David Hughes’s prematch tactical plan was simple.
“Play down the wings and put in more crosses.”
The logic made sense.
Leicester City’s U18s had set up in an extremely deep 4-4-2, packing five or six players into the middle until it was as crowded as a subway station at rush hour.
Trying to force a way through the center in those circumstances would have been sheer stubbornness.
Getting the ball wide and launching crosses into the box was the best option.
The problem was that Villa needed someone capable of delivering them.
In the first half, Villa’s two wide midfielders certainly followed Hughes’s instructions to the letter.
Whenever the ball reached the flanks, they crossed immediately without the slightest hesitation.
Unfortunately, the quality of those crosses left a great deal to be desired.
Most of the time, Zayn was simply wrestling with the two center backs.
Ramsey was not in particularly good form either.
He attempted several through balls in the first half, but Leicester City’s defensive midfielder stuck close to him and gave him no room to turn.
Both of his long passes toward the flanks went straight out over the byline because he put too much power on them.
Villa’s young prodigy had not expected that, after carrying the U16s, he would still have to carry the U18s.
At halftime, the scoreboard showed 0-0.
The two teams’ combined shots on target could be counted on one hand.
Inside the dressing room, Hughes looked thoroughly exasperated.
He called the two wide midfielders over to the tactics board, marked the areas from which they had crossed in the first half, then drew Zayn’s runs inside the penalty area.
“I did tell you to cross early and put the ball in whenever you had space…”
“But that doesn’t mean blindly throwing it into the box.
When he runs to the near post, you cross to the far post.
When he attacks the far post, you cross to the near post.
Do neither of you know how to look up?”
The two wide midfielders lowered their heads.
Neither said a word.
Standing nearby, Zayn scratched his head sheepishly.
He shared some of the blame.
In truth, he was not entirely sure when he should get in front of a defender or when he should make a run in behind.
Whenever his teammates prepared to cross, he simply ran wherever his instincts took him.
Perhaps his two goals off the bench in the previous match had been too impressive.
Like Hughes, both wide midfielders assumed their deliveries were the problem.
No one thought to question Zayn’s movement.
“Don’t keep forcing the same approach.
In the second half, cross when there’s an opening out wide.
If there isn’t, drift inside and combine with Ramsey.”
Hughes had no additional instructions for Zayn.
The boy had barely made an impact in the first half, but that was not his fault.
The two wide midfielders had been sending crosses flying all over the place like fireworks.
Even a three meter tall utility pole planted in the box would not have reached them.
Besides, Leicester City had everyone camped deep, packing the area in front of the box so tightly that there was barely room to breathe.
It was only natural for Zayn, a forward who relied on pace, to struggle in that kind of situation.
Hughes’s adjustment was straightforward.
He wanted the wide players and central midfielders to link up and pull Leicester’s defense out of shape.
Once that happened, chances for Zayn inside the box would follow naturally.
Zayn did not see things that way.
He had spent the entire first half wedged between two center backs, feeling like a slice of ham trapped between two pieces of toast.
He was being squeezed from both sides and could not do a thing.
So Zayn quietly made up his mind.
He was not going to stay beside those two defenders in the second half.
Someone else could wrestle with them.
He had come here to play football.
What the hell was he supposed to do without the ball at his feet?
…
The whistle sounded for the second half.
Zayn began dropping deep again and again.
He was no longer a post planted inside the box, waiting for the ball to arrive.
He moved outside the penalty area, drifted toward the flanks, and went wherever he had a chance of receiving a pass.
His range of movement was more than twice what it had been in the first half.
He was like water spilled across the ground, flowing into every gap he could find.
Hughes frowned.
Multiple player reports from his seven years at Villa also clearly noted his poor ability to organize attacks and bring teammates into play.
That was precisely why Hughes had not instructed him to drop deeper at halftime.
Still, he did not tell Zayn to stop roaming and return to the box.
A center forward dropping deep could certainly pull a defensive line out of position.
If an opposing center back followed him, space would open in the half spaces.
The attacking midfielder or wide midfielder could then break into that space and create a numerical advantage.
“Could it be…
he heard me tell the wide midfielders to cut inside, so he decided to move away and create space for them?”
Once that thought occurred to Hughes, his frown disappeared, and he slowly nodded.
It seemed Zayn’s instincts as a forward were sharp as well.
In the 52nd minute, Zayn’s deeper movement finally paid off.
Ramsey received the ball in the middle, and Leicester City’s defensive midfielder immediately pressed against him, denying him the chance to turn.
Zayn ran back and positioned himself just beyond the top of the penalty arc, raising a hand to call for the ball.
Ramsey rolled it into his feet.
The moment Zayn received it, the Leicester City center back behind him closed in.
He pressed a knee into the back of Zayn’s thigh and rested one hand on his shoulder.
The opposing coach had clearly studied Zayn’s turns in the previous match and issued strict orders not to let him turn and accelerate.
Zayn had endured the same treatment inside the box throughout the first half.
By now, he had already figured out the defender’s timing.
Rather than forcing the turn, he opened his foot and laid the ball back to Ramsey.
A second later, he dug his heel into the turf and exploded forward.
He used his strength to shrug off the center back and dart behind the defensive line.
Ramsey understood Zayn’s intention the instant he received the return pass.
A give and go.
They had used the same move against Brighton.
Before the defender could stick out a foot, Ramsey guided the ball forward with his right foot, placing it perfectly into Zayn’s path.
