The revenue from the new app was climbing. The numbers on the screen in the office of Michael Sterling were green and beautiful.

It was a Thursday morning. The squad was in the gym doing recovery work. The mood was light. Jamie Vardy was telling a story about a party he went to in 2016. Diego Nunez was lifting weights that looked like they belonged on a construction crane.

Michael sat in his office. He was sipping tea.

Arthur Milton burst through the door.

Usually Arthur entered the room looking for food. Or complaining about the weather. Or asking if he could expense a new hat.

Today Arthur looked pale. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Boss," Arthur gasped. "Turn on the TV. Now."

"What is it Arthur?" Michael asked putting down his tea. "Did Diego eat a microphone again?"

"No," Arthur said. "It is bigger. It is the biggest news in ten years. Just turn it on."

Michael picked up the remote. He pointed it at the large screen on the wall.

He pressed the power button.

The screen flickered to life. It was the Sky Sports News channel. The banner at the bottom was bright yellow. It said BREAKING NEWS.

And then Michael saw the face.

It was a face the whole world knew. The beard. The kind eyes. The look of a man who had completed football.

Lionel Messi.

But he was not wearing a football kit. He was wearing a suit. A black suit with a white shirt. He sat behind a microphone at a press conference in Barcelona.

"Turn up the volume," Michael whispered.

The voice of the translator filled the room.

"...I have achieved everything I wanted as a player," the voice said. "The World Cup. The Champions League. The Ballon d Or. My legs are tired. But my mind is hungry."

Michael leaned forward.

"He is retiring," Michael said. "Just like Ronaldo."

"Wait," Arthur said pointing a shaking finger. "Listen."

"I am hanging up my boots today," Messi continued. "But I am not leaving the city of Barcelona. I love this city. But I do not want the easy path. I do not want to go back to Camp Nou to be a mascot."

The camera flashed blindingly.

"I want to build," Messi said. "I want to fight against the giants. Just like I did when I was a small boy."

He held up a shirt.

It was blue and white stripes. But it was not the Argentina shirt. And it was not the Barcelona shirt.

It was the shirt of RCD Espanyol.

The local rivals. The noisy neighbors of Barcelona. The team that lived in the shadow of the giant Camp Nou.

"I am the new Manager of Espanyol," Messi announced. "We will make the city blue and white."

Michael stared at the screen.

The room was silent.

"Espanyol?" Arthur whispered. "That is... that is illegal. That is like the Pope joining a heavy metal band."

"It is genius," Michael said standing up. "He is the ultimate competitor. He conquered the world with Barcelona. Now he wants to beat them. He wants to show them that he can win without the machine."

Michael felt a vibration in his pocket.

The System.

He pulled out his phone. The screen was glowing with a strange silver light.

[MAJOR EVENT TRIGGERED]

[THE ERA OF MANAGERS]

[NEW RIVAL DETECTED: THE LITTLE MAGICIAN]

[ATTRIBUTE: TACTICAL GENIUS]

[WARNING: HE SEES PASSING LANES THAT DO NOT EXIST]

"He is in the game," Michael whispered. "Messi is in the management game."

Michael walked down to the gym. He had to see the reaction of the players.

The gym was silent. Everyone was gathered around a smartphone that Enzo Silva was holding.

Diego Nunez was standing at the back. The giant defender looked confused. He looked like his brain was trying to process a complex math equation.

"Diego," Michael said walking over. "Are you okay?"

Diego looked at Michael. Then he looked at the phone screen where Messi was holding the Espanyol shirt.

"Papa Michael," Diego said softly. "My god has betrayed me. But... he has also saved me."

"What do you mean Diego?"

"He is at Espanyol," Diego said. "They are the Misfits of Barcelona. They are like us. They are the angry little brother."

Diego eyes grew wide.

"Does this mean I can tackle Barcelona players and Messi will be happy?"

"Yes Diego," Michael smiled. "If we play Barcelona you can tackle them for Messi."

"VAMOS!" Diego roared. He picked up a 20kg weight and threw it in celebration. It landed on a yoga mat with a thud.

Enzo Silva was jumping up and down.

"He is a manager!" Enzo shouted. "Imagine the training! He will teach them how to dribble through walls! We need to play Espanyol Boss! Call them! Friendly match!"

"He just took the job Enzo," Michael laughed. "Let him buy a desk first."

Jamie Vardy was sitting on a bench drinking a Purple Rain energy drink.

