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The day after the 1-1 draw with Chelsea, the mood around Manchester City's training ground was subdued but focused. The players had left the Etihad frustrated. Not because they were beaten—because they weren't. But because they'd been smothered. Controlled. Denied.
Mourinho's Chelsea had choked the life out of the game, and Pellegrini wasn't about to let that happen again.
At 10:00 sharp, the full squad assembled on the grass under overcast skies. The coaching staff had already marked out multiple grids across the pitch. Cones. Mini-goals. Weighted balls. Everything was set.
Pellegrini stepped into the center of the circle formed by his players. His voice was firm, calm, but tinged with frustration.
"We had control," he said, looking around. "Seventy percent possession. But what did we do with it? Nothing. We passed sideways. We hesitated."
The players listened silently. Adriano stood next to Silva, arms crossed. Kompany wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. Even the usually playful Hazard looked serious.
"We weren't brave in the final third," Pellegrini continued. "That ends today."
He turned to the assistant coaches. "Split into groups. Start with compression drills."
The players jogged to their stations. The work began immediately.
Drill 1: One-Touch Possession in Tight Grids
Adriano was grouped with Silva, Touré, and Zabaleta. The space was barely ten meters wide. Three touches max. Two coaches acted as passive defenders, closing passing lanes without tackling.
"Move it quicker!" one of the assistants barked. "One-touch, don't wait!"
Adriano received a pass from Touré, used his heel to flick it behind him, and released Silva down the line with a no-look pass.
"Better!" shouted Pellegrini, watching closely.
Salah's group struggled. Passes were either underhit or misread. The ball was constantly turned over.
"Mo!" Adriano called from the opposite grid. "Don't wait for the ball—go meet it!"
Salah nodded and adjusted. On the next play, he stepped forward and intercepted a bouncing pass before it reached the coach's foot.
Drill 2: Overlapping Runs with Fullbacks
Next, the wide players and fullbacks moved to the wings. Hazard lined up with Kolarov, while Zabaleta paired with Salah. The drill focused on layering movement—wingers cutting inside, fullbacks overlapping, central mids filling the vacated space.
"Times must match," said the trainer, walking along the touchline. "Hazard, don't drift too early. Clichy—explode when he cuts in."
Hazard sprinted at the cone line, cut sharply inside. Clichy waited a beat, then surged forward just as Silva threaded a ball through. Perfectly timed.
From the center pitch, Adriano turned and clapped. "Yes! That's the run, Clichy!"
He was next to run the same pattern, this time as a striker reacting to a cutback. Zabaleta beat his man and fired a low cross back toward the penalty spot. Adriano checked his run, then drove the ball first time into the small target net.
Drill 3: Transition Pressing and Resetting Shape
The next phase was all about reaction.
"We need to press with intent," said Pellegrini. "If we lose the ball, we win it back in six seconds. You have six passes to find goal or reset."
Small-sided games kicked off—6v6 with floating neutrals. Adriano's team turned over possession early in the first rep. Instinctively, he sprinted back toward midfield.
"Press now!" he shouted. "Go! Go!"
Silva lunged in, forced a rushed pass. Touré stepped in to intercept. A triangle formed—Touré to Adriano to Hazard—bang, through on goal.
"Reset!" the coach called after the goal. "Again!"
As the core session wrapped, some players moved away for cooldowns. But Adriano stayed on the pitch with Hazard and Salah. A coach rolled balls toward them, alternating sides, as they rehearsed one-touch layoffs under pressure.
Hazard mishit one, sending the ball spinning out.
"Too upright," Adriano said, walking over. "Drop your shoulder. Let it come across you."
Hazard gave him a look, not annoyed—curious. He tried again. This time the touch was cleaner.
Salah, tying his laces nearby, looked up. "You thinking of coaching already?"
Adriano grinned. "Not yet. Just hate wasting time."
