The Coaching System

64th Minute –

As the referee's whistle pierced the air, Bradford City weren't the same team anymore.

The three substitutions had completely shifted the momentum.

Notts County, who had spent most of the second half controlling the pace, were suddenly under siege.

Bradford had fresh energy.

Fresh aggression.

And they were coming for blood.

From the moment the ball rolled back into play, everything changed.

Grant pressed high, chasing every loose pass, harassing Notts County's full-backs into rushed clearances.

Benson was everywhere in midfield, snapping into tackles, keeping the ball moving with crisp, quick passes.

Carter immediately took control between the lines, finding space where there wasn't any, demanding the ball at every opportunity.

Jake watched from the touchline, his voice sharp, relentless.

"Move the ball faster! Attack the space!"

His team responded instantly.

Bradford weren't waiting anymore.

They weren't hesitating.

They were taking the game to Notts County.

65th-70th Minute –

Notts County were in retreat.

The defensive shape that had held firm for most of the match was now crumbling under relentless pressure.

Every time Notts County tried to clear the ball, it came straight back at them.

Bradford kept pushing forward, suffocating them.

Benson won back-to-back duels, stopping Notts County from launching counterattacks.

Carter picked up possession in dangerous areas, slipping quick passes into Silva and Thompson.

Grant stretched the defense wide, forcing their right-back into uncomfortable one-on-one situations.

The tide had fully turned.

Jake could feel it.

Notts County weren't just defending anymore.

They were holding on for dear life.

70th-80th Minute –

The fresh legs transformed the game.

Notts County had completely abandoned their attacking intent.

They weren't pressing. They weren't countering.

They were surviving.

Bradford had them pinned inside their own half, the defensive block dropping deeper with every passing minute.

Jake could see it clearly now—Notts County were clinging to their lead, hoping to ride out the final twenty minutes.

But Bradford?

Bradford weren't going to let them.

The pressure intensified.

Carter orchestrated the game, gliding through the midfield, turning effortlessly under pressure, picking out passes that kept Notts County scrambling.

Silva and Grant switched flanks repeatedly, pulling defenders out of position, forcing them to track runs they didn't want to follow.

Benson was a force in midfield, pressing high, recovering loose balls, and winning challenges that prevented Notts County from clearing their lines.

Bradford kept pushing, kept probing, kept testing Notts County's defensive structure.

And then, the first big chance arrived.

73rd Minute

Bradford won another turnover in midfield.

Benson, who had been a relentless force since coming on, intercepted a weak clearance just outside the box.

His first touch was perfect, setting the ball just ahead of him.

He didn't hesitate.

A thunderous strike—hit with power and venom—arrowed toward the top corner!

The entire stadium held its breath.

Notts County's keeper sprang into action, diving at full stretch.

Fingertips.

Just enough to push the ball onto the crossbar!

The ball bounced straight down into the six-yard box—for a split second, it looked like it might cross the line—

But before Silva could react, a Notts County defender hacked it away.

Jake clenched his fists.

So close.

Bradford weren't letting up.

Notts County were barely holding on.

And then, chance number two.

77th Minute

Carter picked up the ball just inside the halfway line, turning sharply to escape his marker.

He lifted his head, spotting Silva on the left wing, one-on-one with his full-back.

Jake immediately pointed forward. "Go at him!"

Carter understood.

A perfectly weighted pass into space.

Silva accelerated.

One touch to control, one to push the ball past his man.

The full-back lunged desperately—too slow.

Silva was gone.

Straight into the penalty area.

One-on-one with the keeper.

Jake could feel it—this was the moment.

Silva shaped to shoot—

And then, at the last second, squared it across goal to Thompson.

Empty net.

But just as Thompson was about to tap it in—

A Notts County defender slid in from nowhere, blocking the shot at the last possible second!

Jake threw his hands on his head.

Another huge chance wasted.

Bradford weren't just knocking on the door now.

They were kicking it down.

They needed one more moment of quality.

And then—

It came.

81st Minute –

The moment Carter received the ball just outside the box, time seemed to slow down.

Notts County's defenders closed in fast, their bodies tense, desperate to block any shot or pass.

But Carter?

He didn't panic.

He stayed calm, scanning the space around him, waiting for the perfect moment.

One of Notts County's midfielders lunged in—Carter feinted to the right, his body shifting slightly.

His marker bit, shifting his weight toward Carter's fake movement.

That was the mistake.

In an instant, Carter twisted the opposite way—turning left, escaping into open space.

Jake saw it before it happened. "Now!" he yelled.

Thompson timed his run perfectly, breaking through the defensive line.

Carter's pass was inch-perfect, threading between two defenders, splitting the entire backline.

Thompson took one quick touch, setting himself up inside the box.

The keeper rushed out, trying to close the angle.

But Thompson was too composed.

One final step—then, he struck it clean.

The ball curled around the keeper, bending beautifully toward the far corner.

Jake watched it fly.

GOAL! BRADFORD 2 – 3 NOTTS COUNTY!

The ball hit the back of the net, rippling violently.

Wembley erupted.

Bradford's fans exploded in celebration, their voices shaking the stadium.

Thompson roared in triumph, sprinting toward the corner flag, sliding on his knees as his teammates rushed to pile on top of him.

Carter jogged toward them slowly, his job done.

Jake punched the air, screaming.

"Come on! One more!"

The momentum had completely shifted.

Notts County were rattled.

Bradford weren't done yet.

90+6 Minute –

Corner kick.

One final chance.

The referee had already glanced at his watch—this was it.

Bradford had everyone forward.

Even Okafor, the goalkeeper, had stepped past the halfway line, watching nervously.

Notts County's defenders were drained, barely able to keep their shape.

Their legs were heavy. Their minds were tired.

And Jake knew it.

From the sideline, he barked instructions. "Take your time! Deliver it right!"

Carter stood over the ball, wiping sweat from his brow.

He exhaled, eyes locked on the penalty area.

Then, he raised his hand—his signal.

The cross came in.

The ball curled toward the near post, bending wickedly through the air.

In the chaos inside the box, defenders scrambled to pick up their men.

Bodies jostled. Arms pushed.

But Min-jae?

Min-jae never stopped watching the ball.

His heartbeat slowed.

He knew exactly where it was going to land.

He timed his leap perfectly—rising high, above everyone.

For a split second, it felt like he was floating.

Then—

Contact.

The ball rocketed off his forehead.

Pure power.

The Notts County keeper dived—too late.

The ball crashed into the back of the net.

GOAL! BRADFORD 3 – 3 NOTTS COUNTY!

Wembley exploded.

The Bradford fans erupted, their cheers shaking the stadium, their arms waving scarves wildly in the air.

On the pitch, Min-jae barely had time to react before his teammates mobbed him.

He collapsed under the weight of them, arms raised, face filled with pure emotion.

Thompson screamed in his ear. Benson ruffled his hair. Silva punched the air.

And on the touchline—

Jake lost it.

He fist-pumped furiously, his roar of triumph lost in the deafening noise.

He turned to Paul Roberts, gripping his assistant's shoulders.

"We're still in this!"

Roberts nodded, laughing breathlessly. "They're finished, Jake. Look at them!"

Jake did.

Notts County's players stood frozen.

Some had their hands on their heads.

Others just stared at the ball inside the net, unable to believe what had just happened.

The momentum had completely shifted.

Bradford had dragged themselves back from the dead.

And then—

The referee blew his whistle.

FULL-TIME.

EXTRA TIME AWAITS.