Chapter 100: The Lost Offensive

"This_is_Anfield!"

Dai Zhiwei walked from the dressing room toward the pitch through Anfield's famously narrow player tunnel.

It was said that this design was intended to put greater psychological pressure on visiting players.

He looked up, and above him hung the famous "This is Anfield" sign.

For a long time in the past, only replicas had hung here; it wasn't until Rodgers took charge that the original was restored.

Unconsciously, his eyes filled with longing. "This is what the heritage of a world-class club truly looks like!"

Villarreal's El Madrigal was decent, but it simply wasn't on the same level as world-class stadiums like the Bernabeu, Old Trafford, and the Allianz Arena. It even fell a notch short of Anfield and Stamford Bridge.

Clearly, El Madrigal couldn't satisfy Dai Zhiwei's ambitions.

For this Europa League semi-final second leg at Anfield—a clash both sides were desperate to win—Villarreal and Liverpool both fielded their strongest starting lineups.

No other words needed. Just go all out!

However, compared to Liverpool's deep rotating squad, Villarreal found themselves stretched thin.

Villarreal lineup——

Goalkeeper: Areola

Defenders: Mario Gaspar, Ruiz, Musacchio, Costa

Midfielders: Suarez, Bruno, Pina, Dos Santos

Forwards: Dai Zhiwei, Soldado

Liverpool lineup——

Goalkeeper: Mignolet

Defenders: Clyne, Kolo Toure, Lovren, Moreno

Midfielders: Milner, Emre Can, Lallana, Coutinho

Forwards: Firmino, Sturridge

In the tunnel, Villarreal's players weren't greeting acquaintances on the opposing team like they usually did in previous matches, but Dai Zhiwei turned his head and openly sized up Liverpool's number 10—Coutinho.

In the lead-up to the match, the media had been hyping up the clash between these two brilliant young talents. Although the two rarely marked each other on the pitch, since they were both vital to their teams' attacks, the media happily kept comparing them.

At the pre-match press conference, Klopp had heaped praise on Dai Zhiwei's performances this season: "Dai Zhiwei is truly a phenomenon. He's injected vitality into a club with great traditions. But it will be very difficult for him to score against us tonight. The whole team is confident of winning this match, but we'll be careful of Dai Zhiwei's impact. The drive of a young man can never be underestimated."

To receive praise from a world-class manager like Klopp filled Dai Zhiwei's heart with excitement. Especially the comparison with Coutinho made him even more determined to make his mark.

During the pre-match handshakes, Coutinho deliberately took an extra look at Dai Zhiwei. Of course, he knew the player his manager had praised so highly. He had also reviewed some of Dai Zhiwei's statistics and match footage, and he harbored no contempt for him at all.

Dai Zhiwei flashed a set of white teeth and smiled brilliantly, catching Coutinho off guard. By the time he recovered and tried to smile back, Dai Zhiwei had already withdrawn his hand and moved on to the next Liverpool player, the smile on his face fading.

The storm was brewing; battle was about to erupt!

Dai Zhiwei collected his thoughts and stared intently at the referee before him.

A whistle sounded. Firmino's foot moved, nudging the ball away, then he jogged into Villarreal's half.

The match had officially begun!

Anfield erupted in jubilation. Liverpool fans had put up numerous small banners and slogans throughout the stadium—in recent years, the FA had always emphasized stadium security, because English grounds had stands very close to the pitch. With several fan disturbances having occurred in English football, UEFA had imposed heavy penalties on English clubs and the FA. The Heysel disaster was the most famous example, so the FA had always been strict in reviewing stadium safety.

After the first leg, it was clear Liverpool's defense on Dai Zhiwei in this match was nothing short of tight.

Not long after kickoff, Dai Zhiwei experienced what Premier League defending meant. All sorts of body contact and collisions came thick and fast, though the refereeing discretion was well managed—hovering somewhere between whistle-worthy and clean.

Although Dai Zhiwei's frame was considered solid in the Chinese Super League and could handle most challenges in La Liga, it was somewhat insufficient against a Premier League side.

