Chapter 190: Crushing Chelsea Completely! Ferguson, I Finally Understand Your Joy!
December 26, afternoon.
King's Cross Station—one of London's busiest underground hubs.
Five Tube lines converged here.
Surrounded by top institutions like Central Saint Martins and University of London, and the offices of global giants like Apple, Google, Facebook, and Huawei.
Yet, despite London's status as a global metropolis, on public holidays like Christmas, King's Cross always seemed oddly quiet.
But past noon, both King's Cross and neighboring Euston Station began to buzz with activity.
And it kept growing.
Police were deployed around the stations to maintain order.
Trains heading west were packed, many passengers dressed head-to-toe in red jerseys.
They didn't need to ask where the crowd was headed—
they were all Bayswater Chinese supporters.
Among them was Martin Bannon, fully geared out in club apparel.
"Are all these people heading to Wembley?"
Asked his friend, William Smith, standing just behind him.
"Absolutely. Fulham's match should've already kicked off," Martin said with a grin—clearly proud of his club.
By "the farm," he meant Fulham, who had earned promotion back to the Premier League this season.
On Boxing Day, there were three London fixtures:
Fulham vs. Tottenham, kicking off at 12:45 p.m.West Ham vs. Portsmouth, at 1:00 p.m. (though that was out east)Arsenal vs. Aston Villa would be played the next day, December 27
So it was clear—the fans heading west were going to Wembley.
Today's feature match?
Bayswater Chinese vs. Chelsea.
A West London Derby, and the most anticipated fixture of the holiday season.
"I've only been in the US for a few years, and Bayswater Chinese is suddenly this huge?"
William was stunned.
He, like Martin, had worked in London after graduation—
until his company shipped him off to the States.
Back then, Bayswater Chinese was barely known.
"This is normal now," Martin chuckled.
"Oh yeah?"
"Every home match, the Tube stations get mobbed with people heading to Wembley. After the game, it's a sea of humanity—police have to manage traffic and crowds."
He laughed, then added:
"Westminster Police even asked the club to pay for it once."
"They called it a 'mass migration.'"
"A migration?" William was skeptical.
"So far this season, average attendance is 89,000—and half of that is from central London."
"Seriously?"
"Why would I lie?"
Then Martin slapped his friend's shoulder and grinned.
"Guess how much I paid for your ticket today?"
William thought for a second.
"£100?" he guessed high, given the holiday markup.
Martin shook his head.
"£200?"
Martin held up five fingers.
"£500."
"£500?! Are you mad?!" William blurted.
"I have a season ticket, but I couldn't get a spare—not a single ticket on the open market. I had to go through a scalper."
"That's insane!"
William looked apologetic, realizing his spontaneous decision had cost his friend dearly.
"Don't worry. Just buy me a good meal when we get there."
"Of course! How's the food in the stadium?"
"Excellent. Haven't you seen all those fans online who say they bought season tickets just for the food?"
Martin laughed.
"Alright, dinner's on me… Hey Martin, didn't you just get promoted to project manager?"
"I did. That's why I can afford to spend £500 taking you to a match."
"I heard your company is moving offices?"
"Yeah. The iPhone 3GS has been out for six months and already outsold its predecessor. We've been hiring like crazy. Our UK HQ is spread across six different buildings in London. It's a mess."
"Makes sense. Finding large office space in central London is impossible. Even Google's split up."
"Now they want to consolidate 1,000+ staff into one building—and they'll keep hiring. We're understaffed as it is."
"Any options picked yet?"
"No, but I heard Bayswater's campus is in consideration."
"The office park next to the new stadium? Isn't that a bit small?"
"Our HQ isn't that big. I just heard there's been contact—apparently Norman Foster's firm is handling it?"
"Norman Foster?"
"Yeah, he designed most of our Apple Stores. And the new Bayswater stadium is one of his, too."
"No wonder you guys love Foster so much."
"They say three buildings have already been leased. Only four in total. One's being kept for the club. Not sure how they're negotiating, but that's the word."
"That area's crazy expensive. I heard the tenants include names like Bulgari Hotels."
"According to our execs, they want to be next to Bulgari. Makes it easy to host visiting US staff in style."
"Haha, not a bad idea."
