"Fuck, that goddamn reckless fool!"
In front of the away teamâs bench, Rangnick leaped out of his seat.
He grabbed the back of his head with both hands, his face a mask of speechless shock.
"During halftime, I specifically told him to watch out for a yellow card, watch out for a yellow card!"
Rangnick had the urge to hit someone.
Or maybe rush out like Klopp and furiously throw a few punches.
Fortunately, the glasses nearly slipping off the bridge of his nose served as a reminder.
âA gentleman must keep his cool!â
"Wang Shuo was just too fast. Gustavo was under a lot of pressure," Assistant Coach Tomislav Maric offered as an excuse.
He was a former professional player who had a stint in Japan before retiring at Hoffenheim and joining Rangnickâs coaching staff.
"Thatâs no excuse! This isnât the first time!"
Although his words were still harsh, Rangnickâs tone had clearly softened.
Across the entire Bundesliga, who would dare say they didnât feel pressured when facing Wang Shuo?
But Gustavoâs rate of receiving cards was, in fact, far too high.
In the first 13 rounds of the Bundesliga, Gustavo had received six yellow cards.
And that was before todayâs match.
Strictly speaking, he had gotten those six cards in just twelve matches, as he had been suspended for the eleventh round after accumulating five yellows.
A 50% card rateâthat was just beyond ridiculous.
"But you canât deny heâs incredibly effective," the other assistant coach, Peter Chedler, said with a helpless smile as he rubbed his bald head.
Rangnick spread his hands, at a loss for words.
This was the source of his current dilemma.
Gustavo was genuinely a fantastic player to have.
As a holding midfielder, he stood at 1.87 meters, could run and tackle, covered a vast area of the pitch, and always put in maximum effort.
Every time he stepped onto the field, he threw himself into the match with everything he had.
For a Brazilian player, his skills on the ball were quite good, and his Passing was very reliable.
All this gave him the fundamental qualities of a top-tier midfielder.
The only problem was that, like many Brazilian defensive players, he had a significant lack of tactical discipline.
His tackling was also on the rough side, and he was prone to committing fouls.
That was why his card rate was so high.
Rangnick had a love-hate relationship with him.
He loved and valued the playerâs role in the midfield, but he also hated having to worry about him getting carded.
After Gustavo got a card early in the first half, Rangnick had reminded him repeatedly.
And yet, not long into the second half, he had committed another foul.
And a scissor tackle, no less!
A terrible premonition bloomed in Rangnickâs gut, but he still rushed to the sideline and yelled at the on-field referee, Deniz Aytekin, "That wasnât a foul!"
"How could that possibly be a foul?"
Of course, such a shout did not escape Kloppâs notice.
Uncle Mustache was completely flabbergasted.
âHoly shit, it was a scissor tackle, and youâre saying itâs not a foul?â
âAre you fucking blind?â
âRalf, when it comes to coaching, youâre not my equal. But when it comes to the ability to lie with a straight face, I have to admit defeat!â
But this was Klopp we were talking about.
He immediately bellowed toward the pitch in his booming baritone, "Thatâs a fucking red card!!"
"Red card!"
"A disgusting foul!"
"Shameless!"
That last word was clearly aimed at the away teamâs bench.
Rangnick heard it and immediately turned his head, staring blankly at Klopp for a moment.
âDamn, thatâs a personal attack, buddy.â
But he quickly recovered, seized the opportunity, and pointed at Klopp. "Who are you cussing out?"
Klopp hadnât expected Rangnick to lash out on the spot, but then again, this was Klopp.
He might look boisterous, but he was actually sharp-witted and far from stupid.
He knew at once that Rangnick was trying to divert the refereeâs attention.
As long as the ref didnât show a card, there was still a chance to salvage the situation.
"Iâm cussing you out. What are you gonna do about it?"
Klopp retorted on the spot. âWorst case, I can just comfort him properly when we have dinner together after the match.â
Then, seeing Rangnick about to charge at him, Klopp immediately backed away, pointing to the line of the technical area. "Iâm warning you, donât cross that line!"
"Definitely donât cross it. Crossing the line has serious consequences!"
Rangnick hadnât expected the bastard to react so fast. He could only stand at the edge of his technical area, pointing at Klopp, speechless.
He really couldnât bring himself to curse out his good friendâs mother on the spot.
In the end, the referee, Aytekin, still produced a yellow card!
He put the yellow away, then pulled out the red card!
The entire Bruch Road Stadium erupted in cheers.
It was at this moment that Wang Shuo climbed up from the grass, clenched his fists, and slammed them hard into the turf.
He quickly gathered his nearby teammates.
"Weâre two goals down, but we still have a chance!"
"Letâs get âem!"
"CHARGE!" everyone roared in unison.
...
Rangnick might have looked refined and scholarly, but at his core, he was a head coach with a steel spine.
After a midfield enforcer like Gustavo was sent off with a red card, Rangnick stubbornly refused to make a substitution, simply gesturing for his players to carry on.
Well, that wasnât quite right. He did make some adjustments.
The original attacking trident was Carlos Eduardo, Ibisevic, and Demba Ba.
With Gustavo sent off, Carlos Eduardo dropped back to central midfield.
Hoffenheim switched to a 4-3-2 formation.
But in a top-of-the-table Bundesliga clash of this caliber, trying to hold your own while a man down was easier said than done.
Mainz quickly began to press forward in droves.
Helle and LĆvĂ©r, in particular, took turns pushing up from the wings to join the press and the attack.
As a former Hoffenheim player, LĆvĂ©r had once made significant contributions to the clubâs promotion to the Bundesliga.