In the previous match, because Villarreal were at home, Liverpool's defenders hadn't been this aggressive. Dai Zhiwei could rely on his pace and agility to cope. Today, however, he was struggling.

Add to that Lovren's reading of the game and mobility, which were far superior to most defenders, plus Kolo Toure protecting the box behind him, and Emre Can dropping back to help defensively from time to time—Dai Zhiwei was thoroughly trapped in Liverpool's encirclement.

"It looks like I won't get any rest even after I go back home this summer. I need to find a coach and start lifting iron!" Dai Zhiwei rubbed his shoulder, which ached from the collisions, and made a silent resolution.

Actually, back home, players like Zhang Linpeng and Zheng Zhi from Evergrande were no slouches in physical duels either, but Dai Zhiwei rarely went to the gym. He preferred to focus on ball work.

Even in the system space, Tsubasa Ozora had reminded him that only by raising his core strength to a certain level could he maximize the power-based skills like the Tiger Shot.

Dai Zhiwei once again barely got past Emre Can, but before he could pass, Lovren was already on him again.

The slightest delay and the shed Emre Can was back, doubling up on him. He didn't dare be careless under the two-man pressure—losing the ball would risk a Liverpool counterattack, which was no joke. Especially since Coutinho this season had increased his forward runs so much that he was almost a striker, with very strong attacking intent.

Dai Zhiwei had no choice but to pass backward. Klopp, on the sidelines, smiled lightly. His pre-match talk about taking Dai Zhiwei's defense seriously wasn't a smokescreen—it was his genuine intention.

After so many years in football, he knew exactly how to use the media to create illusions and confuse opponents.

Twenty minutes had passed. With Dai Zhiwei neutralized, Villarreal's attacks were lukewarm. Some Villarreal fans were growing restless. Hearing the rising noise from the stands, Marcelino also noticed the deadlock on the pitch. The Spanish manager, who had never gotten the better of Klopp in their duels, stood up and shouted toward the pitch, signaling a stronger push on the flanks.

Under Marcelino's direction, Villarreal's players suddenly quickened their pace and the tempo of the game. Lateral and backward passes decreased; penetrating passes and switching runs sharply increased, throwing Liverpool's back line into momentary disarray.

But without Dai Zhiwei—the most crucial point of the attack—Villarreal couldn't convert their pressure into goals.

Coutinho dribbled inward sharply, drawing Bruno's attention. Bruno hurriedly closed him down, but Coutinho, in the prime of his career this season, was bold and confident. He ignored the threat of Bruno's proximity and shaped to shoot.

Bruno had nearly been beaten by Coutinho's feint a moment earlier. Seeing the danger, the Villarreal captain twisted his body, pushed off hard, and lunged into a desperate sliding tackle.

Coutinho had already wound up. Just as he was about to strike the ball, he felt a powerful force slam into him from behind, then a sharp pain in his ankle, and he collapsed forward in front of the box.

"Tweet!"

The referee blew his whistle and ran over to Bruno and Coutinho, wary of an incident if the players got heated.

Coutinho writhed on the ground in agony, clutching his ankle, stubbornly ignoring the referee's calls, playing the victim.

It seemed to be a trick Brazilian players excelled at!

Liverpool's forward players all surrounded the referee, demanding a red card for Bruno. Klopp was also protesting loudly on the sideline.

Dai Zhiwei, who had always thought his own "acting skills weren't bad," realized he still had a lot to learn after watching Coutinho's performance.

In La Liga there was Neymar; in the Premier League there was Coutinho. Truly a pair of peerless talents!

Dai Zhiwei wasn't sure whether Bruno had actually caught Coutinho, but the spot where he'd fallen earlier was outside the box. Yet after tumbling, he'd rolled several times into the area, nearly reaching the penalty spot.

But perhaps because Coutinho's reputation for diving preceded him, after consulting with the assistant referee, the referee only awarded Liverpool a free kick outside the box and showed Bruno a yellow card.

Naturally, Coutinho, who had won the free kick, took it himself. By now, his dead-ball technique was already quite impressive.

Coutinho's free kick was of very high quality. The ball curved over the leaping wall and suddenly appeared right in front of goal.

