Chapter 459: Chapter 459

Manchester City took the lead, but Richard, watching from the director box couldn’t help himself. He clenched his fist and shook it in frustration, muttering under his breath words that those nearby could barely catch.

"Damn, damn, damn — damn United! This game is absolute shit! I’ve lost two key players... what kind of win is this?!"

He was furious, cursing under his breath.

Meanwhile, Deco, momentarily confused after the goal, suddenly realized what had happened. His eyes widened — and then he exploded with emotion. He ripped off his shirt, sprinted toward the touchline, and threw it to the ground before leaping into the arms of O’Neill and the coaching staff in pure triumph.

The goal had come from Deco’s refined technique and instinct. Though he hadn’t exactly intended the shot to curl into the net, the execution was flawless — and the result, a confidence-boosting masterpiece that sent the entire stadium roaring.

A pure technical masterpiece from young Deco!

After sharing an embrace with the coaching staff, Deco turned to the roaring stands, spreading his arms wide to salute the sea of City fans. The crowd erupted, waves of applause and cheers crashing through the stadium as he gestured in triumph.

Amid the jubilation, the referee approached and handed him a yellow card for his shirtless celebration.

On the United bench, Ferguson wore an anxious expression, caught somewhere between anger and frustration. Why do all the talented players end up at City?! First Ronaldo, then Larsson, and now that young midfielder!

Recalling what his first-team coach — a former City man — had once told him, he began to doubt the development system at The Cliff. (Manchester United’s training ground was The Cliff in Broughton, Salford)

He had once hoped that Meulensteen would join Manchester United to help nurture young talent, but Meulensteen had bluntly told him the truth: it wasn’t that United’s facilities were poor or that the club lacked appeal — it was that City’s chairman had an exceptional eye for talent.

Almost every City player had been personally handpicked by him!

’That Richard Maddox?’ Ferguson thought as he chewed his gum.

"Training and coaching tailored to each player’s strengths are crucial," Meulensteen had said. "A player can’t succeed on the reputation of a coach alone — they must also possess innate talent.

Indeed, if he remembered correctly, before buying Manchester City, Richard Maddox had first worked as a coach before delving into the roles of scout and agent. So it wasn’t surprising that he had a sharp eye for spotting talent. That was reasonable — at least, in Ferguson’s mind.

After checking his watch and realizing the match was nearing its end, Richard decided to move on from the injury.

A small sense of relief washed over him as he reflected on Ronaldinho’s adaptability — how the Brazilian had come to understand that the team came first, not personal ego, especially remembering how his earlier indiscipline had led to United’s first goal.

With less than fifteen minutes left in the match, Manchester United began their counteroffensive, but they struggled to maintain possession as City steadily controlled the tempo.

O’Neill instructed his players to tighten their defense; if United dared to push forward aggressively, City’s front trio was quick enough to slice through defenses like a hot knife through butter.

Richard had just settled back down when Martin Edwards suddenly turned to him."Now suddenly, I was just thinking — you know, if Giggs were still at City, could you convert him like that Brazilian kid?"

But Richard did ask back. He knew it was probably either Ronaldo or Ronaldinho.

Richard pondered the question before shaking his head. "I don’t know. Their positions are different — one’s a wide midfielder, the other’s a winger. Giggs focuses more on assisting rather than scoring, while we expect Ronaldinho to score more than he assists. It’s hard to say what would happen if we haven’t tried it."

Martin Edwards nodded before adding, "To be honest, if Giggs had matched Overmars’s numbers last season, Manchester United wouldn’t have finished third."

Richard shook his head and gave his opinion. "I don’t think so. That would just mean fewer assists from Giggs, and it wouldn’t necessarily lead to more goals for United."

After a moment of thought, Edwards sighed in agreement, realizing some questions can only ever be speculated upon, never truly answered.

One of the key figures in Arsenal’s title-winning season had been the agile Overmars, who scored twelve goals. Although Giggs was famous for his sharp dribbling skills, his role wasn’t that of a traditional winger. He often operated as a left or wide midfielder, typically scoring around seven goals a season — but his true value lay in his assists. While he could produce moments of individual brilliance, that wasn’t his primary method of scoring.

He was the quintessential team player, using his strengths to help the team secure victories.

Though City hadn’t completely abandoned the use of wide midfield tactics, they didn’t always rely on them. Instead, they often depended on the support of full-backs like Roberto Carlos/Cafu, Capdevila/Zanetti — and now, possibly Ashley Cole/Zanetti again. That was what Richard had in mind; he preferred City to have players with the ability to break stalemates or change the course of a match in critical moments.

In the final moments of the game, Manchester City pressed hard, but in the end, it was United who seized the opportunity to launch a counterattack.

