In all his years playing football, Tomás had never been this nervous.
For every other United player, this was just the tail end of a routine scrimmage.
Now David Moyes would give his usual summary, and that would be that.
They were tired of hearing his stubborn, conservative, frankly ugly football philosophy.
Manchester United was Manchester United.
Everton was Everton.
Trying to turn United into a bigger Everton, playing long balls and crosses like a mid-table side—hoofing it in from the flanks—was a losing approach at this level.
Even inside Moyes’s own camp, plenty of people didn’t buy into his philosophy.
That included Wayne Rooney, the first name on Moyes’s team sheet.
Rooney had been sidelined before Moyes arrived.
Once Moyes took over, he handed Rooney a massive new contract and made him the core player again.
Moyes had given him that much.
Rooney could only pay it back in kind.
Simply put, everyone in Moyes’s camp was loyal to what following him got them, not to his actual football.
That was exactly why Moyes’s post-training summaries were the most painful part of the day.
Bored first-teamers were already muttering to each other.
Whatever authority and discipline Moyes still held over this squad was paper-thin.
It was teetering on collapse.
United’s own spirit, once talked about in the same breath as Liverpool’s boot room culture, had vanished.
Boot room culture or Red Devil spirit, the first rule is always the same: the manager is the club’s biggest star.
You don’t have to like it.
You have to respect it.
You don’t have to want it.
You have to follow it.
“Ryan, guess what Moyes says this time,” Rio Ferdinand muttered.
“Is he actually basing the next lineup on that scrimmage? If he is, that kid you played nursemaid to is definitely starting.”
Ryan Giggs smiled and shook his head, saying nothing.
They were still just fishing.
One little tell, and they would know exactly what he was playing at.
“Ryan, did you deliberately make that kid look good out there?” Ferdinand asked.
“Trying to embarrass Moyes into breaking his own promise, chip away at what’s left of his authority? In a match this desperate, how is he supposed to start a kid like that? Brilliant move.”
Giggs shot his teammate a look.
“You’re wrecking my reputation again. Do I look like that kind of person? It’s just right for a senior Red Devil to help a junior one along. Besides, the kid actually performed. What’s wrong with starting him? I think he earned it.”
“Ryan, are you serious? He’s a traitor… Fuck.”
Ferdinand stared at Giggs, eyes widening as the realization clicked into place.
A seventeen-year-old who had never played a single professional match was about to start in a Champions League knockout tie, against an opponent that had already beaten United 2-0 in the first leg.
United needed a 3-0 win just to go through.
What kind of pressure was that to put on a debut?
There was a 99.99 percent chance the boy would fall apart.
Moyes wanted to rebuild his credibility.
True to his word, his handpicked starter for tomorrow night, Tomás, would be the blade that killed the king in the street.
If Moyes went back on his word now and didn’t start the kid, whatever thin credibility he had left would be shredded completely.
Could a manager like that lead a comeback?
Absolutely not.
Giggs’s move, pushing that kid to the front, was perfect.
After Nemanja Vidic backed out, Giggs had found a better weapon, a faster way to bring Moyes down.
And they wouldn’t even have to lift a finger themselves.
Moyes was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Ryan, you’re about a hundred times worse than I gave you credit for,” Ferdinand muttered.
Moyes’s gaze landed on the two of them.
“Rio. Got something to say?”
“No, sir. I mean, Boss is absolutely right!”
Ferdinand’s answer got a laugh from everyone nearby.
“What did I just say?” Moyes’s face darkened.
“I’m the only one who gets an opinion around here. Quiet! Anyone who makes another sound is out of this first team!”
After he shouted, Moyes let his shoulders drop, looking drained.
When his gaze drifted over to Tomás, the earnest, hopeful look on the kid’s face offered a small measure of relief.
It felt like being back at Everton.
At Everton, he had been the undisputed godfather.
That was how dominant he used to be.
But United’s players weren’t the good students he had back then.
Even Fellaini and Rooney weren’t the players they had been at Everton.
Moyes knew this wasn’t the moment to get discouraged.
Looking at Tomás, he forced a smile.
“Tomás, your performance today was outstanding. You could even say you were the best player on the pitch.”
Tomás’s face lit up.
He bounced lightly on his toes, visibly excited.
Seeing that a throwaway compliment could get this kind of reaction, Moyes felt a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He figured Tomás’s reaction was down to what he had just said.
He wasn’t the only one.
Everyone nearby thought the same thing.
You’re about to get sold out again and you’re STILL helping them count the money, Rashford thought, glaring at his friend’s lack of self-preservation.
Idiot.
If it weren’t for me looking out for you, you wouldn’t last three episodes in this show.
Was this something a few words could fix?
This was the starting lineup on the line.
Moyes was disappointed with how his first team had performed today.
He had plenty more he wanted to say, but he had zero desire to keep talking, zero desire to try and reach any of them.
