Football Dynasty
Chapter 314: Conceded Early

Chapter 314: Conceded Early

Manchester City focused relentlessly on offense, while Aston Villa stayed committed to a compact, defensive game plan—making the tactical contrast immediately clear.

The roar from the stands inside Wembley Stadium was deafening. Yet despite the energy in the air, the match was beginning to feel frustratingly one-sided.

City dominated possession, but O’Neill couldn’t afford to feel optimistic. Their attacking moves led nowhere. With no breakthrough in sight, he instructed both full-backs to drop deeper and help stabilize the backline—hoping the shift might coax Aston Villa into committing more players forward and loosening their grip on defense.

But Brian Little’s setup was proving to be a masterclass in discipline. Villa’s players moved as one, their lines unbroken. Even when brief openings appeared for the midfield trio to push forward, they resisted the temptation. They stuck to a rigid long-ball strategy. The midfielders rarely ventured past the halfway line, and the full-backs remained locked in step with the defensive line.

As a result, it was City who grew increasingly impatient. They were trying to break down a wall with just five players against eight—an equation that offered little hope.

Time and again, their forwards were double-teamed, smothered before they could create any real danger. In response, Zanetti and Capdevila surged forward from the back, looking to stretch the width, but their efforts on the flanks couldn’t break the deadlock.

O’Neill paced anxiously. Villa’s defense felt like a chess match, each move calculated. Even when City’s attackers were allowed space on the wings, the central lanes were sealed off with ruthless precision.

After a neat combination with Gallas, Capdevila danced down the left touchline, using his footwork to slip past Stoughton near the byline. But just as he got clear, Wright was already there—clearing the ball forcefully before danger could develop.

Three minutes later, Neil Lennon and Zanetti combined on the opposite wing. Zanetti pulled Nelson out of position, giving Lennon a lane to cut inside. But just as he prepared to drive forward, Draper stepped in with sharp anticipation. Lennon faked a dribble and sent a clever cross into the center. Larsson was waiting—but Tyler lunged in with perfect timing, sweeping the ball away.

Ninety seconds later, Lennon tried the same move again. This time, he laid the ball off to Ronaldo, who chose not to dribble. Instead, he whipped in a first-time cross, but Nelson positioned himself perfectly to block it with his body.

Zanetti responded by lofting a ball into the box. Larsson controlled it brilliantly, turning to elude Wright—but before he could take his shot, Simeka had already tracked back, dispossessing him with a clean, decisive challenge.

City kept attacking. But for every spark of creativity, Villa snuffed it out.

Attack, disruption, attack, disruption...

The theme of the match was becoming painfully clear. Manchester City had abandoned their attempts to penetrate through the middle. Instead, Larsson dropped deeper, joining Ronaldo, Neil Lennon, and Pirlo to work the ball around the edge of Aston Villa’s box, looking for shooting angles and space to test the keeper from distance. They played with confidence, but the strategy had its flaws.

Most of the long-range efforts lacked bite—either blocked by Villa’s tightly packed defense or missing the target entirely.

By the 37th minute, City had already registered seventeen shots, but despite the volume, none were truly dangerous. Meanwhile, Aston Villa had yet to record a single attempt on goal.

On the sidelines, O’Neill paced restlessly. He had spent half a month studying Aston Villa’s past matches and never anticipated this kind of disciplined, deep-lying setup from Brian Little.

If he had been a fly on the wall in Villa’s tactical meeting room, he would have learned that Little had drawn inspiration from City’s clash against Newcastle United earlier in the season. In that match, City had humiliated Newcastle so thoroughly that Kevin Keegan was reportedly on the verge of resigning. Little took note.

He reinforced the area just outside the penalty box by directing the midfield trio to sit deeper, forming a protective wall ahead of the defensive line. Instead of drastically changing roles, he simply added a retreating center-back who floated behind the main pairing—disrupting any penetrating runs or passes from City. The result was a layered, well-organized defense with clear assignments for intercepting and delaying every City attack.

O’Neill’s plan was faltering. His 4-4-2 system was meant to provide a balanced approach between offense and defense. But Villa’s structure—especially their flexibility at the back—made it look like they were in control.

The biggest problem?

That deep, spare center-back, Gareth Southgate.

Whether Larsson or Ronaldo received the ball, he were instantly swarmed—one man applying pressure, the second cutting off options. And even if they managed a clever flick or combination, the third defender Southgate would always step in to extinguish the threat. It was suffocating, yet simple and devastatingly effective.

In the 44th minute, Ronaldo tried to take matters into his own hands. Surrounded but determined, he danced around Nelson with a sharp feint, but before he could release the shot, Koscik slid in from the blind side and stripped the ball clean.

City continued to push, but time in the first half was running out—and Villa had yet to crack.

Just before the first half came to a close, it was Aston Villa who launched a devastating counterattack—capitalizing on Manchester City’s eagerness to push forward in attack.

Captain Andy Townsend looked up and sent a low pass out to the left flank.

Capdevilla, who had just surged forward moments earlier, was now sprinting back to cover. During City’s attacking phases, the most vulnerable gaps in their defense always appeared on the wings.

