Outside Luton's training base stood a row of two-story red-brick houses. The morning sun at nine o'clock shone from the south, casting long shadows across the northern walls.
Jeffrey was squatting in the corner near the entrance of the training base. It was almost July, and the summer sun was fierce. Coming from the mild lowlands of the Netherlands, he found the harsh ultraviolet rays of the British Isles unbearable. He had no choice but to stay in the shade of the wall.
He was still wearing a Chelsea training kit. Jeffrey was a youth player from Chelsea's academy, a Dutch youngster who had left home to pursue his football dream in England—a journey that had been anything but easy.
Winning the FA Youth Cup as one of the team's main players remained his proudest memory. After being promoted and converted from midfield to centre-back under Coach Gao Bo, Jeffrey's performances steadily improved. He soon secured a regular spot as the U18 side's main central defender. When Chelsea lifted the FA Youth Cup, he had thought his moment had finally come—his "spring," as he called it. Surely, he believed, the first-team coaches would take notice, and he would earn a chance to step onto a bigger stage.
Of course, he wasn't naïve. He knew he could not yet compete with the likes of John Terry or Chelsea's other senior defenders. But he hoped for at least a higher platform—a loan spell to gain experience, or even a transfer that would open new doors.
Then, everything changed. Coach Gao Bo was suddenly dismissed, and soon after, Chelsea lost to Manchester United on penalties in the Champions League Final. Avram Grant was also sacked. The entire club fell into chaos. Personnel were reshuffled, and even the youth academy's director was temporarily moved to assist the first team. As a result, the entire youth setup descended into disorder.
It was during that confusion that Jeffrey made a fatal mistake—he got into a serious fight on the training ground and beat up George, whose father happened to be one of Chelsea's directors.
Among the Chelsea U18 players, Jeffrey's outburst earned silent respect. Many of them had wanted to put George in his place for a long time. But admiration couldn't save Jeffrey's career. He was swiftly released.
After being released, Jeffrey felt completely lost. He had joined Chelsea's youth system at the age of fourteen. Football was all he had ever known. What else could he possibly do?
Go back to the Netherlands? Perhaps. His father was a skilled gardener who grew roses for a living—maybe that path was open to him. But the thought made him bitter. He had dedicated years to professional football training. How could he give up now? He wasn't ready to live a life tending to flowers.
Without contacts or guidance in England, only one name came to mind—the coach who had promoted him, believed in him, and always encouraged him: Gao Bo.
When Jeffrey learned that Gao Bo had taken charge of a League Two club, he didn't hesitate. The moment he was released, he packed his things and went straight to Luton.
Gao Bo hurried out through the gates of the training base. The moment he stepped outside, he spotted Jeffrey squatting in the corner, wearing a blue training kit.
Jeffrey was the central defender Gao Bo had promoted during his time coaching Chelsea's U18 team. Though only 185 centimetres tall, the 18-year-old carried himself with a composure beyond his years. As a defender, he was remarkably steady. While not exceptionally tall for a centre-back, his frame was solid, and his leaping ability made up for any lack of height. In aerial duels, Jeffrey had never disappointed Gao Bo.
Truthfully, Gao Bo hadn't intended to bring in any of his former players from Chelsea. The way he'd been dismissed—humiliated and cast out—had left a bitter taste. His anger toward Chelsea ran deep, and he had no desire to associate with his old club. He wanted to repay that humiliation on the pitch instead.
"Jeffrey!"
Hearing the familiar voice, Jeffrey looked up. Standing at the gate was Gao Bo—broad-shouldered, smiling with that same confident expression he remembered so well.
Jeffrey's eyes instantly reddened. Having spent most of his teenage years in Chelsea's youth academy, he had always looked up to Gao Bo as more than just a coach. Seeing him again, someone who had once guided and believed in him, stirred emotions he couldn't hold back.
Gao Bo stepped forward, pulled the young man into a brief hug, and patted him firmly on the back before studying his face.
