There is such a thing as flow in a match.
But Arsenal built two lines high up the pitch and made the flow of the ball irregular.
Fàbregas and Nasri constantly pressed Manchester City's back four, preventing them from passing properly, while the left and right full-backs, Clichy and Sagna, pushed up into midfield to apply a second wave of pressure.
Manchester City's defenders were too busy clearing the ball, and as it kept breaking in completely unexpected directions, the players were thrown into total confusion.
It was a complete mess.
What was funny was that Arsenal's players were also failing to control the ball properly.
'They're deliberately disrupting the flow of the ball.'
Running around busily from side to side, Ho-young suddenly looked toward the bench outside the touchline.
Arsène Wenger.
He really was not someone to be underestimated just because he was no longer in his prime.
Since he had no confidence in winning through normal football, he had gone for an extreme measure and chosen to drag the match into a completely unideal form.
And Ho-young was definitely having trouble playing in it.
First of all, he was getting on the ball far less often, so even if he wanted to drive the attack forward, he could not.
[We are already moving into the 14th minute of the first half. But the fierce battle for the ball is still continuing.]
[It feels as if the ball has spent more time in the air than on the grass. The players just cannot get settled.]
[And just as we say that, the ball is launched into Manchester City's half! Yaya Touré and Fàbregas go for it at the same time!]
[Touré wins it!]
[But it comes off Fàbregas's foot and goes straight out. Play continues with a throw-in for Manchester City.]
A throw-in for Manchester City.
As Yaya Touré went to take the ball, Ho-young ran over and signaled to him.
Then Fàbregas followed right behind and stuck to him like a mosquito.
"I thought I could smell that typical merengue scent from somewhere."
Merengue, a term often used to belittle Real Madrid.
It was Fàbregas deliberately trying to provoke Ho-young.
Ho-young did not just stand there and listen. He calmly fired back.
"Right. Thanks to that, I lifted seven trophies at Real Madrid, while you've spent the last seven years achieving nothing."
"How arrogant."
For a moment, Ho-young caught sight of Fàbregas's expression twisting.
[Cesc Fàbregas]
[Possessed Talents: Green Onion Root (T), Green Onion Root's Through Ball (U), Outstanding Vision (S+3), Artistic Creativity (S-), Perfect Space Penetration (S-), Genius Football Intelligence (A+), (More...)]
(You may covet one talent if the conditions are met.)
(When coveting a T-grade talent, Title, you may acquire part of its senses. However, you must be at least 18 years old to covet it.)
(S-grade or higher talents may be coveted only after achieving the hidden condition.)
(Condition 1: Record more attacking points than Cesc Fàbregas)
(Condition 2: Succeed in a ball interception and turn it into a goal)
(Condition 3: Win the match)
(Hidden Condition: Unlocked when coveting 1 or more talents)
Green Onion Root, a Korean nickname given because he sprayed passes everywhere.
He was weak in defensive contribution and press resistance, but when it came to passing and dribbling, he was a player of world-class level.
The two kept going shoulder to shoulder, continuing their battle of nerves.
"Wake up. This isn't Real Madrid anymore."
"You should wake up instead. You know better than anyone that Arsenal will never win the title."
"You'll regret that."
"We'll see."
Cesc Fàbregas.
As expected of a Barcelona product, he held bad feelings toward Ho-young.
That was why he was so intent on the mind games today.
'Fine. Go ahead and try your hardest. It won't go the way you want today.'
Their ultimate goal was not to lose.
They could not afford to concede, and to do that, they had to stop the opposition from playing the way they wanted.
At the center of that, Fàbregas was carrying out his role well.
Arsenal made sure the ball did not enter their own half, and whenever danger threatened, they immediately swarmed with intense pressure and just blasted the ball away.
[Another battle for the ball. Alex Song races in and clears it away.]
[The ball floats once more into Manchester City's half, and this time Ho-young chases it.]
Another duel for the ball.
"Not happening."
"!"
Ho-young got himself into position first, but he still failed to win it.
Fàbregas, arriving just after him, had simply thrown his leg up without hesitation.
It was a moment that could easily have ended with Ho-young being kicked in the face.
But play continued.
[The referee lets play go on. That could easily have been a yellow card!]
The ball eventually came off Fàbregas's foot and flew toward Manchester City's goal.
Goalkeeper Joe Hart tried to gather it, but it went out beyond the goal line, and the rhythm of the match was broken once again.
A chill running down his spine, Ho-young rubbed his chest.
No matter how bold a player might be, something like that was never easy to get used to.
A boot had just skimmed right past his face. How could anyone stay calm after that?
But the one losing his temper was Fàbregas.
"Woooooo!"
He pounded his chest like a gorilla and roared.
He was in an extremely heated state right now.
He was as focused as if this were a North London derby against Tottenham.
No, even more than that.
Overinvested.
He was looking at Ho-young and holding out a hand, telling him to get up quickly.
"Get up!"
He barked at Ho-young in a fierce voice.
It was behavior far removed from the calm nature he usually showed.
He was not normally that kind of player.
Having left Barcelona at the age of sixteen to join Arsenal, he had led Arsenal with professionalism ever since.
He was famous not only for setting an example to others, but also for having a good character.
And yet today, he was completely different.
The reason was simple.
Victory and the title.
Before leaving for Barcelona, he wanted to fulfill the wish of Arsène Wenger, the man he thought of as a father.
He poured everything into fierce movement, showing his passion for victory.
