Chapter 112: The King of Finals! First Slay the Blues, Then Crush the Red Devils!
In December, the sky in England always darkened early.
It was just approaching 6 p.m., and the world outside was already pitch-black.
Manchester United's home match against Wigan Athletic had kicked off at 4 p.m. and was still ongoing.
Old Trafford had gone from a sunlit stadium with a setting sun to one glowing under the floodlights.
The final score: 3–0!
Thanks to a brace from Cristiano Ronaldo, Manchester United secured a commanding win at home over Wigan.
The 76,000 fans in attendance were in full celebration mode!
Up in the stands, the staff in the operations office were busy tracking data—how many fans had spent money? How many steaks were sold? How were the meal combo sales? Was the food up to standard?
And how were the VIP guests in the boxes? Satisfied with the service?
Sir Alex Ferguson didn't care about any of that.
He had clearly saved energy in this match.
Ronaldo only came on in the second half.
Players like Scholes and Evra were subbed off around the 60th minute.
Meanwhile, Carrick, Hargreaves, and Ferdinand were all rested completely—for the next match.
During the grueling Christmas fixture list, every team had to rotate.
Otherwise, they could forget about surviving.
This was the hard-earned wisdom Ferguson had accumulated over decades of waging war against this damn schedule.
Of course, how to rotate depended on the manager's skills.
Some managers rotated themselves right out of a job.
Truth be told, United hadn't even played that well tonight.
They dominated in the first half but failed to score.
Rooney's form had been inconsistent all season, giving Ferguson plenty of headaches.
Back when Van Nistelrooy was still around, United could rely on him for consistent goals.
Now... not so much.
Fortunately, Ronaldo came on in the second half and delivered a brace.
The Portuguese kid had been improving rapidly, and his goal efficiency was excellent.
Hopefully, he could maintain that form in the next game—against Bayswater China.
If they could beat Bayswater China at home and open up a lead on the table, the second half of the season would be much smoother.
And if Yang Cheng's team stumbled again, even the match on January 1st might be meaningless.
The thought lit a fire in Ferguson's chest.
It had been a long, long time since he last tasted Premier League glory.
Just then, Ferguson turned to his assistant, Carlos Queiroz. "So, how did that Stamford Bridge match go this afternoon?"
The Stamford Bridge showdown had taken place right before United's game. To avoid distractions, Ferguson had banned all talk of the match—including the result.
That brat Mourinho was playing at home—surely he wouldn't disappoint?
Ferguson didn't even need him to win—just a draw would've been fine.
That was the minimum requirement!
Ferguson had full confidence in Mourinho, so his demeanor was relaxed.
"Five-nil!"
"What?" Ferguson cut Queiroz off before he could even finish.
Then, the United godfather erupted into laughter, overjoyed.
"Holy shit! Since when did Mourinho get this good?"
"He actually smashed Bayswater China 5–0?"
"I told you—when it really matters, young managers can't handle the pressure. Now they've collapsed!"
"Ha! 5–0! Let's see what Yang Cheng's got when he comes to Old Trafford!"
Seeing Ferguson laugh like a madman, Queiroz and the rest of the United coaching staff glanced at each other.
Too much pressure.
So far this season, Manchester United and Bayswater China had been taking turns leading the charge—one week after the other.
It put immense pressure on both squads.
Both Ferguson and Yang Cheng were the type to shoulder all the pressure themselves to ease the burden on their players, which only made things harder on them personally.
Now that he finally had a chance to let it all out—well, this was the result.
The other coaches looked toward Queiroz, as if waiting for him to break the old man's illusion.
"It looks like Bayswater China just couldn't handle the pressure. Next match, we'll hit them even harder at home and end this title race once and for all!" Ferguson said, pumped up, even pumping his fists.
But then, he noticed the strange expressions on Queiroz and the others.
"What's wrong with you lot? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Queiroz glanced around awkwardly, licking his dry lips before finally speaking up.
"Bayswater China won."
"What?" The smile on Ferguson's face vanished instantly.
"That's impossible!"
"It's true. Bayswater China beat Chelsea 5–0—at Stamford Bridge. The media, the internet, the TV stations—they're all going crazy out there!"
Ferguson was rattled.
Just moments ago, he had been giddy with joy—and now?
It was all a lie.
Not just a lie—the worst possible outcome.