"I was just looking for you, Jeffrey. My team still needs a centre-back," Gao Bo said directly.
Jeffrey's voice trembled. "Coach… they released me."
Gao Bo's expression stiffened, then turned dark. "Was it because of that fat bastard again?"
Jeffrey looked a little embarrassed. "It's… I beat up his son. George."
For a second, Gao Bo blinked, then burst out laughing. He slapped Jeffrey's shoulder hard. "Good! He deserved it!"
For the first time in days, Jeffrey laughed too—really laughed.
"Come on," Gao Bo said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I'll take you to the training ground."
As they walked toward the entrance, Gao Bo turned to the gatekeeper. "Magis, take a good look. This is our new centre-back," he declared. "He's going to be a world-class defender one day!"
In truth, Gao Bo knew Jeffrey's development at Chelsea had stalled. But he also knew how much a few words of praise could mean to a young player. Confidence, after all, was fuel.
Hearing that, Jeffrey's chest swelled. Gao Bo's belief reignited the fire inside him.
"You won't stay in League Two for long," Gao Bo said with conviction. "The top leagues are your stage, Jeffrey."
"I just want to follow you, coach," Jeffrey replied, his voice firm and eyes burning with emotion. Gao Bo's encouragement alone was enough for him to give everything.
"Then we'll rise together," Gao Bo said, smiling as he ruffled Jeffrey's hair. "Three years. In three years, we'll reach the Premier League."
It was the first time Gao Bo had spoken his ambition aloud—to anyone.
To Jeffrey, it wasn't a dream; it was a promise. He nodded fiercely. "I'll make those bastards at Chelsea see how good I am!"
Gao Bo laughed heartily. "Then we'll go back to the Premier League and crush Chelsea together!"
The two laughed openly, their shared fire rekindled.
Then Gao Bo led Jeffrey into the training ground, introducing him to the rest of the Luton squad.
Hearing that he'd come from Chelsea's U18 team, the Luton players didn't question his ability for a second.
As Gao Bo looked around at his players—old and new—his chest swelled with pride.
Promotion.
He was certain of it now. They would get promoted this season.
...
Training resumed that morning, and Gao Bo threw himself into it with relentless passion. His ambition burned brighter than ever. Promotion—something that sounded like a fantasy for a club starting the season with a thirty-point deduction—wasn't a dream to him. It was a goal.
League Two offered four promotion spots to League One: the top three earned direct promotion, while teams from fourth to seventh would fight for the final place through the playoffs.
That meant one thing—if Luton wanted any chance of going up, the safest target was seventh place. As long as they reached that position, they could chase a miracle through the playoffs.
But just how difficult was it to finish seventh?
Gao Bo had studied the data.
In the 2007–08 season, Wycombe Wanderers finished seventh with 78 points.
In 2006–07, Shrewsbury Town secured seventh with 71 points.
And in 2005–06, Lincoln City had done it with 66 points.
Over the past few years, seventh place had consistently hovered around 70 points.
So, in Gao Bo's eyes, seventy points might be enough for the playoffs—but it wasn't safe. He didn't want to gamble on luck.
His target for Luton Town was clear: at least 75 points by the end of the season.
But with the thirty-point penalty looming over them, that meant they needed to actually earn 105 points just to finish with 75 on the table.
It was an outrageous goal.
League Two had 24 teams, each playing 46 matches. The theoretical maximum was 138 points—but no team in history had ever come close. Football was unpredictable. Injuries, fatigue, form, weather, tactics, and luck could change everything from week to week.
Even the champions of League Two rarely surpassed 90 points.
To reach 105, Luton Town would have to perform better than every League Two title-winning team in history.
It sounded impossible.
But to Gao Bo, that only made it worth chasing.
...
With Jeffrey's arrival, Gao Bo's main lineup was finally taking shape. The team had begun transitioning into full tactical training, focusing on cohesion and execution.
