The Coaching System

Jake's Office, Sunday Night

Rain ticked softly against the glass. Jake Wilson sat back in his chair, arms folded, watching the system dashboard breathe pale light across the study walls.

The interface pulsed once, then unfurled its verdict:

System Prediction

PAOK Win – 35%

Bradford Win – 35%

Draw – 30%

Balanced. Narrow. Jake's eyes didn't blink.

He brought up the tactical overlay—a still frame of PAOK's shape in a recent match. 4-2-3-1 on paper, but on transition? Chaos. Fullbacks pushed too high. The midfield line crumbled on recovery.

Jake tapped the keyboard. Lines highlighted and tracked forward runs.

— Vulnerable in 1v1s. Especially wide.

— Left-side channel between CB/LB leaks under pressure.

— Lose late runners when pressing with dual FBs.

The footage froze on a two-second clip: a winger caught one-on-one. Body shape wrong. Gap behind. Goal.

Jake leaned forward. Quietly:

"Overlap. Trigger. Entry late."

He keyed in Bradford's plan.

4–3–3. Fullbacks licensed to go. Vélez arriving late. Roney and Silva to isolate wide.

"Expose the left. Flood the middle second."

He closed the tab. No overthinking. No frills.

Just purpose.

Monday–Tuesday: Training Block

Club HQ, Tactical Briefing Room – Monday Morning

The screen at the front of the room showed freeze-frames from PAOK's last match: static midfield lines, wingbacks caught too high, and red tracking arrows—Bradford runners slicing through empty channels. Jake Wilson stood in front of it, remote in hand, his voice low but surgical.

Jake: "They commit both fullbacks. Almost every time. That means space behind. What we need is patience until they push—and then we split it."

He clicked again. A replay looped. PAOK losing track of a midfield runner—goal.

Jake: "They don't track late. Especially from the left side. So Vélez—you arrive late. Don't lead it. Let them forget you."

He looked to Silva and Roney.

Jake: "And you? Wide until we bait them. Then in. One drags, one drives. Never both."

No more talking. He nodded to Paul. The room emptied.

Training Ground – Monday & Tuesday

The pitch was slick from early drizzle. It didn't matter. The drills ran clean, timed, rehearsed—not for chaos, but cadence.

Soro and Vélez worked in tandem, stepping together into a press and snapping back into possession pivots. One pressured. One opened. Repeat.

Rojas and Taylor drilled overlaps with stop-start angles—Taylor cutting late and deep, Rojas hitting timed underlaps inside the fullback blind spot. Every run ended in a low delivery.

Silva and Roney rotated lanes—sometimes inverted, carving inside. Sometimes glued to chalk, pinning PAOK's defensive line out wider than it liked.

Richter stood central, patient, ready. He didn't chase scraps—he waited for chaos. He trained one thing: finishing off deflected crosses and half-cleared balls. One touch. Net.

Jake didn't hover. He paced slow around the edge of the drills. No shouting. No overcorrection.

Only once did he speak, as Vélez struck a short-corner delivery to the edge of the box—clean, but too soon.

Jake: "Wait two seconds longer. Make them forget it's coming."

Then silence again.

Pacing over intensity. Rhythm over brute.

The plan was building.

Wednesday: Travel & Arrival

Flight to Thessaloniki – Midmorning

The plane hummed with quiet focus. No card games. No music bleeding from headphones. Just the sound of turbulence brushing against metal and the faint dialogue of match footage rolling on tablets across the rows.

Soro sat two seats behind Jake, screen balanced on the fold-out tray in front of him. Vélez leaned over, brow furrowed. The frame paused—PAOK's right-back halfway through a press trigger, ball-side midfielder stepping late.

Soro (quietly):

"If he delays half a second, we're through."

Vélez nodded, didn't speak. He tapped rewind.

Further down the aisle, Silva sat alone, hoodie up, scrolling through clips of his own goals—not out of ego, but calibration. Timing. He watched his first step in slow motion, again and again.

Richter had his arms folded, eyes closed—not sleeping, just still.

Jake sat up front, silent. One finger slid across his tablet as zone coverage diagrams populated the screen. A red triangle blinked on PAOK's left channel. Vulnerable. Exposed on turnovers. He made a note with his stylus:

"Taylor delay overlap. Inside runner—timed entry. Roney: wide hold."

He tapped send. No explanation. Paul, two rows back, got it on his screen and nodded without turning around.

Arrival in Thessaloniki – Late Afternoon

The bus coasted down the narrow streets toward the team hotel, flanked by old buildings with cracked walls and painted shutters. Locals barely looked up. European nights hadn't started yet.

Inside the coach, no one spoke louder than a whisper. Barnes stared out the window. Ibáñez sat next to Chapman, both with boots tucked beneath their knees. Everyone moved like a group on assignment, not a trip.

The hotel lobby was modern, but unassuming. Marble floors, polished steel edges, dim lighting. A soft clatter of wheels echoed as the players wheeled bags across the tiles.

No media. No cameras. No "how do you feel?" or "will you rotate?" Jake had already made the call—media blackout. No distractions. They'd speak when it was over.

Upstairs, once checked in, the players received personalized tablets slipped under their doors. Each loaded with match prep: video cut-ups, zone breakdowns, and a short note from Jake.

"They don't expect our patience. Use it."

Soro found his on the desk beside a folded team polo. He opened the file. A sequence played: PAOK's pivot caught upfield, their back four splintering as runners attacked the space they never saw coming.

