The Coaching System

August 10, 2024 – League One Matchday 1

Select Car Leasing Stadium – Reading vs. Bradford City

The sun hung low over the stadium as Bradford City stepped onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd welcoming the start of a new season.

Jake Wilson stood near the touchline, arms crossed, watching as his players took their positions.

Across from him, Reading's coach paced nervously, adjusting his tie.

And in the center of it all?

James Holbrook.

The former Bradford midfielder stood tall, rolling his shoulders, his eyes scanning the opposition.

He wanted this game.

He wanted revenge.

Jake?

He wanted to win.

Starting Lineups

Reading XI (4-3-3 Formation)

GK: Joe Lumley

RB: Andy Yiadom

CB: Nelson Abbey

CB: Tom McIntyre

LB: Nesta Guinness-Walker

CM: James Holbrook

CM: Lewis Wing

CM: Mamadou Loum

RW: Kelvin Ehibhatiomhan

ST: Sam Smith

LW: Femi Azeez

Bradford City XI (4-4-2 Formation)

GK: Emeka Okafor

RB: James Richards

CB: Nathan Barnes (C)

CB: Marco Bianchi

LB: Aiden Taylor

CM: Santiago Vélez

CM: Elliot Harper (VC)

RW: Renan Silva

LW: Raphael Mensah

ST: Lukas Novak

ST: Guilherme Costa

Jake's message was clear before kickoff.

"Set the tone early. No slow starts. We take control from the first whistle."

And when the referee blew his whistle?

Bradford followed the plan perfectly.

First Half –

From the opening minute, Bradford pressed aggressively.

Reading tried to build through midfield, feeding Holbrook the ball.

But every time he turned, Harper or Vélez was there, pressing him, cutting off passing lanes.

By the fifth minute, Holbrook had already given the ball away twice under pressure.

Jake nodded from the sideline. Exactly as planned.

8' –

It started with Vélez.

The Colombian midfielder, calm and composed in possession, received the ball just inside Reading's half.

One touch to control.

One glance up.

And then—he moved.

He glided past his marker effortlessly, his quick feet and balance making it look easy.

James Holbrook lunged in, trying to close him down—too late.

Vélez dipped his shoulder, shifting away from the challenge, and suddenly, he had space.

He lifted his head again, scanning the pitch.

And that's when he saw it.

Novak.

Already on the move.

Reading's defensive line was caught just a fraction too high—the gap was there.

Vélez didn't hesitate.

A perfectly weighted pass, slicing through the heart of Reading's defense.

Novak, sharp as ever, timed his run to perfection, ghosting between the center-backs.

A split-second hesitation from McIntyre—and that was all Novak needed.

One-on-one with the keeper.

Lumley rushed forward, trying to close the angle.

But Novak was ice-cold.

One touch to settle.

One touch to finish.

A smooth, clinical strike, rolled calmly into the bottom corner.

Bradford 1-0 up before Reading had even settled.

The away fans erupted.

The Reading defenders looked at each other, stunned.

Holbrook?

He stood frozen, hands on his hips.

And on the touchline, Jake barely reacted.

He just turned to Paul Robert, his assistant, and nodded.

"That's how we start a season."

For the next twenty minutes, Bradford dominated possession.

Silva and Mensah terrorized Reading's full-backs, cutting inside, driving at defenders, forcing mistakes.

Reading looked uncomfortable.

They couldn't get out of their own half.

And then, Bradford struck again.

24' –

This was pure Silva.

The Brazilian received the ball on the right wing, close to the touchline, with Guinness-Walker in front of him.

Reading's left-back had been struggling all game, but now he was in the worst possible situation—one-on-one against Bradford's most dangerous dribbler.

Silva slowed down.

He let the ball roll under his studs.

Guinness-Walker held his stance, waiting, trying not to dive in.

Then—burst of pace.

Silva feinted right, like he was about to sprint down the wing.

Guinness-Walker bit, shifting his weight—too late.

Silva cut inside, taking one step, then another, gliding past his marker like he wasn't even there.

Now he had space.

Now he had options.

The defenders backed off, terrified of a pass into the box.

But Silva wasn't looking to pass.

He shifted the ball onto his left foot—his stronger foot.

One step.

Two steps.

Then—pure technique.

A curling shot, hit with perfection, bending toward the top corner.

Lumley reacted late, scrambling across his goal, diving at full stretch.

But it was pointless.

The ball kissed the inside of the post and dropped into the net.

2-0.

The away end erupted.

Silva sprinted to the corner flag, arms outstretched, soaking in the moment.

And on the other end of the pitch?

Reading's players looked shattered.

Bradford's game plan was working to perfection.

Holbrook?

He was a ghost.

Every time he got the ball, white shirts swarmed him.

Every time he tried to turn, Harper was there, pressing him into mistakes.

The frustration was building.

By the 35th minute, it boiled over.

Holbrook received a simple pass, but his first touch was sloppy.

Vélez pounced instantly, stealing the ball away.

Holbrook, already fuming, lunged in late—rash, reckless, desperate.

Vélez went down under the challenge.

The referee immediately blew his whistle.

Yellow card.

Holbrook stood there, breathing heavily, his jaw clenched.

Jake, standing on the touchline, simply smirked.

Holbrook was losing his head.

And Reading?

They were losing the game.

Reading had no answers.

Their only real chance came in the 41st minute, when a lofted cross found Sam Smith inside the box.

The striker rose above Bianchi, powering a header toward the bottom corner.