In designing Luton's tactical system, Gao Bo drew inspiration from Arrigo Sacchi's legendary AC Milan—implementing a 4-4-2 formation built around compact spacing and synchronized movement. Whether defending or attacking, his three lines—defense, midfield, and attack—had to stay tightly connected.
Sacchi's football philosophy had shaped generations of modern coaches, and Gao Bo had studied it deeply. One of Sacchi's most famous quotes often echoed in his mind:
"If our forwards and defenders stay within 25 meters, we are invincible."
Sacchi's Milan embodied that ideal—an Italian powerhouse influenced by the Dutch concept of total football, pressing high and defending as one. When opponents tried to build from the back, Milan suffocated them with relentless pressure. The defensive line, led by Franco Baresi, mastered the offside trap so perfectly that it became legendary. People joked that if the linesman saw Baresi raise his hand, he'd flag offside without hesitation. Some even claimed FIFA had to adjust the offside rule because Milan's defensive mastery made it nearly impossible to score against them.
Years later, when the classic 4-4-2 seemed outdated, Diego Simeone revived it at Atlético Madrid. His adaptation replaced traditional wide wingers with narrow ones who tucked closer to midfield, creating an unbreakable defensive block—compact, disciplined, and ferociously hard-working. Under Simeone, Atlético became one of Europe's most feared defensive teams.
Gao Bo's own approach blended these influences. Defensively, he wanted the front two strikers to initiate the press, forcing mistakes high up the pitch. Winning possession early would create immediate chances for counterattacks.
In attack, he emphasized rapid, ground-based passing combinations—the ball had to reach the opponent's danger zone within two or three passes, and the team should aim to finish a move within seven. Efficiency, speed, and precision were his guiding principles.
Yet Gao Bo wasn't bound to any single philosophy. He wasn't a disciple of Sacchi, Simeone, or anyone else. His belief was simple:
The best tactics are the ones that win.
He adapted, modified, and fused ideas into what best suited his players and the realities of League Two football.
And his players responded. The newcomers he brought in began to shine during training.
Jamie Vardy and Charlie Austin, the two forwards, displayed lethal finishing and endless energy—no one at Luton doubted their scoring ability anymore.
In midfield, N'Golo Kanté and Danny Drinkwater formed a dominant pairing. Kanté's tireless tackling and anticipation made him nearly impossible to bypass, earning him universal respect from teammates.
With Gao Bo's tactical design and the boost from the training card, Luton's progress was rapid and visible.
Of course, before the season officially began, the team would still have to face several pre-season friendlies—crucial tests to measure just how much their training had achieved.
The opponent for Luton's first pre-season friendly was Oxford United, a club from the fifth-tier National League. The match took place quietly at Luton's own training base—no fans, no reporters, just a test of preparation and attitude.
For the first half, Gao Bo deliberately refrained from using his main lineup. Instead, he gave the team's fringe and youth players a chance to prove themselves. With the league season approaching, he wanted everyone to have an opportunity to show their determination and hunger to play.
But even against a fifth-tier side, Luton's young players looked completely out of their depth. By halftime, the scoreboard read 0–3, and Gao Bo could only shake his head on the sidelines.
Luton had sold nearly all of its core players. If he had to rely solely on these inexperienced youngsters from the academy to survive in League Two, even the great Sir Alex Ferguson would find it impossible.
Fortunately, this was only a warm-up.
When the second half began, Gao Bo made sweeping changes—replacing the entire lineup with his first team.
In goal, he sent out Dean Brill, a 22-year-old who had once been the club's third-choice keeper back in their Championship days. With the team's decline and relegation, Brill now stood as Luton's undisputed number one.
In central defense, George Pilkington partnered with Jeffrey. Pilkington, standing at 190 centimetres, had excellent positional sense and timing, a solid, dependable defender. Jeffrey, though a few centimetres shorter, compensated with raw strength and tremendous leaping ability. In aerial duels, he was often even more dominant than Pilkington.
