NFBE Chapter 21: Brother 7 will help you make a fortune!
Chapter 21: Brother 7 will help you make a fortune!
Meanwhile, in the away team's locker room.
If Real Madrid's reaction was one of suppressed rage, Atletico Madrid's was one of extreme frenzy.
The players sat slumped on the bench, panting heavily. Sweat soaked the floor, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of sweat.
But everyone's eyes shone with an extremely excited red light.
Halftime score 0-0!
They've never played so well defensively this season.
Gabby wiped his face haphazardly with a towel, turned around and shouted, "Well done, guys! Those white-shirted cowards couldn't even squeeze in!"
He paused, then looked around.
"But...where's Coach Simeone? We've had a ten-minute break, why hasn't he come to give us tactical instructions yet?"
No one answered.
Falcao sat in the corner and took a big gulp of electrolyte water. He was clearly the one least suited to Atletico Madrid's high-intensity pressing.
Courtois was fixing his sweat-dampened bangs in front of his phone screen.
Everyone's expressions showed an answer of "I don't know."
Li Jing sat next to Gabi, untying the slightly loose shoelace on his left foot, preparing to tighten it again.
He was quickly reviewing the events in his mind.
Real Madrid will definitely press forward aggressively in the second half.
Cristiano Ronaldo battled in the penalty area for 45 minutes in the first half and suffered quite a bit, so he will most likely change his strategy in the second half.
Long-range shot.
One of the weapons that the Portuguese were most skilled at using.
One's positioning can no longer be limited to the right rib area.
We must expand the range of lateral sweeping, especially to preemptively block the second passing point for Ronaldo after his cut inside and back pass.
And Di Maria...
Li Jing deftly tied a bow with her fingers.
That guy was completely shut down by me in the first half, he'll definitely be even more frustrated in the second half.
Impatience leads to mistakes. Mistakes are opportunities.
"Where did the coach go?" Salvio couldn't help but mutter.
Just then.
The locker room door was pushed open.
Simone strode in.
Behind him, assistant coach Burgos was carrying a huge stainless steel insulated container.
The barrel walls were gleaming, and a dozen or so specially made gourd cups with metal straws were hanging on them.
Burgos deftly poured hot green liquid into each player's hand and stuffed it directly into their hands.
Li Jing looked down at the still-hot gourd cup in his hand.
The dark green liquid in the glass emitted a peculiar herbal aroma, somewhat like mint, yet also somewhat like traditional Chinese medicine.
"Take a deep drag of it all!"
"I've brought you some good stuff!"
Simone stood in the middle of the locker room and slapped his thighs hard with both hands.
Several players were startled and almost threw the cup away.
Li Jing put the straw in his mouth and tentatively took a small sip.
It has a very strong flavor.
After the bitterness comes a sweet aftertaste, along with a strong smoky flavor.
The liquid rolled down my throat, burning into my stomach like a line of fire.
yerba mate!
Argentinians love to drink this stuff.
"This is the defense I want!"
Simone's voice boomed in the locker room.
"This is Atlético Madrid football!"
He took a step forward, his eyes scanning every face.
"In the second half, don't conserve any energy for me! Keep tearing them apart like mad dogs! Chew their bones to pieces!"
The breathing in the locker room began to pick up.
Simone pointed his index finger menacingly at everyone.
"If you guys can't run anymore, give me the signal right now! There are plenty of guys waiting in line on the sidelines!"
He paused, lowering his voice, but each word struck like a nail into the ground.
"But I'm warning you, anyone who dares to stroll around and breathe on the field, no matter who you are or how many millions you're worth, I, Simeone, swear I'll take you off immediately and leave you rotting on the bench until the end of the season!"
No one spoke.
The only sound was the rustling of mate being sipped through a straw.
Simone turned and took the tactical board from Burgos, then removed the pen cap.
"Real Madrid will push forward in the second half." He drew an arrow. "Their defense will move forward as a whole, by at least thirty centimeters."
Li Jing stared at the arrow.
"So—" Simeone drew a circle in Atletico Madrid's half, "our defensive formation needs to drop back. But not defend to the death."
He looked up and his gaze fell on Li Jing's face.
"you."
Li Jing sat up straight.
"Your role changes in the second half." Simeone pointed at Li Jing with the tip of his pen. "It's no longer just about sweeping up the midfield. I want you to be the first line of defense. Whoever Real Madrid has the ball, you tackle them. Özil, Alonso, Di Maria, whoever has the ball, you need to take it from them like the plague."
"And then what?" Li Jing asked.
"No need to look for Diego," Simeone said directly. "Diego won't play in the second half."
A few low gasps rang out in the locker room.
Diego sat in the chair, his face turning deathly pale.
Simeone ignored him and continued to tell Li Jing, "After winning the ball, send it forward immediately. Find Falcao, or the wingers making runs down the flanks. Be quick and direct. When Real Madrid pushes forward, there will be plenty of space behind them."
Li Jing nodded.
He got it.
Simeone wants him to play a role that's almost like a "libero." Defensively, he's the first line of defense; offensively, he's the initiator of the first pass.
This requires extremely high standards.
Physical fitness, anticipation, and ball accuracy are all indispensable.
But the more than 30,000 hours of training in the simulator in Li Jing's mind gave him confidence.
"And one more thing," Simeone said, looking at Courtois. "Tebo, move your position up a bit more. Up to the edge of the penalty area. After Li Jing intercepts the ball, you're responsible for clearing any through balls that slip past him."
Courtois chewed on his straw and mumbled an "Mmm".
"no problem."
Simone hung the tactics board back on the wall.
"Did you understand everything?"
"Understood!" the voices replied in unison.
"Then what are we waiting for?" Simone kicked the locker room door. "Get out! Take them down!"
