God Of football-Chapter 356: Izan’s Tactics

They reset, tweaking the setup. The next shape leaned into a 4-3-3, pushing Izan and Saka into more direct wing roles while Ghanaian defensive midfielder Partey gave defensive assurance, giving Ødegaard complete control in midfield alongside Rice.

The ball moved effortlessly, Ødegaard dictating tempo while Izan roamed inside, collecting passes and turning with intent.

At one point, Izan dropped deep, dragging White with him before spinning away and darting into the gap he'd just created.

Ødegaard spotted it instantly, lifting a perfect ball over the top. Izan cushioned the pass off his chest before shifting it onto his left foot, but before he could shoot, Saliba's long stride ate up the space, poking the ball away.

Again, it was promising—smooth, well-structured, technically sound. But still, something was off.

Arteta blew his whistle, cutting through the rhythm. He ran a hand through his hair, scanning the setup. "Alright, change again."

More adjustments followed. A more aggressive 3–4-3 this time, pushing White into a hybrid role, Calafiori tucking inside, allowing Rice and Ødegaard to control the middle while Izan and Saka played as inverted forwards behind Jesus.

The movements were fluid, seamless even, as Ødegaard constantly found pockets to receive, while Izan ghosted between defenders, finding the right angles.

The patterns were impressive—combinations forming naturally, the ball moving as if on a string.

Martinelli whipped a dangerous cross toward the back post, Saka arriving late to volley it the first time, forcing a fingertip save from Ramsdale.

Jesus, always alert, pounced on the rebound and got a clean shot off before Gabriel could smother him.

Still, Arteta stood with the same expression. Not unimpressed, but unsatisfied.

They switched again. 4-4-2 diamond, a flexible 4-2-2-2—each system emphasizing different strengths, allowing players to exploit space in different ways.

The ball never stopped moving, attack after attack testing the defensive shape, forcing decisions under pressure.

Yet every time, something didn't click.

It wasn't about technical execution; that was already there.

The rotations were smooth, the players understood each other's movements, and the sequences unfolded naturally.

But Arteta could feel it—somewhere in the structure, in the dynamics between certain roles, a key ingredient was missing.

He glanced at his notes, lines scratched out, shapes redrawn.

Izan and Ødegaard were constants—too good, too crucial to leave out. But around them, the right balance had yet to be found.

Another whistle. Another reset.

Izan received the ball near the edge of the box, shifting his weight to feint a shot before rolling it back under his control.

His next move should have been automatic—either a quick pass or a sharp turn toward goal.

But as he looked up, something clicked. Or rather, something felt off.

The structure was right. The movements were clean. Yet, for all the fluidity they had built up over the last few minutes, the attack lacked something vital.

He eased off the ball, not in hesitation but in realization. His foot rested on top of it as he straightened up, eyes scanning the pitch. The others slowed, noticing his pause.

Saka, on the far side, glanced at Odegaard, who gave a small shrug. Martinelli, mid-run, stopped in his tracks, brow furrowed.

Arteta, observing from the touchline, narrowed his eyes slightly. Izan turned his head, locking onto him before walking over.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he said when he got to Arteta.

Arteta studied him, then nodded. "Take five," he told the others. The players murmured amongst themselves as they jogged toward the benches, casting curious glances back at the pair.

Izan wiped the sweat off his forehead, walking over to the tactical whiteboard standing nearby.

The smudged remains of the formations they had tried throughout the session were still faintly visible, overlapping in erased lines and marker strokes.

"I think we're missing something," Izan started, eyes flicking between the board and Arteta.

Arteta didn't respond immediately, just waited, arms crossed.

"The formations we've tested today—they work in terms of possession and control, but we're not breaking defensive lines properly.

We're stretching defenses horizontally, but we're not forcing them to collapse. It means we're spending more time around the box without actually creating high-percentage chances."

Arteta tilted his head slightly. "Go on."

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"We need something that forces defenders into bad decisions," Izan continued. "Right now, we're playing in a way that makes them comfortable—they shift, they adjust, but they don't break their shape.

That's why our shots feel forced instead of instinctive. And when the pressure's on, those half-chances are going to turn into wasted opportunities."

Arteta tapped his fingers against his arm, considering. "And you have a solution?"

Izan nodded. He picked up a marker and began sketching on the board, outlining two formations:

3-4-2-1 and 4-1-4-1.

"These give us flexibility," he explained. "The 3-4-2-1 allows us to push higher with wingbacks and keep numerical superiority in midfield, but more importantly, it lets the two attacking midfielders—whether that's me, Martin, or someone else—operate in pockets where defenders have to step out."

