slightly wider towards both flanks.

And Patrick de Paula didn’t miss the small gap that was created.

“Benjamin!!”

The ball was played sharply with a shout.

A pinpoint attack unfolded in the center while attention was focused on Burnley’s wings, spread wide to both sides.

The ball, leaving Patrick de Paula’s right foot after spotting an opportunity, flew at full speed as if gliding across the grass.

Benjamin Šeško, anticipating the powerfully struck ball, tilted his back slightly as he faced the goal.

First, plant the left foot as an axis.

Step forward in line with the center of the body.

Next, position the right foot.

Carefully point the inside of the foot forward, then move it slightly forward before pulling it back again to kill the ball’s speed.

Eventually, the ball, which had been traveling quickly across the grass due to inertia, stuck to the inside of his right foot.

“Oh no!!”

A bewildered shout came from behind, and at the same time, one of Real Madrid’s central defenders instantly latched onto his back.

And the moment the opposing player made contact with his back, which was slightly tilted back.

Benjamin Šeško spun to the right like a top, driving his right shoulder back with his left foot as the pivot.

The ball, still carrying inertia, remained glued to the inside of his right foot, rotating with him.

“Damn it!!”

Amidst the curses of the opposing player, whether it was goalkeeper Thibaut Courtois or another central defender, Benjamin Šeško completed a textbook-perfect turn with the ball in the middle of Real Madrid’s penalty box.

“Block him!!”

This was definitely the shout of goalkeeper Thibaut Courtois.

Benjamin Šeško smiled at the urgent plea coming from the front as he faced the goal.

The ball, which had lost its inertia and was slipping slightly forward as it escaped his control, was still manageable.

Because there was ample time before Antonio Rüdiger, who had been completely outmaneuvered, and Éder Militão, who was desperately throwing his body in the way, could close the short distance of even a few steps.

There was no need to worry about goalkeeper Thibaut Courtois, who was rushing forward with a desperate expression to narrow the shooting angle.

Benjamin Šeško, taking another step with his left foot, lifted his right foot slightly and then swung it with full force.

“Oooooo!!!”

As the crowd rose from their seats in unison, the ball, struck with the outside of his right foot by the young striker who had fully blossomed at Burnley, soared with fierce spin.

The ball, eluding the fingertips of goalkeeper Thibaut Courtois, who was diving desperately, disappeared as if sucked into the upper left corner of Real Madrid’s goal.

“Uwaaaaah!!!”

In the middle of Real Madrid’s penalty box.

The young striker roared, pounding the badge clearly emblazoned on his chest with his fist.

84 minutes into the second half.

2 to 2.

It’s a tie now.