***
Later, in the video room, the team reviewed footage from the Chelsea game. Pellegrini paused one clip where Adriano had dropped deep, only to be surrounded by three defenders.
"What are our options here?" he asked.
"Switch earlier," said De Bruyne. "Hazard had space wide."
Pellegrini nodded. "Yes. We collapsed into the center. No stretch. Keep them honest."
Another clip showed a stagnant build-up on the left flank. Hazard, Kolarov, and Casemiro all within a tight triangle, with no runners beyond.
"Static," muttered Silva. "No third man."
"Exactly," said Pellegrini. "Every run must mean something. Hazard—next match, I want you unpredictable. Cut in once, go wide twice. Salah—arrive at the back post, not wait for it."
Salah sat up straighter. "Understood."
As most players hit the showers, Adriano remained on the training pitch with a staff member feeding him balls from different angles.
First: a low cross from the right. Adriano met it with a sliding effort.
Second: a chipped ball over the top. Chest control, volley.
Third: a backpass from Silva. Quick drag and toe-poke finish.
The final rep was a full sequence—drop deep, spin wide, receive a return ball, cut inside, shoot.
He drilled it bottom corner. And then again. And again.
From behind the goal, the goalkeeper coach chuckled. "You're going to break the net."
Adriano wiped sweat from his face, walked over to the edge of the pitch, and dropped down to stretch.
From across the field, Kompany jogged over.
"Good session," he said.
"Better than yesterday," Adriano replied.
Kompany nodded. "You set the tone. Keep doing that."
As the floodlights flickered on in the distance, the training ground slowly emptied. But the message Pellegrini delivered that morning was already taking root. City had been predictable against Chelsea.
Next time, they wouldn't be.
***
The air was crisp and cool at the KC Stadium as Hull City prepared to host a Manchester City side that had come through fire in recent weeks. The 1-1 draw against Chelsea had left a sting, and the response on the training ground had been ruthless. Now, it was time to prove that the lessons had been learned.
From the moment the whistle blew, the contrast between the two teams was evident. Manchester City moved with confidence, clarity, and purpose. Pellegrini's adjustments from training were in full display — tighter lines, sharper movements, and quicker transitions. The players executed them with a fluency that felt rehearsed, but never rigid. This was a City side reborn.
Martin Tyler's voice hummed through the commentary box. "They've come out like a team with a point to prove. The ball's barely been in Hull's half."
Alan Smith observed it too. "What's really noticeable is the shape. Adriano's not just a forward — he's almost a playmaker today. Dropping into pockets, dragging centre-backs out. It's brilliant tactical play."
By the tenth minute, the away fans sensed something was coming. Every time City moved forward, it was with layered intent. Pass and move. Rotate and reset. Then came the breakthrough.
Hull attempted to build from the back, trying to slow the tempo. But Zabaleta pounced, reading the pass from Elmohamady like an open book. He darted in to intercept and immediately sparked the attack, feeding it quickly to David Silva in the half-space.
Silva, head up, didn't need more than a heartbeat. He zipped it into Adriano, who had cleverly peeled away from Michael Dawson just outside the box. A flick — casual in execution but surgical in vision — sent the ball into the channel between Hull's retreating defenders.
Salah didn't hesitate. He took it in stride, touched it into space, and rifled a right-footed shot low and across Allan McGregor. The ball pinged off the far post and nestled into the side netting.
"GOAL FOR CITY!" Martin Tyler called. "A clinical move — Salah with the finish, but that assist from Adriano… that's pure class."
Alan Smith nodded. "He never stops thinking, does he? Salah gets the glory, but Adriano made that goal happen with one flick."
The away section behind the goal exploded. Flags waved. Scarves spun. Chants for Adriano broke out immediately — the supporters knew the genius behind the move.
Hull, for their part, tried to respond. Tom Huddlestone and Jake Livermore attempted to find rhythm in midfield, but Yaya Touré and Fernandinho were dominant. They smothered every second ball and recycled possession instantly. The home side found themselves chasing shadows.