He tapped the board.

"Right now, our current setup forces wide overloads, but when we transition centrally, it's too structured.

We're moving well, but we're not disrupting. With this, we create dilemmas—defenders will have to choose whether to track the inside forwards or hold their shape, which opens gaps naturally."

Arteta's eyes flicked over the board, his mind working. Izan continued.

"The 4-1-4-1, on the other hand, gives us a more balanced approach, especially against low blocks.

The single pivot keeps things stable, but the two advanced midfielders can rotate instead of sticking to fixed positions.

It's an old setup, but with the right movement, it can pull defenses apart without us having to force anything."

Arteta's silence stretched for a moment before he exhaled through his nose, a small, thoughtful smile appearing.

He hadn't considered that. The formations weren't revolutionary, but they provided an adaptability he hadn't fully explored. A way to create unpredictability without sacrificing control.

"You've thought this through," Arteta finally said, his tone unreadable.

Izan simply nodded.

Arteta looked back at the pitch, already picturing how it would work in real time. Then he turned back to Izan, studying him for a long second.

"We'll test it," he said at last.

And with that, he grabbed the marker and began reworking the board.

Izan jogged back toward his teammates, shaking out his arms as he approached the group.

They were gathered near the benches, bottles in hand, sweat dripping from their foreheads.

Saka was the first to notice him, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

"What was that about?" he asked, taking a sip of water.

Martinelli leaned in slightly. "Yeah, you stopped the whole drill just to have a chat with the boss?"

Izan just smiled, grabbing a bottle for himself. "Just a few things."

Odegaard raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. The others exchanged glances before turning their attention back toward Arteta.

The manager stood in front of the whiteboard, marker in hand, his posture firm as he sketched out new shapes.

His focus was intense, eyes scanning the formations with sharp precision.

Within seconds, he was calling over his assistants, motioning toward the board as he began explaining something to them.

Wilshere nodded, taking in the information, while one of the analysts stepped closer, adding his own input.

The players could hear snippets of discussion—movement patterns, overloads, defensive transitions—but the full picture was still forming.

"Well, whatever you told him," Ben White murmured, watching Arteta work, "it's got him thinking."

Izan simply took a long sip of water, the slight curve of a knowing smile still on his face.

Arteta on the touchline, had already uncapped the marker again, drawing a new set of lines on the board.

"We'll modify the 3-4-2-1 in possession," he said, glancing at his assistants, "but out of possession, we shift into a 5-4-1."

Wilshere's brows furrowed. "Five at the back?"

"Not just five at the back," Arteta clarified. "Five with a flat midfield four ahead. Compact, disciplined. No spaces between the lines." He tapped the board where the midfield would sit.

"This prevents central overloads and protects against counterattacks. When we regain the ball, we explode forward with the wing-backs stretching play and the two attacking midfielders—Ødegaard and Izan—breaking into the spaces."

The coaching staff exchanged looks before nodding. It made sense.

Arteta turned toward the pitch and motioned to the reserves. "We're going full simulation.

I want the opposition pressing, countering, and defending like they would in a real match. Play it fast. No holds barred."

The reserves quickly slotted into position, forming a standard 4-2-3-1, meant to mirror the kind of pressing setups they'd face in the Premier League.

The starters spread out in the adjusted 3-4-2-1, knowing that once they lost the ball, they had to morph into the 5-4-1 structure.

"Let's go," Arteta called, stepping back.

"Make it real."

The session resumed this time with intensity. The moment Arsenal's starters lost possession, the transformation had to happen instantly.

Rice and White dropped deep to form the back five alongside Saliba, Gabriel, and Calafiori.

Havertz—squeezed centrally with Izan and Ødegaard tucking in just ahead while Saka and Martinelli remained to provide depth.

The reserves worked quickly, pressing with intent, but the compact shape was difficult to break.

When they finally managed a switch of play, the wing-backs reacted instantly—one stepping out while the midfield shifted laterally to cover the open space.

Then came the turnovers. As soon as they won possession back, Arsenal's structure flipped like a spring-loaded trap.

The back five expanded, Rice dictated the tempo, and Izan and Ødegaard immediately occupied the spaces between the lines.

It was fluid. Organized. But still not perfect.

Arteta observed, arms crossed, watching for weaknesses. "Again," he ordered, resetting the play.

A/n: Okayyyyyy. First of the day. Have fun reading and I'll see you tomorrow.