Dynasty Awakening: Building My Own Football Empire-Chapter 217: #MisfitKings

Michael Sterling sat in his office at the Sterling Era Training Complex. His desk was covered in tabloids. The headlines screamed in big bold letters.

THE CLOWN CAR CRASHES.

MISFITS? MORE LIKE MISS-HITS.

THE END OF THE PURPLE DREAM.

STERLING SILVER? NO, JUST RUST.

Arthur Milton was sitting on the floor. He was surrounded by empty wrappers of chocolate bars. He looked like a man who had given up on life and decided to live in a confectionery shop.

"Do not read them Boss," Arthur whispered. "They are toxic. One paper said our defense has more holes than a sieve. Another said Diego Nunez turns like a cruise ship in a swimming pool."

"They smell blood Arthur," Michael said calmly. "We lost two games. We conceded eight goals. To them we are frauds. They were waiting for this. They hate that we disrupted their party."

He pushed the papers away.

"Where is the team?"

"Hiding," Arthur said. "Diego is in the gym but he is not lifting weights. He is sitting under the bench press listening to sad violin music. Jean Luc Dubois is eating cheese alone in the dark."

Michael stood up. He walked to the window. The training pitch was empty. The rain from yesterday had stopped but the grey clouds remained.

"We need to change the narrative," Michael said. "If we let this poison stay in the locker room we will lose the last three games. And then we lose everything."

THE INVITATION

The phone rang. It was the media officer.

"Boss," the officer said nervously. "Sky Sports is on the line. They want you for the Monday Night Football special. They want an exclusive interview live in the studio tonight."

Arthur jumped up.

"No!" Arthur shouted. "It is a trap! It is an ambush! They will have Roy Keane there. He will stare at you until you cry. He will ask why our defense is made of soup!"

Michael thought about it.

It was a trap. They wanted to put him on national television and dissect the 5 to 3 loss. They wanted to humiliate the Misfit Manager.

"I will do it," Michael said.

"Boss are you crazy?" Arthur asked. "They will eat you alive."

"I am not going there to apologize Arthur," Michael said fixing his tie. "I am going there to fight."

THE STUDIO OF DOOM

The Sky Sports studio was cold. It was full of bright lights and expensive cameras.

Michael sat in the leather chair. Opposite him sat the host David Jones and the pundit magnificent grump Roy Keane.

Roy Keane was staring at Michael. He looked like he wanted to tackle Michael through the table.

"Welcome Michael," David Jones said. "Thank you for coming. It has been a tough week for Barnsley. Five goals conceded against Chelsea. Injuries. Endrick is out. You are five points behind City. Is the dream over?"

The camera zoomed in on Michael face.

"The math says it is hard," Michael admitted. "The experts say it is over."

"It is not just the math," Roy Keane interrupted. His voice was sharp. "It is the mentality. I watched your team. They were naive. You played a winger at left back. You played a striker who is thirty seven years old. It looked like a circus. Do you think you are ready for the big time?"

It was a brutal question. It was designed to make Michael angry.

Michael looked at Roy. He did not blink.

"A circus," Michael repeated. "That is an interesting word Roy."

"You concede too many," Roy continued. "You play fast and loose. Champions need discipline. Champions need to be boring sometimes. Your team is just... vibes. And the vibes ran out."

Michael leaned forward. He looked directly into the camera lens. He imagined Diego Nunez watching. He imagined the fans in the pubs watching.

"Can I speak?" Michael asked.

"Go ahead," Roy folded his arms.

THE SPEECH

Michael took a deep breath.

"You call us a circus," Michael began. His voice was steady but it started to build in volume. "You call us naive. You say we are just vibes."

He paused.

"Two years ago Barnsley was rotting in League One. We had no money. We had a stadium that leaked. We had players that nobody wanted."

He pointed a finger at the camera.

"Diego Nunez. You laugh at him. You say he turns like a ship. I see a man who was rejected by everyone. I see a man who puts his head in the way of bullets for this badge. He runs until his lungs burn. Is that a circus act? Or is that a warrior?"

Roy Keane uncrossed his arms. He was listening.

"Jamie Vardy," Michael continued. "You say he is old. You say he should be retired. Last week he scored against Chelsea by sliding into a metal post. He broke his ribs but he laughed. Why? Because he loves the game. Because he refuses to die quietly."

Michael stood up. He could not sit anymore.

"You sit here in your nice suits," Michael said looking around the studio. "You talk about tactics. You talk about expected goals. You talk about clean sheets."

"But football is not about spreadsheets. Football is about the feeling."

He placed his hand on his heart.

