The Coaching System-Chapter 156: Bradford vs Real Madrid – Part 3

64' –

Madrid had control, dictating the tempo with their midfield trio of Modrić, Bellingham, and Valverde, but Bradford was still looking for their own moment.

They weren't afraid.

Leo Rasmussen had been lively since coming on, injecting pace and unpredictability down the right flank. When Chapman won a loose ball in midfield, he immediately looked wide.

Rasmussen was in space.

A perfectly weighted diagonal switch found him near the edge of the final third. His first touch was clean, his second was decisive—a burst of acceleration straight at Mendy.

Mendy backpedaled, giving him space.

Rasmussen cut inside onto his left foot.

25 yards out. A small window of opportunity.

He took it.

A venomous curling effort, bending toward the top-left corner.

Courtois saw it late. He scrambled across, diving at full stretch—fingertips barely pushed it over the bar.

The Bradford fans roared. That was close.

Jake clapped from the sideline, nodding. "That's more like it."

Corner to Bradford.

Chapman jogged over, taking a deep breath before whipping the ball into the box.

Kang Min-jae timed his leap perfectly. He towered over Rüdiger, meeting the ball cleanly—a bullet header—

But it whistled inches over the bar.

Jake turned to Paul Roberts. "That was the chance."

Paul exhaled. "We're getting them. Just need to take one."

A wasted chance, but Bradford had sent a message.

They weren't just here to defend.

They were still swinging.

68' –

Bradford's energy was growing, but Madrid still had firepower.

And when Bellingham got the ball in midfield, danger followed.

With one smooth turn, he rolled away from Daniel Lowe, using his body to shield the ball before driving forward.

The pitch opened up in front of him.

Kang Min-jae hesitated, unsure whether to step up or hold the line.

Bellingham didn't wait—he slid a perfectly weighted through ball into Vinícius Júnior's path.

Vinícius was already sprinting.

One-on-one with Holloway.

Holloway braced himself. He knew Vinícius had tricks, but knowing didn't make it easier.

A quick feint inside—Holloway shifted his weight—then a sudden step out.

Too late.

Vinícius was past him, gliding into the box with effortless speed.

The goal was in sight.

He opened up his body, shaping a low, curling shot toward the far post.

Cox had a split second to react.

The young keeper stayed big, waited, then threw out a leg—

Contact.

The ball deflected wide, skimming past the post for a corner.

Madrid's players groaned. That should've been 5-1.

Vinícius turned away, hands on his head. He knew.

Jake glanced at Paul Roberts. "Cox is handling himself well."

Paul exhaled. "That could've been game over."

Madrid took the corner quickly. Modrić floated it in—Rüdiger powered a header down toward goal—

Blocked.

Kang Min-jae threw his body in the way, the ball deflecting off his chest and out of the box.

The stadium breathed.

Bradford had survived.

And just a few minutes later, they made Madrid pay.

72' –

Madrid had settled, confident that the game was over.

But Obi and Itoshi had other ideas.

And it all started with a Madrid corner.

Modrić, as precise as ever, curled in a dangerous delivery. Alaba rose highest, heading the ball toward goal.

Cox reacted instantly—diving low to his left to palm it away.

The rebound fell to Kang Min-jae, who didn't hesitate. One touch to control, then a powerful clearance upfield.

Bradford broke free.

Madrid had committed bodies forward. Now, they were scrambling back.

Chapman won the second ball in midfield, muscling past Bellingham before poking it toward Mensah on the left wing.

And Mensah took off.

Mendy, experienced and quick, stepped up to stop him.

But Mensah had momentum. A sudden burst of pace—a quick drop of the shoulder—and he was past the Frenchman, surging into open space.

Madrid's defense wasn't set.

Militão rushed across to cover, but Mensah wasn't slowing down.

Near the edge of the box, he glanced up. Options.

Obi was sprinting toward the far post.

Itoshi, smaller but more agile, darted toward the near post.

Mensah drilled a low, driven cross into the box.

Itoshi got there first.

But instead of shooting, he had the awareness to see Obi's late run.

A delicate first-time pass—a simple flick to the far post.

Obi didn't hesitate.

A quick turn. A powerful strike.

The ball rocketed past Courtois, smashing into the net.

