Although Drogba was considered a top-tier tough guy in everyone's eyes and seemed to possess a monster-like defensive body, his playing style and an old hidden injury from his early years still caused him to suffer many injuries throughout his career.
Otherwise, his ceiling could have been even higher.
Of course, after calming Drogba down, Kai also placed even higher demands on him.
"But speaking of that, do you know why you still can't score goals?"
That was practically a soul-searching question.
Drogba had always wanted to know the answer himself.
If bad luck happened once or twice, fine.
But nobody could be unlucky forever.
Lately, he had even started wondering if he'd somehow offended God and was being deliberately messed with.
A Fat Peach: No, I'm the one messing with you.
In reality, Drogba wasn't far from scoring in almost every match.
So far, he'd hit the crossbar once, the post once, the goalkeeper twice, and defenders' bodies three times.
Even if only half of those had turned into goals, he'd still have three or four goals already.
Three goals in five games, two assists, plus his tactical value—if that wasn't a striker, then what the hell was?
And you couldn't judge other players by Kai and Cristiano Ronaldo's standards.
Those guys were world-class monsters!
Ibrahimović: Damn! Who said that?
Kai: I did!
Ibrahimović: Then I think you're absolutely right, Brother Kai!
"Your style of play naturally lowers your scoring efficiency. Constant physical battles and confrontations will definitely affect your shooting touch," Kai analyzed Drogba's situation seriously.
"At the same time, your technical reserves are still a bit weak. It's difficult for you to fully seize the scoring opportunities that genuinely belong to you."
"Do you know why you've remained the focal point of recent matches? Because Mr. Triguera is satisfied with your performance on the pitch. You've completed all the core tasks assigned to your position."
"Pulling defenders away, running, covering space, acting as a pivot, fighting for headers... you've done all of that extremely well."
"But I noticed something. There was never actually a requirement for you to score!"
Drogba froze.
"So your scoring opportunities exist outside those responsibilities. After dropping deep to receive the ball, can you only pass backward? Can you only shield the defender and lay the ball off?"
"With your physical strength, you absolutely have opportunities to pin defenders, turn, burst the ball forward with power, and unleash violent long-range shots! You've got the physique and power for it!"
"I've seen you practicing finishing inside the penalty area every day. Seriously, how many chances do you think you actually get to calmly shoot inside the box? Your pace isn't fast enough. By the time you're set up to shoot, the defenders have already destroyed the attack."
"And because your role involves constantly dropping back, pulling wide, and running, the players who truly get most of the shooting opportunities inside the box are Cristiano Ronaldo, me, Quaresma, and Viana."
"Your opportunities are outside the box."
"Even when you do get the ball inside the penalty area, your actual tactical duty is still to create shooting chances for others using your gravity and pivot play. Understand?"
"Maybe you're capable of doing more than that. But right now, you first need to master these responsibilities before earning the chance to expand your role later."
"That includes the long-range shots I just mentioned. You can't force them constantly. You can only try them occasionally after you've already completed your tactical job."
"You might think that's unfair..."
Drogba nodded instinctively.
If things were truly as Kai described, then it did sound unfair.
What kind of bullshit was this? A center forward who wasn't encouraged to shoot?
And Drogba wasn't some useless blue-collar striker with zero scoring ability in the box.
Kai smiled.
"But isn't the last guy who thought this was unfair currently sitting on your bench?"
"Achoo!"
Ibrahimović suddenly felt like somebody was talking shit about him on the training ground.
Instantly, Drogba no longer felt things were unfair.
If this was the price, then honestly... it wasn't bad at all.
"Actually, it's not unfair," Kai quietly explained to Drogba. "Most of the opportunities you create end up being used by Cristiano Ronaldo, Quaresma, and me."
"You should go research it yourself... actually, forget it, you definitely don't have the time. I already did the research for you."
"If you personally finished all the chances you create, you'd need to average three and a half goals per game."
"I'm not insulting you, but count on your fingers—does anyone in world football average 3.5 goals per match? This is your value!"
Drogba suddenly felt enlightened.
So that was it!
There was no way anybody could average 3.5 goals per game.
Nobody on earth could do that.
Hell, he wasn't even averaging one goal per game himself.
Wasn't that exactly why Le Mans had sold him without hesitation? Because his scoring efficiency wasn't high enough?
Back then, he averaged roughly 0.35 goals per game.
But on the other hand, that also proved he was incredible at creating opportunities.
Drogba was finally satisfied.
If he could become the world's best opportunity-creating center forward, then that was also a path to earning huge money.
The team doctor listened from the side completely dumbfounded.
He desperately wanted to ask:
Were those chances really all created by Drogba alone?
Weren't they mostly created by Young Master Kai's god-tier passing, Viana's organization, Cristiano Ronaldo's explosive runs, and Quaresma's dribbling?
Especially Kai and Quaresma—they contributed a huge portion of it.
If you really calculated it properly, the number of chances Drogba created entirely by himself was probably... about the same.
By the time he finally got a shooting opportunity himself, he might as well just finish it personally.
But this whole speech had already completely brainwashed Drogba.
At this moment, there were only three thoughts in Drogba's head.
First: recover from injury as quickly as possible and return to competition.
Second: train long-range shooting, especially after turning.
Third: improve his link-up play—every kind of simple and efficient layoff possible—so that the team's attacks could suddenly accelerate through him, creating more shooting and scoring opportunities for the team, realizing the value of his life, and helping the club win.
Treat the team like family.
Treat teammates like brothers.
Serve the entire midfield and attack wholeheartedly!
Kai expressed satisfaction with Drogba's understanding.
That's right.
I have failed my teacher again—ah no... I have taught another one!
…
News of Drogba's injury quickly spread throughout the squad.
When Ibrahimović heard about it, he was overjoyed.
No, no.
The Swedish genius would never openly celebrate another player's injury just because it gave him a chance to rise to the top.
His face remained serious, preserving the dignity of a genius.
Meanwhile, inside his sneakers, all ten toes were wildly raising their arms in celebration, knee-sliding, and even screaming "Siuuu!"
But reality soon delivered a brutal slap to the Swedish genius.
October 3rd, the fifth round of the Portuguese Super League.
Sporting Lisbon faced last season's champions—Boavista!
Following Kai's suggestion, Triguera decisively chose the aging and undersized João Pinto as the team's center forward.
And the results were surprisingly excellent.
Pinto himself contributed an assist.
Cristiano Ronaldo and Quaresma both exploded down the wings, each scoring once.
The two sides were completely flying together.
At the final moment, Kai unleashed a long-range shot that won a corner kick.
Viana delivered the corner, and Pepe—who had replaced Deschamps—rose high and smashed in a header to kill off the powerful opponent!
Five straight league wins for Sporting Lisbon!
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