The players all stood up at once.
Li Jing finished the last sip of mate tea, the bitter liquid exploding in her mouth.
He shoved the gourd cup back into Burgos's hand and followed the crowd out.
As he passed Simeone, the head coach grabbed his arm.
"Kid," Simeone leaned closer, his voice low, "Di Maria is going to go crazy in the second half. He'll do everything he can to get past you."
Li Jing looked into Simone's eyes.
"I know."
"Then let him go mad." Simone released his grip and patted him on the back. "The madder he is, the faster he'll die."
Li Jing didn't say anything, turned around and walked into the players' tunnel.
The Real Madrid players were already waiting in the tunnel.
Di Maria was standing in the middle of the group, wiping his face with a towel. When he saw Li Jing come out, he stopped and stared intently at him.
His eyes were still full of anger.
Li Jing shifted his gaze to the light at the exit of the passage.
The second half begins.
……
at the same time.
Domestically, at 3:17 AM.
Smoke filled the basement of a residential building.
The light from the computer screen shone on Li Laoqi's oily face.
He was shirtless, with a cheap cigarette dangling from his mouth; the ash had burned out a long piece and was about to fall off.
Leftover barbecue takeout food was piled on the table, with bamboo skewers and greasy plastic containers stacked together.
The aluminum cans, covered in cigarette ash, were leaning precariously to one side.
Li Laoqi took a deep drag of his cigarette into the microphone, exhaled smoke rings, and pointed at the halftime stats on the screen, laughing maniacally.
"Guys, do you even know anything about football?"
His voice was hoarse, filled with the excitement unique to those who stay up all night to do live streaming.
"This is just a friendly match! How much do Real Madrid's superstars earn per week? Are they really going to risk their lives here?"
He tapped the screen, which displayed the first half's statistics.
"Look at this traveling, this passing! It's pure paycheck-taking and half-hearted work! What do you call this? This is complete chaos!"
A few comments floated across the live stream screen.
"Seventh Brother is awesome!"
"Excellent analysis!"
Li Laoqi smugly crossed his legs and took another puff of his cigarette.
By day, he is a well-known e-sports streamer. In an era when the industry is not strictly regulated, Li Laoqi used his intelligence to find a way to make money.
That is, in the evening, he would ask fans in his small group to watch the game together in another live stream room.
Of course, the other live streaming rooms are places that are completely unregulated, because they are originally gambling websites.
Just then, a colorful comment appeared on the screen: "Seventh Brother, isn't it because Atletico Madrid's defense was too strong today? That Li Jing guy is awesome!"
When Li Laoqi saw this comment, he immediately stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette on the table.
A black mark was burned into the plastic tabletop.
"You're talking nonsense!" he yelled, pointing at the camera. "Atletico Madrid are ninth in the league, what kind of qualitative change can come from just one winter transfer window? Real Madrid aren't scoring simply because they don't want to!"
He paused, then raised his voice.
"Atletico Madrid will absolutely win or draw today! Trust me!"
The comments section immediately erupted in chaos.
"Seventh Brother, stop just talking big. If you think Real Madrid doesn't want to win, then place your bet!"
"Why not bet on Atletico Madrid to pull off an upset!"
"Yeah! Place your bets! Place your bets!"
Li Laoqi felt that his "professional judgment" had been severely insulted.
He sneered and expertly switched to an all-English underground gambling website on the secondary screen.
"OK!"
He sat up abruptly.
"Today, I'll show you how I lead you to harvest the profits from these gamblers who bet on Real Madrid!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly turned around and yelled at his girlfriend, Little Potato, who was sitting on the edge of the bed tidying up her clothes.
"Get your phone!"
Little Potato was startled, and the T-shirt in his hand fell to the ground.
"Transfer that 50,000 yuan from your WeChat account to me immediately! Right now!"
Little Potato's face turned deathly pale. She clutched her phone tightly in her pocket, her voice trembling, "Are you crazy, Li Laoqi! That's the money I earned from gifts after staying up all night to play with you for a month! I still have to pay rent next month!"
"You don't know anything!"
Li Laoqi was completely out of control. He took two steps forward and grabbed Little Potato's wrist.
"This is a fucking money-making opportunity! Atletico Madrid is pulling off an upset with odds of 1 to 4! 50,000 becomes 200,000! Are you fucking stupid?"
"I won't turn!" Little Potato shrieked, using her other hand to pry Li Laoqi's fingers off. "This is my money!"
The live stream chat exploded with comments.
"Holy crap? Stealing your girlfriend's money to bet?"
"Is Seventh Brother serious?"
"That's a bit much..."
Li Laoqi completely ignored the comments.
With red eyes, he used force to pry open Little Potato's fingers one by one.
Little Potato burst into tears.
"Li Laoqi, you bastard! Let me go!"
"Give me!"
Li Laoqi snatched the phone and unlocked it.
The speed of their movements was astonishing.
He opened his WeChat Wallet and entered the transfer amount.
fifty thousand.
confirm.
Refers to verification.
The entire process takes no more than ten seconds.
Little Potato slumped to the ground, covering his face and crying.
His shoulders were trembling.
Li Laoqi had already switched back to the betting page and clicked hard on the option of "Atletico Madrid unbeaten/upset".
All positions.
Fifty thousand yuan.
Confirm your bet.
He turned around, facing the live stream camera, and revealed an extremely greedy and arrogant smile.
"The order has been placed!"
He held up his phone and shoved the successful bet page in front of the camera.
"Today I'm going to make you rich!"
At the same time.
On the television screen, the referee blew the whistle to kick off the second half.
In the upper right corner of the screen, the score remains 0:0.
Simeone's mad dogs and Mourinho's Galácticos have finally met their match in a true battle of attrition.