He didn't smile. He just nodded.

Below, Vélez stood at the window of his room, watching the lights of the city flicker on.

Wednesday Evening: Press Conference Room, Toumba Stadium

The room was utilitarian. Grey walls, black chairs, an LED UEFA Europa Conference League banner casting green and violet tones on the wall behind Jake Wilson. The lighting was bright but clinical—more interrogation room than celebration stage.

Jake entered with minimal fanfare. No translator needed. He adjusted his collar once, nodded politely, and sat.

The moderator introduced him. Then the hands went up.

Greek Reporter – Thessaloniki Sport 24:

"Coach Wilson, you've won back-to-back matches in Europe and in the Championship—how do you keep the rhythm steady when traveling and rotating?"

Jake (calm):

"We don't chase rhythm. We structure it. Rhythm isn't about feeling good, it's about knowing what comes next. And we train for what comes next."

English Journalist – The Athletic:

"You've gone full rotation in league matches and still delivered. Do you feel this squad's depth is now where it needs to be?"

Jake:

"It's where it should be—functioning. If depth only matters when someone's tired, it's not depth. It's insurance. We don't insure, we compete."

Greek Journalist – Nova Sports:

"PAOK are difficult to break down here. Do you change anything in your attacking setup?"

Jake:

"We don't tailor our ideas to the fear of others. PAOK defend narrow, and when they press, they press wide. So we build our threat from the inside out."

Bradford Echo – Club Correspondent:

"Do you feel momentum is with Bradford now, given the recent results?"

Jake:

"Momentum is emotional. We deal in method. We win when we make fewer mistakes, not when we feel good."

Sky Sports Reporter:

"There's been a lot of talk about Vélez and Soro maturing fast. How much do you rely on them in games like this?"

Jake (nodding slightly):

"They don't play like their age. But that's not praise—it's accountability. If you play grown, you'll be treated grown."

UEFA Press Officer:

"Final question—if you win tomorrow, you could leap into second or even lead the group depending on results. Are you thinking about group position?"

Jake (flat):

"No. Just the ninety minutes ahead. Europe doesn't reward daydreamers. It rewards discipline."

He stood without waiting for the wrap signal, nodded once again, and left the room as quietly as he entered.

Matchday Atmosphere – Toumba Stadium, Thessaloniki, Greece

Conor McNamara (Lead Commentator):

"Good evening from the north of Greece—Thessaloniki, where the air is sharp and the mood is sharper. Welcome to Toumba Stadium, and welcome to a European tie with purpose. It's Matchday 5 in Group H, and Bradford City, third in the table, arrive with confidence… and clarity."

[Camera cuts to the stadium tunnel.]

Conor (continuing):

"There's Jake Wilson. Black topcoat. Arms crossed. If he's cold, he's not showing it. If he's nervous, you'd never know."

Liam Rosenior (Co-Comms):

"And there's a reason for that. He's built a team that knows who they are. It's a 4–3–3 again tonight. That's structure. That's a signal."

[The camera catches Silva just behind Jake—head bowed slightly, hands on hips. Fletcher stands with eyes closed. Roney jogs on the spot like a coiled spring.]

Conor:

"Silva… staring straight into the tunnel light. Fletcher eyes closed—mentally walking every duel. And Roney? Just waiting for the signal to go."

[The Europa Conference League anthem begins—flares burst behind the PAOK end, thick plumes of red and white smoke rising, flags snapping against railings.]

Conor:

"And here we go—anthem echoing across a stadium that doesn't whisper. This is one of the more hostile grounds in Europe when it wants to be. And tonight, it wants to be."

[Cut to the lineups.]

Bradford City Starting XI (4–3–3)

Goalkeeper:

Emeka Okafor

Defenders:

RB: Julián Rojas

CB: Nathan Barnes

CB: Noah Fletcher

LB: Aiden Taylor

Midfield Three:

CDM: Malik Soro

CM: Andrés Ibáñez

CM: Santiago Vélez

Attackers:

RW: Roney Bardghji

LW: Guilherme Silva

ST: Tobias Richter

Bench:

Cox, Bianchi, Holloway, Ford, Lowe, Chapman, Walsh, Obi, Rasmussen

Liam Rosenior:

"I love this midfield. Vélez on the left side gives you late runs, Ibáñez links from deep, and Soro... I mean, what can you say? That kid's a metronome with fire in his lungs. He doesn't blink. He just plays."

Conor:

"And that front three—Roney, Silva, Richter—it's pace, technique, and power. No wide target men. No passengers. All three can create. All three can finish."

PAOK Starting XI (briefly covered)

Goalkeeper: Kotarski

Defenders: Vieirinha, Koulierakis, Ekong, Rafa Soares

Midfield: Schwab, Ozdoev, Taison

Forwards: Despodov, Zivkovic, Brandon Thomas

Conor:

"PAOK haven't lost at home in this competition since 2022. They're tight, physical, and they can counter with venom. But Jake Wilson has rotated smartly. He's rested his key men for this."

Liam:

"And he's brought them all back. This is no experiment. This is a strike squad."

Conor (as teams shake hands):

"Fifth matchday. Europe on the line. Momentum on the table. The lights are on. The smoke is clearing. And Bradford City—Jake Wilson's Bradford—are ready to make another statement."

[Ref blows his whistle. Game on.]