The Coaching System

📌 July 15th, 2024 – Four Hours Before Kickoff

The air in Riyadh was thick with heat, the type that pressed down on you and made even the simplest movements feel heavier. The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the training complex where Bradford City had been preparing for this moment.

But Jake Wilson barely noticed.

He sat in his hotel room, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the glowing blue screen hovering in front of him. His breathing slowed, controlled, as he absorbed the system's cold, calculated assessment of their chances.

[Ding! System Prediction]

Bradford City – 30% Win Probability

Al Nassr – 65% Win Probability

Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

He had expected the odds to be against them—they were playing one of the best teams in Asia, a squad led by Cristiano Ronaldo himself.

But seeing it written so plainly, so definitively, sent a jolt of frustration through him. Thirty percent. The same percentage analysts gave underdogs in the FA Cup third round, when a League One side faced a Premier League giant.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a second. Did that mean they were already beaten?

No. That wasn't how he worked.

He'd built this squad to fight.

Jake refocused, his eyes narrowing as he tapped the next screen. The system unfolded a tactical breakdown, a list of strengths and weaknesses, a blueprint for survival—or maybe something more.

[Tactical Breakdown]

Al Nassr Strengths:

Cristiano Ronaldo (ST) – Unmatched positioning and finishing. If he got space in the box, the ball was going in.

Sadio Mané (LW) – Explosive pace, dangerous in one-on-ones. Aiden Taylor would have his hands full.

Anderson Talisca (CAM) – Long-range shooting threat, elite playmaker. Couldn't be given time to turn.

Aymeric Laporte (CB) – Composed, world-class defender. No easy goals.

Al Nassr Weaknesses:

Full-backs struggle against pacey wingers. Sultan Al-Ghannam and Saud Al-Najdi pushed forward but left gaps. Renan Silva and Leo Rasmussen had to exploit that.

Defensive midfield lacks physicality against high pressing. Otávio and Al-Khaibari were technicians, not destroyers. If Bradford pressed hard enough, they could force mistakes.

Jake's mind worked quickly, piecing together a strategy.

He already knew how he wanted to set up, but the system confirmed what he suspected—Al Nassr could be hurt if they were brave enough.

They could sit back, absorb pressure, and hope to hit on the counter. Safe, predictable. But that was the game Al Nassr wanted.

Or they could force the issue. Press high. Make them uncomfortable.

It was a risk. If it worked, they could rattle them. If it failed, Ronaldo and Mané would rip them apart.

A knock on the door broke his focus.

"Gaffer, press conference in ten."

Jake turned to see Michael Stone, Bradford's head of recruitment, standing in the doorway. His usual smirk was absent. Even Stone—who had seen it all—knew what this match meant.

Jake took a slow breath, closing the system screen with a flick of his fingers.

Time to talk.

Press Conference – Facing a Giant

The media room at Mrsool Park was packed, the air buzzing with anticipation. Jake Wilson sat at the table, microphone in front of him, his expression composed as the cameras flashed. This wasn't just another pre-season match.

This was Bradford City vs. Al Nassr.

It was Jake Wilson, the rising English coach, sitting across from a club boasting some of the biggest names in world football. It was his League One squad being measured against a team that had lifted trophies and played in the world's biggest tournaments.

The journalists wasted no time.

"Jake, this is by far the biggest team Bradford has faced under your management. What's your mindset going into this match?"

Jake leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed but focused. He didn't blink.

"We respect Al Nassr, but we didn't come here to admire them. We came here to compete."

A few murmurs ran through the room. Some journalists exchanged glances. They had expected a more cautious answer.

Jake didn't care. This was his mentality now.

"Realistically, do you think Bradford can win?"

Jake smirked slightly. The question wasn't unfair, but the tone carried the weight of doubt.

"Football isn't played on paper," he said. "If it was, we wouldn't have a chance. But games are won on the pitch. We'll see what happens."

A few chuckles rippled through the room. A Saudi journalist scribbled something in his notepad. Confident, but not arrogant. That was the impression Jake wanted to leave.