Up front, Milošević led the charge, locking down the attention of Gallas and Ferdinand, while Yorke drifted freely—this time, positioning himself on the right wing, ready to receive the ball.

Van Bommel, sensing the danger, had no choice but to leave Pirlo behind and shift wide to assist. He quickly recognized that Aston Villa’s full-backs weren’t joining the attack, so he moved to close down Yorke, limiting his room to maneuver.

Milošević darted forward, then suddenly pulled back—drawing his marker—and Yorke, reading the play perfectly, didn’t try to beat Van Bommel one-on-one. Instead, he waited for the timing to align and then slid a grounded pass through the space.

About forty yards from the edge of the box, Milošević—having timed his off-the-ball run to perfection—raised his hand, and Yorke’s pass met him in stride.

Controlling it smoothly, Milošević shifted his body to adjust the angle, preventing Gallas from closing down quickly, then let loose a thunderous shot.

O’Neill froze in disbelief—was Aston Villa blessed by Lady Luck tonight?

The strike was sublime, arrowing toward the top-right corner with speed and precision.

But Buffon was ready. f r\eeNovelFire.c(o)(m)

Thanks to the distance and an unobstructed view, he had just enough time to react. Calm under pressure, Buffon launched himself into the air, stretching fully and managing to palm the ball wide with his fingertips—a world-class save.

"Wow! Milošević’s long-range effort nearly put Aston Villa ahead! That was their first shot on target since kickoff, and Buffon responded with a world-class save. Still, had that shot come from 25 to 30 yards out, Buffon might have stood no chance. Aston Villa now has a corner."

PHWEEEEEE~

Corner kick.

As Aston Villa prepared to take the corner, O’Neill noticed something unsettling—their defenders and midfielders were suddenly surging forward at full speed, almost in a sprint.

A chill ran down his spine.

"Fall back! Defend quickly!" he barked from the sidelines.

City’s players scrambled to retreat, but the scene quickly descended into chaos. Normally, during a corner, one team takes their time to set up while the other forms a solid defensive shape. But this wasn’t normal. The chance had come from a rapid counterattack, and Yorke was already racing to the corner flag, signaling his intent to take it quickly.

Meanwhile, the midfield trio—Towsend, Taylor, and Draper—burst forward the moment the ball went out of play, completely catching City off-guard.

In the rush, City’s defense fractured.

"Foul! Delay them with a foul!" O’Neill shouted again, desperation rising in his voice.

But the players didn’t react with instinct or grit. They hesitated—more like disciplined schoolboys than hardened warriors. Instead of covering danger zones or disrupting Villa’s rhythm, they simply ran back without coordination. The gaps they left behind were gaping.

At the corner, Yorke placed the ball at the arc, crouched, then tapped a short pass to Draper, who had just arrived at the edge of the box.

Zanetti sprinted back to mark him, but Yorke, ever the opportunist, quickly drifted into space behind the defensive line. Draper returned the ball with a slick one-two.

Dwight Yorke was behind City’s defense. He drove to the byline and whipped in a scorching low cross—skimming just above the turf, arrowing toward the goalmouth with pace.

City’s defenders reacted instinctively. Ferdiannd lunged to block but missed. Gallas was locked in a grappling match with Milošević, both unable to meet the delivery. Just outside the box, Van Bommel had his arms on Towsend, trying to pull him back.

But it didn’t matter.

Someone else had ghosted in, unnoticed.

Fernando Nélson!

The right-back, recently signed by Aston Villa from Sporting for £1,700,000.

"F*CK!" Richard couldn’t help but stand up — he could clearly see it.

Before the corner, he had sprinted all the way from deep in midfield. Inside the box, Capdevilla collided with him mid-run, causing the right back to stumble.

Capdevilla raised his hand, insisting it wasn’t a foul—but the slight contact had given Nélson just enough separation.

Off balance and almost falling, Nélson dove forward—his header came from barely half a meter off the ground.

Buffon reacted instinctively, diving at full stretch—but it was already too late. NovelFire

The ball hit the back of the net.

"GOOOOAAALLLLLL!!!"

And Nélson slid into his celebration, chest gliding across the grass, stopping only when he reached the goal line.

The roar inside Wembley fell into stunned silence—for just a moment. City fans sat frozen.

We’re losing...?

Then came the eruption—from the other end.

Aston Villa fans exploded in joy.

This goal felt like more than just a lead. It felt like a hand on the trophy.

"It’s in! Aston Villa has taken the lead! What a stunning move—Milošević’s long-range shot forced the corner, but that corner turned into a counterattack of its own! Yorke played a quick one-two with Draper, ghosted behind the defense, and whipped in a devilish cross! Amidst the confusion, Nélson arrived like a bullet at the back post and headed it home! If he hadn’t scored, the referee looked ready to blow the whistle for a penalty after the contact with Capdevilla. But none of that matters now—Aston Villa leads, and Wembley is alive!"

City’s players stood frozen, disoriented.

And O’Neill, once animated and vocal, now stood still on the touchline—silently motioning his players back to the center circle for the restart.