"Mourinho's defense has always been solid! At home! On Boxing Day! Has he gone mad? Was he too aggressive?" Ferguson was nearly yelling by the end.
His good mood from that 3–0 win was shattered.
More importantly, the long-laid plans he had crafted—were now in ruins.
From Ferguson's point of view, the ideal outcome would've been a draw. One point each.
That way, United would benefit most.
After all, both Chelsea and Bayswater China were United's main rivals in the title race.
A draw was also the most likely result.
Even though Mourinho was missing Terry and Makelele, his defensive setup was still usually reliable.
And Bayswater China? They were without Yaya Touré.
Who could've imagined that the final score wouldn't be a draw?
And if Chelsea had won, that would've still been good news for United.
But the winner was Bayswater China.
And they didn't just win—they demolished Chelsea 5–0.
Ferguson truly felt like losing his mind.
He didn't even care about how ridiculous his earlier reaction must've looked.
If he cared about his image, he wouldn't be Ferguson.
What really worried him now was the upcoming match at Old Trafford.
"Carlos, get someone on it—I want to watch that match footage immediately."
"Got it."
Queiroz turned to a coach behind him, who immediately went off to make the arrangements.
"And send two scouts to London—now. For the next few days, they're not to do anything except keep eyes on that damn training base. I want to know exactly what they're doing over there."
"Most important—has Yaya Touré recovered?"
"Understood."
Ferguson felt his blood boiling.
His blood pressure was through the roof again.
All because of that damn Yang Cheng!
And he still wants to come to Old Trafford for a drink?
Drink my ass!
You can drink piss instead!
According to prior intel, Yaya Touré was expected to return from injury right around this time.
Will Yaya Touré make it back in time for the match against Manchester United?
His presence—or absence—makes a big difference for Bayswater China.
Yaya Touré, Modrić, and Lass Diarra—this midfield trio combines steel and silk, both attack and defense. Not just in the Premier League, but even across all of Europe, it's arguably one of the strongest midfields out there.
And it's all that damn Wenger's fault!
Why the hell didn't you hold on to Yaya Touré back then, you blind old man?
...
Before the match, from the Premier League's official channels to Sky Sports, and across all the major newspapers, media outlets, and websites in the UK, the hype around this West London derby was off the charts.
According to the pundits, this was the first true West London derby in Premier League history.
What about Fulham vs. Chelsea before?
Doesn't count!
The difference in strength was too big—Fulham was never in the same league as Chelsea. Those so-called derbies didn't have any real heat.
But Bayswater China vs. Chelsea? Now that was a title-contending clash.
This was a derby worth watching.
And before the game, from bookies to fans to journalists, nearly everyone thought a draw was most likely, with Chelsea having a slight edge.
But if it came down to a winner, it would probably be decided by just a single goal.
In other words, the consensus was that the two sides were evenly matched.
No one—absolutely no one—could've predicted a 5–0 blowout.
It was like a bomb dropped out of nowhere, detonating across England, leaving everyone dazed and disoriented.
No one could believe it.
Mourinho's Chelsea got crushed 5–0 at home?
Not even a novelist would dare write something that outrageous.
The Times, The Guardian, The Daily Telegraph, The Sun, The Independent...
Virtually every media outlet published lengthy articles and immediate reactions, covering the match in full detail.
Especially about Arshavin and his four-goal haul.
Everyone knew the Russian was good—but this good? That was unreal.
So far this Premier League season, Arshavin had scored 12 goals.
That kind of efficiency was nothing short of remarkable.
Meanwhile, after being repositioned to the left wing, Ashley Young had now scored in four consecutive league matches. His total was up to 7 goals—also outstanding.
Now think about this: Manchester United's golden duo, Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo, have been showered with praise all season long. Everyone says they're having breakout years.
So how many goals do they have?
Eight.
Each.
Rooney only has 7 assists—less than both Arshavin and Ashley Young.
Cristiano? Just 1 assist.
Bayswater China's attack had just recently come under media fire for being inefficient—first in line for criticism were Lambert and Džeko.
But now? Džeko's goal tally had climbed to 7.
Drogba, seen by many as having a "breakout season," only had 10.
So what does it mean to be a "hidden gem" team?
Bayswater China is that hidden gem.
How many fans and journalists had blindly accepted the stereotype that this was just another newly promoted side?
The media hyped up their poor scoring numbers and low conversion rates. And sure, on the surface, the stats didn't look great.