Valley Parade erupted.

Jake jumped up, pumping his fist. They weren't done yet.

Obi sprinted toward the corner flag, fists clenched, screaming into the night sky. Itoshi followed, grinning, arms outstretched.

The rest of the squad rushed over, celebrating like they'd just won a cup final.

Madrid's defenders looked at each other.

For the first time, they looked annoyed.

Bradford 2-4 Real Madrid.

They might not be at Madrid's level yet.

But they were fighting.

85' –

Madrid wasn't done.

Bradford had pushed forward, searching for another moment of magic.

But against a team like Madrid, every risk had consequences.

Bellingham intercepted a loose pass near the center circle, instantly driving forward.

Lowe rushed in, trying to bring him down—but Bellingham was too strong. He shrugged off the challenge and kept going.

Bradford's defense was backpedaling, their shape broken.

Bellingham had options.

Vinícius was making a diagonal run. Mbappé lurked near the box. Carvajal was sprinting up the right.

But instead of playing a simple pass, Bellingham did something unexpected.

He rolled the ball backward, nudging it into the path of Valverde, who was 42 yards out.

Jake stood up on the sideline.

He knew what was coming.

Valverde took one step forward.

Then he unleashed hell.

The shot exploded off his foot, a missile that cut through the air like a bullet.

The entire stadium gasped as the ball streaked toward goal.

Cox barely had time to react.

He didn't even dive.

He just watched as the ball smashed into the top corner, rattling the net with brutal finality.

Valley Parade fell silent.

Even Madrid's players looked stunned for a moment.

Then Valverde roared, pounding his chest as his teammates mobbed him.

Jake exhaled, hands on his hips.

Paul Roberts just whistled. "That's a joke."

It was a statement finish.

Madrid had reminded Bradford—reminded the world—exactly why they were the best team on the planet.

Bradford 2-5 Real Madrid

90+3' – Full-Time Whistle

The referee raised his whistle to his lips.

Three sharp blasts.

It was over.

The scoreboard read 5-2, but the numbers told only half the story.

This wasn't just a match.

This was a lesson.

Bradford had gone toe-to-toe with the biggest club in the world. They had fought, adapted, and even landed a few blows of their own.

But Madrid had reminded them of the distance they still had to travel.

Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't disappointed.

As his players moved toward the Madrid squad for the traditional post-match handshakes, he walked straight to Carlo Ancelotti.

The legendary coach was waiting for him with that familiar, calm smile.

"Your team has heart," Ancelotti said, his voice warm but knowing.

Jake nodded, offering a handshake. "We're building something."

Ancelotti chuckled. "I can see that. Keep going. Maybe one day, we'll meet again."

They shook hands firmly.

And then, as Madrid's players began heading toward the tunnel, something unexpected happened.

Leo Rasmussen, one of Bradford's youngest players, jogged up to Vinícius Júnior.

"Can we—uh—take a picture together? With both teams?" he asked, almost hesitantly.

Vinícius grinned. "Why not?"

Word spread quickly.

Jake turned to his squad, seeing the eager expressions on their faces.

Why not?

"Alright, get everyone together!" Jake called out, waving toward the Madrid players.

There was no hesitation.

Madrid's superstars, still sweaty from the battle, laughed and clapped as both teams lined up at the center of the pitch.

A mix of white and claret jerseys stood together as stadium staff rushed over with cameras.

The fans who had stayed behind cheered wildly—they knew they were witnessing a special moment.

The flash went off.

Jake, standing at the edge of the group, looked at his players.

They had lost tonight.

But this photo?

This would remind them of the level they needed to reach.

One day, they wouldn't just be taking pictures with Madrid.

They'd be beating them.

But the night wasn't over yet.

As the players broke apart, Jake turned to Luka Modrić and grinned.

"I need a favor," he said.

Modrić raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"

Jake gestured to the Madrid squad. "I need a Madrid jersey. Signed by all of you."

Modrić laughed. "For who?"

Jake smirked. "For me."

Modrić gave him an amused look, but then nodded. "Alright, give me a second."

He jogged off toward the Madrid dressing room, and within moments, the entire Madrid squad was signing a fresh white jersey.

