Chapter 5: Howard the Great ?

*** Edited last chapter ending after I checked this. The author literally cut it at match end there, then new chapter started with injury time! Why even cut the chapter like that! Join my Patreon for more than 20 Advance Chapters and my other stories for only 7$ Link is Below. Remove space after http. https:// www.patreon.com/c/Virtuosso777?redirect=true *** The players of Leeds United looked like they were running on fumes, some with their socks half-fallen, others bent over with their hands on their knees. The scoreboard still stubbornly displayed 0-0, and the clock had just entered injury time. To be fair, the fans in the stadium hadn't come with high expectations. After all, with the club in chaos, a patched-up squad, and a coach who looked more confused than confident, most people were mentally prepared to lose. Some had even placed cheeky bets on a 3-0 loss. So, a draw wasn't the worst thing in the world. But up in the VIP box, Arthur looked far from pleased. He sat in his chair with a face like someone who had just realized he'd left the stove on at home. He stared at the pitch with narrowed eyes, occasionally muttering curses at the man coaching from the touchline. Arthur couldn't understand what Blackwell was thinking. The man had made a few substitutions in the second half, but none of them had done anything useful. Arthur didn't even recognize the names of the players he brought on. One looked like he hadn't played football in weeks. Another looked like he was still trying to figure out what position he was supposed to be in. And worst of all—they were all defenders. All of them. It was like Blackwell's grand strategy was to just park the bus and hope nothing went wrong. No urgency to score. No creativity. No signs of trying to win a home game in front of tens of thousands of people who had paid actual money to watch this. Arthur sighed deeply. He didn't want a draw. He needed a win. That was the only way to complete his novice task and finally open the reward chest from the system. He didn't even know what was in that chest, but every time he opened the system panel and saw the grayed-out icon, he felt like a kid staring at a locked candy jar. Just one win. And now? With less than a minute left in the game? Derby County was lining up for their eleventh corner kick. Arthur rubbed his forehead. "If this ball goes in, I'm going down there myself and kicking him out directly." Tim Howard, the Leeds goalkeeper, stood between the posts, completely drenched in sweat. His kit, once a crisp shade of green, was now stained with grass, dirt, and the general grime of a long, brutal match. He looked tired. No, he looked done and about to pass out. Howard had never worked this hard in his entire life. Back when he was at Manchester United, sure, the opponents were stronger, but the defenders in front of him were like armored knights. Most of the time, he just stood there, shouted a few instructions, caught one or two stray balls, and clocked out. But this? This was survival. Howard had already made more than a dozen saves today. Some of them with his hands, some with his legs, and one very memorable one with his face. He'd even sprinted out of the box twice to clean up loose balls. Every time Derby attacked, it was like someone rang a fire alarm. And now, with only seconds left, they were getting one final chance. Howard looked at the corner flag, took a deep breath, and got ready. "Just one more save," he whispered to himself. The referee's whistle blew. This corner kick was clearly Derby County's last chance to win it. They threw everything forward—well, almost everything. Only one central defender stayed back, slowly pacing around the center circle like he was just there for decoration. Everyone else? Packed inside the Leeds United penalty box like it was Black Friday at a discount store. Derby had no goalkeeper in sight in their own half. Just a lonely center-back, probably wondering what he'd do if the ball ever came back. Meanwhile, Tim Howard was fully aware of this chaos. As he dived to collect the cross, he had a split-second glance toward the other end of the field and spotted Derby's backline—or lack thereof. His eyes widened slightly. After catching the ball, he didn't just fall to the ground and waste time like some keepers would. Nope. He rolled once, popped back up like he was in a martial arts movie, sprinted to the edge of the penalty area, and shouted at the top of his lungs: "RUN FORWARD! COUNTERATTACK!" Some fans in the front row jumped in surprise. Leeds United's players, scattered just outside the penalty area, looked back for a moment—then immediately turned and bolted into Derby's half like someone had lit a fire under them. Derby's lone defender realized too late what was happening. Howard, already at the edge of the box, took a step with his left foot, extended his right arm holding the ball as far back as it could go, leaned his upper body backward, and then—with a full-body swing—launched the ball forward with every ounce of strength he had left. It wasn't just a throw. It was a missile. The ball sailed over the halfway line, cutting through the air like it had a GPS tracker installed. By now, two Leeds attackers had blown past the lone Derby defender. The ball bounced once on the grass and dropped perfectly in front of one of them. No one else in sight. Just a one-on-one with the goalkeeper who was only now turning around to realize: "Oh, no. We forgot to defend." The striker took a touch, looked up, and calmly slotted the ball into the bottom corner. Elland Road erupted like a volcano. The home crowd, who had been silent just seconds ago, exploded with a roar that shook the rafters. Gooooaaalllll! 