Chapter 119: This Is A Wonderful Game

"Tomlin! Tomlin! His second! The Villa striker has scored the third goal of the game, and his own second of the afternoon!"

"It’s over, three nil! Less than three minutes of the second half gone, almost the same time as the first goal."

"A header this time, but what a different goal. A powerful header!" It was a goal born of Lavelle and Alencar working together down the right. Alencar overlapped, Lavelle whipped in the cross, and Tomlin rose above two Derby centre-backs to bury it.

"Beautiful, just beautiful. Villa’s summer signings have been superb!" Vacek, Teale, Reyes and Tomlin had all been outstanding.

Vacek had won over the Villa faithful in the first round. In this game Reyes’s control of the midfield was on full display, Teale had been immense at the back, and Tomlin’s two goals spoke for themselves.

As for the others, Alencar had been excellent, visible in attack and defence alike. Faraday had played a lovely straight ball for the second goal, and Pryce had done well even without scoring.

On the touchline Saint did not hold back this time. When Tomlin’s header hit the net he leapt out of his seat, rushed to the edge of the technical area, threw both arms in the air and roared.

At the other end of the dugouts, Rossiter looked like a dead man walking. He had spoken to his players just before the interval, and now Tomlin’s goal had made that speech worthless.

Then came the substitutions. Once the celebrations died down Saint made his first change of the game. Rami was replaced, and Alex Gamble came on.

Late in the first half Rami had fouled Vance and been shown a yellow card. For a centre-back, and a young one at that, carrying a booking was an invitation to the opposition. It could have been a good learning moment for Rami, but with the game won Saint would rather give up the lesson. Villa had plenty of options at the back anyway.

With Gamble’s introduction, every centre-back Villa had signed that summer had now made an appearance, and it was only the second game of the season.

"Saint really isn’t giving the opposition a chance," Pemberton said, praising the change.

"Hard to say, really. We don’t know how good this Gamble is," said Casapa, jumping in right on cue.

Since the fans had started pestering him, Casapa had become a little more careful than before, but he still felt obliged to pop up every so often and play devil’s advocate.

"I trust Saint’s eye." Pemberton had made a habit of fawning, and he did it well.

He had a good reason, of course. Anyone could look at the pitch and see the evidence. Apart from Conlan, every starter out there had been brought to the club by Saint.

After Villa’s change, Derby made adjustments too. Rossiter knew there was no hope, but he did not want to give up.

On the bench, Stoyan Bogdanov, the famous Bulgarian striker with the troubled reputation, got up to warm up and came on for Dean Harlow, who had all but vanished from the game. Under Teale’s watch, Harlow had barely touched the ball from the first whistle.

The old Chelsea captain was telling every doubter exactly what he thought of them with his performance. He might be old, but Marcus Teale was still one of the best centre-backs in football.

Even the pundits were shocked. Teale looked quicker than he had last season, and the weakness people had criticised him for, his turning, seemed to have improved.

Plenty of Chelsea and Barcelona supporters were watching this one too, because the former Chelsea captain and the former Barcelona captain were on the same pitch, playing in the same shirt, as teammates.

It really was something to see, two long-time rivals now working together so smoothly. They had performed very well, communicating constantly, and what impressed observers most was how little ego either showed.

Teale did not just organise the back line properly. He completed a number of important interceptions, especially the one when Vance burst into the box with the ball.

As for Reyes, Villa’s midfield was carefully organised around him. The tempo of the game lay firmly under his boots, and he even contributed an assist going forward.

Bogdanov’s arrival did not change Derby’s disadvantage. Though plenty of people were still optimistic about him, his ability was limited, and Gamble gave him nothing.

For that reason the hot-headed Bulgarian clashed with Gamble more than once. If the referee had not taken Derby’s three-goal deficit into account, Bogdanov would surely have been shown a card. Gamble escaped too.

In the seventy-third minute Saint made his second substitution. Pryce was replaced, and Diego Salerno came on for his first league appearance.

That change eventually set the final score at four nil. In the eighty-eighth minute, Salerno poked home a loose ball in the box for his first goal in the Premier League.

Two minutes earlier, Marek Jurek, Villa’s last substitute, had hit a shot from the edge of the area.

Pickering reacted quickly, leaping across to punch the shot away, but the ball struck the post and bounced back into the penalty area, right in front of Salerno.

With the score at four nil the referee signalled one minute of added time, then changed his mind and cut it short, blowing the final whistle after little more than thirty seconds.

"Congratulations to Villa on their first win of the season, their first Premier League victory since coming back up, and the first top-flight win of Saint Maddox’s career."

"News just in, Villa have beaten Derby four nil in round two. This is not only Villa’s first win of the season but also Saint’s first win in the Premier League." That was how the broadcast announced the end of the game.

"That was a wonderful game." When the whistle sounded, Saint walked over to Rossiter and said it as they shook hands.

"Hmm." Already in a foul mood after the defeat, Rossiter’s face turned even more grey-blue. He forgot the manners of English sport entirely, flicked Saint’s hand away and turned on his heel.

Saint watched him go without a trace of annoyance. If anything, he felt a little sorry for the man, because he knew exactly how a manager felt after a night like that.

"Gaffer, he didn’t even say well done," Cadman said, jogging up beside him.

"He doesn’t have to. Give him a week and he’ll forget it. Give the press two days and they’ll find something else to be angry about." Saint clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, the lads are waiting."

In the tunnel the players were already celebrating, Tomlin carrying the match ball under his arm like a trophy and Salerno being mobbed by the youngsters after his first goal. Teale and Reyes stood to one side, quietly pleased, watching the kids enjoy themselves.

Saint let them have their moment. They had earned it, and after the lesson against United, they had learned something far more valuable than three points.

"Enjoy it tonight," he told them once the noise had died down. "Tomorrow we start preparing for Burnley."

A few of the lads groaned. Most of them laughed, and Saint smiled too, because that was exactly the kind of response he wanted from this squad.