The Coaching System-Chapter 126: BRADFORD VS NEWCASTLE PART 4

The stadium was silent.

Thousands of fans packed into Valley Parade, yet in this moment, it felt like the world had stopped.

One hundred and twenty minutes of battle. Four goals apiece. Exhaustion etched into every player's face.

It all came down to this.

Jake stood at the edge of his technical area, arms crossed, watching as his players gathered near the center circle.

A penalty shootout.

The final test.

The referee gave one last signal to both captains, then walked toward the goal.

The shootout was about to begin.

First Round – Both Teams Start Strong

The tension inside Valley Parade was suffocating.

After 120 minutes of relentless football, it had come down to this.

A penalty shootout to decide the finalist.

Bradford's fans held their breath as the first taker stepped forward.

Newcastle's First Taker – Alexander Isak

Isak walked up slowly, composed, unreadable.

The Swedish striker had carried Newcastle all season. He was their star. And he knew it.

He placed the ball down, took four measured steps back, then locked eyes with Okafor.

The goalkeeper bounced on his toes, arms outstretched, trying to make himself as big as possible.

The referee blew the whistle.

Isak didn't hesitate.

One step, two steps—then he rolled it toward the bottom left corner.

Okafor reacted instantly, diving low.

For a moment, it looked like he might get there.

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But the ball was too precise, too well-placed.

It kissed the inside of the post and nestled into the net.

Goal.

Newcastle fans roared.

Okafor slammed his fist against the ground before picking himself up.

Jake exhaled.

Not unexpected.

They just had to respond.

Bradford's First Taker – Renan Silva

Silva strode forward, shoulders squared.

The Brazilian wasn't fazed.

He grabbed the ball, placed it carefully on the spot, then stepped back.

Pope watched him closely, rocking side to side on his line.

Silva didn't blink.

He exhaled, adjusted his stance, and waited for the referee's signal.

The whistle blew.

Silva took off smoothly.

One step, two—he opened his body and curled it into the right side of the net.

Pope dived the wrong way.

The ball hit the side netting, unstoppable.

Goal.

Bradford fans exploded with noise.

Bradford: 1-1

Silva turned and jogged back, unfazed.

Jake barely reacted.

It was too early for celebrations.

This was just the beginning.

Second Round –

Both teams had converted their first penalties, but the pressure was only growing.

The stadium remained eerily silent as Newcastle's next taker approached the spot.

Newcastle's Second Taker – Bruno Guimarães

Guimarães took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders.

The Brazilian playmaker had been at the heart of Newcastle's midfield battle all night. Now, with thousands watching, it all came down to a single kick.

He placed the ball down, adjusted his socks, and took a short run-up.

Okafor bounced lightly on his toes, reading the body language.

The whistle blew.

Guimarães strode forward and struck it low toward the right post.

Okafor reacted early, diving right.

For a split second, there was hope.

Then—the ball zipped past his fingertips and into the bottom corner.

The perfect penalty.

Goal.

Newcastle fans erupted.

Newcastle: 2-1

Okafor slapped the ground in frustration before pushing himself up.

Jake nodded to himself.

Nothing he could do about that one.

Now, it was their turn.

Bradford's Second Taker – Guilherme Costa

Costa had spent most of the match chasing shadows, waiting for his moment.

Now, this was it.

The Brazilian forward grabbed the ball, placed it down, and stepped back.

Nick Pope stood tall in goal, reading Costa's stance.

Costa didn't overthink it.

No deep breath. No hesitation.

Just focus.

The whistle blew.

Costa sprinted forward and hammered his shot into the top left corner.

Pope barely moved.

The ball smashed into the net, brushing the underside of the crossbar.

Unstoppable.

Goal.

Bradford fans erupted again.

Bradford: 2-2

Costa turned, clenching his fists before jogging back to his teammates.

Jake allowed himself a single nod.

Still level.

The shootout continued.

Third Round –

The tension inside Valley Parade hit another level.

Both teams had converted their first two penalties, but now—one mistake could change everything.

Jake stood with his arms crossed, watching as Newcastle's next taker stepped forward.

Newcastle's Third Taker – Lewis Miley

Miley, the young midfielder, had been subbed on late in extra time for fresh legs.

Now, he was standing alone at the penalty spot, the weight of Newcastle's hopes on his shoulders.

He grabbed the ball, placed it carefully, then stepped back.

Okafor stared him down, shifting slightly on the goal line.

Miley wiped his hands on his shorts, took a deep breath—

Then, he began his run-up.

He aimed for the left side—

Okafor reacted instantly, diving at full stretch.

Strong hand!

The ball was pushed wide!

The stadium erupted as Okafor punched the air.

Jake allowed himself a small smirk.

Advantage, Bradford.

Newcastle: ❌ 2-2

Bradford's Third Taker – Ethan Walsh

Walsh had been one of the first to volunteer when Jake asked for penalty takers.

The young winger walked up confidently, but now, standing at the spot, he faced something else entirely.

Behind the goal, Newcastle fans booed relentlessly.

Pope bounced lightly, waiting, reading.