In the 23rd minute, Hull had their best chance of the half. An angled cross from Andrew Robertson caused brief panic. Jelavić made a near-post run, getting in front of Demichelis. But Kompany was alert, reading the danger and lunging across to deflect the ball behind for a corner.
"Great defending," Tyler noted. "Kompany's leadership is shining through."
But that warning only sharpened City's focus. They began to pin Hull back inside their own half. Zabaleta and Kolarov pushed high, almost like wingers. Silva floated inside, linking with Adriano and Hazard. It was relentless.
Then, in the 35th minute, came the second goal. A City corner wasn't cleared properly. Hull's clearance landed awkwardly at the edge of the box, where Adriano was lurking. He brought the ball down with his right foot, cushioning it like a pillow, before shifting onto his left.
No hesitation. He struck it clean.
The ball rocketed into the roof of the net.
"GOAL! ADRIANO THIS TIME!" Martin Tyler shouted over the noise. "That's 9 goals in 6 matches for him now — and what a finish!"
Alan Smith could only admire it. "He makes it look so easy. Two touches — control and strike. That's all he needed."
Adriano didn't over-celebrate. He jogged toward the corner, raised a finger, and pointed to the small crown stitched above his name on the back of his shirt. The message was quiet but loud. The king of Manchester had spoken again.
Halftime came with City two goals up and fully in control. Hull looked shell-shocked. Steve Bruce could be seen on the touchline, shouting instructions, waving his arms, but the gulf in quality was beginning to look insurmountable.
In the dressing room, Pellegrini kept his instructions simple: "Stay sharp. Keep pressing. The next goal kills it."
City obliged.
The second half began with more of the same: calculated dominance. Yaya Touré began to influence the game more heavily, carrying the ball forward and picking out diagonal switches. Hull sat deeper, trying to survive.
In the 58th minute, the game was all but over.
Touré broke up a Hull attack near midfield and found Adriano quickly. Adriano, in one motion, turned and hit a looping diagonal ball from right to left, 40 yards across the field, directly into the stride of Hazard.
Hazard squared up his marker — a tired-looking Ahmed Elmohamady — and danced past him with a drop of the shoulder. Now in the box, he opened up his body and curled a right-footed shot into the far corner.
"GOAL NUMBER THREE! Hazard — and that's Adriano again with the assist!" Tyler boomed.
Alan Smith laughed. "They're just too good. Touré starts it. Adriano delivers the final pass. And Hazard, cool as you like. That's total football."
The home crowd, to their credit, applauded the finish. City were now playing football from a different planet.
Still, they weren't done.
In the 72nd minute, Silva got on the scoresheet. The move started with another regained possession by Fernandinho. The Brazilian slipped a short pass to Touré, who combined with Adriano on the edge of the box. The one-touch exchanges were dazzling. Adriano laid it into Silva's path with a reverse pass, and Silva, with his usual calmness, slotted the ball into the bottom corner.
"FOUR to ZERO!" Martin Tyler declared. "Silva gets his reward — and again, Adriano involved."
By then, the contest had become a masterclass. The only question left was how many more would come. Pellegrini used the final fifteen minutes to rest players — Hazard came off to applause from the away section, replaced by Milner. Even Adriano, after notching his 9th goal and 5th assist in five matches, was withdrawn late to a standing ovation from both sets of fans.
The final whistle blew. Manchester City had dominated from start to finish. A 4-0 win. A complete performance. They walked off the pitch as a united force, applauded by the away fans, and even by neutral spectators who recognized greatness when they saw it.
In the post-match interview area, Pellegrini summed it up.
"We trained hard for this. We were not happy after Chelsea. Today, we played the way Manchester City should."
But perhaps Adriano said it best, when asked about his role.
"It's not just about me," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's about movement, trust, timing. We trained for this. We executed."