They chatted all the way into the westbound Tube and got off at Wembley Central.
By the time they arrived, the crowds were enormous.
Wembley has two Tube stations—both were overflowing with fans.
The closer they got to the stadium, the more overwhelming the sea of red became.
"Whoa... Bayswater Chinese has this many fans now?" William was stunned.
If not for the red shirts, he'd have thought this was a Chelsea crowd.
"I thought British fans were loyal?" he asked, grinning.
"Where's all that lifelong loyalty now?"
"You clearly haven't heard the other saying," Martin chuckled.
"Which one?"
"Every man supports two clubs in his life. One from his community… and the other…"
He smirked.
"Besides, London fans have always been a bit fickle."
Martin's comment sent both Londoners into laughter.
For years, the media had debated which club was London's most beloved.
And these debates?
They weren't going away anytime soon.
Take Manchester, for example. It's often said that City are the local fans' favorite, while United only grew massive thanks to globalization and branding.
But oddly enough, Old Trafford's capacity and attendance still dwarf City's.
Or in Liverpool—Everton fans claim they outnumber Liverpool's local support.
And London? Even more bizarre.
Who really knows where Chelsea and Tottenham fans are based?
Some claim Spurs fans are mostly west-side, while Chelsea's are in the suburbs.
Which makes no sense.
Before Arsenal built the Emirates, Stamford Bridge was the largest club stadium in London, holding over 41,000.
By contrast, Highbury and White Hart Lane barely cleared 30,000.
Stamford Bridge was expanded multiple times to reach that number.
The weirdest part?
When Arsenal decided to build a new stadium, they went big—60,000 seats, up from Highbury's 38,000.
People scoffed. "They'll never fill it."
They had every argument ready. Logical ones, too.
But in the end?
The Emirates is sold out every game.
And Arsenal's ticket prices are some of the highest in the world, bundled with Champions League group stage seats, pushing season ticket costs to the global peak.
Even so?
Still impossible to get a seat.
In London fan circles, it's a running joke:
"No one really knows how many fans each team has."
If anyone claims a certain area of the city is "dominated" by one team, they're talking nonsense.
"You know, my whole family supports Spurs. I used to go to all their games," said Martin Bannon.
"But now? I mostly watch Bayswater Chinese."
He gestured at the sea of red pouring into Wembley.
"I bet there are tons of younger fans like me—maybe they grew up supporting West Ham, Charlton, Fulham, even Arsenal or Chelsea…
But now?
They support Bayswater Chinese."
"Martin, after hearing all this, I'm starting to like this club too," said William Smith.
"Yeah?"
"Of course. My favorite singer Adele is a fan. How could I not be?"
He grabbed Martin's arm and pulled him forward into the crowd.
"Come on! Today's the once-a-year Adele performance. Let's get inside and find our seats."
…
Since her debut album made waves, Adele had become a globally acclaimed singer.
In 2009, she won Grammy Song and Record of the Year.
In 2010, she was nominated for Best Pop Female Vocalist.
Over the past two years, she'd won more awards than anyone could count.
But she always kept one tradition:
Whenever she was in London, she never missed a Bayswater Chinese home match.
She even had her own private box at Wembley, used for both family and VIP guests.
And every year, for the first home game after Christmas, she would perform live for the crowd.
Her way of thanking Yang Cheng and the club.
Today was no different.
A West London Derby—Bayswater Chinese vs. Chelsea.
The world was watching.
As Adele's haunting, powerful voice echoed through Wembley, the energy inside the stadium reached its peak.
When the teams walked out, the entire crowd was on fire.
90,000 fans packed into Wembley.
The biggest match of the holidays.
A Premier League heavyweight clash.
And both teams sent out their strongest lineups.
Chelsea (Away – 4-3-3):
GK: Cech
DEF: Ashley Cole, Terry, Alex, Ivanović
MID: Mikel (DM), Sneijder, Lampard
FW: Malouda, Drogba, Eto'o
This was Chelsea's strongest XI of the season.
Especially that backline.
With Carvalho fading, Alex had become Terry's top partner.
Even the bench was stacked: Ballack, Zhirkov…
Hiddink's squad was loaded.
