The tactical room buzzed with the aroma of morning coffee and skeptical voices.
Michel spread the Lugano scouting report across the conference table. Swiss efficiency is embodied in eleven players—organized and compact. This kind of team frustrates bigger clubs with disciplined defending and quick transitions.
"Standard 4-4-2 should handle them," said Bernard, the defensive coach. His weathered face exuded the confidence of thirty years in French football. "They'll sit deep. We press high and find the spaces."
Demien stood at the whiteboard, marker uncapped, drawing lines that could change everything.
Three defenders. Five midfielders. Two forwards.
The room fell silent.
"What is this?" Michel's pen halted mid-sentence on his notepad.
"3-5-2." The formation looked alien on the white surface—three center-backs where there should be four defenders, wingbacks instead of traditional fullbacks.
Bernard leaned back in his chair. "Coach, we've never played this formation."
"We're playing it against Lugano."
The assistant coaches exchanged glances—professional men who had worked with Yves Laurent for months and knew his tactical preferences better than anyone.
"But why?" Michel's voice carried a tone of respectful confusion. "Our 4-4-2 is working. The players understand their roles. Why change now?"
Demien drew arrows to illustrate player movement: wingbacks pushing high, central midfielders providing cover. A fluid system capable of shifting between defensive solidity and attacking width.
"This gives us numerical superiority in midfield—five against their four."
"And leaves us exposed wide," Bernard countered. "Three center-backs can't cover the entire penalty area. What happens when their wingers get behind our wingbacks?"
"The wingbacks will track back."
"They can't be in two places at once, Coach."
The room's atmosphere grew tense. Professional disagreement rarely surfaced so directly. The staff respected Yves Laurent's tactical genius and his proven ability to deliver results.
But this felt different.
"I've studied Lugano's patterns," Demien continued, drawing more arrows. "They overload central areas on counterattacks. This formation provides better coverage."
Michel scrutinized the diagrams with growing concern. "Coach, with all due respect, this system is completely foreign to our players. Rodriguez and Squillaci have never played in a three-man defense. Evra has been a traditional left-back his entire career."
"They'll adapt."
"In three days? Against competitive opposition?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. It would take three days to learn a formation that most of these players had never seen, let alone practiced.
"The system works," Demien asserted, borrowing Yves Laurent's authority. "Trust the process."
But trust was precisely what was eroding in this sterile conference room.
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La Turbie's training pitches sparkled with morning dew. Players arrived expecting familiar routines and standard preparations for another match against modest opposition.
Instead, they found chaos.
"Julien, you're center-back. Hugo, right wingback. Patrice, left wingback."
Rodriguez looked confused. For two seasons, the defender had partnered with Squillaci in traditional back-fours. Now, he was expected to cover ground designed for three players instead of two.
"Where do I position myself when the ball's on the opposite flank?" Rodriguez asked.
"Stay central. Trust your wingbacks."
But trust required practice and repetition—the kind of tactical familiarity from weeks of drilling, not morning instructions.
The first passing sequence exposed immediate problems.
Lugano's mock formation attacked down the right side. Hugo Ibarra, naturally a fullback, pushed forward as instructed. But when possession turned over, he was forty meters from his defensive position.
The ball switched to Lugano's left winger. Rodriguez and Squillaci found themselves isolated, trying to cover space meant for more defenders.
A simple through-ball. Goal.
"Again," Demien called.
The pattern repeated: Wingbacks caught upfield, central defenders overwhelmed, and basic attacking moves sliced through Monaco's revolutionary formation like a knife through butter.
Evra jogged back from another failed defensive sequence, frustration evident in his stride. The experienced left-back understood defensive positioning better than most, but this system demanded different instincts.
"Coach," Evra's voice carried diplomatic concern. "This formation is leaving us very exposed."
"The system works. You need to trust your teammates."
"I'm trying. But when their winger gets behind me, who covers? Rodriguez is marking their striker. Squillaci's covering the other center-forward. There's nobody home."
Michel watched from the touchline, his clipboard filling with notes on defensive breakdowns. Each attacking sequence produced the same result: wide overloads, central defenders isolated, and goals conceded.
The Swiss mock team scored six times in twenty minutes.
Players began exchanging glances during water breaks. Professional athletes who had spent years mastering their craft suddenly looked lost in unfamiliar roles.
Rothen approached during a break between drills, barely containing his frustration.
"Coach, this wingback role... I've never played this position. You want me to defend like a fullback but attack like a winger. It's impossible."
"You'll learn."
"In two days?"
The question carried weight beyond tactical concerns—professional pride, team confidence, and systematic doubt that could erode squad morale before important matches.
Training continued, but problems mounted. Every attack scenario exposed defensive vulnerabilities. Players scrambled to cover unfamiliar spaces while opponents walked through obvious gaps.
Bernard called for a private discussion after another defensive collapse.
"Coach, this isn't working. The formation is creating more problems than it solves."
"Revolutionary systems require time."
"Time we don't have. Lugano isn't going to wait while our players learn new positions."
Michel joined the growing concern. "The wingbacks can't handle their dual responsibilities. They're either too high to defend or too deep to attack. There's no middle ground."
But Demien persisted with dangerous certainty, using Yves Laurent's established authority to push through a clearly broken system.
The session ended with players walking off looking confused and demoralized—confident professionals suddenly questioning their own abilities.
As the last training cone disappeared into storage bags, Michel approached.
"Coach, this formation will destroy us against Lugano." His voice carried urgency rather than disrespect. "Please reconsider."