At full-back, Gao Bo placed his trust in youth.
On the right, Mitchell Tiernan, an 18-year-old Irish international from the U19 squad. Standing 1.88 metres tall, he could play almost anywhere on the right flank—or even as a central defender. A true utility player, though Gao Bo preferred using him as a right-back.
On the left, Liam Preston, a 19-year-old quick and powerful full-back. At 176 centimetres, he wasn't tall, but his pace and attacking instinct stood out. Gao Bo, however, worried about his overly aggressive forward runs. In his tactical notebook, he'd quietly labelled him "Luton's Marcelo."
The midfield was settled. The pairing of N'Golo Kanté and Danny Drinkwater dominated the centre, a duo Gao Bo trusted completely. To the right, he deployed captain Kevin Nicholls, while on the left, he chose Lewis Chapman, a 19-year-old versatile player capable of covering at left-back or defensive midfield. Though not the most technically gifted, Chapman's relentless work rate, discipline, and defensive contribution made him invaluable—especially to balance Liam's forward surges.
And up front stood Gao Bo's lethal strike partnership: Jamie Vardy and Charlie Austin.
The impact was instant.
From the moment the second half began, Oxford United were overwhelmed. Luton's pressing suffocated them in their own half. Unable to breathe under the relentless pressure, Oxford soon made a mistake—a sloppy pass in midfield.
Drinkwater seized the chance, launching a precise long ball behind the defense.
Vardy burst through with blistering pace, wrong-footed the keeper, and slotted the ball calmly into the bottom left corner.
1–3.
Moments later, the same pattern repeated. This time, Charlie Austin finished the move—driving the ball through the keeper's legs to make it 2–3.
Oxford United were collapsing under Luton's intensity.
Then came Vardy's explosion.
Two more quick goals—both from pressing and counterattacks—completed his hat-trick.
Austin added another to seal his brace, and substitute striker Matt Smith, who replaced Austin late in the game, rose highest on a corner to head in Luton's sixth.
From 0–3 down, Luton had turned it into a 6–3 victory in just one half.
On the sideline, Gao Bo was practically glowing. When the final whistle blew, he turned to his assistant John Aston, eyes alight with excitement.
"Did you see that, John?!" he shouted, grinning ear to ear.
"This—this is our football! Football that brings victory!"
Gao Bo wasn't particularly surprised by the win over a fifth-tier opponent. What truly thrilled him was what the game revealed — the potential of this Luton side.
The system he'd implemented, by 2008 standards, was remarkably advanced. With the players now at his disposal, Gao Bo was confident that sooner or later, Luton Town would shock the entire English football scene.
A week later came their second pre-season test — this time, against far stronger opposition. The team travelled south to the coastal city of Brighton, where they would face Brighton & Hove Albion, one of the top contenders for promotion from League One.
It hadn't been easy for Luton to secure such a match. After all, they were now one of the most underestimated sides in League Two, starting the new season with a massive points deduction. For Brighton, this was supposed to be an easy warm-up — a chance to build confidence with a comfortable home win against a weakened opponent.
The match wasn't closed to the public, but it barely attracted any attention. The national media were focused elsewhere — on the Premier League. Cristiano Ronaldo had just led Manchester United to a Champions League title, while Chelsea had responded by hiring World Cup–winning coach Luiz Felipe Scolari after a turbulent summer.
Compared to that, a Brighton–Luton friendly was invisible. A few local journalists filled the press box, and a handful of Brighton fans scattered around the stands. This was a low-key affair — one that neither side expected to make headlines.
But Brighton underestimated Luton.
From the opening whistle, Gao Bo's high-pressing tactics stunned the home team. Brighton's defense was caught off guard almost immediately — and within two minutes, Luton scored.