The cameras caught a final moment — Adriano walking off the pitch with his arm around Silva, both laughing, chatting, enjoying the moment.
The work had paid off. City were back. And the league had been warned.
They carried on the good form when they went to face Aston Villa next.
It was a cool, overcast evening in Birmingham, and Villa Park was packed. The claret and blue of Aston Villa painted the stands, with fans hoping to see their side spring a surprise against the title contenders.
Manchester City, fresh off back-to-back wins, arrived in confident spirits. But this match would prove a different challenge entirely.
From kickoff, it was clear what Paul Lambert's Aston Villa had in mind — frustrate, contain, and counter. Lining up in a compact 4-5-1, Villa clogged the midfield with numbers. Their wide men tucked in whenever City tried to build centrally, and the lone striker, Andreas Weimann, was instructed to press just enough to delay City's buildup without overcommitting.
Martin Tyler opened the broadcast with a knowing tone.
"This is the sort of match that can quietly derail a title charge. Manchester City will need craft and patience here at Villa Park."
Alan Smith followed,
"And physicality too, Martin. Look how tightly they're marking Adriano already — he's not going to get an inch tonight."
Adriano was indeed under siege. Every time he touched the ball, Carlos Sánchez or Tom Cleverley was tight to him. He had to adjust quickly. Instead of battling in congested areas near Villa's defensive third, he dropped deeper — often into his own half — to pick up the ball. It was a tactical sacrifice, but it opened new lanes for others.
In the 18th minute, Adriano received a short pass from Yaya Touré near the center circle. He glanced up, saw Aguero making a diagonal run, and executed a lightning-fast pivot, brushing off Sanchez with a subtle shoulder drop. With just enough room, he lofted a left-footed pass over the high line.
"What a ball! Adriano's vision — Aguero's in!" shouted Martin Tyler.
The Argentine striker didn't hesitate. He cushioned the ball on his chest, let it bounce once, and struck low across the face of goal with his left foot. Brad Guzan stretched, but the ball nestled into the far corner.
1–0 Manchester City.
"GOAL! Sergio Aguero!"
Alan Smith chimed in as the replay rolled,
"That's just class. He didn't force it, he waited. That's the playmaker's gift — knowing when the pass will hurt."
City fans, packed into the far corner of the ground, erupted in celebration, singing Adriano's name as Aguero pointed toward him during the goal celebration. Despite the goal, Pellegrini's bench stayed focused. They knew Villa wouldn't just roll over.
And they were right.
Just after the half-hour mark, Villa earned a corner — one of their first real ventures forward. Delph swung it in, and the ball pinballed around the six-yard box in chaos. Kompany tried to clear but his header hit Mangala. The ricochet fell awkwardly at the feet of Ciaran Clark, who jabbed it past Hart from two yards out.
1–1. Scores are level again.
"It's ugly, but they all count!" Martin Tyler called."City fell asleep at the back. And now, it's game on again."
For the first time, the home crowd found their voice. The Holte End roared in appreciation. The next few minutes saw Villa press with renewed energy. Fabian Delph started snapping into tackles. Grealish, lively off the left, tried to drive at Zabaleta. But City, to their credit, didn't panic.
Pellegrini made a subtle adjustment. He instructed Silva and Hazard to play slightly wider and hold their positions, stretching the narrow Villa shape. That opened space for Adriano again — not to score, but to create.
In the 67th minute, Adriano received a pass under pressure from Touré near the halfway line. Two Villa midfielders closed him down. With a quick sidestep and a shoulder feint, he split them and broke the line.
"Brilliant footwork from Adriano!" Alan Smith said, rising in excitement.
"He's away!"
Charging forward, Adriano ignored Aguero's early run and waited. At the edge of the final third, he slipped a disguised pass between Senderos and Clark, perfectly weighted for Silva.