[Isn't this exactly what makes the Premier League so special? This is what competition means. A fierce clash between third and fourth, both trying to climb to second. Just watching it sends chills down your spine. It would not be surprising at all if someone ended up being carried off to the hospital.]
[It looks more like a war than a football match. There are almost no shots or passes, yet just watching them fight to protect the ball makes for such an intense spectacle. It really is the kind of match that keeps you on edge.]
The beautiful football Wenger had always believed in was nowhere to be seen on the pitch.
Their determination to win by any means even looked desperate.
They were thoroughly interfering so that no one on a football pitch could actually play football.
Anti-football.
Wenger was using the very tactic he had always despised.
That alone showed how desperate he was.
And it was actually working.
[Arsenal's possession has now risen to 73 percent. This dull game of recycling the ball just keeps going.]
Manchester City tried to press high and force misplaced passes, but Arsenal, who prided themselves on being the best in the world at passing, kept hold of the ball no matter the situation.
And if they ever lost it while attacking, they went into heavy contact to forcibly break the flow.
Because of that, by the 35th minute of the first half, both teams had managed only two shots in total.
It was certainly an intense match, but with no attacking football being played, it was not enjoyable to watch.
Even Arsenal's own fans in the stands were left scratching their heads at the quality of the performance.
But for Wenger, it had been an unavoidable choice.
'If we don't do this, we can't win.'
That was how exceptional he believed Ho-young to be.
'He's a player who can create a goal whenever even the slightest chance appears.'
Had that not already been proven through countless matches?
To beat a player like that, you had to deny him those chances as much as possible.
It was a very rational and realistic response.
And then, in the 40th minute.
After holding firm through the fierce contest for the ball against Manchester City, Arsenal gradually began to reveal their true intentions.
[Arsenal are finally starting to attack in earnest. They're beginning to really drive the opposition back.]
[Fàbregas and Nasri are exchanging passes fluidly. Up front, Walcott and Arshavin are moving busily.]
A sudden strike.
Arsenal began to shape the match with attacking football.
Central midfielder Alex Song formed a triangle with Nasri and Fàbregas to keep the middle solid, while the full-backs Sagna and Clichy overlapped to support Marouane Chamakh.
At the same time, the wide forwards Arshavin and Walcott cut inside.
It was right then.
Fàbregas's killer pass pierced into the right channel.
Thwack!
[Kolarov missed it!]
[Arshavin breaks into the box! Kompany is right behind him!]
Vincent Kompany, who had been linking up with Ho-young, sprinted over and got himself into position.
Up to that point, it was fine.
But.
"Damn."
In his urgency, he stuck a foot in too rashly, and that became the problem.
His defensive positioning had been good, but composure and judgment were down to the individual, and with that single mistake, he ended up giving Arshavin the opening.
And then, in front of goal.
Andrey Arshavin, Russia's finest footballer who had led his country to the semi-finals of the Euros, opened the goal with his trademark inside-foot finish.
Thud!
It was Arsenal's opener, arriving in the 43rd minute.
Halftime.
The away dressing room was pure chaos.
Manager Mancini shouted like a madman in fury, while several players had fallen into despair.
Who would not be angry in a situation like this?
But the angriest people were the players themselves.
All of them had come to the Emirates filled with expectations.
Yet they had spent the first 45 minutes being completely powerless and ended up behind.
Quite literally, it was a first half in which they had done nothing.
They had sweated and prepared for this match over the past few days, but now all that effort felt as good as wasted.
It was the kind of moment that made a footballer question everything.
And it was not as if they had any obvious answer.
Concentration, mentality, and luck.
If there was anything they lacked compared to Arsenal, it was only that.
Mancini ranted furiously.
"Even if the rhythm gets broken suddenly, we have to get our own tempo back. If we can't do that, we can't attack properly. You idiots need to fight back against them. Do you understand what that means? Use your bodies. The referee is being stingy with the cards, so why are you all just standing there? If you have any brains at all, you should be using your bodies. We are not the ones who should be scared. They are."
Mancini was absolutely right.
Arsenal's players were not especially strong physically.
If City focused a little more and played with greater passion, they could definitely show much more than they had so far.
"In the second half, Vieira comes on for Gareth Barry."
Mancini intended to make the match easier to manage by bringing on Patrick Vieira, who was strong in physical battles.
Then he called Ho-young over separately and said,
"You lead the players out there. In a big and important match like today, your role is crucial. I trust you."
Trust and burden.
A double-edged sword was pressing against Ho-young's throat.
From that point on, the pressure only grew.
It was the start of a hellish halftime.
But he had to endure it.
Finding a way was Ho-young's responsibility.
And at times like this, the person who could help was, of course...
"You're missing something important."
It was Ronaldinho, a man with a great deal of big-match experience.
He stepped in with the presence of a mentor and did not hold back with his advice.
"You know how to control the flow of a match, but you don't understand the flow Arsenal are creating right now."
"Can you explain more specifically?"
"Football is a sport of understanding. The direction of the ball and where it is, that is the flow of the game. And you have to understand that essence before you can feel the flow of the ball."
"That's difficult. It feels like I almost understand, but it still seems far away."
"It might be, since that kind of sense is something you're born with. But you've got plenty of other weapons too. Use them well. If the opposition are forcibly ruining the flow, then if you can't predict the flow of the ball, you need to make it predictable."
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. By force, then."
"Exactly."
Ho-young's eyes flashed.
His mind began to race.
He felt as though he finally understood what the essence was, and what he had to do.
It was just as the second half was about to begin.
(To be continued.)