But that 5–0 victory tore the mask right off.
Poor scoring? Really?
Take another look. Bayswater China's front three is arguably the most lethal attacking trio in the Premier League.
Even Lambert, constantly mocked for "only scoring against weak teams," already had 6 goals this season.
And Saha from Manchester United?
Only 8.
The comparison was now obvious to everyone.
It wasn't that Bayswater China was weak—it was that the media had steered the narrative the wrong way.
This team was a real Premier League treasure.
Attacking football, sharp passing and movement, exciting style, unbeaten at home, and a boatload of goals.
Best of all? Their home ticket prices were the cheapest in London.
Cheaper than West Ham, Fulham, Charlton Athletic—you name it.
Ridiculous, right?
And on January 1st, Bayswater China would be hosting East London's West Ham United.
Another London derby, no doubt.
Tickets for Matchweek 24 at Wembley Stadium were selling out like mad.
Unless you were a die-hard fan of some other team, everyone wanted to watch Bayswater China in action.
To see for themselves how strong this once-misunderstood underdog really was.
And it just so happened to be an East vs. West London derby.
...
When Pini Zahavi once again walked along Queensway, stepped onto Queen's Road, and arrived at Bayswater Stadium, his heart was filled with emotion.
He had been here three and a half years ago.
It was still this half-finished construction site.
Due to city regulations and London's urban planning rules, Bayswater China had done some superficial upgrades to the stadium's exterior over the past three years to make it look less like an eyesore.
But the layout of the grounds hadn't changed a bit.
Yet Zahavi himself had changed.
Back then, he came with an air of superiority.
He was representing Chelsea, a Premier League giant, meeting with what he saw as a bankrupt, bottom-tier club struggling in League Two.
Now, coming back—he was facing a team with its eyes on the Premier League title.
A team that had just obliterated his mighty Chelsea 5–0 at Stamford Bridge.
That made Zahavi a lot more cautious and respectful.
Gone was the arrogance from his previous visits to Bayswater Stadium.
As a veteran agent, he clearly understood now that he should establish a good relationship with Bayswater China.
Who knows—he might even do business with them in the near future.
You never know, right?
...
"Yang, this match on January 1st is a big one. You need to find a way to win it."
When Pini Zahavi showed up outside the stadium, Adam Crozier and Omar Berrada had just entered Yang Cheng's office during a break in training.
They started discussing the upcoming home match.
"Do you know how many tickets we've sold?"
"How many?" Yang Cheng asked.
"Sixty thousand."
"That many?" Yang Cheng was surprised.
This season, Bayswater China had cracked the 60,000 mark at home before—but that was during Champions League nights against European giants like Bayern or Real Madrid.
During regular league matches, aside from a few high-profile clashes, the attendance generally hovered around 40,000.
What brought this sudden surge?
"I told you before Christmas—ticket sales have been rising steadily. And lately, especially over the past few days, we've hit another big spike."
"That 5–0 was just too shocking!"
No one had expected Bayswater China to go to Stamford Bridge and smash Chelsea 5–0.
Both teams being based in West London gave a huge boost to the ticket market.
For a long time, the media had held clear bias against Bayswater China.
It's the same old story with any team promoted from the lower divisions.
But now?
That 5–0 changed everything. It forced everyone to reevaluate Bayswater China.
With cheap ticket prices and the festive season in full swing—when fans traditionally attend matches in droves—it was only natural for the attendance to surge.
And even so, Bayswater China's numbers were still considered on the "weaker" end.
"In this just-concluded round of the Premier League, Spurs beat Aston Villa 2–0. White Hart Lane had an attendance of 36,170—that's their highest of the season. A sellout."
White Hart Lane's capacity is officially 36,284, but clubs generally don't sell every seat—some are reserved as contingency or left empty due to accessibility, fire code, etc.
Of course, some clubs get creative and even set up temporary seats in various walkway areas.
In the Chelsea vs. Bayswater China match, Stamford Bridge's actual attendance exceeded its official capacity.
"West Ham lost 1–2 to Portsmouth—attendance was 34,913. Full house."
"Charlton drew 2–2 with Fulham—26,803 in attendance. Full house."
"Even out in the suburbs, Watford lost 1–2 at home to Arsenal but drew 20,750 fans. Also a full house."
Adam Crozier laid out all the data—his point was clear: while the holiday fixture congestion gives every team a headache, the massive attendance figures are simply too tempting to ignore.
