The second half at the Amex Stadium began.

The Brighton fans were enjoying themselves. They were leading 2 to 0. They were safe. They were watching a team that had just lost eight points implode on the pitch.

Michael Sterling stood on the touchline. The wind was whipping his coat around his legs. It felt less like a football match and more like a comedy show where he was the main character.

"Listen to them Arthur," Michael said.

Arthur Milton pulled his woolly hat down over his ears.

"They are laughing Boss," Arthur said miserably. "They are singing about our accountant. It is very rude."

The song was loud.

"Where did your points go? Where did your points go?"

On the pitch the Barnsley players looked small. The red shirts looked heavy.

MINUTE 50

The disaster started slowly.

Tom the young defender had the ball. He looked nervous. Mitoma was standing near him smiling.

Tom tried to pass to Diego Nunez.

But the wind had other ideas.

A gust of wind caught the ball. It stopped dead in the air like a balloon.

Tom panicked. He tried to kick it again. He missed. He kicked the turf.

Tom fell over.

The Brighton fans laughed. It was a cruel sound. A loud collective HA!

Mitoma picked up the ball. He did not even sprint. He just jogged towards the goal.

Pavard came across. The World Cup winner looked tired. He slid in.

Mitoma rolled the ball sideways.

There was Pascal Gross. Alone.

He chipped the ball.

It floated over Sam Jones. It floated over the line.

GOAL.

3 to 0.

The laughter got louder.

"It is a circus," Michael whispered. "We are the clowns."

MINUTE 60

Things went from bad to worse.

Barnsley tried to attack. They needed a goal. Just one goal to save some pride.

Isaiah King got the ball on the wing. He wanted to silence the crowd.

He tried a fancy flick. A rainbow flick.

Usually Isaiah landed this trick perfectly.

Today his pink boot slipped on a patch of wet mud.

The ball hit him in the back of the head.

Isaiah stumbled. He fell face first into the mud.

The Brighton defender Veltman did not even tackle him. He just watched him fall.

The stadium erupted in laughter again.

"He tripped on his own ego!" a fan shouted near the dugout.

Isaiah stood up. He was covered in mud. His silver hair was brown. He looked like a swamp monster.

He looked at the referee.

"Foul!" Isaiah shouted.

"By who?" the referee asked trying not to smile. "The grass?"

Isaiah kicked the ground in frustration.

MINUTE 70

Michael looked at the bench.

"We need to stop the bleeding Arthur," Michael said. "This is not a football match anymore. It is a humiliation ritual."

He called for a sub.

"Kenji!" Michael shouted.

Kenji Sato ran over. The Japanese Engine looked ready.

"Kenji go on for Tom," Michael said. "Tom is broken. The kid needs a hug not more minutes."

"I will run Boss," Kenji said bowing. "I will run until they stop laughing."

"Just try to tackle someone," Michael sighed.

Kenji ran onto the pitch.

His energy changed things slightly. He ran everywhere. He chased the ball. He chased the seagulls. He chased the plastic bags blowing across the pitch.

But energy cannot fix a broken spirit.

MINUTE 75

Brighton were playing keepsies.

Pass. Pass. Pass.

Every time they completed a pass the crowd shouted OLÉ!

Diego Nunez was getting redder and redder. The Bull was steaming.

He chased the ball to the left. OLÉ!

He chased the ball to the right. OLÉ!

Diego stopped. He stood in the center circle. He put his hands on his hips.

He screamed.

"STOP PASSING! FIGHT ME!"

The Brighton players just smiled and passed around him again.

Arthur covered his eyes.

"This is painful Boss," Arthur said. "Can we go home? I think I left the oven on."

"We stay," Michael said his eyes fixed on the pitch. "We watch. We remember this feeling. The taste of dirt."

MINUTE 80

The final disaster.

Sam Jones the goalkeeper had the ball at his feet.

He wanted to play it long. He wanted to get the ball as far away from his goal as possible.

He ran up to kick it.

At that exact moment a large white seagull landed on the pitch five yards in front of him.