Bayswater Chinese (Home – 4-3-3):
GK: Neuer
DEF: Marcelo, Kompany, Pepe, Piszczek
MID: Matic (DM), Ramsey, Modrić
FW: Bale, Lewandowski, Di María
This was Yang Cheng's best available lineup.
Rakitić was out injured, so Yang Cheng opted for a more aggressive setup—Ramsey instead of Matuidi, pairing him with Modrić in midfield.
Ramsey's stamina was monstrous.
Thiago Silva was suspended, so Kompany slotted in.
As each Bayswater Chinese player walked onto the pitch, the stadium announcer boomed their names—
Each greeted with thunderous cheers.
Especially Gareth Bale.
He was now the face of the club.
"Gareth Bale!!"
The fans chanted as one.
Up in the stands, William Smith leapt to his feet, overwhelmed.
"I saw his highlights online—amazing! Everyone's sharing it in the US!"
"He's massive in America," he shouted.
"What about that Walcott guy? Not playing today?"
The crowd noise was deafening.
Martin Bannon had to lean in close and yell into his friend's ear:
"They rotate. Him, Bale, and Di María—they take turns."
"Di María? Any good?"
"Of course! Every club wants him—but we're not selling!" Martin laughed.
"Bale's that good, homegrown too—why isn't he captain?" William asked.
"Modrić. Yeah, he's Croatian, but he grew up here—joined us young, climbed from the lower leagues. And he's phenomenal. Just a bit… quiet."
"I like Bale. Strong, powerful!" William yelled.
Caught in the moment, maybe swept up by the atmosphere or sheer excitement, he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Let's go, Gareth Bale!!
Smash Chelsea!!"
Right then—he wasn't alone.
90,000 voices roared inside Wembley.
…
With referee Peter Walton's opening whistle, the West London Derby kicked off in front of the watching world.
Chelsea had first possession.
And Bayswater Chinese immediately pressed high.
All three lines pushed forward.
The entire stadium exploded with noise.
And with that, the match began with an overwhelming intensity.
The ball quickly fell to Bayswater Chinese.
It was their trademark—one-touch passing and movement, switching play to the left.
Marcelo sprinted forward and received the ball in the inside channel, sending a diagonal pass into the left edge of the box.
Gareth Bale received and tried to beat Ivanović for a cross.
The Serbian fullback blocked it out for a corner.
"Just 1 minute and 11 seconds into the game, Bayswater Chinese win their first corner!"
"Ivanović with solid defending."
"Let's see this corner."
"Modrić delivers—into the box."
"Matić with the header!"
"A little high!"
"Bayswater Chinese's set-piece routines are always dangerous!"
And they weren't done yet.
Next, they attacked down the right.
Di María received in the right channel and passed wide to Piszczek, who surged down the flank before cutting it back to Di María.
With his speed already in full gear, Di María carried the ball into Chelsea's penalty area.
But his first touch was a bit heavy—Terry got a boot in.
The ball spilled toward the middle.
Lewandowski rushed in and without hesitation—turned and shot on the spin.
It whistled just wide.
The entire stadium let out a gasp.
That strike was bound for the bottom left corner—
had it been just two feet to the right, it was in.
"That's football—any slight variation in technique or contact sends the shot astray."
"Lewandowski's finishing instincts remain sharp."
Chelsea, meanwhile, had been pinned back since kickoff.
But the game's rhythm never slowed.
That was Yang Cheng's plan.
Hiddink's Chelsea wasn't much different from Mourinho's.
Defensive solidity, lightning counterattacks.
Now with Sneijder and Eto'o added, Chelsea had better build-up and more front-line pace.
Their real weapon, though?
Defense.
From Ranieri to Mourinho to Hiddink—Chelsea's back line was in their DNA.
That's why Yang Cheng instructed his team to play fast-paced, high-pressure attacking football—
to stretch and pierce Chelsea's structure through quick passing and vertical transitions.
In the 6th minute, Sneijder collected on the left in midfield and threaded a diagonal ball.
Eto'o darted through the channel and fired from outside the D.
Chelsea's first shot of the game—
no danger.
But instead of settling Chelsea, it fired up Bayswater Chinese.
This is Wembley.
One minute later—
Bale received from Marcelo on the left.