The players found talking to Moyes exhausting.
It went both ways.
Moyes glanced at Steve Round.
Round caught the look instantly.
“Training is done for today,” Round announced.
“Tomorrow is matchday. No alcohol tonight, and nobody is staying out late.”
The players started to scatter.
“Tomás, my office,” Moyes said.
Watching Moyes lead Tomás away, the first team split neatly into two camps.
On Moyes’s side:
“Is the boss actually going to start that kid?”
“He did well in the scrimmage, sure, but he’s never played a real match.”
“Well? That was probably just Giggs babysitting him the whole time!”
“Wayne, this whole thing is a setup from Giggs and his crowd. Go warn the boss, don’t let him fall for it. Do not let that kid start!”
Rooney frowned.
His face darkened.
If Moyes went, their time at this club went with him.
That snake Giggs.
“You really don’t need to be this worked up. I think the kid is genuinely good.”
Rooney, Welbeck, and the rest turned to Michael Carrick, surprised.
“He’s more reliable than you’re giving him credit for,” Carrick added quietly.
On the other side of the pitch:
“Marcus, it’s getting late. You should head home,” Giggs said.
Rashford glanced up at the sky.
Getting late?
This was being told to leave.
“I’ve got homework to do. See you tomorrow, bye!” Rashford flashed a huge grin and jogged off.
In his head, though: Just wait till I’m somebody.
I’ll deal with you properly then.
Halfway to the exit, Rashford frowned and turned back, thinking of Tomás being taken off by Moyes.
They’re not going after that idiot, are they?
Once Rashford was gone, the old guard relaxed.
Walking off, they kept mocking Moyes.
“That scoundrel Moyes is completely boxed in by Ryan now.”
“Serves him right!”
“Gary struck out, sure, but we have Ryan!”
“Ryan, is Moyes really going to start that traitor kid?”
“Isn’t he worthy of it?” Giggs asked smoothly.
“Perfect match! Couldn’t be more perfect!” More than worthy of being the knife that brings Moyes down.
“Keep your voice down, and don’t you dare drag my name into this,” Giggs said, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
“I never said anything. I never did anything.”
“Don’t worry, Ryan, you’re the best. The future godfather of this club.”
“Real shame about that kid, though. He’s finished.”
“What’s a traitor got to be pitied for?”
Around the corner, Rashford listened.
His face went deathly pale.
He looked down and saw his hands shaking.
Idiot!
Idiot!
Idiot!
Moyes’s office.
“Tomás, remember the promise we made before that scrimmage?” Moyes asked, sitting behind his desk.
Here it comes.
“Boss, I… I remember.”
Moyes smiled and nodded.
“Tomás, you were the best player out there today. So… you’re starting the next match.”
Tomás had braced for this.
Even so, hearing Moyes actually say it, he felt dizzy.
He was starting for Manchester United.
The first team.
Ding!
Congratulations on completing Moyes’s mission, ‘Shut Everyone Up.’ Reward: a starting spot in Manchester United’s next match.
Ding!
Congratulations, completing stage one of the major story mission ‘The Mentor with Hidden Intentions’ has triggered stage two.
Mission: Manchester United fails to turn things around in the next match, and Moyes is sacked.
Reward: 1.
Your temporary mentorship with Giggs continues, with his personal teaching.
2.
One more random special skill from Giggs.
No penalty for failure.
Note: failing the overall story mission ‘The Mentor with Hidden Intentions’ ends your temporary mentorship with Giggs.
They’re actually hoping United fails to turn things around.
Tomás felt his worldview crack open again.
Do you understand United’s spirit better than Giggs and the rest of them?!
Rashford’s furious voice echoed in his head.
He had walked straight into something massive.
This starting spot might ruin him.
Seeing the shock on Tomás’s face, Moyes misunderstood.
It was the Manchester United starting lineup.
If they weren’t this desperate, they would never throw a seventeen-year-old rookie into a match like this.
“Tomás.”
Tomás looked at him, his lips pale.
A slight tremor ran through his hands.
Moyes’s smile was kind, but resigned.
“Tomás. Can I trust you?”
Ding!
Manchester United manager David Moyes has issued the mission: ‘A Fragile Lifeline.’ Knowing full well this lifeline is probably already out of reach, but with nothing else left to grab onto, will you fight with everything you have, young man, for me, the manager about to get sacked, and for Manchester United’s honor?
Reward: Moyes’s favorability +50.
No demand that he single-handedly turn the match around.
No requirement that he even play well.
Just a hope that he would give everything he had.
For Manchester United’s dignity.
They couldn’t afford to be humiliated twice by a side like Olympiacos.
Tomás pushed down the knot in his chest.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
When he opened his eyes, the confusion was gone.
“Tomás. Can I trust you?” Moyes asked again.
Tomás nodded.
“Manchester United players are willing to give everything for their manager.”