Barnsley 0. Manchester United 0.

Forty five minutes had passed. They had survived. They had blocked shots with their faces. They had run until their lungs burned.

But survival was not enough.

Michael Sterling stood in the center of the room. He looked at his players.

They were tired.

Kenji Sato was pouring water over his head. The Japanese Engine was steaming like a kettle.

Shaun Higgins was sitting on the floor. His knees were covered in mud and blood. He looked like a soldier who had just walked out of a trench.

Tom the young academy defender was shaking. His hands were trembling as he drank from a bottle. He was eighteen years old and he was marking Marcus Rashford.

Michael waited. He let the silence build.

He did not shout. He did not throw a water bottle like Sir Alex Ferguson.

He spoke softly.

"Look at me."

The players looked up.

"Do you know what they are saying in their dressing room right now?" Michael asked.

He pointed a finger at the wall that separated them from Manchester United.

"They are angry. They are shouting. Bruno Fernandes is waving his arms. Ten Hag is drawing arrows on a board. They are panicked."

Michael walked over to Tom. He crouched down so he was eye level with the terrified teenager.

"Tom. Why are you shaking?"

"He is fast Boss," Tom whispered. "Rashford. He is so fast. I am scared I will make a mistake."

"You will make a mistake," Michael said calmly. "We all make mistakes. But do you know the difference between you and him?"

Tom shook his head.

"He is playing for a job," Michael said. "He is playing because he is paid three hundred thousand pounds a week. You? You are playing for your life. You are playing for the badge on your chest. You are playing for every kid in Barnsley who was told they were not good enough."

Michael stood up. His voice began to rise. It echoed off the tiled walls.

"They call us Misfits," Michael said. "They call us Rejects. They say Kai is too lazy. They say Isaiah is too small. They say Higgins is too slow."

He looked at Shaun Higgins. The Butcher stood up. He looked ready to fight a wall.

"But look at the score," Michael roared. "It is zero to zero. The giants are bleeding. They tried to crush us and we broke their hammer."

Michael walked to the center of the room. He looked at every single player.

"We do not go back out there to survive. We do not go out there to hide."

He pointed at the door.

"We go out there to take what is ours. We are not tourists at Old Trafford. We are the new owners."

He looked at Arda Guler.

"Arda. Do you want to go back to Real Madrid and sit on the bench? Or do you want to be a legend here?"

"I want to be a legend," Arda said. His eyes were dark and focused.

"Then show me," Michael said. "Show me the magic."

"Kai," Michael said.

Kai Sora was sitting on the bench. He was not shaking. He was not sweating. He was adjusting his socks.

"Yes Boss?"

"You said you would conduct the orchestra," Michael said. "The music was too quiet in the first half. Turn up the volume."

Kai smiled. It was a small dangerous smile. "Okay Boss. I will play heavy metal."

"Isaiah," Michael said turning to the boy with the pink boots. "They are kicking you. Casemiro is trying to break you."

"Let him try," Isaiah said standing up. He puffed out his chest. "I am made of rubber. I bounce back."

"Good," Michael said.

He walked to the door and held it open.

"Forty five minutes," Michael whispered. "Forty five minutes to change history. Do not leave anything in this room. Leave it all on the grass."

"YES BOSS!" the team roared.

It was a primal sound. A sound of belief.

They ran out of the room. They ran back into the noise.

The tunnel was cold.

The Manchester United players were already there. They looked frustrated. They were arguing with each other.

Bruno Fernandes was shouting at Hojlund. Casemiro was glaring at the referee.

They were rattled.

Michael walked out to the dugout. The rain had started to fall. A cold Manchester drizzle that slicked the grass and made the ball skid.

Arthur Milton stood next to him.

"The speech worked Boss," Arthur said watching the players warm up. "Higgins looks like he wants to eat the goalpost."

"We need a goal Arthur," Michael said. "We need to strike first. If they score the crowd will wake up. We need to silence them."

MINUTE 46

The referee blew the whistle.

The second half began.

Manchester United tried to attack immediately. They wanted to kill the game early.

Rashford got the ball on the left wing. He ran at Tom.

Tom did not back down this time. He remembered Michael words. You are playing for your life.

Rashford tried a step over. Tom watched the ball.

Rashford pushed it past him.

Tom slid.

CRUNCH.

