NOVPUB
Chapter 176: Shevchenko Crazy Angle Goal
After the match, Richard sat in his office, scrolling through financial and other reports, when he heard a knock on his office door.
"Come in," he said.
Soon, O’Neill and his entire coaching staff entered the room, accompanied by captain Cafu as the players’ representative.
Richard began by praising the entire team for their performance over the past two months, noting that it was a significant achievement.
"Now," he said suddenly, his tone growing serious.
In four days, City would face an opponent that had haunted them like a nightmare—one that still lingered in the minds of the fans: Derby County.
The memory of City being relegated from the First Division to the Second Division was still fresh—marked by a crushing 5–0 defeat to Derby County that sent the club straight into hell.
At the time, a small-scale conflict erupted among the fans, with pitch invaders storming the field in protest. To make matters worse, the legendary Kippax Stand was falling apart, as dissatisfied supporters vented their anger on the seats—even the floor—forcing City, under the Lee Consortium, to make the drastic decision to demolish it entirely.
"Two months ago, we started this journey. Today, we stand unbeaten—momentum is on our side, morale is high, and confidence is through the roof."
Then he paused.
Everyone present exchanged glances, unsure why their big boss had suddenly gone quiet.
Richard pursed his lips in dissatisfaction, scanned the room, and then raised an eyebrow. "But tell me—do you all truly understand what the Derby County match means to the current City?"
Everyone looked confused—except for O’Neill, who, perhaps because his role as manager forced him to see the bigger picture, realized what Richard was trying to say.
Richard shrugged and said, "Derby County was the reason why City got relegated to the Second Division. They crushed us three years ago."
If City had managed just a draw in their final-minute match against Derby County, the club’s current situation would likely be very different. City probably wouldn’t still be in the First Division—instead, they’d already be in the Premier League.
"Look at how badly Derby County has performed in the past two weeks," Richard said, showing their recent fixture results.
But because City lost to that damned, disappointing Derby County, they remain stuck in the second tier.
"They lost to Barnsley and drew with Luton. Damn, it’s laughable. How did Alan Ball ever lose 5–0 to them? That’s why—" Richard paused, then continued, "—precisely because of those results in their last two matches, I expect City to bring home three points next."
Last season, Derby County suffered a major setback when they lost to dark horse Leicester City in the play-off final, missing their chance to be promoted to the Premier League. It was a heavy blow for Derby—and they probably still haven’t recovered from it.
Richard intended to take full advantage of that.
Even Barnsley and Luton, who are currently sitting in 14th and 15th place, managed to take points from them—so how could Richard possibly allow City, the league leaders, to lose?
Everyone nodded as they understood their task.
After bidding them farewell, Richard turned his focus back to work.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Come in," Richard said.
Soon, Miss Heysen entered with something in her hands—it was the new promotional poster for Manchester City.
Richard was satisfied as he looked at the new poster.
At the center of the poster stood the iconic trio—Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu—with their arms confidently crossed in front of their chests, exuding power and unity. Behind them, a transparent background image captured Larsson mid-roar, frozen in the passionate moment of celebrating his first goal. Beside him, Solskjær was pictured executing a difficult strike from an impossible angle during the fierce match against Stoke City—a tribute to the team’s grit and flair.
"This is good. We’ll put them in the City Store for the next Derby County match."
"Alright."
After bidding farewell to Richard, Miss Heysen soon left, and the match against Derby County awaited.
The Baseball Ground was a stadium in Derby, England, originally used for baseball as the home of Derby Baseball Club from 1890 until 1898, before becoming Derby County’s football stadium.
This was the first time Richard had come to this kind of stadium, which could only accommodate 17,500 spectators after the capacity was reduced from 40,000 following the 1989 Hillsborough Disaster. 𝔫𝖔𝔳𝔭𝔲𝔟.𝖈𝔬𝔪
"Miss Heysen, I heard Derby is planning to move to a new stadium. Is that true?" Richard asked, walking alongside her and Marina Granovskaia.
"It’s true. Chairman Lionel Pickering made the decision to move the club to a new stadium, having originally planned to rebuild the Baseball Ground as a 26,000-seat venue," Miss Heysen replied.
"So, it’s about fitting more fans?" Richard asked.
Miss Heysen shook her head. "There’s an additional problem with the ground’s wooden components. See the floor here?" she tapped the floor with her shoe.
"This kind of material is considered unacceptable. Remember the Bradford City stadium fire in 1985? It was the exact same issue. If Derby wants to change all of this, they would need to remove everything. That’s why Pickering decided it’s better to move to another stadium rather than repairing this one."
Richard nodded thoughtfully, making a mental note of everything.
Before the kickoff, chants echoed through the stadium as fans from both sides began to taunt each other.
"Five-nil! Five-nil! Five-nil!"
The Derby County fans chanted the painful scoreline from two years ago, aiming their taunts at Manchester City.
Of course, the City fans fired back bitterly with their own chant.
"The cowards lost to Leicester City at Wembley!"
There wasn’t much enmity between the two teams; it was merely a mix of pride, unfinished business, and bruised egos—the kind that didn’t need violence to feel heated.
The verbal sparring in the stands was still raging when the referee’s whistle pierced the air.
PHWEEEE!
Unexpectedly, right from the first touch, it was Derby County who took the initiative—aggressive, hungry, and clearly on a mission.
Within just thirty seconds, their midfielder unleashed a shot from outside the box. It flew well wide, but the message was loud and clear: Derby had come to WIN!
