Chapter 102: Coach of the Season! In That Moment, He Shielded the Ball Like Henry!
Before the new season had even kicked off, Bayswater Chinese already received a piece of great news.
In the 2005/06 Premier League awards, Yang Cheng beat out managerial giants like Mourinho, Ferguson, and Wenger to win the Coach of the Season award.
The Player of the Season, on the other hand, was awarded to Thierry Henry, who had already transferred to Barcelona.
The French striker had been the Premier League's top performer in front of goal last season.
As such, Yang Cheng was the only one attending the FA's award ceremony in Soho Square.
He hadn't even wanted to go at first—after all, he didn't hold a formal coaching license. What kind of coach was he, technically?
But the FA wouldn't take no for an answer. Both the chairman and CEO called him multiple times—turning them down would've been way too disrespectful.
Looking back, he could understand their dilemma.
Based on last season's performance, giving the award to Mourinho wouldn't have made sense. Chelsea, with all their financial muscle, only managed to win the Premier League.
Meanwhile, Bayswater Chinese, as a newly promoted side, had finished second in the league, won the League Cup, and the UEFA Cup—legitimate double champions!
Giving it to Yang Cheng was the natural choice. The only problem? He technically wasn't eligible to receive it.
The name submitted on Bayswater Chinese's official coaching list was Brian Kidd.
That really put the FA in a bind.
So when Yang Cheng received his award and sat down in the press room for interviews, the very first question came from a Sun journalist:
"The FA told us beforehand not to ask about your coaching license. What's your take on that? Isn't it a violation of free speech?"
The room instantly burst into laughter.
What a stirrer!
Yang Cheng turned to look at Geoff Thompson and Brian Barwick, who looked like they wanted to crawl under the table.
"You know, I'm the problem here," Yang Cheng said with a chuckle, owning up.
Since he was the main subject of the press conference, taking the blame cost him nothing—and it actually helped him score points with Thompson and Barwick.
Of course, he was also the root of the problem.
"Maybe we can work something out," Yang Cheng added candidly. "I'll go take the exam, and if—just if—I fail, you all promise not to report on it, deal?"
The room broke into laughter again.
Then a reporter followed up with a sharper question, "Are you saying the FA's coaching curriculum is out of touch with reality? Otherwise, how do you explain you leading a team to this level without passing the exam?"
Yang Cheng couldn't help but smile.
Faced with this pack of journalistic wolves, what could you do?
Luckily, an FA spokesperson quickly stepped in to change the topic.
Despite the earlier chaos, the mood had lightened considerably.
Normally, they interviewed middle-aged men—sometimes even old geezers. Who would ever interact with them like this?
Yang Cheng left a great impression on them.
Naturally, the media's focus soon shifted to players and the upcoming season.
Yang Cheng expressed full confidence.
"I know Chelsea signed superstars like Shevchenko, Ashley Cole, and Ballack, along with other solid players like Boulahrouz. But if stacking stars alone could win matches and titles, then where's the fun in football?"
His remark won a lot of nods from reporters.
But some tried to stir trouble, asking whether he thought Chelsea's influx of superstars would lead them down the same troubled path as Real Madrid—with locker room tensions.
Others tried to bait him into predicting that Chelsea wouldn't win the title this season.
But Yang Cheng had done enough press conferences to know how to avoid every trap.
He sidestepped every loaded question.
As for the team, Yang Cheng reiterated the same message: Ribéry's departure did have an impact, but it wouldn't weaken them.
"On the contrary, we'll be stronger than last season!"
His confidence stemmed from the team's average age.
Bayswater Chinese were mostly young. After a full season of experience, they had matured as a squad. That growth meant the team's overall strength had improved.
That's the advantage of a young team.
Of course, he dismissed claims that last season was just a lucky fluke and that Bayswater Chinese would crash back down to earth.
"You'll see for yourselves this season!"
"And we welcome more fans to Wembley Stadium. You'll witness a team unlike any other in the Premier League—a Bayswater Chinese side that's full of attacking firepower!"