It was fast, with a big arc, and the trajectory suggested a hint of dip.

In a split second, Areola—the Yellow Submarine's goalkeeper, starting in place of the injured Asenjo—couldn't think too much. He instinctively dropped his body and stretched every sinew.

Areola's eyes were locked on the flying ball. He could even hear the wind whistling past his ears. Finally, just before the ball reached the goal, he got his fingertips to it, deflecting it out for a corner with the momentum.

Making that save sent a surge of excitement through Areola. He jumped up from the ground, furiously pumping his fist at Liverpool's players in provocation, cursing ceaselessly.

He didn't care whether Liverpool's players or fans heard him—he just kept shouting and pumping his fist in sheer elation.

Villarreal's players gleefully patted Areola on the head. Even Dai Zhiwei ran back and, without hesitation, thumped him on the chest, shouting excitedly, "Wow, Alphonse, your pecs are really something!"

Dai Zhiwei's offense had been thoroughly stifled today, which to some extent had even affected the team's defense. That free kick had come from a counterattack created after he was dispossessed.

On the sideline, Klopp slapped his forehead in mild regret. A moment ago, he'd been ready to rise and celebrate, but that goalkeeper had spoiled his joy.

Klopp quickly steadied himself. The situation on the pitch was still entirely within his control.

After helping Dos Santos complete a successful breakthrough, Dai Zhiwei began frequently drifting to the flanks to receive the ball, using his movement to get himself involved.

Lovren's man-marking began to show signs of fatigue under Dai Zhiwei's tireless running. Dai Zhiwei trapped the ball beautifully, turned, and spotted Dos Santos, ready to pass—but suddenly a figure burst in from the side and collided with him. The ball he'd just won flew out over the byline.

Dai Zhiwei didn't complain. He knew Emre Can's sliding challenge was clean—it was just a throw-in.

Dai Zhiwei had no deep impression of Emre Can, who hadn't appeared in their previous meeting. He only remembered that after Can's Liverpool contract expired, the two sides didn't renew, and he joined Juventus on a free transfer.

Because it was a free-agent move, and he wasn't an aging veteran, Dai Zhiwei had always assumed Emre Can wasn't much of a player. But he never expected this young man, the same age as himself, to keep getting the better of him in defense today.

Whenever Dai Zhiwei received the ball and turned—even if he managed to shake off the tenacious Lovren by every means possible—Emre Can would always be there.

Aside from physical pressure, every time Dai Zhiwei tried to pass, Emre Can would go all out to intercept, and even when he couldn't win the ball, he'd at least disrupt Dai Zhiwei's passing lanes.

It felt a bit like, "Even if I can't kill you, I'll make your life miserable."

Dai Zhiwei immediately understood the opponent's intention. But looking around, there was no one nearby to share the burden. Soldado was being marked out of the game by Kolo Toure, and the other players lacked the ability to beat their man one-on-one.

With Dai Zhiwei neutralized, Villarreal's attack had little hope of achieving anything.

This made him anxious on the pitch. If the attack couldn't be organized, and they couldn't even reach the box, how could they score?

For the rest of the half, Dai Zhiwei found himself in a predicament. Lovren and Emre Can kept intensifying their man-marking, using their bodies to disrupt his control.

Suddenly, a sigh rippled through the stadium. Dai Zhiwei and Suarez had misread each other's intentions. Suarez, after receiving the ball in the final third, played a through ball inward, while Dai Zhiwei made an out-and-under run on the wing. The two missed a golden opportunity to break through.

"The idea was right, and Suarez's pass was well weighted. It's a shame Dai Zhiwei's run let the chance slip away," said Zhang Haixuan, the commentator for Penguin Live, with some regret.

That mistake was a microcosm of Dai Zhiwei's struggles in the first half after being locked down by Lovren and Emre Can. When the Yellow Submarine's strongest attacking weapon was suppressed, their offense could hardly amount to anything.

Though Dai Zhiwei had managed two shots, one of which gave Mignolet some trouble, overall he was completely lost in the forest of muscle that was Liverpool's defense.

(End of Chapter)