From Arsenal to the Ball God

After the game crossed the 70-minute mark, Sir Alex did not stop moving. He was shouting at the field angrily while pacing back and forth.

Ten minutes later, Manchester United’s assistants couldn’t sit still either. They stood up behind Ferguson to assist him in on-field command.

At the 85th minute, all the players on the Manchester United bench couldn’t stay seated; they all stood up, anxiously waiting.

The fourth official came over several times to negotiate with them, but aside from Ferguson’s roar, he got nothing.

"Second-half stoppage time, 2 minutes!" In the 90th minute, the on-site DJ announced the bad news to the desperate Manchester United fans.

Ferguson suddenly stood still, his face slowly calming down, as if it were the Champions League final against Bayern Munich in 98-99 season. He finally tried pointing at the watch on his wrist.

Now, besides pressing for an all-out attack, there was no other tactical arrangement for "Ferguson Time."

He just wanted to try calling upon the divine, to summon his energetic self at that time, to summon Solskjaer who scored two goals in the dying minutes to achieve a death-blow against Bayern Munich.

Or perhaps, to summon that Manchester United team from back then.

"Beep! Beep! Beep——!"

But it was useless, everything was just a beautiful illusion. All Manchester United people walked through the last 2 minutes in despair.

The score was frozen at zero to one, they lost at home to the relegation-threatened Wigan Athletic!

"Come on...!!"

"Yeah...!!"

Wigan Athletic’s players on the field kneeled down and raised their arms, shouting with joy. Their substitutes and assistant coaches also ran onto the field, celebrating as if they had won a championship trophy.

In contrast, tens of thousands of Manchester United fans were silent, and more than twenty Manchester United players worth tens of millions were guilty and depressed.

Alex Ferguson, the great coach who has won 12 championships on this field, stared dazedly at the field, the parts on his face twitching unnaturally.

It’s over!

They don’t need to struggle anymore. After playing the next Manchester Derby, it’s time for them to focus on next season.

"What does the board think?" Ferguson turned to look at the assistant beside him, asking, "Have they shown any signs of being flexible recently?"

"What?" The assistant did not react to what he was referring to.

"Bundle transfer." Ferguson briefly replied. This had been his wish all along, to buy back Ronaldo, and then buy Tottenham’s Bell, pairing with Rooney to fly down both wings.

"I don’t know." The assistant shook his head and after thinking for a moment, reminded, "Sir, you’ve asked me four times in the last three days.... They said they would wait until the end of the season to consider it."

"Ah."

Ferguson nodded slightly in apology, smiled bitterly and shook his head, "Getting old, can’t remember things."

...

In the center of London, at a photography studio, a tense shooting activity was underway.

"Last shot... come on, Ma’el, first look this way, and then there’s a turn at the end, look at camera 3 then."

The advertisement director held a loudspeaker and communicated with Ma’el: "Your gaze needs to be as deep as possible, you understand that feeling, our audience is female, show your charm boldly."

"Alright, let’s go!"

Ma’el held a small bottle of Olay, posed the way they wanted and then turned his head up, showing his entire face to the camera.

"Click! OK... very good!"

The director walked over to Ma’el and extended his hand, "The first phase of shooting is now over successfully, thank you very much for taking the time to come over during such an important period."

"No problem." Ma’el said politely, with this shot completed, the shooting of his four endorsements was all finished.

This allowed him to relax a bit, extracting himself from off-field activities and focusing all his energy on the field.

Sitting aside to rest, he opened his phone to glance at Manchester United’s score, feeling a bit surprised seeing their 0:1 result against Wigan, and then a sense of relief surged in his heart.

If said to be delighted, it wouldn’t be much; Manchester United and their gap itself is quite large, the chance of contending for the championship is very slender.

But if this team keeps staying close, they would definitely pay more or less attention to each other.

With this loss, they don’t need to think about this team anymore, only focusing their attention on the only competitor, Manchester City!

The championship race has simplified!

"Vroom vroom vroom...!"

As he left the shooting location, Ma’el stepped on the accelerator a few times, clearly in a good mood.

"So." Jose, who had been accompanying him in the passenger seat, laughed and asked, "Is your goal of becoming the London Ball King about to be accomplished?"

"Haha....."

Ma’el laughed a few times, shook his head, and said, "It’s not up to me to decide, it has to be evaluated voluntarily by the fans."

"Why not let Amelia stir up this title?" Jose suggested with a smile, thinking that such titles should be promoted by the media.

"No no no." Ma’el shook his head again, he has more principles, "That would be self-proclaimed, I want London residents to acknowledge it voluntarily."

"What I want is not that title, but a feeling."

"The feeling of conquering London?" Jose added with a smile.

"Yes...!"

"Haha.....!" The two laughed together, sometimes they just talked half-jokingly, half-seriously about anything and everything.

After finishing some technical training at home, Ma’el got in his car again and headed to the team’s meeting room. They would watch the direct championship rival Manchester City’s match together.

Arriving at the club’s administrative building, he suddenly saw a familiar figure at the entrance, looking around as if staring at him.

"Hans!"