…
Yang Cheng's press conference quickly spread across the UK and Europe.
Reactions from the media and fans were mixed—some praised him, others criticized—but Yang Cheng didn't care.
In the first round of the new league season, Bayswater Chinese would play at Wembley against Middlesbrough.
The interesting part? Middlesbrough's manager was none other than Gareth Southgate—the future England manager. Or as some joked, "Mr. South Wall."
A legendary England captain, this would be his very first official match as a manager.
Yang Cheng could only wish him luck!
Two days before kickoff, Bayswater Chinese released an official club promotional short film across multiple platforms, including their website and YouTube.
The short film was built around the stories of Franck Ribéry, Luka Modrić, and Harry Kane.
One was disfigured in a car accident and bullied throughout his youth. Another was a war-torn shepherd boy. The third, constantly rejected due to obesity…
But all three shared one thing in common: a love for football.
The background music was the club anthem, "Dream It Possible."
As the music gently unfolded, the three storylines interwove, immersing viewers in their struggles, their perseverance, and their unshakable belief in never giving up.
Directed by a professional film director, the cinematography was stunning, the narrative strong, and the emotions ran deep.
As the video progressed, viewers were swept along by the music and the stories—emotion building, then swelling.
When the three protagonists finally gathered at Bayswater Chinese, the short film reached an emotional climax.
During the final, soaring chorus, the screen showed expertly edited footage of Ribéry, Modrić, and others playing in the Premier League and UEFA Cup, intercut with scenes of Harry Kane training, playing in the youth academy, and working off his weight.
By the end, audiences were completely overwhelmed—their blood seemingly on fire!
As one American YouTube user commented:
"That video fired me up! Makes me want to go play football!"
"Where is this Bayswater Chinese team? I want to go watch them live!"
"That was amazing—I went through several tissues."
"Bro, why are you crying?"
"Shut up—I'm a woman."
"God, this short film was incredible. Do people like this actually exist in real life?"
"Of course! That club plays in the Premier League!"
"I can't believe it—football is this inspiring?"
"As a Brit, I'm so proud that we have football. And for our American friends, let me give you a heads-up: Bayswater Chinese pulled off a miracle last season. They were newly promoted and still finished as Premier League runners-up, winning both the League Cup and UEFA Cup!"
"Damn right! Bayswater Chinese football is always full of fire!"
"I'll Never Admit That I Had a Bayswater Chinese Season Ticket Last Year… Here's a Pic, Hehe…"
"Such a pity Ribéry transferred to Bayern."
"Well, what can you expect? Bayswater Chinese is still a small club. Give them more time—they'll definitely grow stronger."
"I felt the power this short film conveyed! Go Bayswater Chinese!"
"Even though the club's name sounds weird, I really liked the short film. I'm into their football culture."
"Why don't they come to the U.S.? If they did, I'd totally buy tickets!"
"My god, that war-scarred shepherd boy is actually playing football? Is he any good?"
"Of course he is! That's Luka Modrić, Bayswater Chinese's captain!"
"Hugs to poor Modrić. I wish the world had no war."
"Their coach said Modrić will become the best midfielder in the world!"
"Incredible. That would be a legendary story!"
"Not just him—the whole club will be legendary!"
"Stop it, guys. If you keep this up, I'm gonna want to move to the UK. Damn it, why don't we have a club like this in America?"
"I'm from France. In France, we have a legendary club too—Auxerre. Ever heard of it?"
"Oh my god, I Googled it—Bayswater Chinese is real! I thought it was made up!"
"I'm in London. After watching the short film, I bought season tickets for my whole family. Not a lot, just five. Let's go, Bayswater Chinese—good luck this season!"
"I bought a season ticket too! And I recommended them to my coworkers. We're all young people, and we love a young team!"
"I saw their news… that young genius coach is really handsome!"
…
"Shit, we should've pushed harder to get that promo video out sooner!"
