Soccer System: All the Skills, One Player!

The Brentford U20 coach, a stocky man with a shaved head that reflected the light, was standing in front of his tactical drawing board, working out the last details of the imminent clash against Brighton.

Critics often faulted his overly conservative approach, but his ruthless defensive style yielded undeniable results.

Brentford U20s, under him, had become a tough team. They were known for their low block and ability to frustrate more technical opponents. They had conceded few goals.

"They'll try to press us, especially in the first few minutes," he said as he ran his eyes over the youthful faces of his players. "I want them to keep their lines compact. No desperate long passes or unnecessary dribbling attempts. We'll suffocate their midfield and force them to play out wide. When we get the ball back, we'll attack at speed. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they replied in unison.

Brentford's captain, a tall defender called Marcus, stood up. He was the pillar of the defense, known as much for his physical presence as for his natural leadership on the pitch. "They have fast players up front, but that's all we know. They're a completely new team, they won't be meshing, and they won't have the same synchronicity that we have. We'll take advantage of that," said Marcus.

At the same time, in the Brighton dressing room, Eddie had finished laying out his initial strategy. He then left the players alone for a few minutes before heading out onto the pitch to warm up.

Lucas was calmly adjusting his shin pads, while around him the other players were adjusting their boots, warming their fists or just taking deep breaths, trying to control their anxiety.

"Their team is known for its strong defensive capabilities." commented Arthur. "That's been their characteristic since last season. They're experts at it. We'll need a lot of patience to open up spaces."

Lucas nodded. "If we can keep up the pace and avoid losing the ball in dangerous areas, they'll wear down. And when that happens, we'll take advantage."

Outside, the small stands of the Brentfort CT were taking on some color. Colorful coats of local fans, friends, family, and Brentford staff scattered around the stands contrasted with the grey London sky.

The Premier Youth League didn't attract vast crowds yet. But, the games were streamed online. They were followed by top team scouts and coaches. For many of those youngsters, this was a showcase for something bigger.

When the Brighton players took to the pitch for their warm-up, a mixture of applause greeted them and booing from the small opposing crowd.

Felix led the line of players. In the distance, he could see Marcus and other Brentford players watching, talking to each other as they stretched. They were analyzing, just as Brighton was doing the same.

After a few minutes of warming up, they went back to the changing rooms. In the blink of an eye, they were on the pitch again, this time to start the match.

When the referee blew his whistle to call the team captains to the center, he said:

"The game will be clean, gentlemen. I expect the same from your teams. Understood?" He looked from one to the other as he held up the coin.

They both nodded, almost at the same time. The coin was tossed into the air, spinning in golden reflections under the gray London sky. Marcus won the toss and chose to start with the ball.

The moment the referee blew the whistle, Brentford showed their plan: intense pressing in midfield and very compact lines.

The Brighton players, still adjusting to the rhythm of a league match, found it difficult to get forward. Every pass was contested, every attempt at progression intercepted. Brentfort had little creativity on the ball, but they didn't let their opponents play either.

Arthur, positioned in the attack alongside Miguel and Raphael, seemed restless. His gaze swept the field urgently, looking for gaps that simply didn't exist, and whenever someone further forward, picked up the ball, he asked for a pass.

"Hey, I'm here!"

"Pass it to me!"

Read exclusive content at empire

"Me!"

He zig-zagged between Marcus and the other defenders, trying to open up spaces, but he seemed trapped in an invisible web. Defenders tackled him twice before he could even finish.

"Arthur, calm down!" shouted Lucas from the back, trying to offer support.

Lucas knew what was happening. Willian, on the bench, was more than a substitute. He was the constant shadow Arthur felt behind him, a silent reminder that any mistake could mean losing his place in the starting line-up. Lucas also felt this pressure at times, but it was easier for him to hide it under a calm façade.

In the first ten minutes, Brentford dominated, not with dangerous attacks, but with a solid defense that frustrated Brighton at every attempt to break forward and gave no space for shots.