Not to mention, fans tend to spend far more on matchday during the holidays.
"And it's not just the Boxing Day matches. On the 30th, Charlton host Aston Villa, Chelsea host Fulham, Spurs host Liverpool, West Ham host Manchester City, and Watford host Wigan…"
"See the trend? All home games. And all sold out."
"And for January 1st? London's tickets are basically completely sold out."
In that round, Arsenal will host Charlton, Fulham host Watford, and Bayswater China host West Ham United.
Chelsea, Spurs, and the rest of London's teams are all playing away.
"Right now, we're literally the only club in London still with tickets available…"
Crozier looked a bit embarrassed as he said this.
It wasn't about hoarding tickets—it was just kind of shameful.
It meant Bayswater China still didn't have the pull or influence of the bigger clubs.
But that also hinted at something else.
After that 5–0 blowout, the January 1st home match was very likely to set a new attendance record.
New Year's Day is a national holiday in the UK.
In Crozier's view, there's no way ticket sales will be bad on January 1st.
Sixty thousand tickets sold was the floor. More would continue to sell over the coming days.
England's national team draws nearly 90,000 at Wembley without breaking a sweat.
Greater London simply has that kind of fan base—that's why it supports so many Premier League clubs.
What Crozier wanted was to go a step further.
How do you convert those fans, rushing in like the wind, into long-term supporters of Bayswater China?
They don't have to be hardcore. As long as they're willing to buy tickets and show up, that's enough.
Currently, most of the cheap tickets were already sold out. The remaining seats would be medium to high-tier pricing—meaning those buyers were people with disposable income. High-value consumers.
If they could retain even a portion of that demographic, matchday attendance and revenue from on-site consumption would only continue to grow.
"I get it," Yang Cheng said mildly. "But all I can say is—I'll do my best."
From a club CEO's perspective, Adam Crozier was simply doing his job by reminding Yang Cheng of the business side of things.
But West Ham wasn't a pushover.
Alan Curbishley was a respected Premier League manager. The game would require careful planning.
The match against Manchester United concerned the title race.
But the match against West Ham concerned the club's commercial success.
The pressure on Yang Cheng was enormous.
Crozier and Omar Berrada understood that, so they didn't push.
In truth, the team had already performed beyond expectations this season. The operations side had reaped tremendous benefits.
"Don't blame me for being eager, Yang. This is a golden opportunity—let's work for it together!" Crozier said, raising a fist in encouragement.
Yang Cheng burst into laughter. "Get lost. Aside from flapping your lips, what the hell have you been working on?"
Crozier laughed along.
The more time he spent around Yang Cheng, the more convinced he was—this guy was something else. Exceptionally sharp, incredibly capable.
But he was so young—how could he know this much?
"Hey, by the way, that 'get lost' of yours just now… sounded exactly like Miss Xia!"
Crozier and Omar Berrada cracked up immediately.
The way they exchanged glances—anyone could tell what they were implying.
If Yang Cheng truly had no interest in her, would he have handed his entire fortune over to Xia Qing?
Just as Yang Cheng was about to "explode," Crozier's phone rang.
Caller ID: Pini Zahavi.
"That guy arranged a meeting with me. I'll go see what he's really after."
With that, Crozier waved at Yang Cheng and left with Omar Berrada.
...
More than half an hour later, Crozier returned and knocked on Yang Cheng's office door.
"Guess what that old fox wants?"
This time, Crozier came back alone.
As soon as he walked in, he plopped down opposite Yang Cheng, not bothering with pleasantries.
"He wants to buy our stadium again?" Yang Cheng laughed.
Pini Zahavi had visited several times with that in mind.
"Everyone in the world knows we've brought in Norman Foster to design our new stadium. Even Chelsea might not have the capital for it now."
Yang Cheng nodded.
According to media reports, Abramovich had been investing heavily back in Russia recently—he even started sponsoring the Russian national team, supposedly to curry favor with government officials and fans.
Who knows what his real motive is?
"That old fox was all politeness today. He came on behalf of Chelsea… to ask whether we're willing to sell Arshavin."
"Who?"
"Arshavin."
Yang Cheng was momentarily stunned.
He really didn't expect this.
The guy just dropped a four-goal bomb on them yesterday, and now they show up trying to poach him?
"What did you say?"