Sam got distracted. He looked at the bird.

He shanked the kick.

The ball sliced off the side of his boot.

It spun backwards.

It went out for a corner.

A corner conceded from a goal kick.

The Brighton fans were crying with laughter now. Some were holding their stomachs.

"Even the birds hate us!" Sam screamed waving his arms at the seagull. "Go away!"

The seagull just looked at him and flew away squawking.

Michael put his face in his hands.

"Eight points deducted," Michael muttered. "And now we are losing to wildlife."

MINUTE 90

The board went up. Two minutes added time.

The referee felt sorry for them. He wanted to go home too.

Barnsley had one last chance.

Kai Sora had the ball. The Architect had been quiet. The wind ruined his hair and his passing range.

He looked up. He saw Diego Nunez in the box.

Kai hit a long ball.

Diego jumped.

He won the header.

It flew towards the goal.

It hit the post.

CLANG.

It bounced out.

Erik Olsen tried to hit the rebound.

He slipped.

The ball rolled gently into the arms of the Brighton goalkeeper.

It summed up the day perfectly.

PHWEEEEEEEEET!

The final whistle.

Brighton 3. Barnsley 0.

The music blasted over the speakers. Don't Worry Be Happy.

It felt like a final insult.

The players collapsed on the pitch. They looked devastated. Muddy. Cold. Defeated.

Isaiah King sat on the grass picking mud out of his ear.

Diego Nunez stood staring at the Brighton fans who were waving goodbye.

Michael walked onto the pitch.

He had to be the leader.

He walked over to Tom. The young defender was crying.

"Head up Tom," Michael said putting an arm around him. "Bad days happen. This was a very bad day. But you are still a Barnsley player."

"They laughed at me Boss," Tom sniffed. "Thousands of people."

"Let them laugh," Michael said. "Laughter is cheap. Respect is expensive. We will earn the respect back."

He gathered the team.

They stood in a circle in the middle of the empty pitch as the Brighton fans left.

"Look at me," Michael said.

They looked. They looked like soldiers who had lost a war.

"That was a disaster," Michael said honestly. "We were terrible. We slipped. We fell. We let the wind beat us."

"The seagull was offside," Sam Jones muttered.

"Forget the seagull," Michael said. "We lost because we felt sorry for ourselves. We were thinking about the eight points instead of the eleven players in front of us."

He looked at Diego.

"Diego. You promised Lucas a wink."

Diego looked down at his boots.

"I failed Boss. I could not wink. My eyes were full of rage."

"Exactly," Michael said. "Rage is good. But blind rage makes you stupid. Today we were stupid."

He pointed to the tunnel.

"We go inside. We wash the mud off. We wash the laughter off."

"And then?" Kai Sora asked adjusting his wet sunglasses.

"And then we look at the table," Michael said.

THE TABLE

In the dressing room Arthur updated the whiteboard.

It was ugly.

8. Barnsley - 40 points

9. Newcastle - 39 points

10. Chelsea - 38 points

They were sliding. The gap to the top four was growing.

"We are closer to tenth than fourth," Arthur said quietly.

"Good," Michael said.

The room went silent.

"Why is that good?" Danny Fletcher asked. "We want to be fourth."

"Because now nobody expects anything," Michael said. "The pressure is gone. The media will write our obituary tomorrow. They will say Barnsley are dead."

He smiled. A cold dangerous smile.

"I like being dead. Dead men have nothing to lose."

He looked at his phone. A message from Julian Thorne the owner.

Julian: That was embarrassing Michael. Fix it. Or I sell the restaurant.

Michael put the phone away.

"Next game," Michael said. "Who is it Arthur?"

Arthur checked the list.

"Manchester City," Arthur said. "At the Etihad."

The room groaned.

Manchester City. The best team in the world. Away from home. After a 3 to 0 loss.

"Perfect," Michael said. "Absolutely perfect."

"Why is that perfect?" Isaiah King asked looking terrified. "Haaland is going to eat us."

"Because," Michael said walking to the door. "If we beat City everyone forgets about the seagull."

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