Bellingham, Vinícius, Mbappé, Courtois—every name, every signature, a mark of respect.

When Modrić returned, he handed the jersey to Jake with a knowing smile.

Jake took it carefully, running his fingers over the names.

"Frame it," Modrić said. "And the next time we play, don't let us win so easily."

Jake chuckled. "Deal."

The night ended with handshakes, laughter, and memories.

Madrid had won the battle.

But for Bradford City?

This was just the beginning.

Post-Match – Learning from the Best

The dressing room was quiet.

Not the quiet of defeat.

The quiet of reflection.

Jake stood at the center, arms crossed, scanning the faces of his players. No one liked losing. But tonight wasn't about winning or losing.

It was about learning.

He took a breath. "This is the level we have to reach."

His voice was calm but firm. The players looked up, listening.

Jake pointed at Mensah and Obi. "You came in and made an impact. That's what I want to see—players who aren't afraid, players who take their moment."

Then, he turned to Bardghji and Silva. "You went toe-to-toe with world-class defenders. You found space, created chances. Now take that confidence into the season."

Finally, his eyes swept across the entire squad.

"We don't forget this. We use it."

Heads nodded.

They had just shared a pitch with the best team in the world. And while Madrid had shown their superiority, Bradford had left their mark.

This wasn't failure.

This was fuel.

Press Conference – Facing Reality

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The media room was packed. Cameras. Reporters. Notebooks flipping open.

Jake leaned back in his chair, ready for the questions.

A journalist from The Guardian spoke first. "Jake, does this match expose the gap between Bradford and elite clubs?"

Jake nodded. No need to sugarcoat it. "Of course. Madrid is the best club in the world. This wasn't about proving we're on their level. It was about seeing what that level looks like."

Murmurs from the press. Honest answer.

Another reporter from Sky Sports jumped in. "What positives can you take from this game?"

Jake smirked. "We scored two goals against Real Madrid. That's a positive."

Some light chuckles around the room.

But the final question was the big one.

"Do you believe Bradford can one day reach Madrid's level?"

Jake didn't answer right away.

Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze was sharp.

"We're working toward it. Step by step."

The journalists scribbled down notes.

They wanted headlines.

But for Jake?

The real story was just beginning.

Fan Café Talk – The Next Big Thing? (Online Fan Forum – Bradford City Fan Café)

Thread: Bradford 2-5 Real Madrid – Thoughts?

🔺 Posted by: BantamsFan89

Alright lads, let's be real. We just played against the best team in the world, and yeah, they outclassed us… but tell me you weren't buzzing after that Obi-Itoshi goal?

Top Comments:

🔥 Bradford4Life: Bro, Obi is a star in the making. He's 19, just came on, and banged one past Courtois like it was nothing. That pass from Rin? Cold as ice.

💬 KendrickBCA: Madrid had us most of the game, but when our young guns came on, we actually looked dangerous. I don't even care that we lost. This team has something.

📸 User: BantamArchivist (Attached a picture of Obi celebrating)

This is the moment. Remember it.

🎥 Maverick10: (Attached video clip of Mbappé's scorpion kick goal)

Okay but can we talk about THIS?! Mbappé is unreal. That's not even fair.

💬 JD97: Yeah, but we still put two past them. I'm taking that as a W.

⚽ ReeceMCFC: Not gonna lie, I expected us to park the bus, but we actually played with guts. That's what I love about this team.

🚀 ValverdeFan: (Attached video clip of Valverde's goal from 42 yards out)

"Cox didn't even move." Yeah, because that ball was TRAVELING. Unreal strike.

🔄 StickyToffee: Also, let's give props to Cox. He's 18, thrown in against Madrid, and made some huge saves. Kid's got a future.

🏆 Admin - BantamsUnited: FINAL THOUGHTS?

💬 BradfordLegend: This was a lesson. A wake-up call. But also a sign. We're not there yet—but one day, we will be.

💬 ObiWanChido: Imagine these lads in two, three years? The future is bright. I'm ALL IN.

🔺 Thread Locked: Post-Match Discussion Closed

Even in defeat, the Bradford City Fan Café was alive with excitement.

Because tonight wasn't just about Real Madrid's brilliance.

It was about Bradford's future.

And for the fans?

That future looked very, very promising.