Chapter 269: Not a Single One Can Keep Up
After the second round of Premier League matches concluded, all clubs entered a brief week-long break.
Just two games in, the league had already separated into winners and losers.
Some of last season's top-performing teams were scrambling to adjust their tactics after disappointing starts.
This included sides like Liverpool and Everton, who had earned European spots last season,
as well as Manchester United and Southampton, who had finished seventh and eighth, respectively.
Yes, it was still early days, but many of these teams had already dropped points to relegation battlers or mid-table clubs.
Their sluggish performances were enough to make even the most patient supporters feel uneasy.
By contrast, Chelsea and Manchester City, last season's title rivals, looked far more stable.
Chelsea had opened the season with two clean-sheet wins against newly promoted teams, scoring eight goals.
On paper? Impressive.
But they hadn't yet been truly tested.
City, meanwhile, opened against Newcastle and followed up by beating Liverpool 3–1 at home.
Those two victories carried a bit more weight than Chelsea's.
Even with a small sample size, early signs showed that City and Chelsea were clearly ahead of the rest.
Chelsea: crushing the weak with surgical precision.
City: asserting dominance even against top sides.
Both qualities were essential for any team hoping to win a major league title.
So as the second round ended, the English media wasted no time hyping up this season's first "Blue Battle"—Chelsea vs. Manchester City.
Fans all over the country began debating whether the 2024–2025 Premier League champion would once again be decided between these two sides.
Last season, Chelsea posted a league-best record of 30 wins, 4 draws, and 4 losses, clinching the title with four games to spare.
City, meanwhile, finished on 89 points, a close second.
Sure, Chelsea had coasted through their last four matches with the title already secured, which made the final gap feel closer than it actually was.
But based purely on results, City were the only team close to matching Chelsea's power.
Liverpool and Arsenal?
They had finished double digits behind, nowhere near the title picture.
So this year, if fans wanted someone—anyone—to shake Chelsea's grip on the league,
City was their best hope.
And the best part?
The first Chelsea–City clash was scheduled early—Matchday 5, late September, at the Etihad Stadium.
That match would undoubtedly be a ratings juggernaut.
But before the main course arrived, Chelsea's next game against Everton would serve as the perfect appetizer.
Everton, under Roberto Martínez, had finished sixth last season.
It wasn't spectacular, but considering it was his first season in charge after Moyes' departure, he had kept the team competitive and solid.
Just three days ago, Everton won their Europa League playoff, securing a spot in the group stage.
It was likely their focus on those two-legged qualifiers that had resulted in two straight league draws to start the season.
Now, free from European distractions—at least for a while—Everton's morale was sky-high.
As a Europa League side, they would be Chelsea's first real challenge this season.
There was an extra twist, too.
During the winter window of the previous season, Everton had purchased Emmanuel Adebayor from Spurs—reviving his career and stabilizing their frontline.
A butterfly effect courtesy of Li Ang.
Originally, Everton had planned to loan Lukaku from Chelsea, just like in real life.
But with Chelsea choosing to keep Lukaku and develop him, Martínez was forced to look elsewhere.
In the first half of the season, Everton had struggled with a weak attack, relying heavily on the fading Jelavić.
Wingers and midfielders had to pick up the scoring slack.
Then came the January window.
Martínez took a gamble and signed Adebayor permanently from Spurs for £4 million.
At Spurs, he had played 11 times and scored just 2 goals.
But at Everton? In the second half of the season alone, he racked up 10 goals and 4 assists in 18 league matches.
He single-handedly carried Everton's offense.
This infuriated Daniel Levy, Spurs' chairman.
The club had sold Adebayor for peanuts, hoping to cut their losses.
But if they'd held on longer, Levy could've easily flipped him for double.
Of course, thanks to Adebayor's departure, Spurs had no choice but to promote from within.
That's how they discovered a rising young talent—Harry Kane, who scored eight goals in the second half of the league season.
Levy chose to conveniently forget that part.
Adebayor's late-season explosion earned him praise from many English football pundits.
And in Martínez's Everton system, he had become a vital piece of the puzzle.
Despite his past inconsistencies, his ability to act as a target man made him a threat.
So it was no surprise that Mourinho devised specific plans to limit him.
August 30th, afternoon.
Goodison Park was packed to the brim, the energy electric.
After warmups, the two teams returned to their dressing rooms for final prep.
