Football Dynasty

Chapter 183: Unexpected Twist

After the halftime break, both teams came back out with purpose.

For Blackburn, the task was clear: grab one more goal or just hold out for 45 minutes, and they’d knock City out of the League Cup.

As for City—they had no choice but to go all in and chase the game.

"Boss, what do you need from me?" Materazzi asked, walking up beside O’Neill, standing tall and ready.

O’Neill glanced at him, then asked quietly, "Did you notice how they set up defensively in the first half?"

Materazzi blinked, a little caught off guard by the question, but gave his answer. It wasn’t far off.

O’Neill nodded and pulled a small notebook from inside his suit jacket, sketching out a simple diagram as Materazzi, Savage, and Solskjær leaned in.

Four defenders were aligned at the back, with one holding midfielder positioned just in front of them.

Ahead of that, three midfielders supported Alan Shearer and Chris Sutton up front. It was a well-structured 4-4-1-1 formation.

Evaluating a team’s defensive strength goes far beyond counting defenders or gauging their aggression. What truly defines a solid defense are the layers of coverage and the seamless coordination between players.

When a star attacker slices through the backline or a playmaker lands a perfect through-ball, it’s not always about brilliance—often, it’s a breakdown in team structure. When defenders swarm a single threat in panic, it may look intense, but it usually exposes dangerous gaps elsewhere.

Today, Blackburn’s defensive setup was a masterclass in organization—clear evidence of how they managed to topple Manchester United last season. Their discipline, focus, and tactical cohesion were on full display.

Instead of pressing blindly, they disrupted City’s tempo, closed down space intelligently, and suffocated forward momentum. Up front, the SAS duo—Shearer and Sutton—never stopped moving, dragging defenders out of position and lurking for that one long ball to exploit chaos. It wasn’t flashy, but it was ruthlessly effective.

As the second half began, Blackburn’s approach didn’t change.

They relied on long balls, while their defense and midfield rarely crossed into City’s half.

For the first five or six minutes of the second half, O’Neill continued explaining Blackburn’s defensive strategy to Materazzi, who listened closely, nodding along.

Once O’Neill was confident that Materazzi understood, he turned to him with seriousness. "Marco, when we attack, don’t just stay back. Push forward and position yourself near their defender, Ian Pearce. If he’s not marking you, even better—take the shot if you see the chance. If he is focused on you, create space and cover for Henrik and Ole. Got it?"

Materazzi nodded, showing he understood and O’Neill gave him a firm pat on the back before turning to Robbie Savage and Solskjær, who stood beside Materazzi.

After giving his instructions, he signaled for Materazzi to enter first, replacing Graham Fenton.

Taking advantage of a dead-ball situation, the fourth official raised the substitution board.

"What is City thinking? They’re trailing, and O’Neill brings on a center-back? And not just that—he’s taken off Fenton, who was performing well today and providing significant support up front. It’s truly puzzling."

City fans exchanged confused glances. Three center-backs on the pitch? Did they not want to win? Was it all-out defense?

Even Ray Harford, Blackburn’s head coach, looked puzzled. He had expected City to strengthen their midfield or attack—maybe bring on someone like Ronaldo. But a center-back? Of all things? O’Neill had gone completely off-script.

Only Richard, watching high up in the stands, understood what O’Neill was up to.

As the head of City’s high-performance team, he wasn’t just some analyst crunching numbers. He’d pulled countless all-nighters with O’Neill, breaking down formations, stress-testing systems, and rewinding match footage frame by frame. He didn’t just understand what worked—he knew why it worked. And now, from his elevated view, he could see the puzzle pieces locking into place.

As soon as Materazzi stepped onto the pitch, he sprinted into Blackburn’s penalty area. In that moment, City’s formation morphed entirely.

Ferdinand anchored the back line alongside Zambrotta and Steve Finnan, while Curle pushed forward to join Steve Lomas, Jamie Pollock, and Keith Gillespie in midfield.

Up front, Marco Materazzi lined up with Andriy Shevchenko and Henrik Larsson, creating an unexpected trio of attacking midfielders stretched out across the pitch.

The commentators scrambled to keep up. "What on earth is this formation? Looks like a 3-4-3—maybe even an attempt at a Cruyff diamond? This is bold!"

Blackburn stuck to their tried-and-true tactic—another long ball aimed at Shearer, with Sutton drifting to the left to collect. Just like the first half.

In this 3-4-3 formation, both Steve Lomas on the left midfield and Keith Gillespie on the right were already positioned, waiting for the long ball.

They didn’t push too far forward because, defensively, they were ready to step in immediately if Blackburn tried to launch a long pass.

And sure enough, the moment the ball headed toward Alan Shearer, they were instantly swarmed him.

Instead of being marked one-on-one like in the first half, each striker now had two defenders tracking their every move, doubling the pressure.

They weren’t wrong—instantly, City’s formation shifted into a five-defender setup, but it was actually a 5-2-3 rather than a typical 5-3-2 defensive line.