The goal came from none other than N'Golo Kanté, Luton's midfield destroyer. Brighton had pushed men forward, leaving gaps in the middle. Kanté pounced, intercepting the ball cleanly in midfield, then surging upfield with his trademark tenacity.
Ahead of him, Vardy and Charlie Austin stretched the Brighton defense wide, pulling them apart. With no clear passing lane, Kanté opted to go himself — unleashing a thunderous long-range shot that flew past the goalkeeper's fingertips into the net.
1–0, Luton.
On the touchline, Gao Bo's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected Kanté to score from distance. The young Frenchman's shooting stat in the system stood at just 63 — decent for a defensive midfielder, but nothing special. Still, in League Two, that was more than enough to make a difference. And Kanté was only seventeen.
Perhaps it was time to train that ability further.
Gao Bo stroked his chin thoughtfully as Kanté came running to the bench, grinning from ear to ear before leaping into his coach's arms.
For the boy, Gao Bo wasn't just a manager — he was a mentor. He'd plucked Kanté out of a small amateur club in France and brought him to England, believing in him completely when no one else would. From training sessions to warm-up selections, Gao Bo had treated him as a key player.
"Thank you, coach!" Kanté said in broken English, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.
Gao Bo laughed, ruffling his hair. "This is what you deserve, kid. You earned it! Oh, and next time, call me Boss!"
"Yes! Boss!" Kanté replied, his wide smile flashing a row of bright white teeth.
The Brighton supporters were still settling into their seats when their team fell behind. The early goal clearly rattled them. Picking Luton as an "easy opponent" was supposed to boost confidence — not shake it.
Determined not to be embarrassed, Brighton immediately pushed forward. But Luton's defensive structure was compact and relentless. The midfield pressed every ball carrier, cutting off passing lanes, while the wings were aggressively patrolled. Brighton could only try their luck from wide areas, rarely breaking into the box.
Then came the second goal.
From a turnover on the flank, Drinkwater combined with Mitchell Tiernan to steal possession, looked up, and immediately spotted Vardy sprinting behind the defense. Without hesitation, he launched a perfectly timed long pass — exactly the kind of counterattacking move Gao Bo had drilled all preseason.
Vardy exploded forward like a bullet. The Brighton defender couldn't keep up. As the ball dropped, Vardy adjusted his stride and struck it first-time — a stunning volley, perfectly lifted over the onrushing keeper.
2–0!
John Aston, standing beside Gao Bo, was speechless. His mouth hung open in awe. Years later, in his autobiography, he would write:
"In that moment, I swear I saw Van Basten."
Of course, he left out the part where he stood frozen on the sidelines, mouth agape and nearly drooling in shock.
Brighton's players, frustrated and desperate, kept pressing, but Kanté dominated midfield like an unscalable wall. Every attempted buildup was broken apart by his relentless interceptions.
In the 38th minute, Luton struck again. Captain Kevin Nicholls found space on the right side of the box and fired low into the far corner — 3–0.
At halftime, Gao Bo made only one change, replacing Charlie Austin with Matt Smith. He wanted the tall forward to build chemistry with Vardy — after all, these three were his only real strikers for the upcoming season.
Smith's role was clear: at 1.98 metres, his height made him a perfect aerial weapon against compact defenses. Though slow and less mobile than Austin, Gao Bo saw him as the key to breaking down deep blocks.
And Smith proved him right.
Late in the second half, Luton launched a counterattack. Drinkwater lofted a long ball toward Smith, who used his size to head it down perfectly into Vardy's path. Vardy darted forward, side-footed it calmly past the keeper, and completed his brace.
4–0, Luton Town.
The home fans were stunned into silence.
The dominant win against a League One side sent Luton's morale soaring. Over the following weeks, they played several more friendlies, experimenting with formations and combinations. The performances fluctuated, but Gao Bo didn't care about results.
Pre-season wasn't about winning — it was about building the machine.
The real test, he knew, was coming soon.
The new season was just around the corner.