I'm on my day off and decided to play a 50 min game (25min/half), Newcastle v Wigan. Of all the matches I've played, this was probably my hardest yet. Ameobi even pulled a 'Nando.
The speed of Wigan's counter attacks ripped me apart in the first half. My frustration was doubled by Demba Ba's lack of awareness and inability to make smart runs off the shoulders of Wigan's CBs.
I began the second half 1-0 down and decided to move Ben Arfa to AMF and pushed Tiote up near the half line. I also subbed in Løvenkrands and Ameobi. My central midfield was very open but I knew that Gutiérrez would track back to cover the gap if necessary.
The second half was a totally different game. Ben Arfa, Gutiérrez and Løvenkrands mercilessly launched attack after attack, luring the FBs to the center and then exploiting the space on the wings. Ameobi just wan't up to the job however and failed to capitalize on at least 3 clear chances (including the 'Nando I mentioned earlier).
Hoping to hold on to their one goal lead, Wigan had resorted to playing a completely defensive formation and adopted very defensive tactics. Palms sweaty, I moved Ben Arfa up to the very edge of the box with 77 mins elapsed on the clock. This decision proved to be a fateful one, as within 5 mins, Ben Arfa skipped past 2 defenders and after being pushed off the ball by Caldwell, regained his footing to nestle the ball in the corner of the net.
Right then. It's fucking on. I switched tactics from Long Ball/Possession to Counter Attack and waited for Wigan's inevitable push for the winner. In the 85th minute, they launched a brutal attack, pushing 9 players into my half. By now my bloody armpits were sweating like crazy. I could feel the sweat running down my arms. Would my risky tactic work?
BOOM!!! Rodallega released a monstrous low shot that took a deflection. Harper was moving the wrong way and caught wrong-footed. The ball seemed to move in slow motion, teasing me with every bobble, I mouthed the word "SHIT" and resigned myself to a loss.
CLANG!
Off the post? Off the fucking post!! My hands can barely keep a grip on the controller. Tiote gets the rebound and with a deft touch, pushes it into space near the corner flag. I notice both Ben Arfa and Løvenkrands bursting foward. Arfa was being closely marked, but in their haste their took their man off of Løvenkrands. Big mistake. I decided to use a manual long pass and placed the ball a few meters ahead of Løvenkrands. By now the lone defender had moved forward in an attempt to close the angle and put Ben Arfa offside. Løvenkrands sped past him like he wasn't even there, but in doing so over hit the ball. Sensing an opportunity to be the hero, Kirkland rushes forward. Too late. Løvenkrands gets there first and with a touch of R2, calmly places the ball in the corner of the net. 2-1.
While Løvenkrands ran to the adboard to celebrate I just sat there and thought about what had happened. My shirt, cold and wet from sweat, clung to my chest. My hands were slippery but hot from all of the blood and adrenaline being pumped to keep them functional.
This must be what Sir Alex or Pep feel like when their teams have outsmarted and outplayed their opponents. While Wigan played at the same physical level as my players, they were tactically undone and by the end of the game, couldn't string two passes together. This is why PES will always be my footy game of choice.
When the referee blew the final whistle, I sat up and exited the game immediately. My newborn lay next to me, looking quizzically at what I imagine must have been quite a sight; his pops, drenched with sweat muttering "Master League".
Thanks for reading gents. I'm off to take a nap now.
