He had never actually coached a match or set up tactics before, but as the saying goes, even if you haven’t eaten pork, you’ve at least seen pigs run. He played the FM Football Manager game, so that counts as having seen pigs run. But FM’s training isn’t the same as in real life. In the game, you can assign specialized coaches to train players—just arrange the training sessions and that’s it. But how do you actually train players in reality? He had no idea. Take physical training, for example—what exactly counts as physical training? How do you train to actually improve fitness? Just running laps? Don’t be ridiculous! Even William Clark thought that wasn’t reliable.

As for how to coach a team during a match, you can pick up a bit by watching live broadcasts, but training? You can’t see that from watching games, and the media can’t report on the specifics of team training—after all, that involves tactical secrets, and not all training content can be made public.

So he had never seen what real team training looked like, which left him completely at a loss.

For the past three days, except when he was asleep and dreaming of his previous life, he had been thinking about this issue.

If he really wanted to be a football coach, a coach who can’t lead training sessions simply can’t survive in this field.

He had to learn how to train a team as quickly as possible.

For these three days, he had been carefully observing his colleagues at work, then pondering things based on his own understanding—he couldn’t just ask his colleagues, or he’d give himself away.

As for coaching a team during a match, that was actually much easier for him at this point than leading training.

After all, Real Madrid’s youth team—or to be precise, the children’s team—was extremely strong in all of Spain.

And today’s opponent, Compostela Children’s Team B, was so weak that even if he did nothing, they would still win this match—at least, that’s what William Clark thought.

But William Clark had no intention of actually doing nothing.

As a fan who had always preferred coaches over star players since childhood, he had finally gotten the chance to direct a match—how could he possibly waste it?

Even if it was just a youth team match, even if he was just imitating the mannerisms of those head coaches he’d seen on TV, William Clark couldn’t wait to give it a try.

He really loved the feeling of passionately commanding from the sidelines!

So he spat out the blade of grass in his mouth and stood up from the ground.

He began to put on a show of coaching the match.

At the moment, the situation on the field did call for the head coach to do something, because five minutes had passed since the match started and the score was still 0:0.

For Real Madrid’s youth team, with such a weak opponent, not having scored in five minutes was abnormal.

From his observation, during these five minutes, Compostela Children’s Team B had fallen back en masse, compressing the space and time in front of their goal, not allowing Real Madrid’s Junior B team players to shoot comfortably in the box—sometimes they couldn’t even control the ball.

How do you break through this kind of situation?

William Clark began to recall all the matches he’d watched—when faced with similar situations, what did those famous or not-so-famous coaches do?

Breaking down a packed defense… it’s nothing more than long shots or set pieces.

Set pieces require special tactics, and there wasn’t time to arrange that now.

But long shots are “cheap and effective,” quick and convenient…

He remembered that during training these past few days, there was a young player who was pretty good at long shots—not even thirteen years old, but with a powerful kick.

Who was it again?

Ah, it seemed to be number 14, Victor Anderson…

He was just about to loudly remind number 14 to take more long shots, his mouth just opening, taking a deep breath, preparing himself.

At that moment, a sudden shout came from behind him—a loud, grating voice, like a drake quacking right in his ear.

“Damn it, are you out of your mind! Why isn’t Diego Rivera playing in this match?”

“Put Diego Rivera on the field, you idiot!”

The sudden racket nearly made William Clark choke on his own breath. He frowned.

He didn’t want to pay attention to the shouting behind him, and called out, “Victor Hugo! Victor Anderson! Take more long shots! Don’t push too far forward, drop back a bit! Then shoot from distance!”

He finally gave his first on-the-spot instruction of the match, and William Clark felt a bit proud—his presence was good, his strategy wasn’t wrong, and his first performance was flawless! Of course, he wasn’t sure if it would actually work; he was just making adjustments based on his experience as a fan. But no matter what, this was his first step, and just from appearances, he looked quite the part…

Just as William Clark was feeling proud of himself, though a bit nervous, that drake-like voice ruined his mood again.

“To break the deadlock, long shots? Don’t be ridiculous, you idiot! You need to put my son on the field! As long as my son plays, any deadlock will be broken! How did you even become a coach? You can’t figure out such a simple problem? A star’s performance can change everything! Don’t you get it? My son Diego Rivera is just such a star!”