But Okafor reacted brilliantly, diving low to his right, parrying the ball away.

It was the only real save he had to make in the first half.

The whistle blew for halftime.

Bradford in complete control.

Halftime Score: Reading 0-2 Bradford City

Second Half –

The dressing room wasn't loud.

No wild celebrations. No overconfidence.

Just focused determination.

Bradford was winning—but Jake wasn't satisfied.

He stood in front of his players, arms crossed. His voice was calm but firm.

"No complacency. We keep playing our football."

He scanned the room, making sure they understood.

"Reading will come out desperate. They'll press harder, push more bodies forward. That's good for us. We don't panic. We use it."

He pointed at Silva and Mensah.

"Keep stretching them wide. They're already struggling. Make them suffer."

Then, to Vélez and Harper.

"Holbrook's frustrated. Keep pressing him. Don't let him breathe."

And finally, to Novak and Costa.

"Kill the game. Next goal ends this."

No dramatic speech. No overcomplication.

Just a simple demand—finish the job.

Reading's Adjustments –

As the teams walked back onto the pitch, Reading's coaching staff scrambled.

They made two substitutions, trying to shift the game in their favor.

Lucas João replaced Sam Smith – More physicality up front, hoping to bully Bradford's center-backs.

Charlie Savage replaced Mamadou Loum – Fresh legs in midfield, looking to create chances.

Reading's intent was clear.

They weren't sitting back anymore.

They were throwing everything forward, trying to force their way back into the match.

But it didn't matter.

Bradford were ready.

From the moment the whistle blew for the second half, they resumed their relentless press.

Reading couldn't breathe.

Every pass? Chased down.

Every touch? Under pressure.

Every attempt to build an attack? Shut down before it even started.

Jake stood calmly on the touchline, watching.

This was exactly how he wanted them to play.

They weren't just winning.

They were dominating.

56' –

Reading was unraveling.

Their second-half aggression had left them vulnerable.

Bradford pressed relentlessly, forcing mistakes—and in the 56th minute, they got their reward.

A harmless back pass—or at least, that's what Nelson Abbey thought.

With Novak closing in fast, the young defender hesitated for just a second.

Too long.

His touch was too soft, too weak, too slow.

The ball rolled toward Lumley—but never reached him.

Costa pounced.

The Brazilian exploded forward, reading the mistake before Abbey could react.

One step.

Two steps.

Suddenly, he was in.

Lumley rushed out, arms wide, eyes locked on the ball.

Costa?

Cool as ice.

One touch to control.

A quick glance up.

Then—clinical execution.

A low, driven strike into the bottom corner.

Lumley dived—too late.

The net rippled.

3-0.

Game over.

Costa didn't celebrate right away.

He just stood there for a moment, arms stretched, soaking in the moment.

Then—he turned, pumping his fist toward the away fans.

The Bradford supporters erupted, chanting his name.

On the other side of the pitch?

Reading's players looked finished.

Abbey stood frozen, hands on his head.

Holbrook kicked the turf in frustration.

Jake Wilson?

He didn't even smile.

He just turned to Paul Robert and said:

"Told you we'd punish them."

65' –

Jake Wilson didn't believe in unnecessary risks.

At 3-0 up, with Reading committing more bodies forward, he reshaped the team to control the final stretch.

The game was won—but there was still an opportunity to make a statement.

From the touchline, he signaled for changes.

Tobias Richter replaces Novak – Fresh legs up front, pressing Reading's tired defenders.

Andrés Ibáñez replaces Harper – More control in midfield, ensuring Reading never found their rhythm.

Lewis Hart replaces Taylor – Defensive reinforcement, keeping things secure on the left flank.

Paul Robert, his assistant, leaned in.

"You're not shutting up shop?"

Jake shook his head.

"No. We're finishing this properly."

And that meant not sitting back.

Not inviting pressure.

Bradford kept playing forward.

Reading kept pushing desperately, trying to salvage something.

And that's when they made their final mistake.

79' –

Reading had finally worked their way upfield, pushing players forward, searching for a consolation goal.

Then—disaster.

A sloppy pass from Holbrook.

Intercepted.

Ibáñez, fresh off the bench, read it perfectly and immediately sent the ball wide to Silva.

Reading's defenders were out of position.

And Silva?

He had open space to attack.

The Brazilian accelerated down the right wing, eating up ground with every stride.

The Reading bench screamed for their players to get back, but Silva was already deep in their half.

As a defender lunged in, he cut inside sharply, skipping past the challenge.

One look up.

He saw Richter ghosting into the box, arriving late.

The perfect pass—cut across the face of goal.

Richter didn't need to break stride.

One touch.

Calm.

Precise.

Low into the bottom corner.

4-0.

A statement goal in a statement win.

Reading Were Broken. Bradford Were Ruthless

.

The Select Car Leasing Stadium fell silent.

Reading fans began filing out.

Holbrook stood still, hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

Jake turned back to the bench, arms crossed.

This was exactly how he wanted the season to start.

Final Whistle –

The referee finally ended Reading's misery.

Full-time: Bradford 4-0 Reading.

A perfect start.

As Jake walked toward the tunnel, the media already swarmed him.

"Jake, was this about proving Holbrook wrong?"

He didn't hesitate.

"No. We focus on our players, not the ones who left."

This wasn't about old stories.

This was about what came next.

Bradford City had sent a message to the rest of League One.

And the league?

They'd better be ready.