An hour before kickoff, when Mourinho finally released Chelsea's starting XI for today's match against Everton, the entire English football community knew one thing—this game would become a hot topic of discussion.
Because Mourinho had chosen to start Maguire, who had performed well off the bench in the previous match.
Some fans unfamiliar with Mourinho might speculate this was a media stunt.
Maybe Chelsea was just riding the wave of buzz surrounding Maguire in English football?
But that wasn't Mourinho's style—not even close.
Sure, he liked Maguire.
But he wasn't the type to hand out a start just because of public hype.
And as for chasing attention? Mourinho was the attention.
Let's be honest—he could sneeze in an interview and make headlines.
The real reason Maguire was starting today was tactical:
Mourinho needed someone who could go head-to-head in duels and neutralize Adebayor, Everton's primary attacking threat.
That's it. Plain and simple.
Of course, Everton manager Roberto Martínez hadn't figured that out yet.
He was still studying Chelsea's lineup, scratching his head at why Mourinho had paired Li Ang and De Bruyne in central midfield.
Kroos, who had been stellar in the first two matches, was sitting on the bench.
Martínez didn't think Mourinho was underestimating Everton.
More likely, he wondered whether Mourinho was pulling a "Guardiola move" and testing some experimental tactical configuration.
If that were the case, Martínez thought Everton might actually have a decent chance to cause an upset.
But then he remembered how stable Mourinho's tactical setups usually were,
and how cunning he was with psychological mind games.
"They probably worked on this combination during the offseason," Martínez thought.
"De Bruyne will be organizing from deep, and Mourinho is still trying to find Li Ang's ideal midfield partner."
That seemed like the most logical explanation.
After all, De Bruyne had played as a No. 8 a few times last season, and his chemistry with Li Ang was solid.
Compared to Kroos' stability, De Bruyne's edge was his pinpoint, vertical passing, which could be launched from almost anywhere on the pitch.
Martínez found himself feeling a little jealous.
How nice must it be to have a team where you have to choose between Kroos and De Bruyne as your playmaker?
At most clubs—even the top ones—both would be automatic starters.
But here was Mourinho, making them compete.
It felt like a waste of riches.
As the teams walked onto the pitch, Martínez stole a glance at Mourinho, who immediately noticed.
That look… was oddly mournful.
"Has he figured out our defensive scheme already?" Mourinho muttered, pulling Holland aside and whispering behind his hand.
Holland peered over at Everton's bench and shook his head.
"Martínez? No way. If his tactical insight were that sharp, he'd have been hired by a top-six side years ago.
He'd still be managing Wigan if they hadn't been relegated."
Holland didn't believe for a second that Martínez had deduced Chelsea's defensive plans just by glancing at the lineup.
Mourinho nodded. Sounded reasonable.
Still, he mentally prepared for the worst.
Martínez had led Everton to sixth last season, helped by Adebayor's resurgence.
He had some tactical chops, surely.
Mourinho wasn't one to underestimate opponents.
He kept a close eye on Adebayor's movement in the early minutes.
If the striker started dropping deep to link play, Mourinho was ready to tweak his defensive shape.
But as the match settled into a rhythm, Mourinho's worst-case scenario never came true.
Adebayor played as he always did.
He wanted to win one-on-ones against Maguire or Thiago Silva,
hold the ball, and create space for his teammates.
But he quickly learned he had underestimated Maguire's physical strength—and his absurd aerial dominance.
Adebayor, standing at 1.92 meters and weighing around 80kg, was a rare combination of size and mobility.
In his youth, he had great footwork and often played a hybrid role, sometimes stepping into wide positions to exploit matchups.
In fact, back in his Arsenal days, Adebayor was more of a mismatch specialist.
He was too strong for smaller, quicker defenders, and too agile for the bigger ones.
Now, older and more disciplined, he had adjusted his game—much like Ibrahimović.
But here was the key difference:
Ibra had fully embraced the need to bulk up.
He'd mastered the art of using his body as a weapon.
In contrast, Adebayor still clung to the past.
He hadn't added much muscle.
He still assumed that most Premier League defenders were aging or undersized.
But the new wave of center-backs—guys like Maguire—had changed the game.
Bigger. Stronger. Still mobile.
And against that new breed, Adebayor's physical edge just… vanished.
Today, Adebayor ran into a freak of nature from the new generation—a true heavyweight center-back.
Maguire, standing at 1.94 meters and weighing 95 kilograms, was a terrifying physical presence.