On the morning of the Premier League's opening round, Adam Crozier barged into Yang Cheng's office.
He didn't even say hello—just started ranting.
"What's going on?" Yang Cheng asked, puzzled.
For the past two days, he'd been buried in prep for the new season's first match, completely cut off from the outside world.
"Our promo video is blowing up online."
"Blowing up?"
"Yeah. I was worried it wouldn't get much attention, but nope—it's catching fire."
Yang Cheng looked skeptical. "It's going viral?"
"Not exactly viral, but it's been watched by a lot of people. And the comments have been overwhelmingly positive. Everyone's sharing it. Guess what else? Season ticket sales—take a wild guess."
"They're blowing up too?" Yang Cheng grinned.
"We've passed 30,000. And according to backend data, most of the buyers these past few days have been young fans."
Yang Cheng hadn't expected that kind of ripple effect.
"Then we've gotta ride this wave. Push harder—pull in as many fans as we can."
Adam Crozier nodded. "Already working on it. Keeping this buzz going is basically free advertising."
Yang Cheng agreed. That was the key—not just this one time.
Once someone buys tickets, you can target them precisely next time.
"I think when the Champions League group draw comes out, we should go big again."
Right now, Bayswater Chinese had the cheapest tickets in all of London—cheaper even than QPR, who were fighting relegation in the Championship.
Why?
To build buzz.
There were a million ways to raise ticket prices.
But first, you had to get people into the stadium.
If no one was coming, nothing else mattered.
Once the Champions League draw dropped, the European stage would attract more fans.
In terms of pricing strategy, individual Champions League tickets were actually pretty expensive.
That's standard practice across the Premier League.
But bundling them with a Bayswater Chinese season ticket made them a steal.
"We also need to ramp up our efforts online," Crozier added. "These days, young people live on the internet—we need to go where they are."
Yang Cheng nodded. "Young fans hate boring football. This season, we'll play more freely, more aggressively. We'll make sure every single fan who walks into that stadium wants to come back."
It was all part of building a foundation.
Bayswater Chinese were still a thin-rooted club.
With the season opener looming, Adam Crozier didn't want to take up too much of Yang Cheng's time.
After sending the CEO off, Yang Cheng couldn't help feeling a little cheerful himself.
He'd done his homework for the Premier League opener.
Gary Worthington's scouting team had already tracked Middlesbrough's pre-season games and submitted a report.
Southgate was sticking to the classic 4-4-2.
Yang Cheng found that a bit nostalgic.
Not that Southgate could be blamed.
After Eriksson stepped down from managing England, Middlesbrough's previous boss, Steve McClaren, took over the national team. Southgate inherited McClaren's role—and naturally, continued with the 4-4-2 system.
"Don't blame me, Southgate. Being a head coach means paying your dues."
…
Since the second half of last season, before every home game, Bayswater Chinese would invite Adele to sing the team anthem.
Sometimes, the soulful British girl would stay on stage to sing a few more tracks.
This had earned her some media coverage and made her a bit of a local celebrity.
Eventually, a record label signed her and began planning her debut album.
But before all that, Adele was just a girl who loved singing.
So this season, she followed Bayswater Chinese to Wembley to sing once again.
As she performed, the stadium's big screen looped the club's new football culture video, while Adele's powerful voice echoed through the stands.
She expressed deep gratitude to Bayswater Chinese for giving her this opportunity.
She also knew ticket sales weren't great, and the club was worried the atmosphere would be flat.
So she went the extra mile—singing a few more songs, choosing upbeat tracks to fire up the fans.
According to official stats, just around 35,000 fans attended the match.
That was pretty much everyone the club could rally at the moment.
You could say Bayswater Chinese threw everything they had at the season opener.
Free tickets, discounts—the works.
That was it. All they had.
Most of the crowd was concentrated behind the goals, where the tickets were cheapest.
This left the side stands almost completely empty, making the stadium feel lifeless.
But what could they do? In a 90,000-seat stadium, 35,000 still left it looking half-dead.
