Every emotional, high-risk decision he had ever made—the 3-4-3 against Ipswich, the last-second tactical shifts—was the exact opposite of what he was now facing.
He was up against a perfectly logical, data-driven, risk-averse opponent. He was a jazz musician about to face a metronome.
He stepped out into the roar of Home Park, the tactical plan he had so carefully crafted feeling suddenly flimsy and inadequate.
The whistle blew, and the match began.
The first twenty minutes were some of the most frustrating of Ethan's short managerial career. Plymouth Argyle were not just good; they were perfect.
Their 4-4-2 formation was a flawless, shifting wall of green. Their positioning was immaculate. There were no gaps, no mistakes, no moments of individual recklessness.
