God Of football

Chapter 287: False 9

The afternoon sun hung low as Spain’s players wrapped up another intense training session.

Every drill was sharpened with purpose, every movement carrying the weight of the quarterfinal against Germany.

The coaching staff pushed them hard, knowing they would need every edge against the tournament hosts.

The final drill was a high-intensity game scenario. De la Fuente set up the team to simulate Germany’s aggressive pressing and their tendency to overload central areas.

Rodri, Pedri, and Olmo were at the heart of Spain’s buildup, testing their ability to keep possession under pressure.

Izan, Nico Williams, and Lamine Yamal were given a clear task—exploit the spaces Germany’s fullbacks left behind.

Izan thrived. At one moment, Cucurella pinged a diagonal ball to him on the left flank.

His first touch was immaculate, gliding past Dani Carvajal before cutting inside and threading a perfectly weighted pass to Morata.

The striker shot first-time, but the ball clipped the outside of the post.

De la Fuente clapped. ”That’s it! That’s what we need! More of this. And Morata, be more sharp”

As the drill concluded, the players jogged toward the benches, sweat dripping from their brows.

De la Fuente gathered them together. ”Good session. This is how we prepare—by understanding the game before we even step onto the pitch.”

He took a step forward, scanning the group. ”Now, go shower, eat, and rest. After dinner, I want all of you in the video room.”

The players nodded at the former’s words before turning towards the exit.

...….

Dinner was always a mixture of recovery and routine, but tonight, there was an added layer of focus.

The atmosphere was lighter than training but still carried an underlying edge.

Izan sat with Pedri, Lamine Yamal, and Nico Williams, all piling food onto their plates.

As Izan settled in, Pedri wasted no time, picking up where he had left off days ago.

”You know,” he began, casually stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork, ”if you came to Barcelona, you wouldn’t have to do all this counter-attacking nonsense.”

Izan sighed. ”Not this again.”

Lamine grinned. ”He’s been going on about this all week, bro. I swear he’s got a full PowerPoint ready.”

”I don’t need a PowerPoint,” Pedri said, waving him off. ”It’s common sense. You like having the ball, right?”

Izan shrugged. ”Yeah.”

”And you like playing with intelligent players?”

”Obviously.”

”Then it’s settled! Barcelona is perfect for you.”

Nico Williams shook his head, laughing. ”You’re relentless, man.”

Izan took a sip of water. ”I don’t think Valencia would be happy hearing this conversation.”

Pedri smirked. ”Valencia... is a great club. But… let’s be real, if we win the Euros, you’ll have to think about it.”

Izan didn’t say anything.

Pedri took that as a small victory. ”See? He’s thinking about it!”

Lamine grinned. ”Izan at Barça? That’d be scary.”

”Exactly,” Pedri said. ”We’d cook everyone.”

Before Izan could respond, Morata called over jokingly from the next table. ”Pedri, leave the kid alone. You tried the same thing on me years ago.”

Pedri grinned playing along to Morata’s joke”And look how that turned out. You went to Atlético instead.”

Morata chuckled. ”Yeah, and we knocked you out of the Copa del Rey .”

The table erupted in laughter, even Pedri shaking his head.

After a while, the conversation shifted, with players debating which Spanish city had the best food.

”San Sebastián,” Rodri argued. ”Easy.”

”No way,” Dani Olmo countered. ”Valencia has the best food. Proper paella, not the tourist stuff.”

”You guys just eat rice,” Carvajal joked.

”Better than Madrid food,” Olmo shot back.

Rodri laughed. ”Madrid’s food is elite. But fine, I’ll give you paella.”

Izan listened, amused but quiet. His mind was already on the game.

As dinner wrapped up, the players stretched, pushed their plates aside, and made their way toward the video room in small groups.

....

The team filed into the video room in orderly silence, the atmosphere weighted with expectation rather than anxiety.

The lights were dimmed, and the large screen at the front of the room displayed the tactical board along with clips of recent matches.

De la Fuente waited for the murmurs to subside before speaking.

”Gentlemen,” he began, his gaze sweeping over every face, ”tonight we’re going to analyze what we can expect from Germany.

We need to understand their structure, how they press, and where we can find our advantages.”

He clicked the remote, and the first clip appeared: a sequence from Germany’s match against Denmark.

The footage clearly demonstrated how Germany’s high press and relentless movement had forced errors.

The camera panned over to reveal how the midfield duo—Gündoğan and Wirtz—were constantly shifting positions to close passing lanes.

De la Fuente paused the clip, pointing to a specific moment on the screen.

”Watch here,” he instructed, ”as Germany forces the opposition wide. They sacrifice central solidity to win the ball higher up. This is their signature.

They’re aggressive, but that aggression can be countered by quick, precise transitions.”