1-0! Leeds United scores at the dying moments! The scoreboard changed. The players piled onto the goal scorer. Howard was running from his box, fist in the air like he'd just won a boxing match. The referee blew the final whistle right afterward. Game over. Leeds United had won. Arthur stood in the VIP box, frozen for a second, then slowly smiled as the system's voice dinged softly in his head. Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the task: A Successful Start! System rewards will be issued after settlement... He exhaled slowly and allowed himself a small grin. For a moment, he forgot all the stress of the past few days. Meanwhile, down on the field, the players celebrated like they'd just won a cup final. The fans were singing, hugging strangers, and waving scarves like they were flags. Arthur didn't waste any more time. He turned and quickly headed down to the locker room. The team had finally gotten off to a good start, and as the new club owner, he figured it was only right to join the celebration. By the time Arthur reached the tunnel, the players had already started heading in one by one. But Tim Howard was still out there, surrounded by more than a dozen reporters in the interview zone. Microphones were shoved in his face. Cameras rolled. One journalist's hair was getting flattened by someone else's boom mic. Howard didn't seem to mind. He was grinning from ear to ear. He looked like someone who had just remembered why he loved football. One reporter stepped forward. "Timothy, congratulations on the win! Your performance was amazing today. You saved everything. How did you manage to adjust your form so quickly?" Howard paused. It was a fair question. He thought for a second, then shrugged and smiled. "Honestly, during warm-ups I felt kind of off. My timing wasn't right, and I was second-guessing everything. But then, once the game started, it just... clicked. I don't know how. I just felt like I could stop anything." Before anyone could follow up, another reporter jumped in. "Can we ask why you decided to transfer from Manchester United to Leeds United? Before today, even the home fans weren't too hopeful." Arthur had just arrived near the media area and was standing behind the reporters, listening quietly. Howard noticed him immediately. Time to show loyalty. Howard cleared his throat, looked straight into the cameras, and said without hesitation, "To be honest, I have to thank Arthur. He came to my house personally and explained his plans for the team, what he wanted to achieve this season. And that really meant something to me." He saw Arthur's face remain neutral, so he continued. "But the most important thing? Everyone knew I was barely getting any starts at Manchester United anymore. I was warming the bench more than playing. But Arthur looked me in the eye and said, 'As long as you're healthy, you're my number one. You'll start every game.' That kind of trust? You don't ignore that." A small wave of murmurs passed through the reporters. Some of them glanced back at Arthur with new appreciation. One journalist whispered to another, "No wonder he signed him so fast. That was smart." Howard gave Arthur a subtle nod of respect. And that's when the reporters finally turned around and noticed Arthur standing behind them. A swarm of microphones immediately turned in his direction. "Arthur! Arthur! What made you sign Howard so quickly?" "Did you expect a win today?" "What are your long-term plans for the club?" Arthur raised his hands, smiling awkwardly. "Let's save some of that for the press conference," he said. "Right now, I just want to go celebrate with the players." The media respected that—for now—and gave him some space. As Arthur walked toward the locker room, he could still hear the crowd singing Howard's name from the stands. "TIM-MY HOWARD! TIM-MY HOWARD!" He chuckled to himself. Not a bad first day at all. *** The next day, in a bar just outside Elland Road, the atmosphere was lively, the kind of place where football fans could come together, have a pint, and talk about the highs and lows of their team. The TV mounted on the wall was playing clips of the post-match interviews from the previous day's game. In the interview footage, Arthur Morgan—formerly known as Stupid kid who would ruin Leeds—was smiling confidently as he spoke to the reporter: "Our goal this year is definitely to return to the Premier League. Of course, the season has just started, but we've made a good start, right?" Arthur's tone was light, almost relaxed, but there was a determination in his eyes that suggested he wasn't just talking to fill air. He continued, "In the next four months, until the winter window opens, Leeds United's goal is to remain unbeaten and win the half-time championship!" The sound from the TV filtered through the chatter of the bar, but as soon as Arthur's words reached the ears of the fans sitting there, a wave of laughter swept through the room. They raised their glasses, exchanged glances, and chuckled. Having such an ambitious goal was, of course, a good thing. It was the kind of statement that made everyone feel optimistic, as if the world was suddenly full of possibility. But no one was fooling themselves. Before