"I don't know what tactics Barça will use."
On the morning of the final match day, during the last routine tactical meeting, Gao Shen made his final preparations before the game.
The players were slightly surprised by the head coach's straightforward words, but they waited quietly.
They all knew Gao Shen never entered a battle he wasn't confident of winning.
Not knowing didn't mean there wasn't a plan.
"The key lies in Messi and the midfield. I believe there are essentially two possibilities."
Gao Shen gestured with his right hand. "Either Messi plays on the right, or Messi plays centrally."
For both scenarios, Gao Shen had repeatedly run simulations and arranged targeted tactics in the previous days' tactical sessions. All the players were already familiar with them.
"As we discussed earlier, if Messi plays on the right, we must be wary of Alves overlapping from the back. That's very dangerous."
Manchester City had Gareth Bale on the left, a player with blistering pace. But the problem was, Barcelona would still insist on attacking.
"If Messi plays in the middle, we'll adjust our defensive structure accordingly and focus on Javi Martinez. And Rakitic, your positioning will be crucial."
The two players nodded to indicate their understanding.
Gao Shen scratched his forehead. "Other than that, there's not much else. Stick to our original plan. We'll adapt based on their actual tactics during the match."
"If we have the opportunity early on, let's hit them with a quick attack." Gao Shen couldn't help but laugh as he said it.
"To be honest, we can't match Barcelona in passing or ball control. Those guys have played together since they were kids. Their chemistry, style, and technical attributes—none of it is something we can replicate. That's their strength."
"But we also have our own strengths. Giving up possession doesn't mean we'll lose. On the contrary, if we try to fight for possession, aren't we using our weakness to challenge their strength?"
Gao Shen had a clear tactical vision, but he wasn't foolish.
He wasn't about to challenge Barcelona on ball control.
He had already laid out clear instructions in the pre-match preparations: how to play, how to defend Messi, and how to disrupt Barça's ball control.
By the day of the final, there was no need to repeat these things.
"The last, and most important thing."
Gao Shen's tone turned solemn.
"I know you're all a little nervous right now, but let me tell you this: the Champions League final is not just a test of ability and tactical execution. It's also a test of mental strength."
"Only players with the strongest minds can come out on top in a battle between the strongest."
"Barcelona clearly have more experience, but we are no less prepared. I believe you are all ready."
"And the stronger a player is, the more they need to know how to relax at crucial moments."
"After this, go spend some time with your families. Relax. Rest well. We'll meet again at noon."
"Tonight, at Wembley Stadium, a ground we know well, we'll beat Barcelona with the style and methods that suit us best. Then tomorrow, we'll celebrate the treble, collect our bonuses, and head off on a well-deserved, beautiful vacation with our wives, children, or girlfriends."
Gao Shen spoke in a deliberately light-hearted tone, hoping everyone could relax and ease the pressure.
"Boss, what if I don't have a girlfriend? Will the club arrange one for me?" David Luiz raised his hand and asked with a grin.
The room instantly burst into laughter.
"I heard the lady who does dishes at our outsourced stadium kitchen just got divorced. Want me to set it up?"
The players clapped and cheered in amusement.
David Luiz quickly waved his hands, backing off in embarrassment.
But the atmosphere in the room became warm and relaxed.
Later, some players asked about Gao Shen's wedding, saying they'd do their best to win the Champions League as a gift.
"You guys just want to force me to treat you to dinner, huh?" Gao Shen said with a smile.
After the laughter died down, Gao Shen explained he hadn't set a wedding date yet because his schedule was packed.
Manchester City's players also knew that he had acquired Leeds United, so they understood why he was busy.
"If I do have a wedding, it'll probably be a small one back in China. But rest assured, when I return to Europe, I'll treat you all to a proper feast. As for the gifts, I've already received them in advance!"
At this level, there was no need for anything too grand. In fact, the more low-profile, the better.
Why?
Because if you throw a big party, you have to invite a ton of people.
Even though he'd only been in Europe for five or six years, he started with a top club like Real Madrid and had made many friends and contacts. If he held a big celebration, deciding who to invite—and who not to—would be an enormous headache.
Rather than that, it was better to keep it simple and donate the savings to charity.
Su Qing felt the same. Coming from a government background, she wasn't into lavish affairs either.
If some friends wanted to treat them, they could simply arrange a private dinner after the wedding.
Wouldn't that be more meaningful than a grand banquet?
…
The Champions League final schedule was very tight.
Precise down to the minute.