In contrast, City remained composed but seemed to struggle against Derby’s aggressive pressing.
Van Bommel, in a hasty clearance, inadvertently passed the ball back to a Derby striker, forcing Robbie Savage to pounce. He lunged forward to intercept, nearly taking the defender’s legs with him in the process.
The reckless challenge brought the Derby player crashing down, and the whistle blew sharply.
Tensions flared instantly.
A small scuffle broke out as Derby players rushed in, shoving Savage in protest.
Never one to back down, Savage stood his ground, chest to chest with one of their midfielders, barking back with his trademark fire. A few more shoves were exchanged before the referee and captains stepped in to separate the players.
The crowd roared—half in outrage, half in delight.
The game had just begun, but the temperature on the pitch was already boiling.
Within first twenty minutes, Derby County’s high pressing left City gasping for defensive cover.
The fans in the stands were visibly anxious.
"What’s happening?" Marina asked, looking toward the pitch.
If she remembered correctly, O’Neill had impressively played the role of firefighter during his first two months with City, where the team had dominated the First Division
Only Richard remained calm. O’Neill had already briefed him about Derby’s high pressing during the preparation meetings.
"It’s not slow, but they aren’t used to it yet and are still adapting," O’Neill said at the time.
That’s why Barnsley and Luton were able to punish them.
So for the next match—O’Neill planned to use Clough-like simplicity with his tactical instructions and confidence-restoring inspiration. He wanted to shape City’s set-piece organization, pacey counter-attacking, and defensive resolve significantly.
"Why?" Richard raised an eyebrow at this confession.
O’Neill nodded and explained.
"We ve become have become over-reliant on Ronaldo, Roberto and Cafu." he stated.
He also pointed out that their failure to break down Stoke City’s defense late in the game stood out—mostly because the unfit Ronaldo got a bit too selfish, trying to take on defenders one-on-one, cutting inside, and shooting instead of looking for better options.
That’s why he wants City to start playing without the Brazilians, and why the current formation is:
Goalkeeper: Jens Lehmann
Defenders: Gianluca Zambrotta, Materazzi, Rio Ferdinand, William Gallas
Midfielders: Robbie Savage, Van Bommel, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara
Forwards: Henrik Larsson, Andriy Shevchenko
With this setup, all City needed was a bit of time to settle. Once the players found their rhythm, O’Neill believed everything would start to click. Even without the pressing strategy, City would still be City.
In the long-standing tradition of gritty First Division football, set pieces were a vital route to scoring. So when Derby County won a free kick in the attacking third, most of their players surged forward.
The ball was lofted into the box, and amid a scramble for headers, Ferdinand held off a Derby player, leaping high to powerfully clear it. He directed the clearance deliberately toward the right flank.
The ball bounced on the grass, and just before the Derby players could pounce, Andriy Shevchenko—filling in for Ronaldo—shoved his marker to the ground and charged forward like a bulldozer to take control.
"Go for it! No dilly-dallying!" a fan roared from the sideline as they saw the ball at Shevchenko’s feet.
And indeed, Shevchenko didn’t need anyone to tell him what to do—he already knew.
He surged forward down the right flank, driving the ball with purpose.
Instantly, Materazzi overlapped him from behind, while Larsson—already ahead—made a diagonal run to the left, stretching the defense and giving Shevchenko even more space. It was a beautifully layered attacking movement.
The fans erupted in cheers, swept up in the thrill of the counterattack.
In the blink of an eye, Shevchenko was already deep in Derby’s half. In front of him—how many?
Two defenders up front. Two trailing behind.
"Here!"
Larsson, already ahead, raised his hand and shouted. But Shevchenko saw him—and hesitated.
In front of him, the Derby defender was closing in fast.
Shevchenko decisively shifted his body to the right, then exploded forward with a burst of pace.
The defender, who had already raised his foot to challenge, was completely caught off guard and stumbled to the ground.
"One down! Oh, Shevchenko’s shaken off his marker! What a dribble!" the commentator roared, his voice rising with the pulse of the crowd.
But Shevchenko didn’t slow down. He glanced at Larsson, then back at the goal. He could hear the crowd shouting.
"CROSS IT!"
"HEY, CROSS IT!"
Now hovering just near the edge of the box, Shevchenko steadied himself. He had options—he could slip it to Larsson, square it to Materazzi, or... take it himself.
And the way he looked up, just for a heartbeat—you could tell.
He was going for glory.
"CROSS TO LARSSON!!!"
He heard it once again before he took his stance.
Everyone thought he was about to cross.
Richard paused his shouting. ’No way... right?’
As a former player himself, when Shevchenko paused like that—there was no way it was a cross.
No, of course not.
’This kind of shot... it’s just—because from that angle, that’s the only way I could get it in," Shevchenko thought to himself. "If I hit it hard, it’s an easy save. So what’s the best decision? In that position, I can only chip it—go over him. That’s the shot.’
So Shevchenko struck the ball.
The ball flew high, and everyone thought it would sail harmlessly over the goal. But suddenly, it dipped sharply and suddenly—right on target.
Derby’s goalkeeper was taken aback. His position was awkwardly far from the goalposts, and he started backing up slowly, trying to judge the ball’s angle. He raised his hand, preparing to punch it clear.
Unfortunately, the dip was too sudden.
The ball slipped just beyond his reach, curling perfectly over his outstretched fingers.
The crowd held their breath for a split second—then erupted in cheers.