the season started, Leeds fans had been bracing themselves for another disappointing year, maybe even another relegation battle. The fact that they had started the season with a win—no matter how narrowly—and with Tim Howard's explosive performance in goal was already a huge bonus. But the "half-time championship"? That had them laughing more out of amusement than genuine belief. Sure, the team had been solid, but it was one game. The next 45 would be the real test. As for staying unbeaten, well, let's not get too carried away. The fans knew better. Everyone was just hoping that Howard could keep up his stellar form for a few more matches. After all, it wasn't every day you saw a goalkeeper putting in such a dominant performance. One fan, a burly guy with a thick beard and a Leeds scarf wrapped around his neck, slapped his mate on the back and said, "If Howard can keep doing that, maybe we'll surprise a few people this year. But unbeaten? Nah, let's just take it one game at a time." His mate, a younger guy with messy hair and a Leeds shirt from last season, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, man. Let's see if we can stay in the race until January. We need Howard to keep playing like that, and maybe, just maybe, we can bring in some new faces in the winter window." Another fan chimed in from the other side of the bar, "I'm just hoping we don't get hammered by someone like West Brom or Millwall. Those teams are always dangerous. And who knows if Howard can keep up his form after a few more games. Goalkeepers are like that, aren't they? One day they're unbeatable, the next, they're letting in goals you can't explain." The conversation was lighthearted, but there was a sense of cautious optimism in the air. Leeds fans weren't delusional, but they liked to dream big, even if those dreams often got dashed by reality. And today? Well, today they could afford to dream a little. Meanwhile, in London, things were a little less relaxed. Bates, the businessman who had his eye on Leeds United, was sitting in a plush office chair, his eyes glued to the television screen in front of him. He had just finished watching the post-match interview between Arthur and Howard. Unlike the fans at Elland Road, Bates didn't find it amusing. In fact, he was absolutely furious with himself. You see, Bates had completely skipped watching yesterday's game. He had been too busy with other business dealings and had assumed that Leeds would once again struggle this season. So when he saw the scoreline flash up and the news that Tim Howard had been named man of the match, he was shocked. His mind raced. In Bates' world, Tim Howard wasn't exactly the kind of player you'd expect to light up the league. He'd always seen Howard as a solid goalkeeper, sure, but a bit of a "nerve knife" player—someone who could get the job done but might crumble under pressure. At least, that's how he remembered Howard from his Manchester United days. But Howard's performance yesterday? Well, it didn't fit the usual narrative. He had been absolutely rock solid. He'd saved shots that seemed impossible. His positioning was perfect. He had led Leeds to victory almost single-handedly. Bates couldn't deny it—something had changed. And then Arthur, the new owner of Leeds, had gone on TV and spoken confidently about their ambitions. It wasn't just the words that caught Bates off guard, but the confidence behind them. Arthur was no fool. He had managed to pull together a team that was not only competitive but capable of making a run for the top of the table. "Damn it," Bates muttered under his breath, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "This is bad. Really bad." His mind began to work through the possibilities. If Leeds United kept performing like this and Howard kept playing at such a high level, things could get complicated. If Leeds pushed for promotion this season, Bates wouldn't be able to swoop in and buy them at a discounted price like he had planned. But then a thought crossed his mind. If Howard kept playing well, Leeds might not be able to afford his wages. After all, Arthur didn't have the financial resources of a Premier League club just yet. So, maybe—just maybe—he could buy Howard away from Leeds in the winter transfer window. Leeds could be tempted by the cash, and with Howard out of the picture, they'd be less of a threat. Bates would get a bargain, and Leeds would lose one of their star players. It was a simple plan, really. Buy Howard, weaken Leeds, and profit. His thoughts were interrupted as his assistant entered the room. Without looking up, Bates said, "Get me a ticket for Leeds' next game. I want to see Howard in action for myself. If he's still playing like this, I may need to reconsider my approach." The assistant nodded and immediately started working on getting the ticket. Bates leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. "Let's see if Howard really is the real deal or if it was just a fluke. If it's the former, I'll make my move. If it's the latter, well, I'll just sit back and wait for Leeds to implode. Either way, I'll come out on top." He chuckled to himself, confident that he could outmaneuver Arthur and Leeds United, just as he had done with so many other clubs before. After all, he was Bates—the man who always had a plan. And this plan? It was foolproof. But little did Bates know, Arthur's plans were already set in motion. And Leeds United? They were no longer the underdogs.