Denis, a very experienced midfielder, dropped back to get the ball. He tried to organize the game. But, two opponents quickly challenged every pass he made. Brentford's strategy was to suffocate Brighton before they could find a rhythm.

"Come on, guys, get around quicker!" shouted Felix, trying to encourage the team. But even he seemed to get annoyed with the opposition's tactics.

On the Brentford side, Marcus was showing why he was captain. He was gesticulating, shouting instructions and constantly positioning his teammates. When Raphael tried a daring dribble and cut inside the area, Marcus expected the move and stole the ball.

Arthur fell to his knees on the pitch, looking up at the sky for a brief second before quickly getting up. He knew he couldn't leave any room for doubt.

"Damn..." he muttered softly.

Sensing the growing tension, Lucas retreated to get the ball as well. He knew that Brighton needed a spark to break the monotony of the game. At one point, he received a quick pass from Denis and turned quickly, evading his marker. With a long pass, he found Miguel on the right wing, who tried to advance down the flank but was blocked.

Lucas looked around. Brentford's lines were closed in like a wall, but he knew every wall had a flaw. He just needed time to find it, and soon he did.

At the side of the pitch, Alex, the assistant coach, frowned as he watched his players intently. He held a clipboard and pen, scribbling down ideas in search of a solution.

"What are you writing?" asked Eddie, the coach, without taking his eyes off the pitch.

"I'm thinking of suggesting that we space the players out more and try longer balls. They're pressing a lot in midfield, and we're losing possession too easily. Maybe crosses could create more danger."

Eddie shook his head slowly, without taking his eyes off the match. "Save it for now, Alex. I think they're finding a solution on their own. Look at Lucas."

Alex followed Eddie's gaze and saw Lucas retreating as the Brentford goalkeeper prepared to take a goal-kick. The junior player was chatting rapidly with Denis, gesturing with his hands. Denis, for his part, nodded, absorbing instructions.

Lucas had noticed something that might have gone unnoticed by others. Brentford, with their relentless marking, was making one small mistake: being too aggressive. In several disputes, the Brentford players were a second too late, touching the opponent's body more than the ball. It was only a matter of time before the referee started punishing this with fouls. And fouls meant chances.

As the Brentford goalkeeper kicked the ball forward, Lucas returned to his position. He muttered to Denis, "Let's force them into fouls.""

Denis arched an eyebrow. "Fouls? How?"

"Keep the ball close, provoke contact. They'll be desperate to steal the ball and they'll make mistakes. We need to make the referee feel that they're holding up the game. Once he marks more fouls against them, they'll ease the pressure, and that opens up spaces for us."

Denis didn't reply, but understanding shone in his eyes.

In the next move, when the ball was won back by Brighton, Denis retreated with it, deliberately controlling it and waiting for contact. Two Brentford players came to press. Denis shielded the ball with his body, and when one of them tried a shot, contact was inevitable. The whistle blew. Foul for Brighton.

Outside the pitch, Eddie smiled almost imperceptibly. "They're learning to play the mental game," he commented to Alex.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Lucas quickly positioned himself to take the free-kick. Instead of shooting straight into the box, he rolled the ball to Felix, who was free on the right. Felix tried to advance, but was again blocked by Brentford's defensive wall. Still, the pattern repeated itself. Every time Brighton regained possession, they held the ball up, provoking contact and drawing fouls.

The referee gradually paid more attention to Brentford's aggression. Meanwhile, Brentford captain Marcus was noticing the change in the game's dynamic.

He called one of his teammates over for a quick chat during a break. "We need to be more careful. The referee is picking on us. We can't give them fouls in dangerous areas."

But that was easier said than done. Brentford's low-blocking tactics relied on aggressive marking, and any relaxation in that approach could open up gaps for Brighton. Marcus knew this, but he also knew that the referee would not hesitate to punish excesses.

'That's the bad part of our tactics, and Brighton realized it within a few minutes... they studied us and took us out of our comfort zone. There's no way they could have realized our tactics and adapted so quickly,' Marcus thought.