"Of course I said no!" Crozier replied without hesitation. "We've finally got some momentum going. You're chasing the league title up front, and we're doing our part to support from the back end."
"Selling Arshavin now would undo everything we've built."
This was exactly why Yang Cheng appreciated Crozier.
He might come off calculating and business-minded, but when it came to the big picture, the guy had his head on straight.
Like that time with the Royal Mail layoffs.
Plenty of people had cursed him, saying he only cut staff to secure his own bonus.
But what's wrong with trimming the fat?
Same thing applies here.
"Well done. No matter what, don't sell him!" Yang Cheng said firmly.
"I've heard that Manchester United, Liverpool, and Arsenal are all keeping tabs on Ashley Young and Arshavin."
Yang Cheng was already aware—he'd read the same reports.
"My answer hasn't changed: we're not selling!"
After a brief pause, he added, "Try to manage the media buzz. Get in touch with the outlets we're close to. We need to maintain a controlled, stable match atmosphere."
"Understood. Leave it to me."
"And keep it low-key. Find a time to meet with a few agents discreetly. When the season ends, we'll do a round of salary raises."
Now that the club's revenue had caught up and the team's competitiveness had risen, giving the players a raise was absolutely necessary.
Bayswater China's wages weren't exactly low by Premier League standards.
Compared to fellow promoted teams like Wigan Athletic or Watford, Bayswater China paid more.
Not to mention, their bonuses were also generous.
If you ranked Premier League clubs by salary structure, Chelsea and Manchester United were in a league of their own—Tier 1.
Liverpool and Arsenal sat just behind them in Tier 2.
That's the traditional Big Four.
Bayswater China's salary level currently floated between Tier 3 and Tier 4.
But salary structure is a complex system.
Take Tier 3's Tottenham Hotspur for example.
Their current top earner was Dutch bulldozer Edgar Davids.
The 33-year-old joined Spurs in the summer of 2005, signing a deal that made him their highest-paid player with a weekly wage of £47,000—breaking the club's salary ceiling.
After that, Spurs had to renegotiate multiple contracts.
Robbie Keane's salary followed suit at £45,000 a week, just behind Davids.
Later, Defoe got the same deal—£45,000 per week.
But it had clearly become a financial burden for Tottenham.
So, they'd already decided to offload Davids and send him back to the Netherlands.
Meanwhile, Bulgarian striker Dimitar Berbatov had come in from Leverkusen with a salary of just £22,000 per week.
After a stellar season, Spurs were expected to renegotiate his contract by the end of the year, with his new wage likely exceeding £40,000.
If we're looking at just weekly wages, Bayswater China still lagged behind Spurs.
But once you include bonuses, the gap wasn't that big.
Xia Qing had mentioned it before—she'd hired a third-party firm to assess their salary model. Including wages and bonuses, Bayswater China sat firmly in the Premier League's upper-middle class.
In terms of competitiveness, Spurs shouldn't expect to poach talent from them anymore.
Xia Qing's view was that now that the players had made names for themselves—and now that the finance department had adequate staff—it was time to redesign the wage structure with more nuanced tiers.
For instance, Yaya Touré, who had become a well-known name, needed a higher base salary and a reduction in bonus reliance.
That way, even if his total earnings didn't rise dramatically, the sense of financial security would feel stronger.
Kind of like the difference between a commission-heavy sales job and one with a solid base salary.
Bonuses = commission.
Bonuses fluctuate—a high-risk reward system with little stability.
Base salary = guaranteed income, rain or shine.
For young players, the best approach is a high-bonus model as motivation.
For established stars, it's about a bigger weekly wage to keep them long-term.
Previously, Bayswater China didn't have the manpower or infrastructure to manage such a detailed structure.
But those days were gone.
Now, Xia Qing was determined to refine it.
Still, in the short term, Bayswater China couldn't go full "superclub" and start handing out £100,000 or £150,000 per week contracts. That wasn't realistic.
Especially not with a new stadium project looming—and all the loans that would come with it.
Last season, the club's salary-to-revenue ratio was around 40%, well below the 50% mark.
This season was expected to be similar, possibly even lower.
But the club also had a lot of other expenses—youth development, training ground upgrades, early-stage investment in the new stadium. It all cost money.
On that front, Xia Qing had done an excellent job managing the budget.
Otherwise, what—was she supposed to be a magic ATM machine, endlessly funding Yang Cheng's whims?