It was a perfect tackle. Clean. Hard. He won the ball and sent Rashford tumbling onto the wet grass.

The away fans cheered.

"Go on Tom!" Michael shouted clapping his hands.

Tom stood up. He looked ten feet tall.

MINUTE 47

Barnsley had the ball.

Benjamin Pavard brought it out from the back. The World Cup winner was calm. He looked at the Manchester United press and laughed.

He passed to Kenji Sato.

Kenji turned. He saw space.

"Run Kenji!" Pavard shouted.

The Engine ignited.

Kenji ran. He sprinted past Mount. He sprinted past Mainoo.

The United midfield was open. They had committed too many men forward.

Kenji reached the halfway line. He looked up.

He saw The Carousel spinning.

Kai Sora had dropped deep. Arda Guler had sprinted high.

The United defenders were confused. Maguire stepped up to mark Arda. Varane stayed back. A gap opened.

A tiny gap.

Kenji passed to Kai.

MINUTE 48

Kai Sora controlled the ball in the center circle.

Casemiro was running at him. The Brazilian tank was angry. He wanted to smash the lazy genius.

"Look out!" Isaiah King screamed.

Kai did not look. He felt the vibration of the footsteps on the grass.

He waited until the last possible second.

Then he flicked the ball.

It was a backheel nutmeg.

The ball went through the legs of Casemiro.

Casemiro ran past him unable to stop his momentum. He looked like a train that had lost its brakes.

The crowd gasped. Even the United fans gasped.

Kai spun around. He collected the ball on the other side.

He was free.

He drove forward. He was not running fast but he was moving with purpose.

"NOW!" Michael screamed from the sideline. "KILL THEM!"

Kai saw the picture.

Isaiah King was making a diagonal run from the right. He was cutting inside Varane.

Danny Fletcher was pulling Maguire to the left.

The pass was on.

But Kai did not pass to them.

He saw something else.

Arda Guler.

The Turkish magician had stopped running. He was standing still on the edge of the box in a pocket of space that nobody else saw.

Kai hit a reverse pass.

It was a pass that defied physics. It curved around the defender and spun backwards into the path of Arda.

MINUTE 49

Arda Guler controlled the ball with his left foot.

He was twenty yards out. Central.

Onana the United goalkeeper was off his line.

"SHOOT!" the Barnsley fans screamed.

Arda wound up his leg.

Maguire threw his body in the way to block.

Arda faked.

He dragged the ball to the right. Maguire slid past him like a giant ship sliding on ice.

Arda was now on his right foot.

He looked at the top corner.

He hit it.

THWACK.

The sound of the boot hitting the ball echoed around the stadium.

The ball flew. It did not spin. It was a knuckleball. It moved left then right then up.

Onana dived. He stretched his massive frame.

But the ball was perfect.

It kissed the underside of the crossbar.

CLANG.

And bounced down.

It hit the ground behind the line.

And spun back up into the roof of the net.

GOAL.

MINUTE 50

The silence was absolute for one second.

Then the corner of the stadium housing the three thousand Barnsley fans exploded.

Arda Guler did not run. He just stood there. He opened his arms wide like a statue.

Isaiah King sprinted over and jumped on his back. Danny Fletcher joined them. Then Kenji. Then Pavard.

It was a pile of red shirts in the heart of Old Trafford.

Michael Sterling ran down the touchline. He punched the air.

"YES!" Michael roared. "THE MAGICIAN!"

Arthur Milton was hugging the fourth official again. He did not care.

"We are winning!" Arthur cried tears streaming down his face. "We are winning at Old Trafford!"

Michael looked at the scoreboard.

MAN UTD 0 - 1 BARNSLEY

He looked at Ten Hag. The United manager was staring at the ground shaking his head.

He looked at his team.

They were hugging. They were screaming. They were believing.

But Michael knew football.

Fifty minutes.

There were still forty minutes left. Forty minutes of hell. United would come at them now with everything they had. The crowd would wake up. The referee would feel the pressure.

But for this moment right now Barnsley were the kings of Manchester.

Michael felt a vibration in his pocket.

[SYSTEM ALERT!]

[GOAL REGISTERED]

[MOMENTUM: MAXIMUM]

[OBJECTIVE UPDATE: HOLD THE LINE]

Michael took a deep breath.

"Get up!" Michael shouted to his players who were still celebrating.

"Get back in position!"

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