In the 3-4-3 formation mentioned by the commentator, two midfielders—Lomas and Gillespie—drop back to help defend and cover against counterattacks, instantly shifting the shape into a 5-2-3. But when City gains possession, both Lomas and Gillespie push forward, linking up with either the center backs or the two holding midfielders to buy time. This allows them to advance and support the strikers, transforming the formation into a full-on 3-2-5—an all-out attack.

In this setup, Ferdinand enjoyed a free role. Essentially acting as a fifth defender, he had the freedom to scan the field, read the play, and decide which threats were most dangerous.

This allowed him to intervene where it mattered most—anticipating passes, cutting off runs, and providing an extra layer of security behind the defensive line.

So, now instead of waiting and reacting like before, he took the initiative, stepping up aggressively to challenge Sutton head-on as he waited for the ball.

Interception!

As Shearer released the pass, Ferdinand—who had been lurking just behind Sutton—stepped forward at the perfect moment and cut it out cleanly.

The moment Ferdinand took possession, Materazzi sprang into action. Alongside Larsson and Shevchenko—both aerial threats in their own right—he surged forward.

This wasn’t just a clash of tactics; it was a collision of willpower and brute strength.

Ian Pearce, holding the line for Blackburn, was supported by Tim Sherwood and Niklas Gudmundsson, forming a double layer of resistance. But with Materazzi lurking in the gaps, the pressure was relentless.

His presence alone was enough to throw off Blackburn’s defensive rhythm—especially with Larsson and Shevchenko drifting around the edge of the box like sharks circling their prey.

"Crazy... crazy... crazy," O’Neill muttered under his breath as he saw Ferdinand stride forward with the ball at his feet, scanning ahead and waiting until Pollock and Fenton arrived in Blackburn’s penalty area.

By abandoning the wings, O’Neill knew he was taking a gamble. If Blackburn launched counterattacks down the flanks, the risk would rise sharply. But no tactical shift comes without danger—the real question was whether Harford was bold enough to exploit it.

And this... this was where O’Neill placed his bet!

The crux of the issue was that Blackburn’s two full-backs, Le Saux and Berg, weren’t making overlapping runs. Instead, they stayed back—overly cautious in their defending. They also crowded into the box, which actually made life harder for Pearce, who normally commanded their defensive line.

To make matters worse, he didn’t have a clear advantage in the physical tussles with Materazzi. Not because he was weaker or anything—but that Italian was downright crazy when he swung his elbows!

Pearce, being the mature guy he is, figured Materazzi was just trying to provoke him into a foul. If he took the bait, City would’ve definitely gotten a penalty. So he played it extra cautiously—but that bastard never gave him a break and kept messing with his chain of command at the back.

"Push forward, push!" O’Neill urged from the sideline as soon as City gained possession.

Blackburn plays long ball? We can play long ball too!

City abandoned the middle and instantly crowded Blackburn’s box, making crosses from central areas easier for Ferdinand.

Blackburn definitely positioned themselves well to defend against it, but with five City players roaming freely in Blackburn’s area, Ferdinand’s long balls became even more threatening. They were already making constant movement in such a crowded space.

This is why Blackburn’s defensive rhythm fell apart the moment City began playing long balls.

Ferdinand barely paid attention to the chaos around him because he noticed Materazzi already pointing in one direction, so he kicked the ball for a pass.

"Ah, shit!"

Unfortunately, the ball wasn’t perfectly aimed—the kick was a bit too powerful.

With no other choice, Materazzi shoved Pearce as he chased the ball’s trajectory. He knew the pass was slightly off, but he didn’t care.

Materazzi sprinted forward, then suddenly spun around and jumped. Unexpectedly, he didn’t head the ball toward the goal but instead directed it in the opposite direction. If he hadn’t done anything, the ball could have gone out of play.

Taking advantage of the chaos, he hoped Lady Luck would bless them—and his bet paid off!

Pearce tightened his grip, pushing Materazzi away, but it was too late. His focus snapped back to the ball just in time and his eyes widened.

Larsson!

Amid the congestion in the box, Colin Hendry, Pearce’s partner in Blackburn’s backline, tried to head the loose ball from Materazzi, but unexpectedly it bounced off his chest instead, causing his header to miss.

"Oh no!"

Larsson’s eyes never left the ball. In the end, both Hendry and pearce couldn’t stop Larsson, who had been running from a distance, preparing to leap.

A superman jump!

Tim Flowers instinctively tried to block, but his body seemed frozen.

Standing by the post, he could only helplessly watch as the superman soared toward the ball.

Richard closed his eyes, clenched his right hand into a fist, and pumped it vigorously up and down in front of him.

Players on the bench and staff rushed out from behind, celebrating frantically.

Rising from the ground, Larsson ignored the pained figure of Ian Pearce kneeling behind him and excitedly sprinted toward the sidelines.

"And there it is! Henrik Larsson with a stunning leap and a powerful header that sends the ball crashing into the net! What a moment for City! Amidst a crowded penalty area, Larsson’s timing was perfect, capitalizing on a lucky bounce off Hendry’s chest and outjumping everyone. Tim Flowers was left frozen on the line—helpless as the ball flew past him. This goal could turn the tide of the game! What a brilliant display of skill and determination from City!"