Facing both Lampard and Ivanović, the Welshman stopped the ball, spun, executed a Marseille turn to get past Lampard, and suddenly accelerated, pushing the ball past Ivanović.
Just as he was about to break away—
Ivanović brought him down with a clear foul.
The stadium roared in protest.
That was classic Gareth Bale—he was about to take off.
Quickly, Bayswater Chinese restarted play.
Ramsey combined with Marcelo, then passed to Bale again at the edge of the box.
Bale faced Ivanović, dribbled past him, and when Mikel came over—rainbow flick.
He broke into the box and crossed.
The ball curled to the middle.
Lewandowski charged forward, ready to head it…
But a towering figure beat him to it—
Petr Čech, leaping with arms extended, snatched the ball out of the air.
The two landed almost simultaneously.
Clutching the ball to his chest, Čech shouted at his defense before launching it upfield.
Drogba battled Pepe for the long ball.
Once a terrifying force, the Ivorian was now nearly 32.
Pepe, at 26 and in his prime, went up and won the aerial duel clean.
The crowd erupted in applause—that one was for Pepe.
After nodding it back into play, the Portuguese center-back strolled casually behind Drogba—job done.
His teammates didn't waste the momentum.
The play ended with Ramsey forcing a save from Čech with a long-range effort.
Still no goal—but Bayswater Chinese had been dominant for the first 10 minutes.
Chelsea couldn't even muster a counterattack.
Their next chance came in the 13th minute.
Ashley Cole overlapped on the left and found Malouda, who passed to Drogba.
Back to goal, the striker held off Pepe and laid it off.
Eto'o broke into the box but Kompany pressured him, and Neuer came flying off his line, snatching the ball just ahead of the Cameroonian.
Eto'o had to leap to avoid colliding with the keeper.
Even though Chelsea tried to counter, Bayswater Chinese's left flank—led by Bale—was still slicing them open.
Chelsea's entire right side was under siege.
Then, in the 23rd minute, another attack.
Pepe, positioned just past the halfway line on the right, received a pass.
Drogba pressed. Pepe shifted and sent the ball wide.
Modrić dropped to receive, but Sneijder was glued to him.
Drogba cut off the passing lane to Matić and Kompany.
But Pepe was composed, threading a long diagonal pass low across the pitch.
Piszczek, retreating on the right, received it under pressure from Malouda.
Formerly a winger, Piszczek had the footwork. He stopped the ball with the outside of his right boot, spun, and surged forward through the inside channel.
Modrić sprinted ahead.
Piszczek carried the ball into Chelsea's final third and played a vertical pass to Di María.
The Argentine controlled it with his left, held off Ashley Cole, then tried to lift a pass over the top...
But the height on the ball wasn't quite right—Terry met it cleanly with his head.
The ball rebounded out of the box and landed near the top-right arc of the penalty area.
Modrić arrived in stride, meeting the dropping ball with a brilliant cushioned touch.
That little flick lifted the ball just over the onrushing Mikel and the Chelsea back line near the edge of the box—
it dropped perfectly behind them into space.
Lewandowski burst between Terry and Alex, stationed near the penalty spot, turned sideways as the ball came down, and smashed it first time on the volley.
Čech, halfway off his line, dove with all his might—
But the shot was too fast, too powerful.
The ball ripped into the net just inside the right post.
"GOAL!!!"
"23rd minute, and Bayswater Chinese strike first against Chelsea!"
"Lewandowski with a thunderous volley!"
"A massive goal at the perfect time!"
"Bayswater Chinese have already taken 9 shots since kickoff—and now they've been rewarded!"
"Classic quick-passing buildup—and an incredibly imaginative final ball!"
"Especially that disguised flick from Modrić!"
"And Lewandowski's movement—so clever. He had started to run onto Di María's earlier ball but realized he might be offside, so he quickly pulled back."
"If he hadn't held his run, this one would've been ruled out. What awareness!"
"That entire attacking sequence was a thing of beauty!"
Wembley erupted in celebration.
90,000 voices roared as one—like the whole stadium might shake the skies apart.
…
On the touchline, Yang Cheng clapped and laughed the moment the ball hit the net.
When playing a side like Chelsea, getting the first goal was absolutely vital.
The Blues were masters of defending a lead.
But Bayswater Chinese were masters of attack.