Walsh swallowed hard.

The referee signaled.

He took three quick steps forward—

Struck it hard, low—

Off the post!

Gasps filled the stadium.

The ball rebounded out harmlessly, rolling away.

Walsh clutched his head in disbelief.

The chance to take the lead was gone.

Bradford: ❌ 2-2

Jake exhaled sharply.

Still level.

The shootout continued.

Fourth Round –

The missed penalties had only cranked the pressure higher.

Newcastle knew they couldn't afford another mistake.

Bradford knew they couldn't afford to fall behind.

Jake watched, his expression unreadable, as Newcastle's next taker stepped up.

Newcastle's Fourth Taker – Jacob Murphy

Murphy had been lively all game, causing problems with his pace on the right flank.

Now, he had a different task—to put Newcastle back in front.

He placed the ball down, took two steps back, then glanced up at Okafor.

The referee blew the whistle.

Murphy didn't try to pick a corner.

He smashed it straight down the middle.

Okafor had already dived.

The ball crashed into the net.

Goal.

Newcastle: ✅ 3-2

Murphy turned back toward the halfway line, his face blank. No celebration.

Newcastle weren't taking any chances.

They knew this wasn't over.

Bradford's Fourth Taker – Andrés Ibáñez

Jake had originally planned for Richter to take this penalty, but with him subbed off, Ibáñez stepped up instead.

The Argentine wasn't a natural penalty taker, but he had nerves of steel.

He grabbed the ball, placed it carefully, and stepped back.

Pope shifted his weight, bouncing lightly on his toes.

Ibáñez took one last breath.

Then, he struck it with precision.

The ball curled low toward the bottom right corner.

Pope guessed correctly, diving at full stretch.

Too late.

The ball nestled perfectly inside the post.

Goal.

Bradford: ✅ 3-3

Still level.

Two kicks remaining.

Fifth Round – The Controversy

The tension inside Valley Parade was unbearable.

The entire stadium watched as Joe Willock placed the ball on the spot.

Newcastle's final taker.

If he scored, the pressure shifted to Bradford.

If he missed—Bradford had the chance to win it all.

Jake stood still, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Willock exhaled, stepping back, eyes locked on Okafor.

The whistle blew.

A smooth run-up.

A powerful strike—

The net rippled.

Newcastle fans erupted in celebration.

Bradford's heads dropped.

But then—the referee blew his whistle.

Bradford's players looked up, confused.

Newcastle's players looked at each other.

Jake frowned. Something was wrong.

The referee walked toward the spot, gesturing to the assistant referee.

VAR check.

Nobody in the stadium knew why.

The noise died down as confusion spread.

Jake turned toward the big screen just as the slow-motion replay played.

And there it was.

Willock had slipped.

His standing foot made contact with the ball first, nudging it slightly before his striking foot hit it again.

A double touch.

Jake's eyes widened.

No goal.

The referee turned back toward the players and signaled.

The goal was disallowed.

Newcastle: ❌ 3-3

Valley Parade exploded.

Bradford players sprinted toward the referee, celebrating the decision.

Newcastle's players swarmed the officials, protesting, but the ruling was final.

Jake barely reacted. He turned toward the final Bradford taker.

This was it.

One kick away from history.

The Decisive Kick – Rojas Holds His Nerve

Julián Rojas took the longest walk of his life.

The young Colombian had already delivered one of the greatest moments in Bradford's history with his last-minute equalizer.

Now, he had the chance to finish the job.

The entire stadium was on its feet.

Nick Pope stood tall on the line, arms wide, trying to make himself as big as possible.

Jake clenched his jaw.

Rojas had never taken a penalty in a competitive match before.

But he didn't hesitate.

He placed the ball down. Took four steps back.

The stadium held its breath.

Jake muttered under his breath.

"Come on."

Rojas inhaled deeply.

The referee blew the whistle.

A steady run-up.

He struck it hard, low—

Straight into the bottom corner.

Pope dived the right way.

Too late.

The net rippled.

Valley Parade erupted into pure chaos.

Bradford: ✅ 4-3

Bradford Has Won

Jake barely had time to react before his players stormed the pitch.

Silva leapt onto Okafor's back, screaming into the night sky.

Novak and Costa sprinted toward Rojas, nearly tackling him to the ground.

Mensah collapsed to his knees in disbelief.

The stadium shook with the roar of thousands of fans.

Newcastle's players stood frozen, unable to believe what had happened.

Bradford were through to the EFL Cup Final.

After twelve long years, they were back.

And Jake Wilson had taken them there.

The Aftermath –

Jake barely had time to process what had just happened before his players rushed toward him.

Barnes and Vélez reached him first, grabbing him by the arms.

Then, more joined.

Silva. Novak. Mensah.

Before he knew it—they lifted him up.

Jake shouted in surprise, but it was drowned out by the deafening chants of the fans.

They carried him toward the touchline, jumping in celebration.

"JAKE WILSON! JAKE WILSON!"

The fans sang his name.

Jake felt himself laughing, grinning, shouting with them.

They had done it.

They had done the impossible.

Bradford City were going to Wembley.