Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: FA Cup Round of 16 vs Fulham
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Lucas Cruijff had finally made the squad list.
Though he was starting on the bench, it was a sure thing he'd be subbed in.
Bban-Ye and the viewers were chatting away about Manchester United and Fulham's starting lineups right up until kickoff.
Madu Murcia, the new winter signing, was making his first start, and with Lucas Cruijff joining the first team for the first time, there was plenty to talk about.
Fulham's lineup, facing them off, had even more noteworthy spots than United's.
It was packed with names all too familiar to United fans, but wearing different kits.
Among them, the man marking Ban Yeager was the most recognizable to Manchester United supporters.
Manuel Ugarte.
Fulham's number six and one of their starting holding mids. One of the players who'd ridden out Manchester United's relegation with them before bouncing without a second thought.
"Hey, senior." "..." The match kicked off with Fulham's possession. As soon as the ball crossed into their half, one player latched onto me like glue. Just as expected—my marker was Manuel Ugarte. The result hadn't been great, but he'd been my senior at United for four years, so I greeted him first. Ugarte glanced at me in surprise before refocusing on the game. He was gonna shadow me the whole match but wouldn't even return a hello? A bit awkward, I averted my eyes and scanned Fulham's other players' movements. The one driving Fulham's attacks was Emile Smith Rowe. Arsenal's once-top prospect who'd sadly failed to become a one-club man. Recurring injuries, not fitting Arteta's tactics—various reasons led to him leaving the Gunners and being written off as a busted wonderkid. His age when he departed Arsenal? A shocking 24. He'd been a key player since 18, so fans felt the disappointment more acutely than his actual youth warranted. Emile Smith Rowe, freshly 24 and out of Arsenal, found new life at Fulham. In Marco Silva's 4-4-2 as the left midfielder, he hit his second peak. "Whoa..." Number ten suited his style perfectly. Injuries were still the biggest issue, but in his optimal spot, he came alive—tricky to handle. "Tch..." I was genuinely admiring his play when Ugarte, shadowing silently, let out an exasperated noise. If even the opponent was reacting like that, maybe I wasn't running enough? I shoved the dumb thought aside. Teammates, coach, fans—they all trusted my game now. No time for me to waver. I trusted them too. No—trusted Marc Bernal.
Peep! Unfortunately, my teammates didn't live up to that trust. United's veteran was disappointed in the squad. Halftime score: 0-0. I was even thinking about dropping deeper to help the buildup. With Marc Bernal fully settled, hanging high and waiting for the ball had been more efficient lately. Today, though, Bernal was busy defending, so quality passes never came. Plus, Manuel Ugarte was better than expected. No direct interceptions, but his tireless work rate choked passing lanes effectively. Were relegation glow-ups a real thing...? Every ex-United player we faced was balling out. Bizarre. "Yeager, drop a bit more in the second half and link up play." "Got it." "Lucas, get ready to come on right away." "...Yes, sir!" Finally, effort paying off. Now Darren Fletcher's plan worked—I could drop for buildup. With a solid frontman to score in my place.
Bban-Ye had been singing Lucas Cruijff's praises nonstop through the first half, insisting he needed to come on.
It wasn't like there'd been any real attacking chances demanding a striker swap, but having heard from Ban Yeager himself, Bban-Ye knew Cruijff was crucial.
'Oppa, but why say you're an attacking mid when you just score?'
'...No one's scoring for me... Anyway, you secretly love United huh!'
'N-no! It's cuz they're City’s eternal rivals, so I'm scouting ahead!'
'Hmm... Can't spill to rivals, but for my cute lil sis, special info.'
'...What?'
'Soon I'll be the perfect attacking mid.'
'You're killing it already... What more?'
'Nah, need a tank up front drawing heat. Then more goals, more assists.'
Ban-Yeager's prized intel source.
Straight from family dinner—solid gold.
The tank Ban Yeager had pegged was Lucas Cruijff.
And the day after Cruijff joined first-team training, he'd dropped that "perfect AM soon" line.
Putting it together: Manchester United needed Lucas Cruijff now.
As Bban-Ye predicted—no, as Ban Yeager and Darren Fletcher planned—Lucas Cruijff came on as a sub right at the start of the second half.
Waaaaah!!—
The crowd's reaction was surprisingly positive.
After Ban Yeager's shocking debut, this barely fazed Manchester United fans.
If anything, they buzzed with hope for a '13-born duo' with Yeager to light it up.
"Father!! I got a good feeling about this!"
"Me too... Club insiders rave about him."
"I heard! They say he clicks great with Ban Yeager?!"
The devout United family showed up as always.
The Smiths scraped every scrap of internal intel using their status.
They even knew Cruijff and Yeager were tight.
Heroes recognize heroes.
What if Yeager spotted the same talent in him? Wishful thinking maxed out.
"Sigh..."
Victoria Smith, watching beside them, sighed at her dad and grandad before turning back to the pitch.
Her eyes locked solely on Ban Yeager.
Wondering what plays he'd pull in the second half.
For the new kid Lucas Cruijff? Mild curiosity on how Yeager would use him.
Second half restarted with Manchester United's possession. We gave debuting Lucas Cruijff a huge courtesy. Kickoff duties, no less. Lucas notched his first touch right away. Thwack— I took his pass and slipped it back to Marc Bernal behind me, then drifted wide. Rodrigo dashed past me. Not the Real Madrid one—Rodrigo Muniz, Fulham lifer for eight years. Then his teammate, Basil Lube, blew by too. Thwack— The pass sailed over their heads to me. Finally, I could play some real midfielder ball.