Dynasty Awakening: Building My Own Football Empire-Chapter 231: The Tears of Rain

The rain had stopped falling. It was the ninetieth minute. The clock showed 89:58.

Leo Stone stood over the ball. The white leather sphere sat perfectly on the green grass. It was twenty yards from the goal.

This was the moment... Manchester City were drawing 2 to 2 with West Ham. The news was confirmed. If Barnsley scored this free kick they would win the match 3 to 2. They would have 87 points. City would have 87 points. But Barnsley had the better goal difference thanks to the 4 to 0 win against Villa.

One kick for the Premier League title.

Michael Sterling stood on the touchline. He was not breathing. He held Arthur Milton hand. Arthur was shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Do it Leo," Michael whispered. "Just put it in the net."

Leo Stone looked at the wall.

Diego Nunez was standing next to Tarkowski the Everton defender. Diego was big. He was wide. He winked at Leo.

Referee Sharp blew the whistle.

Leo Stone took a deep breath. He ran up.

At the exact moment Leo swung his leg Diego Nunez moved. He did not shove Tarkowski. He just leaned. He leaned with the weight of a Bull.

Tarkowski stumbled. A gap opened in the wall. A gap the size of a football.

Leo struck the ball.

It flew through the gap. It bypassed the wall completely.

Jordan Pickford saw it late. The Everton goalkeeper dived. He stretched his arms as far as they could go.

The ball curled. It looked perfect. It looked like gold.

It beat the goalkeeper hands.

But it did not beat the goal.

The sound was louder than a gunshot. The ball smashed against the crossbar. The metal shook.

The ball bounced down.

It hit the line.

Jean Luc Dubois ran in to head the rebound.

But Tarkowski was faster. He threw his body in the way. He cleared the ball with an overhead kick.

The ball flew high into the stands.

"NO!" Arthur screamed. He fell to his knees in the mud. "THE BAR! THE CRUEL BAR!"

The crowd groaned. A noise of forty thousand hearts breaking at the same time.

But the game was not over.

Minute 90+2

Barnsley threw everyone forward. Even Jan Visser the goalkeeper ran up for a throw in.

"GO JAN!" the fans screamed. "BE THE HERO!"

Lukas Weber the Berlin Wall was in the box. He was calculating the trajectory of the ball.

Amara threw it long.

Jan Visser jumped. He was huge. He won the header.

The ball floated towards the corner.

But Pickford caught it. He held it tight to his chest. He fell to the ground and lay there hugging the ball like it was his child.

"Get up!" Diego Nunez shouted standing over him. "Play the game! Stop sleeping!"

Pickford did not get up. He smiled. He knew.

The referee looked at his watch.

He put the whistle to his lips.

Michael Sterling closed his eyes.

PEEEP! PEEEP! PEEEEEEP!

FULL TIME.

BARNSLEY 2 - 2 EVERTON. It was over.

The Everton fans were celebrating. The point kept them safe from relegation.

But for Barnsley the silence was deafening.

Arthur Milton dropped his radio earpiece into a puddle.

"City drew," Arthur whispered. "It finished 2 to 2. If we had won... we would be champions."

Michael stared at the pitch.

The players collapsed.

Leo Stone lay face down on the spot where he took the free kick. He was sobbing.

Amara sat with his head in his hands.

Diego Nunez was standing in the center circle. He was not crying. He was staring at the crossbar. He looked like he wanted to fight the metal post.

They had drawn. They had fought until the last second. But the draw was not enough.

FINAL TABLE:

1. Manchester City - 87 Points

2. Barnsley - 85 Points

Two points. The gap was just two points.

High above in the box Peter Drury spoke to the millions watching on TV. His voice was soft and sad but full of respect.

"And so the curtain falls. The dream does not come true today. The fairy tale does not have the perfect ending. The crossbar at the North End will haunt Leo Stone for the rest of his life. inches. Just inches separated the Misfits from the Immortals."

"Look at them. Heartbreak in purple. They gave everything. They emptied the tank. They fought the giants and they almost brought them down. Manchester City are Champions again but they know... oh they know... they were in a fight today."

"Michael Sterling walks onto the pitch. The architect of this beautiful chaos. He is not looking down. He is looking up. He is picking up his players. Because this is not the end of Barnsley. This is just the beginning of the fear they will instill in the rest of the league."