While everyone celebrated, O’Neill turned toward Robbie Savage and Solskjær, who were already waiting.

"Do you understand the instructions?" he asked.

Both nodded firmly.

"Good," O’Neill nodded, then turned to Materazzi, who was wildly celebrating, and yelled, "Marco, get back to defense. You’re replacing Curle in the back. Stay calm. Don’t give the opponents free kicks easily."

Materazzi nodded decisively, and then O’Neill addressed Shevchenko, "Drop back a bit. After Solskjær comes in, support him and Larsson from behind."

Manchester City 1 - 1 Blackburn Rovers

PHWEEEE!

The referee blew the whistle, and the match resumed with renewed intensity.

Right after the substitution, whether it was a stray ball or an open-play attack, City’s offensive surge was relentless; the ball came in, bounced out, and then came back again, creating a rhythm that left Blackburn in disarray.

"What a turnaround! Against all odds, City have held off Blackburn Rovers — one of the most dangerous attacking sides in the Premier League with their iconic SaS duo!" Commentator said.

"But credit where it’s due — after conceding in the first half, City didn’t crumble. Instead, they stood toe-to-toe and wrestled control back in the second half. And that first goal? It wasn’t just a lifeline — it was a statement. Blackburn threw everything at them, but City stayed composed, resilient, and sharp." Co-commentator added.

Indeed, there’s a big difference between conceding first and coming back in the second half. When you score after being behind, especially after the break, it does something to the team — it lights a fire. It gives you belief.

After more than eighty minutes of steady composure, Blackburn finally panicked.

A draw here would mean a replay — something entirely unacceptable for a team trying to focus on defending their Premier League title.

With no other choice, Harford instructed his players to push forward and play a high line.

90+3 of 90+5.

As the match entered its final two minutes, Blackburn’s impatience became painfully visible. All three midfielders surged ahead, trying to overwhelm the City box with sheer numbers.

Cross after cross came flying in — but one went out of bounds, another flew too high, even beyond Materazzi’s towering reach. Then — the ball dropped perfectly near the penalty spot.

The entire stadium held its breath. No one blinked. This could be it.

Thud.

A massive sigh of disappointment erupted from Blackburn fans. City supporters, on the other hand, exhaled in collective relief.

Cleared!

Steve Finnan sent the ball flying, and by sheer fortune, it landed directly in Shevchenko’s path.

"Shevchenko!!!"

City fans waved their arms frantically, roaring his name, willing him to charge.

Blackburn’s defense was completely exposed now — just two center-backs left scrambling.

Shevchenko burst down the wing like a lightning bolt, cutting inside with a sharp feint. As he took two strides forward, Pearce lunged in to intercept.

But Shevchenko didn’t force it—instead, he slipped a quick pass to Larsson and continued his run at full speed, slicing through the line.

Larsson, of course, understood the assignment.

Rather than holding onto the ball, he immediately flicked it back to Shevchenko in a smooth one-two exchange.

The sudden give-and-go left Pearce and Hendry flat-footed — caught out and no longer in pursuit.

Shevchenko, already anticipating the return pass, darted into open space.

A left-back scrambled to join the chase, and soon two more followed, desperately trying to close him down — but none could lay a finger on him.

Then, like a coiled spring, Shevchenko unleashed a ferocious shot!

Tim Flowers reacted instantly, diving low to his near post — and he guessed right.

With cat-like reflexes, he parried the shot away!

But fate had other plans.

The ball spun across the box, skipping past him... and landed perfectly at the feet of Solskjær — who appeared like a ghost at the far post, completely unmarked.

In one fluid motion, without even breaking stride, Solskjær lashed it home — drilling it into the bottom right corner with ruthless precision.

PHWEEEEE!

The referee’s whistle blew just as the net rippled.

Full-time!

Manchester City 2 — 1 Blackburn Rovers.

They had done it — City had toppled the reigning Premier League champions in dramatic fashion.

The stadium erupted.

A wall of sound crashed down from the stands — a deafening roar of disbelief, joy, and pure adrenaline.

City fans leapt from their seats, arms flung skyward, hugging strangers and screaming into the cold night air. Flags whipped through the air. Scarves were tossed like confetti.

Shevchenko was mobbed by teammates, but it was Solskjær who disappeared beneath a sea of sky-blue shirts—the baby assassin who had delivered the killing blow.

In the stands, Richard clenched both fists and let out a guttural yell, overwhelmed by the raw emotion of it all.

On the touchline, O’Neill, the coaches, substitutes—even backroom staff—spilled onto the pitch, unable to contain themselves.

Meanwhile, the Blackburn bench was stunned into silence. Players slumped to the turf. Pearce stared at the ground in disbelief. Flowers, still on one knee, pounded the grass in frustration — so close to being the hero, only to watch it slip away.

The sound inside the stadium was now indescribable — an electric current of triumph. The kind of noise that shakes bones and echoes forever in memory.

This wasn’t just a goal. _{𝓃𝓸𝓋𝓅𝓾𝒷.𝒸ℴ𝓂}

It was release.

It was vindication.

It was Manchester City announcing themselves to the world.