"My team is hurt. Yes. We are bleeding. Yes. We lost Endrick. We lost Kai. We are playing with broken parts."

"But do not dare call them frauds. They are Misfits. And do you know what a Misfit is?"

The studio was silent. The cameramen had stopped moving.

"A Misfit is someone who does not fit in your box," Michael said. "A Misfit is someone who has been told NO their whole life. And they stand up and say YES."

"Manchester City is a machine. They are perfect. They are beautiful. But machines have no soul."

Michael eyes were burning with fire.

"We have soul. We have a goalkeeper who thinks he is a wall. We have a French giant who eats cheese and runs through brick walls. We have a fan base that sings when we are losing 5 to 3."

"So write your headlines," Michael said. "Call us bottlers. Call us clowns. Bury us."

"But we are not dead. There are three games left. And I promise you one thing."

He leaned into the camera lens until it filled his vision.

"We will not go quietly into the night. We will scream. We will fight. We will run until our legs fall off. And if we lose? We lose standing up. We lose like Kings."

"Because that is what Barnsley is. That is what the Dynasty is."

He sat back down.

"That is my answer Roy."

THE SILENCE AND THE NOD

There was a long silence in the studio.

David Jones looked stunned. He had forgotten his next question.

Roy Keane looked at Michael. He looked at Michael shoes. Then he looked at Michael eyes.

A small smile appeared on the grumpy pundit face.

"Not bad," Roy Keane grunted. "Not bad at all. I like a bit of fight."

"Thank you Roy," Michael said.

THE LOCKER ROOM REACTION

Back at the training ground the team was gathered in the canteen. They were watching the big TV.

When Michael finished speaking the room was deadly silent.

Diego Nunez was standing on a table. Tears were streaming down his face.

"PAPA MICHAEL!" Diego roared. "HE LOVES ME! HE SAID I AM A WARRIOR!"

Diego ripped his shirt off. Buttons flew everywhere.

"I AM NOT A CRUISE SHIP!" Diego screamed at the TV. "I AM A WARSHIP!"

Jean Luc Dubois stood up. He picked up a block of cheddar cheese.

"He defends us," Jean Luc said his voice deep with emotion. "He fights the man in the suit for us. I will die for him."

Jean Luc bit the cheese in half.

"WE FIGHT!" Jean Luc shouted.

Leo Stone was wiping his eyes.

"He called us Kings," Leo whispered. "Even when we lose."

Arthur Milton was sobbing into a napkin.

"It was beautiful," Arthur cried. "It was like poetry. Angry poetry. I have goosebumps on my goosebumps."

THE RETURN OF THE BOSS

When Michael returned to the training ground an hour later it was dark.

But the car park was full.

The players were waiting outside. In the cold.

Michael got out of his car.

Diego Nunez stepped forward. He was wearing a new shirt but he had buttoned it wrong.

"Boss," Diego said serious.

"Yes Diego?"

"We watched the TV. You yelled at the scary man."

"I did Diego."

"You said we are Kings," Diego said.

"I did."

Diego turned to the team.

"BOYS!" Diego shouted. "WHAT ARE WE?"

"MISFITS!" the team shouted.

"AND WHAT DO WE DO?" Diego roared.

"WE FIGHT!" they screamed back.

Diego turned back to Michael.

"We are ready Papa Michael," Diego said. "We stopped being sad. Sadness is for losers. We are not losers."

"No Diego," Michael smiled. "We are not."

THE SYSTEM RESPONSE

Michael walked into his office. He felt drained but electrified.

He felt the vibration in his pocket.

[MANAGER SPEECH DETECTED]

[TYPE: LEGENDARY]

[EFFECT: MORALE BOOST +200 PERCENT]

[TEAM STATUS: BERSERK MODE]

[MEDIA NARRATIVE: SHIFTED]

He looked at his computer.

Twitter was exploding. The hashtag #MisfitKings was trending worldwide.

User CityFan: Okay that speech was cold. Fair play.

User DiegoLover: DIEGO IS A WARSHIP CONFIRMED.

Arthur Milton walked in. He handed Michael a cup of tea.

"You did it Boss," Arthur said. "You turned the ship around. Roy Keane actually smiled. I think that is the first time he smiled since 1999."

"We turned the narrative Arthur," Michael said taking the tea. "But words are wind. Now we need points."

"We have three games," Arthur said. "Brighton. Arsenal. And Crystal Palace."

"Three finals," Michael said.

He looked at the picture of Baby Gabriel on his desk.

"We are five points behind," Michael whispered. "It takes a miracle. But maybe... just maybe... we just created the spark for the miracle."