The Spaniard barely needed a touch. He let the ball run across his body and slotted it past Guzan first-time.
2–1 for City.
"GOAL! David Silva! But once again — Adriano the architect!" Tyler bellowed.
"He's making a habit of these — this is his team's pulse."
The goal deflated Villa's resistance. Their midfield began to tire. Adriano, reading the game perfectly, didn't force attacks. Instead, he slowed play when necessary, kept the ball moving, and controlled the tempo like a seasoned general. His teammates followed suit — Aguero dropped deeper to link up, Silva pulled strings, and Touré began bossing duels.
The final fifteen minutes passed with few threats. Kompany and Mangala handled the long balls. Zabaleta and Clichy overlapped sparingly but sensibly. Joe Hart wasn't tested again.
As the full-time whistle blew, the scoreboard read:
Aston Villa 1 – 2 Manchester City
The away fans applauded their players with genuine warmth — not just for the win, but the intelligence behind it.
On the touchline, Pellegrini shook hands with his staff, then wrapped an arm around Adriano's shoulder as they walked off.
"You didn't score," the manager said quietly, "but that was your match."
In the post-match interview, Pellegrini repeated his sentiment.
"Sometimes goals don't define your best players," he told the media. "Adriano makes the whole team better — he reads space, manipulates defenders, and understands timing. That's priceless."
Inside the dressing room, the mood was a calm satisfaction. Aguero gave Adriano a small nod as he unlaced his boots.
"You see that pass?" Silva said to no one in particular. "Pure elegance."
Adriano, just smiled and handed his match-worn shirt to a staffer for donation. He didn't need the praise. His satisfaction came from the scoreboard and the performance.
***
The morning after Manchester City's narrow win over Aston Villa was quiet, almost hushed, at the City Football Academy.
The air still carried a bite of early autumn chill, the sky grey and low-hanging. Most of the players moved slowly, some stretching on yoga mats in the corner of the gym, others cycling lightly, music playing in the background just loud enough to drown out the creaking of tired muscles.
Adriano sat on the padded bench by the window, a compression sleeve over one knee and two ice packs tied around his calves. His hoodie was half-zipped, earbuds in, head leaning back as he stared out at the empty training pitches. He wasn't sore—not really. But these recovery days always had a strange calm, the kind that made you think more than you wanted to.
His phone buzzed on the bench beside him.
**Kate.**
He pulled the earbuds out and answered immediately.
"Hey, superstar," came her voice, full of mischief, a touch of warmth instantly softening his posture.
His mouth curled into a grin. "You've landed already?"
"Yeah," she replied. "Just got in about an hour ago. The Marvel crew's setting up for tomorrow's shoot in London. I wanted to call before you vanish into football world again."
"I wish I could come pick you up," he said, shifting his legs off the bench and rising to his feet. "We've got a tactical session in an hour. Tight schedule."
"Don't worry about it," Kate said, brushing it off. "I know the drill. Besides, I'm not here to mess up your matchday focus."
"You being in the same time zone already messes with my head," he teased, stepping into the hallway outside the recovery room. "In the best way."
She laughed lightly. "Smooth."
They paused, both smiling, listening to the quiet background sounds on either side of the call.
"How's your knee feeling?" she asked after a moment, her voice softer now. "You took a couple hits yesterday."
"Nothing serious," he said. "Bit of bruising, but the staff's already got it under control."
"And your energy?"
"I'm good," he said truthfully. "Actually, I'm… settled. Focused."
Kate picked up on the shift in his voice. "That's good. You sounded a little on edge the last time."
"That was before Villa." Adriano leaned against the glass pane in the corridor, watching a groundskeeper run lines across one of the secondary pitches. "The way they played… it was frustrating. Tight lines, no space. But we figured it out. We stayed calm. And I felt like I helped—maybe not on the scoresheet, but… the passes, the rhythm, it felt right."