After the lunch break, everyone was busy getting ready.
When the time came, the team boarded the bus and headed for Wembley Stadium.
At that moment, the streets of London were soaked in Champions League final fever. Fans from both sides were everywhere.
Wearing their jerseys, marching in groups, waving flags, shouting chants, they surged toward Wembley in a mighty wave.
When they spotted the Manchester City team bus, City fans erupted in wild cheers, while Barça fans hurled taunts.
If fans from both sides happened to meet, the police had to step in to keep order.
Although Manchester City was geographically closer to Wembley than Barcelona, they actually arrived a bit later.
After getting off the bus and entering the tunnel, staff who had been coordinating with UEFA came forward to explain the necessary procedures—mainly the locker rooms, warm-up areas, and final match protocol.
Gao Shen was already familiar with all of this. Nothing had changed much.
The biggest differences lay in locker room placement and tunnel layout at each stadium.
But Manchester City knew Wembley inside and out.
In the tunnel, Gao Shen bumped into Guardiola, who was on the phone.
"Hey, Pep!"
"Good afternoon, Gao!"
Guardiola smiled as he came over to greet him.
Rakitic, David Luiz, and a few other players who knew Guardiola also said hello.
Even though the two teams would fight fiercely on the pitch—and Guardiola might even put pressure on the ref for a foul—off the pitch, they were still friends.
Sure, emotions could sometimes run high and affect relationships.
But that was rare. And even when it happened, things were usually smoothed over quickly.
At the end of the day, football is a performance.
"Wow, looks like you didn't sleep a wink last night," Gao Shen said with a laugh.
Guardiola was so annoyed he couldn't speak. "I was just about to sleep when I saw your tweet. Then I couldn't sleep anymore."
Gao Shen didn't buy it for a second.
Guardiola was a worrier. He must've stayed up all night.
"Don't overthink it. Just stay relaxed and be mentally prepared," Gao Shen said confidently.
Guardiola frowned.
Why did it feel like Gao Shen was hinting that he was going to lose?
But then he realized what was going on.
"Forget it, I'm not wasting words with you. All you do is mess with my head."
With that, Guardiola waved his hand and left.
"Wait a sec, you're a Virgo. Why does it seem like he's more of a perfectionist than you?" Carlo asked with a laugh as he watched Guardiola walk away.
Gao Shen shook his head and smiled.
It was like a matryoshka doll.
I predicted your tactics...
I predicted that you'd predict my tactics...
I predicted that you'd predict me predicting your prediction...
I predicted...
Sometimes, it really was an endless loop.
Guardiola was meticulous, but Gao Shen was different. He was a top student who had gone through nine years of compulsory education. He had no time for that kind of nitpicking.
Back in school, he'd suffered plenty from being too stubborn. Why keep doing it now?
Turns out, Guardiola lacked the discipline of nine years of school beatings.
"He should be sent back to primary school for re-education!" Gao Shen said with a grin as he walked into the locker room.
Carlo looked confused.
What does that even mean?
You're in your forties and still want to go back to primary school?
…
There wasn't much suspense regarding the starting lineups.
Barcelona's starting eleven:
Goalkeeper: Valdés.
Defenders: Vargas, Piqué, Thiago Motta, and Alves.
Midfielders: Iniesta, Busquets, and Xavi.
Forwards: Sánchez, Agüero, and Messi.
This was arguably the most star-studded lineup in world football. With Villa, Bojan, Puyol, Seydou Keita, and others on the bench, it was a squad brimming with talent.
Manchester City was equally formidable.
Goalkeeper: Neuer.
Defenders: Filipe, David Luiz, Kompany, and Lichtsteiner.
Midfielders: David Silva, Javi Martinez, and Rakitic.
Forwards: Gareth Bale, Suárez, and Robben.
City's bench also featured stars like Van Persie, Hazard, and Yaya Touré. They were no pushovers.
Both sides sent out their strongest squads, with no injuries or absences. This final was bound to be a classic.
Especially for Gao Shen.
He had previously managed Real Madrid and Napoli, reaching two Champions League finals—and winning both. His final record was a perfect 100 percent. Two years ago, he had led Napoli to a 4–0 victory over Barcelona.
Now, Barça was determined to defend their crown, and Gao Shen had become the target of Guardiola's revenge.
Barcelona's strength was evident—they had reached three straight Champions League finals.
But Gao Shen and his Manchester City side were not to be underestimated.
Wembley Stadium was boiling with tension!
(To be continued.)
***
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