Yang Cheng and Adam Crozier had mentally prepared for this long ago.
It was going to be a gradual climb.
After all, the hardest thing in the world is getting people to open their wallets.
…
As Adele sang her heart out at midfield, Middlesbrough's manager Gareth Southgate stood near the players' tunnel, watching the team finish warm-ups and listening.
After hearing Bayswater Chinese's anthem, his first thought was, Not bad. Kinda catchy.
But singing before a football match? That was just putting on a show for show's sake.
Especially when he looked across at the nearly empty stands.
This match was set to kick off at 3 p.m. It was just after 2 now. The sun was slanting directly onto the opposite side of the stadium.
Most fans were avoiding the sun and staying away from the center seats, leaving huge patches of empty space.
"What a joke," Southgate sneered. "Wearing a hat three sizes too big for your head."
For This Generation of English Players, Wembley Holds a Special Place in Their Hearts
Even though the new Wembley Stadium was completely rebuilt, they still didn't want to see it rented out for long-term use by a single club.
Especially not by a club owned by foreign investors.
And now? Look at this embarrassment.
Less than half full.
A total humiliation for Wembley Stadium!
What's that? Riverside Stadium in Middlesbrough has poor attendance too?
A 35,000-capacity stadium that only draws 20,000?
Please. What's that got to do with my criticism of Bayswater Chinese?
Okay, sure—some lower-league playoff matches or cup finals held at Wembley have had even worse turnout.
But those weren't long-term leases.
Bayswater Chinese are like thieves!
Even if they paid for it—it's still disgraceful!
That thought stirred something in Southgate's heart.
In the coming match, I, Gareth Southgate, will defend the honor of English football!
I will lead Middlesbrough to reclaim Wembley's dignity!
…
Inside the home dressing room at Wembley Stadium, Yang Cheng was playing a short video for his players.
It was a compilation of fan comments from YouTube and other platforms, all in response to the club's recently released football culture promo video.
Many of the messages were heartfelt and deeply moving.
Yeah... they should post more like that next time.
Yang Cheng had translated all the comments and passed them along to the players in the room.
He stood silently off to the side.
Behind him, the tactics board displayed the starting lineups for that afternoon's match—Bayswater Chinese versus Middlesbrough.
Bayswater Chinese were sticking to their classic 4-3-3 formation:
Goalkeeper: Manuel Neuer
Defense: Leighton Baines, José Fonte, Pepe, Maicon
Midfield: Yaya Touré in the holding role, Luka Modrić and Lassana Diarra in central midfield
Attack: Andrey Arshavin, Edin Džeko, and Ashley Young
Pepe, making his debut, was starting in the very first league match—a bit risky, but Yang Cheng had his reasons.
The Premier League was kicking off with a double matchweek—there'd be another game midweek, so rotation was necessary.
Middlesbrough were lining up in a 4-4-2:
Goalkeeper: Mark Schwarzer
Defense: Julio Arca, Pogatetz, Riggot, and Parnaby
Midfield: Stewart Downing, George Boateng, Fábio Rochemback, and James Morrison
Attack: Dave Kitson and Mark Viduka
After transferring to Middlesbrough, Kitson had performed well in the Premier League and now partnered with Viduka in a traditional two-striker setup.
During warm-ups, Kitson had come over to greet Yang Cheng and several former teammates from Bayswater Chinese.
But once they stepped onto the pitch, all formalities would be left behind.
The real reason Yang Cheng was starting Pepe was that Kitson was too familiar with Bayswater's usual center-backs.
Pepe, on the other hand, was a complete unknown to him.
Once the video ended and the players had absorbed the fan comments, Yang Cheng stepped forward.
"So… what are your thoughts after watching that?"
He asked with a smile.
But no one answered.
"Then I'll say it: I feel the weight on my shoulders just got heavier."
"Most of those fans online couldn't be here in person, but they're likely watching this match live right now, sitting in front of their TVs."