As it stood, Bayswater China could afford to raise salaries slightly.
Capping the top wage at £40,000 per week—plus bonuses—seemed reasonable.
No more raises for the foreseeable future.
Yang Cheng also had to guard against a potential risk: the Premier League's ever-rising wage spiral.
Every time broadcast rights revenue went up, so did the players' wages.
The most infamous example? Wayne Rooney.
It was a trend Yang Cheng didn't like.
If the big clubs wanted to throw money around and steal players—let them.
As long as they were willing to pay the price, Yang Cheng didn't mind them trying.
As for the homegrown player quota, that wouldn't take effect until 2008 or 2009.
Yang Cheng wasn't worried.
This season, Bayswater China had seven British players on the squad, including three from Wales.
Namely Gareth Bale, backup keeper Danny Coyne, and backup left-back Danny Collins.
All three counted as homegrown.
There were actually two types of "homegrown" designations.
One was simple: British nationals. The seven players above fit this category.
The other was players registered with an English club for three full years before the age of 21—aka academy-trained.
And while Bayswater China only had seven British players, their homegrown-trained list also included Modrić and Koscielny.
So that made nine in total.
By season's end, Neuer, Piszczek, and Matuidi would also qualify.
The only regret was Lass Diarra—he was just a few months short.
But looking ahead, players like Lewandowski, Matić, Marcelo, and Di María would all eventually count as club-trained.
And if necessary, they could always call up a few kids from the academy to meet the quota.
In that regard, Bayswater China had nothing to worry about.
...
3:00 PM, December 30th. Old Trafford, Manchester.
Premier League Matchweek 21. Bayswater China, away against Manchester United.
The match drew 76,000 fans, packing Old Trafford to the brim.
According to official stats, Old Trafford's capacity was only 74,879.
God knows how United squeezed in another 1,000+ temporary seats.
Fresh off their 5–0 demolition of Chelsea at Stamford Bridge, Bayswater China arrived like a northern expedition army riding high on victory.
Manchester United, too, had just pulled off a dominant 3–0 win—and they were ready for war.
This match would decide the new leader of the Premier League!
There was no doubt—this wasn't just the most high-profile showdown in England, but across the entire world wherever Premier League games were broadcast, the match had sparked passionate discussion.
The referee? None other than the experienced Mike Dean.
Ferguson had already rotated in the previous round. For this one, he was sending out his strongest lineup.
Goalkeeper: Van der Sar
Defense: Silvestre, Vidic, Ferdinand, and Wes Brown
Midfield: Park Ji-sung, Carrick, Hargreaves, and Cristiano Ronaldo
Forwards: Solskjær and Rooney
Don't look at this lineup and think Ferguson was holding back or rotating again.
Wes Brown was only starting at right-back because Gary Neville was injured. O'Shea had filled in for Hargreaves last match specifically so the midfielder could start this one.
Same deal on the left—Giggs, Scholes, and Fletcher were all on the bench.
The veteran players couldn't handle the brutal holiday fixture list. They were mostly saved as substitutes.
Solskjær was the exception.
Aside from Cristiano Ronaldo and Rooney, he'd been Manchester United's most in-form and consistent scorer recently.
Ferguson's intentions were crystal clear from his lineup:
Home match? Go on the attack.
Bayswater China, too, had rotated heavily.
Goalkeeper: Neuer
Defense: Danny Collins, José Fonte, Koscielny, and Maicon
Midfield: Matuidi, Pepe, and Lass Diarra
Forwards: Di María, Džeko, and Modrić
Yang Cheng's starting XI took everyone by surprise.
No one expected Arshavin—who had just bagged four goals in the last match—to start on the bench.
Even more shocking, he had gone with three center-backs.
Was he planning to park the bus?
From the opening whistle, United took the initiative at home.
In the very first minute, Solskjær received a pass from Park Ji-sung on the left and tried to beat Maicon, but failed.
The ball deflected off Maicon's boot and rolled out for a corner.
United began piling men forward.
The corner didn't produce a goal, but Ferguson's team had made its intentions clear from the start.
Only now did people begin to realize that while United stuck to a 4-4-2, Yang Cheng had made bigger changes.
Pepe was deployed as a holding midfielder.
But in practice, he played much closer to the two center-backs.
The three center-backs formed a triangle, with Pepe at the tip.
Maicon and Danny Collins sat slightly ahead on the flanks—not by much, but enough to shield the wings.
