April 3, Rain showers.

Nottingham, outside City Ground.

Despite the lack of cooperation from the Heavens, such weather in England was all too common; it was unable to deter Forest fans from watching the match live. Various shades of umbrellas gathered at the gates of the stadium, forming a long, snaking line. As the mob of umbrellas moved along with the flow and got to the spectators' stands, it all vanished into thin air in an instant. What was left were people welcoming the wind and rain with loud songs and their wide open arms; every person, every group.

This was the 31st round of the English Premier League, with Nottingham Forest on home ground against Everton. To other football fans, this may not be a particularly special match; it was not a must to watch it. But for the fans of the participating teams, this was a crucial match with no less importance than the city's derby games.

Everyone had put forth their best effort in preparation for this game. No one would be willing to be the loser at the end of the 90 minutes.

※※※

The locker room of the home team was quiet. The players who had just returned from their warm-up on the field were drenched in sweat and hastily changing into their clean jerseys. Tang En stood at the door of the locker room and watched his players methodically accomplish all of that. David Kerslake seemed a little anxious. He stood at the side and from time to time, raised his wrist to look at the watch.

Tang En cleared his throat and raised his hands. "You guys can go on, I'll just say a few words."

All the players paused in their motions and looked back at him. With a wave of his hand, Tang En signaled for them to continue doing their own things. As he watched the players go back to changing, Tang En scratched his head and said, "Um, half a month ago, we lost the UEFA Europa League. Although I had rather excitedly declared that we were to become the Europa League champions, the result turned out to be a joke. I've lost."

The players on the scene were taken aback by how easily Tang En voiced the statement, "I have lost." Their manager was thought to be someone who would not admit to losing at any cost; and even if he did, he was the kind who would at least want to win a verbal battle. Why was he being so strange today?

Tang En looked at the players' expressions and understood what they were thinking. He cracked a grin and asked, "Has everyone changed into clean clothes?"

The players nodded.

"Very good. Settle down and keep listening to me. We're a newly promoted team, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are." Some players responded.

"Usually, a newly promoted team would aim to avoid relegation, right?"

"Right." This time, there were more respondents.

"But…" Tang En suddenly switched the focus of the conversation, "The League matches are already in their 31st round. Look at our current results. We are number six in the league! What newly promoted team has such good results? If we surpass just two more teams, we'll be able to participate in next season's UEFA Champions League! To discard the Europa League for the Champions League, I think it's worth it. There are still eight rounds left in the league. To achieve that goal, we need to start sprinting from now on. A sprint… full-speed ahead! Everton is our direct competition. While we're running forward, so are they!"

Tang En walked into the center of the room from the door. He stood among the crowd of people and looked around the room.

"Recently, our luck hasn't been good. We've lost goals, the Europa League, and two Premier League matches in a row. The media outside is making a big hoo-ha out of it. They make it sound like it's the end of the world for us. They've prematurely announced a death sentence for us when there are still eight more rounds to go in the league! They've declared that it's the end of us this season, that we're doomed!"

Tang En jabbed his finger towards the door and cursed. "Those bastards! What do you guys think? Do you think it's the end of us for this season? Are we already finished?"

If anyone at that point answered, "Yes, I think we're finished," then they were obviously seeking out death. All of Forest's players yelled, "No!"

Tang En was immensely gratified by their response.

"I'll tell you this. I'll guarantee it; Liverpool will fall behind! Liverpool will definitely fall behind! Don't look at how they're ahead of us right now. We'll surpass them! So, in fact, our main opponent is only Everton. And the decisive match with them is today! So long as we can close the gap between us to a single point, the ones who won't be able to withstand it and collapse under that pressure will be our opponents!"

Tang En curled his fist and smashed it downwards. Even though he hit nothing, everyone around could hear the bang as if he had.

※※※

"Ranked sixth in the Premier League, and in the final 16 of the UEFA Europa… For a newly-promoted team and a manager who's only 36 years old, I think this is already outstanding enough."

The match had not begun, but the work of the commentators had already started. Martin Taylor and Andy Gray were analyzing for their audience some relevant information to the match.

Gray laughed. "Martin, I don't think Manager Twain would agree with you."

"Hm?"

"He'll think this isn't enough because it has yet to reach his aim. So long as it doesn't reach his aim, it can't be outstanding. We'll surely be able to tell a little more from this match. I'll bet you that Forest will go all out for this match against Everton. It's impossible for this to end in a draw. At this point, getting a draw would be the same as failing for a man like Tony Twain."

