Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Man United legends are made
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Ban Yeager's hat-trick had essentially nailed the game shut.
With less than ten minutes left in regular time, a comeback seemed out of reach.
Yet soccer was a sport where you couldn't give up until the final whistle, a game of unpredictable twists right up to the end.
Still, Manchester City players fought desperately to claw back a goal.
Score: 3-1
The match had been delayed countless times by short and long standoffs, so plenty of stoppage time would be added.
Their goal was to use that time to score twice and force extra time.
To do it, they had to abandon defense entirely and pour everything into attack.
A match that was as good as lost already.
Embracing the gamble of all-out attack without fearing further concessions paid off.
They now had reason to hope.
It wasn't some sudden collapse either.
Phil Foden's early cross.
Haaland, planted firmly in the box, leaped with all his might and hammered the ball into the corner with a header.
Iyaaaaaaaah—
A pure physical specimen of a goal from Haaland.
Having notched a multi-goal game, Haaland charged straight into the net, grabbed the ball he'd scored, and sprinted back to the halfway line like he was gunning for a hat-trick.
The game restarted just one minute after the goal.
Manchester United's kickoff happened the moment regular time expired.
Momentum surging, Manchester City pressed hard again for an equalizer.
What made soccer thrilling was how anything could happen until the end.
This match, expected to be a straightforward City win, saw Manchester United leading instead.
Even after going down 3-1, when everyone thought City had no gas left for a chase, they pulled one back.
They succeeded with the all-in gamble of ditching defense for pure attack, and now eyed the tying goal.
The score still trailed, but the momentum had fully swung.
See a 3-2 score past the 90th minute, and you'd normally smell defeat—but the stands burned hotter than ever.
Players chasing extra time, ignoring stamina they'd need if it came, burned every ounce of energy.
Their movements pulsed with unyielding fire, as if this stadium existed for City's comeback.
Where legends are made
The phrase "where legends are made" rose from deep in the hearts of City fans, igniting fiercely.
Three minutes later, hope turned to ashes.
Haaland's second goal had sparked hope—that much was good.
Channeling that momentum into more goals? Solid too.
Just... the opponent was too good.
"Yeager!!!"
The player who'd somehow notched a fourth goal.
And the fatal mistake for City? He wore Manchester United colors.
"What're you grinning about? How do you let that in!"
"Haha! Yeager, make another one~!"
It wasn't about forcing a goal for Lucas Cruijdt.
At 3-1, maybe—but 3-2 was no score to relax on.
But that didn't mean I had to score it myself, obviously.
Just waiting for a better, perfect chance.
This time, it was passing to Lucas Cruijdt—his shot ricocheted off the post right to my feet, and I tapped it home.
"Now I'll really make one for you, so get your head in the game. You're the striker, man."
"Hehe, got it~!"
Good that he wasn't deflated by missing—but bordering on too chill.
"A poker trick against Manchester City!!"
'Hm...'
Seemed like pure joy at my goal.
Another goal that truly sealed the match.
Even bench players rushed out to celebrate, eating up time.
That seemingly excessive 10 minutes of stoppage? Down to about four now.
Four minutes was plenty for another goal.
But lightning doesn't strike twice.
"Urgh..."
Players collapsing as the final whistle blew.
Pure playing time alone hit 100 minutes.
Adding delays, nearly two hours on the pitch—they flung their exhausted bodies to the turf.
Blue uniforms sprawled on the ground.
Only Manchester City's, tasting bitter defeat.
Waaaaaaaaah—
Benchwarmers—no, everyone gripping seats, sweating bullets through the end—staff and subs alike stormed the pitch in victory bliss.
At the center of the mob: undeniably,
Manchester United's present and future, Ban Yeager.
"Grab Ban Yeager!!!"
"No way he played two hours straight?!!"
Seeing teammates charging like maniacs, Ban Yeager bolted on instinct, pursuers dropping one by one from fatigue.
"Ye... Yeager!!!"
Only at the desperate cries of his name did he creep back.
Still wary, but dodging till the end amid shared triumph would've been weird.
"Everyone... go easy..."
"Toss him up!!!"
"Eek!! Careful!!!"
Hype-fueled lift-offs could cause injuries.
Waaaaaaaaah—
"Urgh!! What if I get hurt!!!"
Sailing sky-high, an unstoppable grin lit Ban Yeager's face.
As every Manchester United soul, fans included, basked in victory,
the podium for crowning them champions was swiftly set.
City got their runner-up medals first—FA Cup finalists, despite the loss.
Then United players lined up identically for theirs.
Even as medals draped their necks, eyes locked on the gleaming FA Cup trophy.
Suppressing the urge to snatch it, they donned winner's medals one by one and took center stage.
About 120 seconds ticked by—feeling longer than the 120 playing minutes.
Finally, United captain Harry Maguire received the last medal.
Then, to Maguire—and the United in his heart—the trophy.
Woooaaaahhh—.....
A low, powerful roar filled the stadium, revving up the celebration.
And then.
Iyaaaaaaaah—
Every United lover's dreams lifted the trophy skyward.