"Somewhere in the stands, maybe even someone who wrote one of those comments is sitting, watching with anticipation—hoping we give them something to cheer for."
"A glorious football feast!"
"Guys!"
Yang Cheng stretched his arms wide, turning in a circle, making eye contact with every single player in the room.
"Each of you was chosen by me—trained and molded by me. I know every single one of you—not just your technical abilities, not just your personalities, but your stories."
"I know that each of you carries something inside—a desire to show the world who you really are!"
"I know exactly how hard it was for you to get here today—to step foot inside this stadium!"
"And because I know, that's why I'm telling you: don't leave any regrets—not for yourselves, not for the fans in the stands, not for those watching us online!"
"I've never once doubted that this team will go on to make history!"
"And shock the world—again and again!"
…
As both teams walked out onto the pitch, everyone could feel the intensity in the air.
You could see it on their faces—grim, focused, ready for battle.
Clearly, both managers had fired up their squads in the dressing rooms.
The moment they stepped onto the field, they looked like warriors entering a gladiator arena.
And right from kickoff, the match exploded into fierce action.
Middlesbrough, despite being away from home, didn't show a hint of hesitation. Southgate's men went on the front foot, looking to seize the initiative.
Just 1 minute and 38 seconds in, James Morrison slipped a pass from midfield to Kitson, who struck a powerful left-footed shot from just outside the box.
But Neuer caught it cleanly.
You could see that Kitson, now a Premier League regular, had grown in confidence.
Bayswater Chinese didn't start with the same aggression.
It was, after all, the first match of the new season.
And it was at home.
Yang Cheng's orders were simple: control possession and tempo from the start.
This was Bayswater Chinese's bread and butter—their greatest strength.
As long as they had the ball, everything else would follow.
After that early scare, Bayswater Chinese gradually took over.
Especially in midfield.
The trio of Yaya Touré, Modrić, and Diarra had already been battle-tested in the Premier League and UEFA Cup last season.
Even against the likes of Manchester United and Chelsea, they could hold their own—or even dominate.
In the 6th minute, Bayswater Chinese executed a coordinated press near the halfway line.
Yaya Touré used his powerful frame to knock Rochemback off the ball and poked it to the recovering Diarra.
The French midfielder controlled it, turned, and passed to Modrić.
Modrić didn't even take a touch—just played it forward in one motion.
Džeko, with his back to goal, shielded the ball from Pogatetz, spun to the right, and fed a diagonal pass to Ashley Young on the wing.
"Bayswater Chinese counterattack!"
"Ashley Young drives down the right flank!"
"No one's marking him—he's got space!"
"He's into the right side of the box now—Julio Arca steps in to defend!"
"Let's see what Ashley Young does here…"
"Still dribbling… nearing the byline… and here comes the cross!"
The crowd gasped.
But at the far post, Arshavin couldn't quite meet the ball—it was deflected out by the retreating Parnaby.
A close one.
Nearly an own goal.
"Ashley Young deliberately slowed his run, waiting for Arshavin and Džeko to catch up."
"It's a shame—they missed a golden chance."
"Corner kick for Bayswater Chinese."
"And look—set-piece coach Gianni Vio is at the touchline giving instructions."
"He's not just in charge of free kicks anymore—seems like they've got corner routines, too."
"The box is packed."
"Both teams are treating this corner with great caution."
"Ashley Young to take it."
"Let's see where this one lands."
"The whistle blows."
"Chaos in the box!"
"Back post!"
"There's a Chance!"
"Yaya Touré Goes for the Header!"
"It's In!!!"
"I told you! With Gianni Vio directing things from the sideline, that corner had potential!"
"Yaya Touré!"
"Just 6 minutes into the game, Bayswater Chinese capitalize on a corner kick—Yaya Touré curved his run, dodged the crowd at the near post and center, and popped up unmarked at the back post to head it in!"
"A brilliantly executed corner routine."
"No one expected Yaya Touré to make that kind of run around the pack."
"What a phenomenal start!"
