The Invisible Role Isn't in the Stats
The invisible role isn't something you can grasp from stats.
The ball connected with Leicester's midfielder Winks, and I instinctively surged forward to chase it.
'Oh shit.'
Just as I was about to push off, Pep's voice echoed in my head like a warning.
[Near the box, you'll be extremely restricted from pushing up. You have to hold the team's center.]
I forcibly halted my surging body and took a step back. Behind me, Aké and Dias were covering me. The space I used to rampage through was now mine to defend.
Body brushed past me, whispering like the wind.
"Scared now?"
His taunting laugh sliced through the air.
I clenched my jaw and tracked Body's movement. Winks lifted his head to scan ahead. Since I wasn't pressing up like usual, Leicester's midfielders had some breathing room. The ball zipped down the flank and back into the center toward Body.
"Now!"
Body exploded with speed, threading the gap between Aké and Dias. As Leicester fans' cheers swelled, I ignored my instincts and calculated the ball's trajectory and the defensive line's height instead.
What would Rodri do here? Not chase. Block the path.
Instead of marking Body directly, I launched myself into the passing lane connecting to him.
Thwack!
The ball, just before reaching Body, caught my instep.
"What the?!"
Body's panicked voice rang out. The moment I took possession, I instinctively looked for Rodri—but realizing he wasn't there, I switched play to the flank.
After my first successful interception, City ramped up possession and started suffocating Leicester. Even without Rodri, we were still champions.
The ball went through Foden to the frontman Haaland.
Bam!
Haaland's powerful left-footed shot threatened the Leicester goal, but keeper Hermansen's super save kept it out. The crowd's groans erupted.
Corner kick chance. But our attack fizzled, and Leicester regained possession.
As the sky blues paused, the blue uniforms surged forward like madmen.
I hurriedly dropped back to reform the line. I could see Dias and Aké closing gaps behind me. I had to be the first line of resistance in front of them.
Don't give them space.
Backpedaling while checking Winks charging centrally.
Then Bernardo Silva darted into the inside space beside me.
'Huh?'
My head spun for a split second.
Bernardo Silva seemed intent on picking up the check, so I didn't need to follow. Then I should hold position and protect the back four—but in a counter, keep dropping back and we'd concede shooting space.
The judgment Rodri would instinctively make was unfamiliar to me, causing a 0.1-second hesitation.
I neither handed off to Bernardo Silva nor held firm, just dithered awkwardly.
A fatal mistake.
The tiny gap City exposed. And into it tore the pitch's hunter.
"Jamie!"
With the shout, the ball sliced through the space I'd vacated right to Jamie Vardy's feet.
I chased late, but Vardy was already shaping to shoot. Those beastly eyes from the tunnel flashed toward goal.
Thud!
The ball rocketed off Vardy's right foot into the corner like cannon fire. My heart sank.
But our goal had a guardian god. Leicester wasn't the only team with a keeper.
Smack!
Ederson flew with unbelievable reflexes to punch it away.
Cold sweat poured like rain. Dias's thunder roared from behind.
"Ryan! Get your head in the game?! How can you vacate there!"
He was right. No excuses for my blunder.
Far off, Vardy clutched his head in regret, then met my eyes and grinned.
'Playground's open.'
His lips seemed to say.
Not even 25 minutes into the first half yet. This position was harsher than I'd thought. 36th minute of the first half. Not just unfamiliarity with Rodri's spot—I felt the invisible role he played when on and off the pitch.
A mistake in City's attacking third. Bernardo Silva's pass caught Winks's toe.
Winks's long ball forward was chased down by Vardy at insane speed. Aké closed, but Vardy was crafty. Instead of shooting, he laid off a perfect cutback to storming central Patson.
I stretched a leg, but the ball slipped between mine.
Clang—!
A sharp metallic ring echoed. Patson Daka's rocket struck the right post and ricocheted.
Fuck. If Rodri were here, he'd have stood in that passing lane from the start. The weight of "replacement" crushed me.
41st minute of the first half.
Just as I sensed we needed a momentum shift, City won a corner. Bernardo Silva's cross arced sharply into the box.
Erling Haaland soared high, heading it with goal-bound trajectory. Leicester's defense threw bodies in. Luke Thomas dove to block.
The ball deflected off tangled defenders around Haaland and flew far to the halfway line. City's backline was way up for the corner—shape completely broken.
Leicester winger Mavididi snatched it and bolted. Our half had nothing but open prairie except Aké and Ederson.
I gritted my teeth and sprinted at Mavididi.
As Mavididi shaped near the box with Aké ahead, I threw my body into a sliding tackle. Clean—only the ball, booted out for touch.
Screech!
My body scraped grass, shoving it over the line.
"Wooooaaahhh!!"
City's away end, even neutrals, roared at the mad chase.
I rose from the turf. Jersey filthy with dirt and grass, but first time I truly felt the role in this position.
Dias ran up, ruffling my hair roughly.
"Good tackle, Ryan!"
Far off, Pep clapped and shouted. Joy brief—I recalled City's defensive line, reaffirming Rodri's role.