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Chapter 63: Arsenal vs Manchester United 3
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 15:23:40 +0000 UTCArsenal’s equalizer wasn’t exactly good news for Manchester United.
Sir Alex Ferguson made an immediate tactical change.
Valencia off.
Nani on.
It was a clear signal—United were going for the win.
This was Manchester United, after all. Even away from home, they were expected to take all three points.
But Arsenal weren’t backing down either.
Podolski made way for Arshavin.
Both managers made substitutions almost simultaneously.
It was a tactical chess match between the two dugouts.
...
On the pitch, Kai glanced toward Nani, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Nani was undoubtedly talented, but he wasn’t elite—not yet.
You could call him a rough draft of Cristiano Ronaldo. Similar style, but lacking in most areas.
Still, the change altered United’s shape—from a 4-4-1-1 to a more aggressive 4-2-3-1.
With the flanks now activated, Ferguson was gearing up to play some classic English wide football.
Arsenal’s shape remained the same, but Arshavin brought fresh legs and directness down the right.
Both teams had focused their substitutions on the wings.
Tactically, both coaches knew their stuff.
Kai gave a small shake of the head and refocused.
Now was not the time to relax.
Sure, they’d equalised—but the match was far from over.
Suárez’s earlier attack had lit a fire—it showed they could win this.
Bring it on.
Kai inhaled deeply. This was a test of willpower now.
Bang!
Thud!
All across the pitch, bodies collided.
The game had shifted into full physical warfare.
Neither side was willing to yield.
As soon as Kai received the ball, Rooney charged in. Kai knew he couldn’t release the ball immediately, so he braced himself, lowering his center of gravity to absorb the hit.
He grunted under the pressure but held firm, then slipped the ball to Arteta.
But Van Persie was already closing in.
He looked like a man possessed—former teammate or not, he was out for blood.
Arteta’s technique shone in that moment.
A deft pull-back, a flick, a side-step—he evaded the pressure, chipped the ball cleanly, then looked over to Van Persie with a calm, almost cheeky expression.
Van Persie didn’t even flinch, turning to chase again.
The game had become a fierce standoff.
In the stands, Arsenal fans were shouting themselves hoarse.
A unified chant thundered from the East Stand:
“We are Arsenal!”
“Take them down!”
“We’re the Gunners!"
“Take them down!"
"Let’s go, Arsenal!"
“Crush them!"
The Black Jersey fan group, led by Meadows, roared with passion.
Their faces were lit with fervor, their excitement boiling over.
Watching Arsenal go toe-to-toe with United, not backing down an inch—it was everything they wanted to see.
This was Arsenal!
This was the fight, the fire, the identity they’d longed for!
These weren’t pushovers anymore.
They were standing tall. Trading blows with Manchester United.
And that thought only made the cheers louder.
...
Cazorla fed the ball back to Arteta, who was just preparing to receive it when Rooney came flying in from the side with a sliding challenge.
Arteta hit the turf, hand raised for a foul.
But the referee pointed forward—play on!
“That’s a foul!”
“Are you blind, Mike Dean?!”
“Corrupt ref!”
“Boooooooo!”
"Fooking donkey!"
The Emirates erupted with boos as Nani darted toward the loose ball.
Jenkinson hesitated, unsure whether to commit.
If he stepped in and missed, Nani would be through on goal.
Finally, he clenched his jaw and charged in.
But Nani’s movements were too quick—his body feinted, shifted.
Jenkinson’s eyes widened—he’d lost sight of him.
He was already past!
“Oh no! Jenkinson’s been beaten!”
Ian Darke’s voice cracked in alarm.
But then, from behind.
It was No. 4.
Just as Nani approached the penalty area, Kai launched himself in a full-blooded sliding tackle.
He wasn’t going for finesse—he was going for impact.
Player and ball—everything.
Kai went in like a tiger, no hesitation.
Crash!
Nani let out a pained cry and tumbled near the box.
The Manchester United players rushed over furiously.
Kai got to his feet and barked at Nani, “Get up, you clown! I got the ball!”
That only inflamed the United players further.
Rooney stormed over, ready to confront Kai—
—but Van Persie grabbed him, holding him back.
Kai stood his ground, eyes burning.
Rooney’s been knocking him around all match—Kai hadn’t forgotten.
“Let him come! Come on, let’s go!”
But Vermaelen quickly clamped a hand over Kai’s mouth and dragged him back.
Kai’s fury dissipated, and he thought in confusion.
Seriously, Cap? Covering my mouth?
I’ve seen guys pull teammates away, but muzzling them like this? This is new.
Vermaelen growled, “Shut it, kid. Don’t get yourself sent off!”
Vermaelen pulled Kai away, speaking to him in a low, firm voice.