"How do you prepare to face someone like Cristiano Ronaldo?"

Jake's smirk faded slightly, replaced by something closer to admiration.

"You don't 'prepare' for Cristiano Ronaldo. You just try to survive him," he admitted, drawing a few laughs from the room.

He leaned back, glancing toward the Al Nassr banner behind him.

"He's one of the greatest players to ever play the game. It's an honor to test my team against him."

He meant every word. Ronaldo was an icon—a living legend. But that didn't mean he'd let his team be overawed.

"This is also the first real test for your new signings. How have they settled in?"

Jake nodded, already expecting the question.

"We've built a squad that can compete," he said, voice steady. "The signings have added quality, but we won't know exactly where we stand until we play teams like this."

He let the words settle.

"This isn't just a test for them—it's a test for all of us."

Some journalists nodded, jotting down notes. They could sense it too.

This wasn't just a friendly.

For Jake, this was a measuring stick. A chance to see how far they had come—and how far they still had to go.

The moderator gave a quick signal, wrapping things up.

"Thank you, coach."

Jake stood, shaking a few hands before heading toward the tunnel.

The talking was done.

Now, it was up to the players.

Final Tactical Instructions

📌 Mrsool Park, Riyadh – Dressing Room

The dressing room was silent, the tension thick. Outside, the roar of the Al Nassr fans echoed through the stadium walls. The players sat on the benches, adjusting their shin pads, taping their wrists, tightening their boots—but all eyes were on one man.

Jake Wilson stood at the front, arms crossed, gaze sharp.

The lineup was set. The tactics were finalized. This was it.

He scanned the room slowly, taking in the expressions of each player. Some were focused, some were tense, but none of them looked scared.

Good.

"They're better than us. No point pretending otherwise."

His voice was calm, controlled—but firm. He let the words settle, watching their reactions. There was no point lying. They were the underdogs. Everyone knew it.

"But that doesn't mean we let them play how they want."

His eyes moved across the room, locking onto each player as he spoke.

Tactical Breakdown

Jake pointed to the tactical board behind him, where Al Nassr's 4-2-3-1 formation was drawn out. He tapped the midfield zone with his finger.

"We press their midfield. Otávio and Al-Khaibari aren't good under pressure. If we let them dictate the tempo, they'll pick us apart."

He looked toward Daniel Lowe and Elliot Harper, his two central midfielders.

"That means you two—every time they get the ball, you're on them. Make them uncomfortable. Make them rush. They'll crack if we don't let them breathe."

Lowe cracked his knuckles. Harper gave a sharp nod.

Jake turned to Renan Silva and Leo Rasmussen, his wingers.

"Their full-backs are their weak link. Al-Ghannam and Al-Najdi push forward, but they leave space behind. We exploit that."

He pointed at Silva first.

"Renan, if you get a one-on-one, I don't want you hesitating. Take him on every single time."

Silva smirked, rolling his shoulders. "That's what I do, boss."

Jake's eyes shifted to Rasmussen.

"Leo, same with you. Drive at him. Force him to make a decision."

Rasmussen gave a curt nod, his expression serious.

"If we win the ball back high, I want us attacking the flanks immediately. No slow build-up—fast, direct, decisive."

Finally, he turned to his center-backs.

Nathan Barnes. The captain. The leader.

Kang Min-jae. Aggressive, composed, relentless.

Jake's voice dropped slightly, his tone turning even sharper.

"You already know the job."

He didn't even need to say the name. They all knew who he was talking about.

Cristiano Ronaldo.

"Stop him. Do whatever it takes."

A heavy silence filled the room. The weight of the task settled over them like a storm cloud.

Barnes finally exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "We got this, gaffer."

Min-jae cracked his neck. "He bleeds like everyone else."

Jake allowed himself a small smirk. That was the attitude he wanted.

He stepped back, crossing his arms again, letting the room breathe. The moment hung there for a second—the anticipation, the nerves, the hunger.

Then, Jake exhaled.

"Let's see what we're made of."

With that, he turned and walked toward the tunnel.

Kickoff was waiting.