It all came down to who could impose their will.
And now they had the edge.
Immediately, Yang Cheng gestured to Matić and Modrić to ease the tempo, inviting Chelsea forward.
Bayswater's passing style was energy-intensive.
That's why Yang Cheng always rotated heavily.
If you could save energy, you saved it.
And with Chelsea pushing up, it would be easier to hit them in transition.
What if Chelsea didn't push up?
Impossible.
Yang Cheng was certain—Hiddink wouldn't be able to sit back.
Chelsea were 5th in the league.
And more crucially, AFCON 2010 was around the corner.
Few realized how much that would cost Chelsea.
Drogba, Eto'o, Mikel—all starters in this match—would leave for the tournament.
Essien and Kalou too—one a rotational starter, the other a bench option.
Five players gone, four of them key.
Chelsea's fixture list during AFCON? Nightmare.
From 5th place, they could easily slide even further.
In this context, Hiddink had no choice—he needed every point.
Even picking Sneijder over the more defensive Essien was likely a gamble to chase points.
And it wasn't like the rest of the top sides were immune.
Arsenal had Song, Eboué, and Kolo TouréManchester City had Adebayor and Yaya TouréUnited and Liverpool? Mostly British.Bayswater Chinese? They used to have Yaya Touré—sold to City.
So during AFCON?
Yang Cheng could finally experience the "joy" Ferguson always bragged about.
…
After taking the lead and dialing back slightly, Bayswater Chinese still pressed.
The hosts kept probing—especially down the flanks.
Di María was electric on the right.
In the 29th minute, he received a pass from Piszczek, then cheekily nutmegged Ashley Cole, attempting to race around him on the other side.
The English left-back had no choice—he wrapped up Di María with a rugby-style tackle.
Right in front of the assistant referee.
Whistle. Yellow card.
"Bayswater Chinese are stretching Chelsea's back line wide, forcing their fullbacks into isolated 1v1s."
"The Blues are struggling to cope."
"They want to protect the middle—but that just gives room to Modrić and Ramsey."
"This Bayswater side is absolutely flying."
"Yang Cheng's system is polished, fluid—and his players are executing it like clockwork."
Wave after wave of attacks from the hosts.
Staunch defending from Chelsea.
The game reached a standstill.
But Yang Cheng had read the moment perfectly.
In the 37th minute, Chelsea couldn't hold back anymore.
Sneijder fired a long-range effort that finally forced Neuer into action.
Drogba then headed over from a Malouda cross.
Chelsea didn't want to go into halftime trailing, so they pushed hard before the break.
But then—
41st minute.
Midfield interception.
Ramsey nicked the ball off Lampard.
Matić quickly launched a mid-range pass toward the front line—
straight to Bale on the left wing.
Another 1v1 with Ivanović.
Bale stopped the ball, slowly dribbled toward him.
Ivanović hesitated.
Suddenly, Bale burst diagonally toward the sideline.
They were shoulder to shoulder.
Ivanović leaned in, trying to force him out of bounds.
But Bale braced with his right shoulder—and powered through.
He shoved Ivanović aside, pushed the ball past, and took off.
Ivanović was stunned.
This kid is strong!
Bale wasn't bothered by the Serbian's presence at all.
He flew down the touchline, reached the left edge of the box—
Alex stepped up.
Bale hit the turbo, took him on the outside—
And whipped in a cross from the byline.
The ball curved toward the front of the six-yard box.
Lewandowski, crashing in, shielded Terry, and struck the dropping ball…
When it came to close-range finishing like this, Lewandowski was almost automatic.
But what he didn't expect was that he had just met Petr Čech at his best.
The Czech keeper pulled off an incredible save, going down and reaching out with one hand to block the shot—from point-blank range.
Lewandowski reacted instantly and lunged again to fire a second shot.
Čech, already on the ground, sprang up again, his hands flinging out at full stretch—and he parried the second attempt too!
Two rockets in a row, both stopped. Čech's arms were numb from the force.
The ball was then hoofed clear by the onrushing Ashley Cole.
Only then did Wembley erupt in shock—and groans of disbelief.
"Two point-blank strikes… and still, Chelsea's net remains unbroken!"
"That's just insane!"