"Fair play to the lad," Jamie said. "Espanyol is a tough gig. They fight relegation every year. He likes a scrap. I respect that."

"Do you think he will be a good manager?" Leo Stone asked. The fifteen year old wonderkid looked at the screen with awe. "He is the best player ever."

"Being a great player does not mean you are a great manager," Michael said addressing the room. "Maradona was a god but management was hard for him. But Messi? He sees the game differently."

Michael walked to the center of the room.

"Listen up," Michael said.

The players looked at him.

"Ronaldo retired last week. Messi retired today. The Golden Age of players is over."

He paused.

"But the Golden Age of teams is just starting. Messi is building an Empire in Spain. We are building a Dynasty in England. One day we will meet him. One day Barnsley will play Espanyol in the Champions League."

"And we will smash them," Erik Olsen said from the corner. The Viking had the golden aura flickering around him. "Even gods bleed."

"Exactly," Michael said. "Now back to work. Chelsea are coming on Sunday. And Pochettino does not care about Messi."

Later that afternoon Michael sat in his office with Arthur.

Arthur was looking at flights to Barcelona.

"Tickets are selling out Boss," Arthur said. "Everyone wants to see Manager Messi. They say he wears a tracksuit. A tracksuit!"

"He is comfortable," Michael said. "Arthur look at the transfer market news."

Arthur clicked a tab on his laptop.

BREAKING: ESPANYOL LINKED WITH THIAGO ALMADA.

BREAKING: ESPANYOL LINKED WITH PAULO DYBALA.

BREAKING: AGUERO JOINS ESPANYOL COACHING STAFF.

"He is building a colony," Arthur noted. "Little Argentina in Barcelona."

"He has pulling power," Michael said. "Players will walk across broken glass to play for him. It is going to be interesting."

Michael looked at his own squad list on the wall.

He did not have Dybala. He did not have Almada. He had a Pitbull. A Rat. A Viking. And a Phantom. And he preferred it that way.

"Boss," Arthur said. "Do you think he knows who you are?"

"Messi?" Michael asked. "Probably not. Why would he?"

"Because," Arthur pointed to the screen. "Look at his first interview quote."

Michael squinted at the text.

REPORTER: Leo why Espanyol? Why not a big club?

MESSI: I watched a team in England recently. Barnsley. They showed that you do not need billions to have a soul. They play with fire. I want to build a fire like that here.

Michael felt a chill run down his spine.

"He knows us," Michael whispered. "The GOAT watches Barnsley."

"We are famous Boss," Arthur said dropping his biscuit. "Lionel Messi is a fan of the Misfits."

Michael stood up and walked to the window.

The training ground was busy. The Academy kids were arriving for their afternoon session.

He thought about the tiny shoes in his drawer at home. He thought about the baby coming.

The world was changing fast. Legends were leaving the pitch and entering the dugout.

The competition was getting fiercer.

If Barnsley ever made it to the very top they would not just be fighting tactical battles. They would be fighting legends.

Imagine a Champions League final.

Michael Sterling vs Lionel Messi.

The Misfits vs The Magicians.

It was a thought that made his blood pump faster.

"Arthur," Michael said.

"Yes Boss?"

"Send a gift to the Espanyol stadium."

"A gift? What do we send? A Yorkshire pudding?"

"No," Michael smiled. "Send them a bottle of our best champagne. And a note."

"What should the note say?" Arthur asked picking up a pen.

Michael looked out at the pitch where Diego Nunez was teaching Leo Stone how to protect the ball.

"Write this," Michael said.

"Welcome to the madhouse Leo. See you in Europe."

Arthur wrote it down.

"Signed Michael Sterling?" Arthur asked.

"No," Michael said. "Signed The Misfits."

Arthur nodded. "I will send it express delivery."

The sun began to set over Oakwell.

The day had started with normal business and ended with the football world turning upside down.

Michael felt a sense of calm.

Ronaldo was gone. Messi was a manager. The old guard was changing. It was the perfect time for a new power to rise.

He walked out of the office. He walked past the Manager of the Month trophy. He walked past the metal shield Diego had made. He walked out to his car.

Sunday was Chelsea. The Premier League was the priority.

But somewhere in the back of his mind Michael was already planning for the day he would stand on the touchline and look across at the little man from Rosario. It was inevitable.

Destiny had a way of bringing the dreamers together. Michael started the engine of his car.

"One day Leo," Michael whispered. "One day."

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