More importantly, he played with a kind of mean streak—a hunger for contact—and had surprisingly good leaping ability for his size.
After a few hard-fought aerial duels, head-to-head collisions and shoulder-to-shoulder clashes, Adebayor found his brain ringing like a bell.
Watching from further up the pitch, Li Ang winced as he saw Maguire dominate Adebayor in yet another aerial battle.
Damn… it looked like the so-called "Mini Beast" of English football had met the "British Battleship." And when that happened—yeah, even the Beast had to kneel.
As long as he wasn't forced to turn or gamble without cover from a holding midfielder, Maguire was an elite front-facing defender.
This wasn't about age or experience—it was about his insane physical attributes.
That huge head of his was basically built for aerial duels.
Even Mourinho hadn't expected Maguire to be this good in his first Premier League start.
He glanced over at Martínez, who now looked visibly flustered, clearly unsure how to respond to the tactical disaster unfolding.
Mourinho couldn't help but revise his previous opinion.
Hmph, last season's sixth-place finish with Everton?
Yeah, maybe it was all just dumb luck and Adebayor's hot streak.
Now that Adebayor had been neutralized, Mourinho sat back in the dugout, relaxed, ready to enjoy his team's attacking show.
Perhaps because Everton were playing at home, Martínez had gone with a surprisingly aggressive game plan.
Lots of probing attacks. No signs of setting up for the counter.
Against a setup like that? If Chelsea didn't hit back with lightning counters, it would be a waste.
And today, partnered in midfield with Li Ang was De Bruyne.
Both were sending long diagonal balls with deadly precision.
Chelsea played conservatively but solidly.
Their first few counterattacks fizzled—Hazard and Salah, both in the starting lineup today, couldn't convert their early chances. Their finishing was off.
But in the 28th minute, as De Bruyne pinged a long ball into space and Li Ang joined the counterattack, the tide fully turned.
Salah's dribbling was powerful, but he was playing with too much individual flair today.
He had wasted two previous counterattacks by missing the right timing to pass.
Li Ang didn't yell at him. He knew Salah was still learning.
This time, Li Ang charged forward, raised his hand, and signaled to Salah for a cutback near the baseline.
If it had been anyone else calling for the pass, Salah might've hesitated.
But it was Li Ang—so he played it back without a second thought.
Li Ang had already scanned the positioning of his teammates in and around Everton's penalty area.
With just one adjustment touch, he curled a pass with his left foot into the open space on the left side of the box.
Ibrahimović was running the perfect decoy. His movement synced with Li Ang's pass in a way only they could pull off.
Everton's defense was drawn toward the two of them, leaving Hazard wide open at the far side.
Hazard brought it down and smashed a rocket into the far corner.
Everton keeper Tim Howard barely had time to react before the ball hit the back of the net.
Hazard sprinted toward the corner flag, knee-sliding in celebration as Chelsea fans erupted behind him.
Li Ang waited a beat, then draped his arm over Salah's shoulders and walked him toward the group celebration.
No lectures needed.
Salah was smart—just like De Bruyne last year.
They had their own playing styles. But once they realized that their old methods didn't produce results at this level, they'd adjust.
Many "wunderkinds" who dominated in lower-tier leagues get to the top and refuse to adapt—and they vanish.
But not Salah. Not De Bruyne.
With Li Ang around, they had someone to help them grow properly.
Some players need tough love—Lukaku, for instance. He needed someone to guide him, to pull the best out of him.
But Salah and De Bruyne? They just needed patience and trust.
In the 42nd minute, Salah broke free again—beating Baines down the flank, crossing just before Distin could close in.
The cutback found Ibrahimović, whose quick shot was parried by Howard.
But the rebound fell to Li Ang, storming into the box with perfect timing.
Boom. 2–0.
Salah didn't get a goal or assist from that sequence, but his contribution was clear to everyone.
Ibra laughed and ruffled his curls affectionately.
Hazard and Li Ang high-fived and hugged him with warm smiles.
On the sideline, Mourinho couldn't help but beam.
His plan to have Li Ang help Salah integrate into the system was clearly working.
If Salah could maintain this level of progress, he'd be a deadly wildcard down the right in the latter half of the season.
And in the Champions League, Mourinho wanted as many weapons as he could get.
As for the Premier League title?
Mourinho chuckled to himself.
Even with Manchester City lurking…
"Hmph, not a single one of them can handle us."
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