But when Zayn reached the ball, another center back was still standing directly in front of him.
This one was smart enough not to dive in.
He had seen the explosiveness of Zayn’s turn moments earlier.
He knew that if he charged forward, Zayn would only need one change of direction to knock the ball past him.
By the time he turned to recover, it would already be too late.
Besides, Zayn had dropped a long way back to receive the ball and had not yet reached the penalty arc.
As long as the defender delayed him, his recovering teammates would have time to surround him.
He lowered his center of gravity, held his position, and steadily backed away while blocking Zayn’s route forward.
The center back Zayn had left behind refused to give up.
He turned and chased, reaching out to tug at Zayn before he had even caught up.
Zayn felt the pull from behind and saw the other center back retreating in front of him, carefully closing off the shooting angle.
Ramsey was also making a forward run after releasing the pass.
He shouted for the ball, asking for another combination.
Zayn ignored all of them.
After being smothered for half the match, he was going to take a shot and worry about everything else afterward.
He nudged the ball gently to his right and lowered his center of gravity.
His right foot barely drew back, but his lower leg snapped forward like a whip.
The covering center back saw the tiny backswing and assumed Zayn was passing.
He had already opened his body toward Ramsey.
By the time he realized it was a shot, the ball was already screaming over his head.
Whiplash Shot!
The ball carried almost no spin.
It flew toward the top left corner with raw, overwhelming power.
The Leicester City goalkeeper reacted quickly.
The instant he saw the ball emerge over his defender’s head, he launched himself sideways.
But the shot was simply too fast.
His fingertips brushed the ball, but he could not alter its path.
The ball smashed against the underside of the crossbar, bounced down across the goal line, and spun inside the net.
1-0!
A smattering of cheers rose from the sparse crowd at Bodymoor Heath.
The parents of the young Villa players exchanged high fives, while several staff members whistled.
“Holy shit, what a rocket!”
Chen’s booming curse echoed across the entire pitch, drawing startled looks from everyone nearby.
He did not care in the slightest and applauded with his daughter.
The other parents paused for a moment, then laughed and joined in.
Even Hughes smiled and applauded from the touchline.
That goal could not have come at a better time.
On the other side, Neil Dewsnip’s pen froze in midair.
Villa’s young striker had dropped deep to receive the ball, laid it off with his back to goal, then instantly spun and darted in behind.
Both the timing and direction of his run had been precise.
His give and go with Ramsey had been crisp and efficient, without a single unnecessary touch.
The final shot surprised him even more.
Despite being caught between two defenders and pulled off balance, Zayn had still managed to unleash a strike of that quality.
The boy’s core strength and ability to generate power were unquestionably top class.
Neil Dewsnip opened his notebook to a blank page and wrote down several lines.
The Leicester City players were dazed by the wonder goal for several minutes.
Their coach shouted from the touchline, called both center backs over, and gestured furiously as he gave them new instructions.
They had been perfectly comfortable sitting deep in the first half.
Villa’s crosses from either flank might as well have been passes to Leicester, and their center forward had barely touched the ball.
Everything had been following the script.
Then, just after the second half began, one thunderous strike tore that script to pieces.
Play resumed.
After conceding, Leicester City could no longer sit back comfortably.
They pushed forward and attacked.
In the 71st minute, a Leicester City midfielder tried his luck from distance.
The shot struck a Villa center back and rebounded toward Ramsey, who had tracked back.
Leicester’s defensive midfielder was still tight to him, so Ramsey did not hesitate.
He cleared the ball first time.
It sailed over the halfway line and dropped in front of a Leicester defender.
The clearance was clearly intended to sacrifice possession and buy Villa enough time to reorganize their defensive shape.
Zayn chased it anyway.
He took off from inside his own half and sprinted at full speed, the wind sweeping his blond hair upright behind him.
The Leicester City center back had already judged where the ball would land.
He angled his body and waited for it to drop, even planning where he would pass after bringing it under control.
Then he heard footsteps behind him.
They were urgent, rapid, and closing fast.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a burgundy shadow approaching at an unbelievable speed.
“Fuck!”
How was he that fast?
The Leicester City center back’s heart lurched.
At the last moment, he abandoned his plan to control the ball and swung his leg to clear it instead.
But the hurried change ruined his technique.
His supporting foot was not properly planted, and his clearing motion came out awkwardly.
Zayn arrived at that exact instant.
Without slowing down, he reached the ball first and poked it away with the tip of his boot just before the defender could clear it.
Then he drove his shoulder straight into the Leicester center back’s shoulder.
The moment they collided, the defender felt as though a young bull had rammed him.
He staggered two steps sideways and nearly landed on his backside.
The impact knocked Zayn off balance as well, but after two unsteady steps, he regained control of the ball.
Possession had changed hands.
Zayn continued forward with the ball, and there was nothing but open space ahead of him.
The Leicester City goalkeeper raced off his line, spreading his arms as wide as possible to close down the angle and make himself look imposing.
Zayn could not even be bothered with a feint.
He knocked the ball to his right, sending it rolling past the goalkeeper’s left side, then went around him on the same side.
Two strides later, he caught up with the speeding ball.
An open goal.
He guided it forward with the inside of his foot, and the ball trickled leisurely across the line.
2-0!
“Holy shit…”
Ramsey sprinted halfway across the pitch and threw himself into Zayn’s arms.
He had racked up another two assists in this match!