"Bayswater Chinese with a dream opening!"
"1–0!"
Even though Wembley Stadium was far from full, the 30,000-plus fans in attendance erupted in a powerful wave of cheers.
The roar stung Gareth Southgate's ears over on the away bench.
He was fuming—how did they lose track of Yaya Touré?
What on earth happened in the box just now?
Too bad this wasn't TV—no slow-motion replay to clear things up.
But the scoreboard didn't lie:
1–0!
Southgate marched out of the technical area, clapping hard and shouting at his players, urging them to stay focused. One goal down wasn't the end.
"Let's go! Come on! Regroup, settle down—we're getting this goal back!" he yelled.
As if he were still playing himself.
Over at the home bench, Yang Cheng was high-fiving Yaya Touré and the others returning from the celebration, loudly clapping his hands.
"Keep up the pressure! Push forward! Don't let them breathe!"
"Go! Go! Go!!"
"Let's smash another one in!"
As Andrey Arshavin passed by, Yang Cheng grabbed the Russian by the shoulders.
"Remember what I told you on the first day of summer training camp?" he asked solemnly.
Arshavin nodded firmly, then turned to look at his coach with sharp, determined eyes.
"I won't be that cat fattened up on cream."
And with that, the Russian turned and strode back onto the pitch.
Behind him, a smile curled at the corner of Yang Cheng's lips.
Good, Andrey. Now show me.
…
Before the start of summer training, after Arshavin had returned to London from Russia, Yang Cheng had invited him for a long, in-depth chat.
They talked about his life in London over the past six months—from family to football.
Bayswater Chinese had done an excellent job helping him settle in, going out of their way to solve any issues he had.
His English had improved quickly too. He could now communicate decently both within the team and out in public.
Arshavin was satisfied with everything.
But that wasn't what the conversation was really about.
Midway through, Yang Cheng brought up some of the club's future plans.
Back then, Ribéry hadn't yet transferred out. But Yang Cheng told Arshavin upfront: Ribéry would definitely leave.
The only question was which team he'd join.
"That's Franck's decision. He wants to prove himself on a bigger stage. We respect that."
Arshavin wasn't surprised. He'd already sensed it.
So then—what was this talk really about?
Sure enough, Yang Cheng got straight to the point.
"We need you, Andrey!"
"When Franck leaves, we'll need a new attacking core—someone with elite ability."
"You're the best candidate in the squad!"
Even though Arshavin had mentally prepared for this, he was still deeply moved.
He was an emotional person, and being needed, being trusted—it lit something inside him.
Just like it had when he left Zenit for Bayswater Chinese.
So he promised Yang Cheng that he would give it everything he had.
At the end of their talk, Yang Cheng told him a parable Arshavin had never heard before:
A household once had a mouse problem, so they bought a cat.
The cat was a skilled hunter, terrifying the mice.
The owners loved and trusted it, rewarding it with its favorite food—cream—for every mouse it caught.
The mice, trembling in their holes, knew the cat loved cream. So they began stealing more and more of it, placing it where the cat could find it.
The cat gladly accepted their offerings, gorging on the free cream without restraint.
Over time, it grew fatter and lazier.
It lost its speed, dulled its senses, and became sluggish. It started napping all day, often curled up asleep on the owner's sofa.
The mouse problem returned, worse than ever.
The cat tried, but it could no longer catch anything.
At first, the owner tolerated it. But eventually, he couldn't stand it anymore.
On a rainy day, they kicked the fat cat out of the house.
Standing in the rain, heartbroken and soaked, the cat turned back to look—only to see dozens of mice waving goodbye from the mouse hole under the now-closed door.
Yang Cheng didn't explain the meaning.
He didn't even say where the story came from.
But Arshavin got it.
And he took it to heart.
I will not be the cat fattened on cream!
…
The match resumed.
With a one-goal lead, Bayswater Chinese pressed their advantage and went on the offensive.
Whether through the center or down the wings, they kept pushing and pressing hard.
They were also creating plenty of chances.