On the broadcast, cameras caught Yang Cheng on the sideline smacking his own forehead, his expression somewhere between disbelief and frustration.
He was muttering under his breath—
thankfully, the broadcasters assumed it was in English.
But in truth, Yang Cheng cursed in Chinese:
"I saved your damn head, and that's how you repay me?!"
Even so, the relentless attacking from Bayswater Chinese had every fan on their feet.
The tempo was lightning quick, the transitions brutally effective.
This wasn't just pretty football—it was football with teeth.
Sure, Barcelona's possession game was unmatched, and Arsenal's passing was elite too.
But neither side had this kind of violent momentum.
When Bayswater Chinese got rolling, they didn't let up.
Wave after wave.
Even fans watching from home felt their blood boil.
The hair on their arms stood up during the best sequences.
But they weren't just attacking down the left.
In the 44th minute, the home side launched a swift break down the right.
Di María drove into the final third, then suddenly cut the ball wide to Piszczek, and darted into the inside channel.
Piszczek whipped a 45-degree cross into the box.
It found Lewandowski, who held off Alex, brought the ball down near the penalty spot's right side, and laid it off toward the top of the area.
Di María arrived, stopped it with his left foot, and slipped it to Modrić, who had burst forward.
Inside the box now, Modrić trapped it—but Mikel and Terry closed fast.
Modrić spun, shielding the ball with his body, and passed it back to the arc.
Di María swept across, controlling it again, nudging it left—
Then spun and fired with his left foot.
The shot screamed past both Terry and Mikel, straight toward the left post.
Čech had been positioned more to his right, and his view had been blocked by the crowd in the box.
By the time he reacted and dove—
Too late.
The ball clipped the inside of the post and went in.
"GOAAAL!!!"
"Minute 44! Di María scores again!"
"Bayswater Chinese double their lead just before halftime!"
"Another lightning counterattack—this is their signature weapon!"
"This time it came from the right flank, and Di María finished it with a beautiful curling shot from the top of the box!"
"Chelsea's defense has been solid, but ever since conceding the opener, they've looked far too passive."
"And Bayswater Chinese have seized control."
"2–0!"
"Chelsea are in serious trouble now."
"Hiddink will need to come up with something at halftime—or this Derby may slip away fast."
"It's been all Bayswater Chinese—especially down both wings!"
…
As the whistle blew and Bayswater Chinese headed into the tunnel with a 2–0 lead, 90,000 fans sent them off with a deafening ovation.
Every player was walking on air.
Yang Cheng was extremely pleased with the first half—
but he wasn't letting his guard down.
Back in the dressing room, he didn't hold back on praise.
"That first half? 9 out of 10."
"I'm keeping the last point for now—because the match isn't over, and I don't want you getting cocky."
The players burst out laughing.
The mood in the locker room was light and confident.
Still, Yang Cheng went over a few tactical adjustments and areas for improvement.
He knew Chelsea would have to push in the second half.
They had no choice.
If they lost this game, their title chances would take a major hit—maybe even evaporate in January.
That's not something Chelsea could afford.
And Hiddink knew that better than anyone.
Given the brutal competition in the Premier League, if Chelsea didn't strengthen in the winter window, their chances would plummet—especially with five players heading to the Africa Cup of Nations, including their two top scorers, Drogba and Eto'o.
Yang Cheng's plan was simple:
If Chelsea pushed forward?
Bayswater Chinese would punish them.
Especially down the wings.
"Gareth, Ángel, Marcelo, Lukasz—I believe in you."
"Especially Gareth and Ángel."
"With your ability, getting past Ivanović and Ashley Cole should be as easy as crossing an empty street in the morning."
"If you want to beat them, you will."
Yang Cheng rarely handed out motivational speeches like this.
But today?
The two wingers were on fire.
He needed them to stay that way.
If they could dominate 1v1, Chelsea's fullbacks would be forced back.
Chelsea couldn't attack if they were too busy worrying about defense.
That's how you defend with offense.
"Gentlemen—today is Boxing Day."
"And of the 90,000 fans in Wembley right now—not just supporters, but your family, friends, loved ones—people who are part of your lives…"
"I believe you're like me: you want to give them the best Christmas gift of all."
"So in the second half… go out there and CRUSH CHELSEA."
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