Michael walked through the mud.

He went to Leo Stone first.

Leo was shaking.

"I missed Boss," Leo cried into the grass. "I hit the bar. I failed."

Michael knelt down. He did not care about his suit.

"Stand up Leo," Michael said softly. "You did not fail. You had the courage to take the kick. That is victory."

"But we lost the title."

"We lost the title," Michael agreed helping him up. "But we won respect. Look around."

The Barnsley fans were not leaving. They were standing. They were clapping.

"MICHAEL STERLING’S PURPLE ARMY!"

Michael walked to Diego Nunez.

Diego was still staring at the crossbar.

"I will cut it down," Diego growled. "I will come back tonight with a saw. I will melt it."

"Leave the post Diego," Michael said putting an arm around the giant. "It reminds us."

"Reminds us of what?" Diego asked. "That we are losers?"

"That we are close," Michael said. "We hit the bar. Next year we hit the net."

THE MEDIA INTERVIEW

Sky Sports grabbed Michael for an interview on the side of the pitch.

The reporter looked sympathetic.

"Michael," the reporter said. "So close. City dropped points. You just needed one goal. How does it feel?"

Michael looked into the camera. He saw the red light.

"It hurts," Michael admitted. "I will not lie. It feels like someone reached into my chest and took my heart."

"Do you blame the referee? Or the missed chances?"

Michael shook his head.

"I blame nobody. My boys played like lions. We were robbed of a goal. Yes. We had a ghost penalty against us. Yes. But we scored two. We hit the bar in the last second. That is football."

"What do you say to Manchester City?"

Michael eyes narrowed. The blue fire returned.

"I say congratulations. Enjoy your champagne. Enjoy your trophy."

He leaned closer to the microphone.

"But do not get comfortable. We are two points behind you. We are not going away. We are young. We are hungry. And now... we are angry."

"See you in August."

He walked away. The reporter looked stunned. It was not the speech of a loser. It was the speech of a challenger who was just getting started.

Inside the dressing room it was quiet. The silver FA Cup sat on the table. It looked lonely.

Lukas Weber was sitting with his calculator.

"Two points," Lukas said. "If the referee had not given the penalty against Amara we win by one point. The margin of error is statistically insignificant."

"Shut up with the math Robot," Jean Luc Dubois grunted. "Math does not fix my heart."

Michael walked in.

He stood in the middle.

"Heads up," Michael commanded.

Slowly they looked up.

"You are sad. Good. Be sad. Let it burn."

"But remember this. Last year we were fighting to stay in the league. This year we won the FA Cup and we took the best team in the world to the final second of the final day."

"We are second. But we are the best second place team in history."

He pointed to the silver cup.

"We have a trophy. We have Champions League football next year. We go to Madrid. We go to Munich. We take the Misfits to Europe."

Diego Nunez eyes lit up a little bit.

"Europe?" Diego asked. "Do they have different cheese in Europe?"

"Yes Diego," Michael smiled. "Lots of cheese."

"And bigger stadiums?"

"Huge stadiums."

"Okay," Diego nodded. "I will smash the European stadiums too."

Michael looked at Arthur.

Arthur was holding a box of donuts. He offered one to Michael.

"Victory donut?" Arthur asked weakly.

"Survival donut," Michael corrected taking a bite. "We survived the season Arthur. And we built something real."

They went back out for the lap of honor.

The families came onto the pitch.

Sarah walked out holding Baby Gabriel. The baby was wearing a tiny Barnsley kit with CHAMPION crossed out and LEGEND written in marker pen.

Michael picked up his son.

Gabriel looked at the silver FA Cup. He reached out and touched it. He smiled.

Then he looked at the empty space where the Premier League trophy should be.

He frowned.

"I know Gabriel," Michael whispered kissing his head. "I know. The big gold one is missing."

He looked at the fans who were singing Sweet Caroline.

"But look at this family Gabriel. We built this. And next year... next year we get the gold one for you."

Michael turned to the stands. He lifted the FA Cup high.

The roar was beautiful. It was a roar of love.

They had not won the league. But they had won something more important.

They had awakened a sleeping giant. The Dynasty was not a dream anymore. It was real.