Add in Matuidi and Lass Diarra, both given free range to patrol the midfield, and Bayswater China's defensive structure at Old Trafford came into focus.
Yes.
During the holiday season's brutal run of fixtures—back-to-back away matches against top teams—even a strong squad would buckle without rotation.
And there was still a home game against West Ham right after this.
Some sacrifices had to be made.
But sacrifice didn't mean surrender.
At Old Trafford, Yang Cheng had chosen a pragmatic, counterattacking strategy.
Džeko stayed up front to provide a reliable outlet.
Modrić started the first half. Arshavin was scheduled for the second.
Yang Cheng had planned that in advance.
That way, both core players would be available again for the next game.
On the left, Ashley Young was rested.
Yang Cheng had considered using Gareth Bale or Theo Walcott.
Statistically, Walcott had been more effective than Di María this season.
But in the end, Yang Cheng went with Di María.
This wasn't a whim—it was a carefully calculated decision.
Among the three, Di María had the strongest mental fortitude and composure under pressure.
Playing away to Manchester United with a young winger was risky.
One mistake and the team could pay dearly.
In games like this, mental toughness was everything.
And Di María's nickname?
Not "Argentinian Deputy King."
Not "Third Best After Ronaldo and Messi."
Not even "Golden Boy's Sidekick."
His nickname was The King of Finals.
Some even said Argentina lost the 2014 World Cup final because Messi didn't have Di María.
And in 2022? With Di María on the pitch, Messi got his hands on the trophy.
Coincidence?
Di María's knack for seizing big moments, his performances in key matches—all pointed to one thing: his mental strength was rock solid.
That's why Yang Cheng picked him.
Before the match, Yang Cheng even pulled Di María aside and told him, "This game is where we need you. Give it your all. Even if you struggle, it won't change how much I believe in you."
But Yang Cheng also pulled a little trick.
All the player families who had been brought to watch the Chelsea game at Stamford Bridge? He brought them again—to Old Trafford.
Including Di María's parents and relatives.
...
United came out firing from the first whistle.
But breaking down Bayswater China wasn't going to be easy.
With Matuidi and Lass Diarra anchoring midfield, the defense had a lot less pressure.
It also had to do with United's midfield configuration.
Cristiano Ronaldo and Park Ji-sung weren't players who excelled at breaking down tight defenses.
Carrick was a great distributor, Hargreaves a strong defender.
But neither Solskjær nor Rooney could consistently hold the ball under heavy pressure.
So even though the game was intense and fast-paced—it wasn't particularly thrilling.
Bayswater China had their first shot in the 11th minute—Džeko received the ball outside the box, turned, and took a long-range shot that went wide.
United's first real threat came in the 13th minute on a counterattack.
Wes Brown pushed forward on the right, received a pass from Ronaldo, and played a through ball for Ronaldo to run onto, getting past Danny Collins.
But José Fonte came over quickly to cover and shut Ronaldo down outside the right side of the box.
Ronaldo tried to cross, but Neuer came off his line and caught it cleanly.
Yang Cheng noticed something—when Fonte moved wide, Pepe's recovery positioning wasn't fast enough.
He immediately walked to the touchline and called out to Pepe, reminding him to be more decisive when tracking back.
He also instructed Lass Diarra and Matuidi to increase their movement range but stay sharp during transitions.
Interestingly, Yang Cheng told Modrić not to drop too deep.
In counterattacks, he would be key.
Džeko's job was to fight for the first ball.
But if he couldn't win it, then Modrić would be the outlet.
If Modrić was too deep, there'd be no one to carry the ball out of defense.
Plus, Yang Cheng wanted Modrić to shadow Carrick.
Ferguson was relying on Ronaldo's offensive ability as a form of defense, so Wes Brown was pushing forward often.
Both of United's full-backs had issues in this match.
And as the match wore on...
Bayswater China was focused on defending.
For Yang Cheng, a draw would be acceptable.
Manchester United, on the other hand, came out to attack. Their goal was clear: win at home.
The difference in strategies meant that when United's attacks started getting stifled up front, they began to increase the pressure.
First to step up was Wes Brown on the right.
He had to push forward more to support Cristiano Ronaldo.
By the 24th minute, Brown had already charged all the way to the edge of Bayswater China's penalty area, managing to cross the ball back into the box before it rolled out.