In the 14th minute, Arshavin and Modrić linked up with a slick one-two on the left channel, slicing into the top corner of the box. Arshavin ripped a shot with his right foot.
Just wide.
Barely two minutes later, Arshavin again picked up the ball on the left, drawing a foul and earning a free kick in a dangerous area.
Unfortunately, Džeko's header from the delivery flew over the bar.
The Bosnian striker clearly still needed to work on his headers.
In the 19th minute, Arshavin again received a pass from Modrić on the left. Trapped between two defenders, he skillfully dribbled inside, breaking free and sending a sharp lateral pass to the top right corner of the box.
Lassana Diarra charged in and smashed a shot.
Schwarzer, Middlesbrough's keeper, launched himself to the right and managed to tip the ball around the post.
Corner kick.
Ashley Young stepped up to take it again, but this time, Pepe's header also went high.
Bayswater Chinese were in full flow.
The pace of the match was relentless.
The fans in the stadium were fired up, their emotions stirred.
Even though the stadium wasn't full and there were lots of empty seats, the cheers, applause, and gasps came in waves—an electric rhythm that never let up.
Middlesbrough managed a quick counterattack in the 23rd minute.
A long ball found Mark Viduka, who passed it to Dave Kitson.
But before Kitson could do anything, Pepe was already on him, marking tightly.
The English striker tried to use his body to overpower the new defender—but to his surprise, Pepe matched him in strength.
In fact, the pressure forced him to shift left just to hold onto the ball.
But by the time he settled it on the left edge of the box, his angle to attack was nearly gone.
This new guy was no joke!
Kitson ended the play with a rushed, off-target shot from distance.
And just like that, Middlesbrough's rare break was over.
Just One Minute After Kitson's Threatless Counterattack, Bayswater Chinese Struck Back With Lightning Speed
After a successful interception in their own half, Bayswater Chinese launched a swift counterattack.
Modrić carried the ball forward, reaching the center circle. As George Boateng stepped up to press, Modrić threaded a sharp through-ball behind him.
Džeko dropped deep to receive, turned in the space, and released a perfectly timed pass in behind.
The ball pierced the gap between right-back Parnaby and center-back Riggott.
Arshavin burst forward at full speed, and just as he reached the ball on the edge of the box's left corner, Middlesbrough goalkeeper Mark Schwarzer had already rushed far out of his area to try and clear.
But the Russian got there first.
With a movement that seemed like magic, Arshavin dragged the ball across with complete control using his left foot, dodging Schwarzer's slide challenge, and kept the ball under tight control as he drove into the box.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
No one even saw clearly what technique Arshavin had used.
But one thing was clear—he had just cleanly beaten Schwarzer.
Riggott sprinted desperately toward the goal line.
But Arshavin's shot came sooner.
The ball rolled past the line before Riggott could react.
"Goal!!!"
"25th minute—Andrey Arshavin scores again for Bayswater Chinese!"
"It's relentless!"
"What an electric attacking performance from Bayswater Chinese today. They're putting Middlesbrough's defense under constant pressure."
"That last move—Modrić, Džeko, and Arshavin—it just sliced right through Boro's backline."
"2–0!"
…
With two goals on the board, Bayswater Chinese's morale was soaring, and they pressed Middlesbrough even harder.
In his first official match as head coach, Gareth Southgate was clearly slow to react and failed to make timely adjustments.
That gave Bayswater Chinese opportunity after opportunity.
In the 33rd minute, Yaya Touré sent a waist-high pass to Džeko, who chested it down, shielded the ball, and laid it off to Modrić.
The Croatian then sent a diagonal pass forward.
Arshavin picked it up between Parnaby and Riggott and drove forward.
With exquisite footwork, he accelerated down the left side of the penalty area.
With Parnaby and Riggott both breathing down his neck, the Russian suddenly came to a dead stop—freezing in place.
Parnaby couldn't brake in time and ran right past him.
Riggott, who was slower, managed to stop his momentum.