The room absorbed his analysis. Rodri interjected quietly from the middle row, ”If we can get them to overcommit, we’ll have the space to operate in the middle.”

De la Fuente nodded. ”Exactly. It’s about control. We need to dictate the pace and force them into uncomfortable positions.

Look at how their players move during transitions—when one player steps forward, another covers. That’s where we can disrupt their balance.”

He switched to another clip—this time showing a rapid counterattack by Germany, culminating in a goal scored after a momentary lapse in their formation.

The screen showed how their aggressive forward movement left a gap at the back.

Pedri, always quick with his insights, added, ”They leave space behind their advancing fullbacks. We can exploit that if we’re quick with our passing.”

”Precisely,” replied De la Fuente. ”Our buildup must be fluid and unpredictable. We need our midfield to link seamlessly with the attack and to maintain composure under pressure.”

De la Fuente, together with the other coaches, spent several minutes dissecting Germany’s patterns, highlighting technical details.

The pressing traps, the coordination between midfield and forward lines, and the timing of their counterattacks.

His analysis was crisp and incisive, leaving little room for doubt about the tactical adjustments Spain would need to implement.

After the detailed review, De la Fuente’s attention shifted to a topic that had stirred many conversations in the days leading up to this match.

He paused, ensuring that every player was fully engaged. ”We’ve discussed our roles, our responsibilities in midfield and on the flanks,” he said. ”Now, we need to address our final piece in the attacking third.”

A hush fell over the room. It was well understood among the players that one spot remained in the forward line—a role traditionally filled by a natural striker.

The expectation, by many, was that Morata would fill this position given his experience and physical presence.

Several teammates exchanged glances that conveyed both anticipation and resignation at the likely announcement.

De la Fuente continued, ”Our system demands that we not only score but also control the game from the front.

While Morata is an excellent option in many situations, the tactical challenge posed by Germany calls for something different this time.”

His eyes swept the room, and every player’s focus intensified.

”I’m opting for a different approach,” he said deliberately. ”I need an attacking midfielder who can drop deep, link up with our creative core, and create spaces for our wingers to exploit.

Someone with vision, pace, and the ability to read the game—qualities that go beyond just finishing chances.”

A quiet ripple of surprise moved through the players. All eyes turned toward the attacking midfielders.

The expectation had been clear, but now the coach was signaling a change.

De la Fuente paused for a beat before announcing, ”That player, who will operate in a false nine role, is Izan.”

A moment of still silence followed as some players turned to look at Izan who met the coach’s gaze with a calm, measured confidence.

His expression was one of quiet determination, fully aware of the tactical nuance behind this decision.

The choice wasn’t an experiment—it was a calculated move designed to unlock the fluidity and unpredictability required to break down a disciplined opponent like Germany.

Morata’s expression remained inscrutable, though the tension in the room was tangible.

Some of the players, who had silently expected the traditional striker to be given the nod, now processed the new reality.

Instead of simply occupying the advanced forward position, Izan’s role would require him to oscillate between the midfield and the attacking line, drawing defenders out of position and linking up with Pedri and Olmo to craft scoring opportunities.

De la Fuente elaborated, ”Izan will have the freedom to roam, to drop deep, and to combine with our midfield.

His movement will be key in disrupting Germany’s defensive shape. He’s not here to just finish moves—he’s here to create them.

This false nine role will allow him to exploit the space that opens up when their fullbacks push high.”

The players listened intently, and even those who had initially questioned the decision began to see the merit in the tactical plan.

De la Fuente concluded the session by summarizing the final starting eleven. ”Let me outline our lineup for tomorrow,” he said.

”In goal, we have Unai Simón. Our back four will consist of Carvajal, Le Normand, Laporte, and Cucurella.

In midfield, Rodri, Pedri, and Olmo will anchor our play. On the left wing, Nico Williams; on the right wing, Lamine Yamal; and upfront, operating in a false nine role, is Izan.”

The room was charged with a mix of tension and anticipation. The decision was unconventional, yet it underscored the tactical adaptability the coach had instilled in his team.

Every player now understood that tomorrow’s match against Germany would require them to execute a plan that deviated from traditional roles, challenging the opposition with innovative play.

De la Fuente’s final words resonated in the quiet room, ”We have a strategy that leverages every one of your strengths.

Tomorrow, we implement this plan with precision. Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

As the lights dimmed and the session wrapped up, the players dispersed with a renewed sense of purpose.

The decision to start Izan as a false nine was not a gamble—it was a bold statement of intent, built on careful analysis and the unwavering confidence of the coaching staff.

In that moment, every player in the room knew that they were not just following orders, but participating in a meticulously crafted plan to overcome one of the tournament’s toughest challenges.