Koscielny leapt fearlessly to challenge Solskjær in the air, getting the crucial header clear—but collided hard and crashed to the ground, momentarily dazed.
Thankfully, he was okay and soon got back on his feet.
Just two minutes later, United again attacked from the right, with a combination between Ronaldo and Brown. The ball ended up getting deflected out for a corner by José Fonte.
Carrick took the corner quickly. Ronaldo rose at the near post and powered a header toward goal.
It had force, but Neuer made a spectacular save.
Solskjær tried to pounce on the rebound.
But Pepe threw himself in the way, using his body to block the ball right on the goal line.
"Bayswater China's defense is incredibly resilient."
"But Manchester United are attacking with everything they've got."
"Ferguson made it clear before the match—no matter what, they must win this game!"
"If this kind of pressure continues, Bayswater China might not be able to hold out for long."
Everyone could see that after the 20-minute mark, United's momentum kept growing.
Bayswater China had committed numbers to defense, but no defense is perfect—mistakes can happen.
Then, just as the pressure was mounting in front of goal, United's midfield made a mistake in possession.
Carrick, under constant pressure from Modrić, tried to pass to Hargreaves.
But Matuidi darted in ahead of him and poked the ball away.
Modrić, closest to the ball, reacted instantly and surged forward.
But Carrick was right behind him, giving him no space to drive forward.
If he held the ball too long, the best window for a counterattack would close.
So Modrić quickly called out, "Džeko!" and one-touched the ball toward him, then sprinted diagonally into space on the left, raising his hand for the return pass. "Here!"
Džeko, technically solid, had already prepped himself to transition from defense to attack. Hearing Modrić's call and seeing the setup, he immediately stepped in for the give-and-go.
As soon as he passed it, the Bosnian striker took off downfield.
United's backline was dropping quickly—Džeko wasn't worried about offside.
Hargreaves chased after Modrić immediately, but all he could do was stay level. The ball was at Modrić's feet.
The United midfielder bumped him with his shoulder, trying to disrupt his rhythm and force a turnover.
Or at the very least, slow him down long enough for Carrick to catch up and trap him.
But Modrić was too clever.
After a couple strides, he spotted Di María already making his run on the left and delivered a perfect diagonal through ball with his right foot.
Wes Brown had just pushed forward moments ago and wasn't back yet.
Di María had acres of space ahead of him.
The Argentine gritted his teeth, pushing forward with everything he had, his eyes bloodshot from the strain.
Because he knew—this was a gift from the heavens.
He was playing Manchester United!
And in the stands sat his parents—the ones who once burned charcoal to survive—and his sisters.
From a young age, he had vowed to use football to change his family's fate.
This was his chance!
Whatever it took, even if it killed him, he had to seize this moment.
...
Fast!
He was fast!
Not the kind of blinding speed that would make you gasp.
Not like Gareth Bale or Theo Walcott, whose pace looked like lightning.
Di María's speed was different. From the moment he caught up to Modrić's pass and carried the ball forward, he never slowed down. That steady pace helped him quickly shake off the defenders.
But Ferdinand and Vidic were doing everything to cut off his passing angle to Džeko.
As he neared the left edge of United's penalty area, Ferdinand stepped up.
Just as the defender closed in, Di María slowed down slightly, faking as if he was about to cut inside.
Ferdinand bit on the move and shifted his weight.
Di María instantly tapped the ball toward the left byline, then burst into a full sprint, blowing past Ferdinand.
It was a clean beat—Ferdinand barely managed to recover and give chase.
The Argentine drove hard to the byline, finally creating a step of separation.
Without hesitation, he pulled the ball back with his left foot.
Now it was up to Džeko.
The ball rolled from the edge of the left byline into the space just outside the six-yard box.
Di María, having poured everything into the run, couldn't stop in time—he tumbled out of bounds and slammed into the advertising boards behind the goal.
Since the moment Ferdinand had stepped up to challenge Di María, Džeko had been fighting to get into position.
This was the moment.
He pounced, lunged in at the near post, and swept Di María's cutback into the bottom left corner of Manchester United's goal with his left foot.
Van der Sar had no chance at that range.
1–0!
On the sideline, Yang Cheng erupted in a roar of joy the moment the goal went in.
They'd been under siege for half an hour—and now, this!
Absolutely beautiful!
Break the Blues.
Slay the Red Devils.
This was Bayswater China!
Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.
Read 20 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Canserbero10