"Sorry cap, just a bit of frustration."
"Just keep your head in the game, we need you," Vermaelen patted Kai's shoulder.
Just then, the referee stepped in. He gave a glance at Nani, still rolling theatrically on the turf, and then raised a yellow card toward Kai.
Kai didn’t argue.
He accepted it. That yellow was fair.
He had gone in hard—yes, he got the ball first—but he’d also taken out Nani in the process. It was a dangerous challenge, one that could’ve easily drawn a red if the ref had judged it differently.
Truth be told, this card felt like the referee trying to keep the match under control. He hadn’t blown for Arteta’s earlier foul, so handing out a red now would’ve only added fuel to the fire.
Still, that tackle had stopped a real threat.
Manchester United won a free kick just outside the box, from a wide position.
“Looking at the replay, Kai gets the ball first—it’s a clean tackle by most standards,” said Darke.
McManaman nodded beside him. “But given the atmosphere and the way the game’s heating up, the ref had to step in. And honestly, even with the yellow, that challenge from Kai was worth it. If Nani had gotten through there, Arsenal would’ve been in danger.”
He continued, “You can see Ferguson already protesting to the fourth official—and now Wenger’s walking over too. Oh, looks like the two managers are at it again!”
While the tension boiled over on the sidelines, Arsenal quickly set up their wall.
Kai didn’t join it. Instead, he stationed himself at the far post, ready to cover for Szczesny if needed.
Nani stood over the ball, preparing to take the free kick.
The box was crowded, almost chaotic.
Kai’s eyes scanned the pitch, tracking movement, reading intentions.
Then Nani struck the ball.
Kai took two quick steps forward—then stopped.
Van Persie beat everyone to the header.
“Dangerous!!” George Adams shouted, his voice cracking with tension.
The crowd gasped.
Szzzt!
Szczesny reacted instantly, diving to palm the ball away.
But the clearance wasn’t clean.
The ball landed at the feet of Ashley Young.
His eyes lit up—this was his chance.
He twisted awkwardly, managing to swing his foot and connect with the ball using the inside of his boot.
The shot wasn’t pretty, but it was headed goalward.
Arsenal fans held their breath, scanning for Szczesny—only to see him still down from his previous dive.
What now?
And then—suddenly—a leg extended.
The ball struck it cleanly and ricocheted away.
Every pair of eyes in the Emirates followed its path.
Kai had gotten there again.
He had thrown himself into the line of fire and blocked the ball on the goal line.
“Kai!! Clearance!! No—wait!!” Darke nearly shrieked.
Nani, who had followed the play, was already on top of the loose ball.
He took one look, leaned back, and snapped a header toward goal.
Bam!
A flash of gloves—Szczesny, barely upright, managed to throw his arm up and deflect it again.
But the ball stayed in play.
And now it was rolling directly toward... Rooney.
Rooney positioned himself, raised his leg, and struck.
“Rooney!!” Darke roared.
In that instant, a hush fell over the stadium.
The life drained from the Arsenal fans’ faces.
In the stands, Kevin covered his eyes.
Zheng Xin turned away, refusing to watch.
Eason Chan(Chen Yixun), watching from home, sat in stunned silence.
Matt Damon—arms raised, mouth open—looked like he’d seen a ghost.
The world paused.
Bang!
The ball thundered toward the center of the goal like a missile.
But at the same moment, Kai, teeth clenched, muscles straining, threw himself into the air.
He had no control over his body now.
All he could do was trust the leap.
The ball smashed into his head, the impact sending pain flooding through him.
He crashed to the ground.
Manchester United players looked stunned.
But on the Arsenal side, the hope that had flickered out suddenly came roaring back.
Kai scrambled up, eyes darting toward the goal.
No ball.
He breathed out long, hard.
And then, hands on hips, body shaking slightly, he raised both fists.
ROAR!!!
The Emirates erupted.
“Oh My Word!! Kai has dragged Arsenal from the gates of hell!" Ian Darke shouted, pounding his desk.
“He’s a hero! An absolute hero for Arsenal!”
“This is incredible!” he added, voice thick with emotion. “Unbelievable resilience!”
In the stands, Arsenal fans were on their feet, faces flushed, shouting at the top of their lungs.
Wooooooahhhhhhh!
“God, that scared the life out of me!”
“Back-to-back blocks! He’s unbelievable!”
“My heart can’t take this!”
On the East Stand, Meadows slumped into his seat, drained.
His eyes fixed on Kai in disbelief.
He had once thought of Kai as the next Vieira.
But now...
Kai was something else entirely.
It wasn’t just the play—it was the aura, the presence, the grit.
Something deeper than steel and tackles.
Meadows rubbed his temple.
What was it?
He didn’t have the words.
Not yet.