When Ronaldinho received the ball, he darted forward along the path Stanković had carved open — the movement drew Neville and Stam out of position. But Roy Keane, ever the enforcer, was waiting. He read the play like a predator sensing weakness, stepping in to intercept just as Ronaldinho tried to send a cross toward Trezeguet.

Failing to break through United’s final line of defense, Ronaldinho turned to chase back toward his position — but the ball had already rolled to Scholes’s feet, thanks to the quick reaction of Nicky Butt, who immediately took the throw-in.

As Nicky Butt threw the ball in, it landed perfectly at Scholes’s feet.

Scholes adjusted his stance, ready to launch a long pass — but before he could, a faint, chilling voice echoed across the pitch. It was so quiet that even the fans near the sidelines who heard it froze in place.

"Kill him! Kill him!"

Before coming to City, he originally played for Rangers. By the end of the 1997–98 season, he had made forty appearances and scored four goals in all competitions. However, this season, Walter Smith, the man who brought Gattuso to Glasgow, left the club. His successor, Dick Advocaat, did not favor Gattuso and even played him out of position as a right-back. After that, their relationship began to deteriorate, and Gattuso eventually decided not to renew his contract.

Here at City, playing as the defensive anchor, Gattuso’s role was similar to Makelele’s. In terms of positioning and movement, his job was to sweep across the space between midfield and defense, breaking up plays and protecting the back line.

If it had been Makelele, he probably would’ve been able to defend while also organizing the buildup from deep. But Gattuso was different. His style was raw — pure aggression wrapped in muscle and willpower.

Even Scholes was about to feel it firsthand.

As Scholes prepared to release his pass, he caught a blur in his peripheral vision — someone charging straight at him. His instincts screamed for him to stop, and he was right. The moment he turned his head, he saw Gattuso sprinting full force, not aiming for the ball, not even tracking his movement — but targeting his thigh.

Sure enough, Gattuso swung his leg, and Scholes tried to pull away, but both men went down hard.

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For a few seconds, Richard couldn’t process what he was seeing. He had just been thinking about Gattuso’s potential role for City’s future when suddenly, the whistle blew and chaos erupted.

Players from both sides rushed toward the scene. United’s players, furious, surrounded Gattuso, shouting and pointing at him, while City’s men hurried in to defend their teammate. Pushing, shoving, and shouting filled the air.

Roy Keane, his eyes blazing. "What the hell was that, you animal?!" he roared, trying to grab Gattuso by the collar.

Gattuso, instead of backing down, snarled and shoved him back. "It was the ball, not your bloody leg!"

Referees, assistants, and staff scrambled onto the pitch to separate the players. Before he could even ask what happened, he saw O’Neill, Mourinho, and even Ferguson storming toward the referee, shouting furiously, only to be restrained by their staff.

At the end of the day, seeing the situation spiral out of control, the referee had no choice but to pull out a red card — and a gasp rippled through the stands.

Even Richard was speechless. ’Wait... wasn’t Gattuso just subbed on?!’

Richard stared in disbelief at the referee, who had just brandished a red card.

"What’s your player doing?! What the hell does he think he’s doing — attempted murder?!"Martin Edwards’s furious voice cut through the noise.

"What happened?" Richard asked, still confused.

Only after hearing Martin Edwards’s explanation did things start to make sense.

Apparently, right after Gattuso stepped onto the pitch, Manchester United had taken a throw-in. Nicky Butt tossed the ball to Scholes, who wasted no time putting his vision to work — he had already spotted Yorke raising his hand on the left flank, calling for the ball.

Gattuso saw it too — and something inside him snapped. He went into beast mode, lunging in to stop Scholes. He intended to slide for the ball, but his foot angle went wrong, catching Scholes’s thigh instead. Scholes managed to pull his leg back just in time, but Gattuso, already mid-air, couldn’t stop his momentum. Both players crashed to the ground together.

It wasn’t a malicious foul — at least, not in Gattuso’s mind.

The moment you raise your leg that high, the decision’s already made.

Thankfully, after all the commotion, a lot of time was wasted — and for City, that was the best outcome, because Fergie Time never materialized in this match.

The Blues triumphed over the Red Devils 2–1 at home, but the victory came at a heavy price — they had lost two key players and picked up one red card!

Richard’s mouth twitched. Really? What an introduction.

It seemed that rather than Serie A, Gattuso would fit perfectly here — in the Premier League, and especially with City’s fans, who adored players with fire in their veins. His temper, his intensity — it wasn’t polished football, but it was raw passion, and that counted for something.

"Good then," Richard muttered to himself, leaning back in his seat.

At least now, they had their own version of Maldini — not in elegance or composure, but in leadership and heart. Someone who could drag the team forward through sheer willpower.

A storm had arrived at City — and his name was Gattuso.