But then Arshavin feinted a curling left-footed shot.
Riggott instinctively lunged to block—but Arshavin simply rolled the ball inside, then unleashed a quick, explosive right-footed strike.
The ball arced over Schwarzer and dipped into the top-right corner of the net.
Instantly, Wembley erupted again.
"Arshavin scores again!"
"A brace!!"
"My God, the Russian is on fire today!"
"3–0!"
"I can't believe how dominant Bayswater Chinese have been so far!"
"They're controlling 72.8% possession!"
"They've had 11 shots and already converted 3 goals."
"This is stunning!"
…
When Yang Cheng saw Arshavin net his second goal, he leapt into the air, clapping and shouting wildly in celebration.
On the visiting bench, "Mr. Southgate" looked nothing like the confident man from before kickoff.
Now, he was rattled and flustered.
But even a rookie coach like him realized it was time to make changes.
If he didn't, they were about to get slaughtered.
"Boro's backline is a mess. Their defenders are way too slow," Brian Kidd chuckled.
Yang Cheng nodded.
Their defenders—Parnaby, Riggott, and Pogatetz.
Riggott and Pogatetz, the two center-backs, were slow and clunky—typical in the Premier League.
But Parnaby, a full-back, was also sluggish. That was more of a problem.
Their original left-back, Frenchman Franck Queudrue, had been sold to Fulham after a standout season.
So today, they had to start Argentine midfielder Julio Arca at left-back.
Earlier, he was completely lost when Ashley Young made that assist.
Everyone expected Yang Cheng to target Arca's side.
But instead, he focused his attack on Arshavin's wing.
And the Russian delivered—scoring a brace and proving his worth.
"This kid's emotional. He's sensitive and delicate. Needs more care and attention," Yang Cheng said to Brian Kidd.
Kidd had worked alongside Yang Cheng for three years—he knew Yang was talking about Arshavin.
Yang Cheng had once told him that Arshavin's childhood was difficult.
His parents divorced early. He grew up with his mother in poverty.
Eventually, even his mother passed away, leaving him all alone.
People with such a past often crave emotional connection, needing to feel valued and seen.
On the outside, they put on a proud, even arrogant front—like they don't care about anything.
Some called Arshavin a "sensitive artist."
But to Yang Cheng, he was just a man who'd had a rough life.
In his past life, Arsène Wenger hadn't handled him well.
Keeping him benched to "motivate" him? That didn't work on someone like Arshavin.
What he needed was trust—not suppression.
Pushing him down only made his insecurities worse and magnified his emotional instability.
Of course, Wenger was a rational, calculating man. Under pressure for results, even if he knew better, he likely wouldn't have changed his approach.
…
If Southgate had been shell-shocked in the first half, he seemed to regain composure by the closing stages.
By the second half, he had accepted reality.
He set up in full-on damage control mode.
At halftime, he subbed in Andrew Davies for Julio Arca to strengthen the backline.
Then came more substitutions.
In Yang Cheng's memory, Middlesbrough didn't actually improve that season until the very end of the transfer window—when they brought back Jonathan Woodgate on loan from Real Madrid to shore up their defense.
But today, at Wembley?
They were getting crushed.
In the 70th minute, Yang Cheng subbed off Arshavin and brought on youngster Theo Walcott.
A like-for-like switch.
Yang Cheng wanted to save Arshavin's legs for the midweek league fixture.
Walcott played left wing and immediately used his pace and dribbling to tear at Middlesbrough's defense.
In the 79th minute, he drove into the box from the left, almost creating another goal.
Then in the 84th minute, still on the left side of the box, Walcott received the ball with his back to goal, shielded it, spun quickly, stopped, and then burst down the flank before sending in a low cross.
In that moment, the way he shielded the ball really did look like Henry!
Džeko timed his run perfectly and calmly slotted the ball into the net.
4–0!
Walcott, overjoyed, leapt onto Džeko's back, flailing his arms in celebration.
He was only seventeen!
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