"You looked incredible," she said. "I was watching on my phone between scenes. Your pass to Aguero was ridiculous. I might've screamed and scared the hair stylist."
He chuckled, picturing it. "That alone makes the assist worth it."
She hesitated before speaking again. "I miss you."
He closed his eyes. "I miss you too."
There was a pause—heavy, but not uncomfortable.
"How long are you staying?" he asked, voice low.
"A few weeks. Most of September, actually," she replied. "We're doing some exterior scenes in London. Night shoots, mostly. But I'll have a couple weekends off."
Adriano's expression shifted. "That means you'll be here for the Bayern match."
"If I can get a ticket," she joked.
"You'll have a box," he said jokingly. "And a ride. And security."
Kate laughed. "I'll settle for your hoodie and some stadium popcorn."
They talked for a few minutes more—about her new co-star, how London's weather had greeted her with drizzle, and how weird it was seeing herself on magazine covers at Heathrow. Eventually, she had to go—the crew was calling her to wardrobe.
"Best of luck tomorrow," Adriano said before they hung up.
"You too,babe," she replied. "Score a goal… or just do one of those insane passes. Either way, I'll be watching."
He stood there a few moments longer after the call ended, still holding the phone in his hand, his thoughts distant. Then he tucked it into his tracksuit pocket and jogged back down the corridor toward the training pitch.
Inside, the tempo was already shifting.
***
Over the next two days, training sessions were conducted behind closed doors at the Etihad, as Pellegrini didn't want any leaks about the tactical tweaks they were working on for Tottenham.
The tempo was sharp from the start.
Pellegrini gathered the group in the center circle before their evening session and got straight to the point.
"Tottenham will not sit back like Villa," he began. "They will press. They will challenge our transitions. That means spacing, anticipation, and quick decision-making."
He clapped his hands once, hard.
"Let's go. Rondos, small boxes. One-touch only. Tight space."
The players broke off into groups. Adriano was in a circle with Silva, Hazard, Zabaleta, and Touré. The tempo was fast—so fast that even David Silva, usually as smooth as silk, got caught twice early.
Adriano was dialed in. He was controlling balls with a single touch, passing behind his back, nutmegging defenders with short cuts. Every time the ball came to him, he was scanning, looking for angles.
Later in the session, they moved into flank overload drills. Pellegrini positioned cones to simulate pressing triggers—markers where, if Spurs players pressed aggressively, City would look to overload on one side, draw pressure, and switch the ball to the weak side.
"Adriano," Pellegrini called out during one drill. "Drop between the lines, bait the press, then bounce out."
"Got it," Adriano called back.
He executed the instruction perfectly. As soon as the pass came in, he let it run across his body, took a step back, then fired a diagonal switch to Kolarov overlapping on the far side. It sliced through the training setup.
"Good," said Pellegrini, barely nodding.
They ran it again. Then again. No one was allowed to jog through it. The coaching staff shouted reminders constantly—"Think two passes ahead," "Use the width," "Scan before receiving."
By the second day, fatigue was setting in, but the rhythm remained. The players understood the mission: dominate space, move the ball faster, and take smarter risks.
***
After the final training session before matchday, the players gathered at the edge of the pitch, stretching quietly. Pellegrini stood in front of them, clipboard under his arm.
"You are ready," he said simply. "They are dangerous, yes—but so are we. Keep your shape. Trust the system. When you move, move with intent."
He looked toward Adriano, who was tying his laces, face calm but intense.
"Lead them, like always."
Adriano nodded once.
As the group dispersed, heading into the tunnel, Adriano lingered on the touchline. The stadium was mostly empty now, but tomorrow it would be full. And somewhere in the crowd, Kate would be watching.
He turned toward the tunnel, pulling his hoodie over his head.
The next stretch of matches would define their season.
And he was ready.
***
Current Stats of Adriano
Matches: 7
Goals: 9
Assists: 8
Current top scorer of Premier League and top Assists list