"Andy, when did you get to know him so well?"

The two men who were seated in front of their microphones began chuckling.

※※※

When players from both teams got on the field, Moyes noticed Mikel Arteta among the 11 players of Forest's starting line-up. A surge of inexplicable feelings momentarily engulfed him.

This was a player who should originally have received training under him; a player who should be wearing the blue jersey of Everton to fight in the Premier League. Instead, he was in Nottingham Forest and had become his opponent.

He turned his gaze towards the manager's seat.

Tony Twain appeared dignified and serious. Moyes could hardly make the connection between him and the down-hearted, frustrated man he had known two years ago. In a span of not even two years, there was such a big change...

No, we have become opponents now.

This is not the time for mutual appreciation.

Moyes retrieved his gaze and sat waiting at the manager's seat for the match to begin.

※※※

Even after the match started, the rain continued. It was not heavy, but its pitter patter was rather annoying. Without any flooding on the field, the ground became even more slippery.

Before, Tang En had used to hate playing matches on rainy days. It would cause the team to be unable to perform up to even two-thirds of their usual standard. But after staying in the UK for more than two years, he could do nothing except surrender to nature's might. After all, he could not possibly change the UK's weather, right? If he could, he might as well quit being a manager, wear his underwear on the outside, and become Superman.

In the current Wilford training grounds, since the time of the match against Arsenal's Youth Team, there was a designated field that would always be filled with large amounts of water whenever the weather turned nasty. It simulated the match conditions on a rainy day and allowed the team to undergo adaptability training. After several repeats of such focused training, the team's deterioration in ability during rainy day matches had already been greatly reduced.

Looking at things, his decision to let Bendtner and Crouch be starters was perfectly suited to the weather conditions. With the two towering players, the majority of their attacks could now avoid the slippery surface and go to the air instead.

Unlike Wenger, he did not think it a must for the team to play beautifully. Tony Twain was a pragmatist. If he could win through ugliness, he did not in the least mind letting the match seem completely unentertaining. Of course, Arteta, who possessed exquisite technique and imagination in passing, could also make Forest's offensive strategies much more complex. Tang En was not afraid of having too many attacking patterns. He could not be happier for more; to have so many more that it would throw his opponents into confusion and put them at a loss about how they should defend.

After Everton's midfield lost Gravesen, their abilities significantly weakened. In Tang En's recollection, even though Gravesen's time in Real Madrid turned out to be a terrible failure, he fully deserved his core position when he was in Everton. Not only was he able to defend, but his ability to pass also allowed him to take up the responsibility of organizing attacks. It was only after his departure to Real Madrid, where there were too many strong players, that he became unable to show off his true potential; there was simply no space for that. Furthermore, a team like Real Madrid was unsuitable for Gravesen. Not every core player from a small to mid-tier football team could become a main player in such rich and powerful clubs. Later, following Capello's entry into Real Madrid, the pressure bore down on the Denmark "Hulk," and he was eventually purged by Capello due to a fight with Robinho.

Everton today was without Gravesen and the Arteta that Tang En was familiar with. Moyes could only choose to groom another player to become Everton's midfield core: the Australian Tim Cahill.

This man was not unfamiliar to Tang En. Whether it was in his memory or his own experience as a manager, Cahill had left him with a deep impression. The former Millwall player was now wearing Everton's blue jersey and standing against Tang En once again.

However, Tang En now was not the same Tang En from a year ago. Nottingham Forest as well was no longer a team stuck struggling, futureless, in the position of a vice-monitor in a second-level league.

As the core of the midfield, Cahill was still much too immature.

Moyes was expecting something beyond what Cahill could be. Against such a midfield core, George Wood alone would be plenty in managing even two of them.

Moyes himself also knew that Everton's midfield could not contend with Forest's midfield. So, despite all appearances of being an offensive midfielder, Cahill was, in fact, a forward.

Everton's starting forward was Duncan Ferguson and James Beattie, the "Saint," who had transferred this season from Southampton. Their greatest use was perhaps to assist Cahill in diverting the defensive capabilities of the Forest Team.

The true final strike would be accomplished by this Australian lad.

And in the midfield, Tang En's most familiar player, Li Tie, did not even manage to get into the player list. He was injured and currently in recovery.