Five Apex United attackers, a frantic, swarming horde of blue shirts, sprinted directly at the Nova Athletic backline.

The Nova players, who had been expecting a patient, tactical chess match, were completely and utterly bewildered.

They were used to having time on the ball, to building play from the back.

Now, they had three players closing them down before they could even take a second touch.

"What... what is this formation?!" Tactics Tim's voice on the live stream was a squeak of pure, intellectual horror.

"It's a 3-2-5! It's a tactical nuclear bomb! This is the footballing equivalent of bringing a machine gun to a knife fight! It's madness! It's beautiful, glorious madness!"

On the sideline, Maya stood frozen, her mouth slightly agape.

All her preparation, all her detailed video analysis, all her clever tactical plans... they were useless.

How do you prepare for a tactic that makes absolutely no logical sense?

She was screaming at her assistants, who were frantically scribbling on their own tablets, trying to make sense of the beautiful, glorious chaos that had just been unleashed upon them.

The pressure was relentless.

In the 12th minute, it told.

A panicked pass from a Nova defender was intercepted by David Kerrigan.

He drove at the heart of the defense and was cynically brought down right on the edge of the box. Free-kick.

Emre Demir placed the ball down, a look of calm, predatory focus on his face.

He looked at the wall, at the keeper.

He didn't shoot. He saw a tiny, almost invisible gap to the keeper's right.

With a stroke of pure, nonchalant genius, he just curled the ball, a low, skidding, viciously swerving shot that went around the wall and nestled perfectly into the bottom corner.

1-0 to Apex!

The stadium erupted.

The Apex players mobbed their Turkish magician.

But Maya was a genius. And geniuses adapt.

She saw the weakness. The vast, gaping, beautiful green spaces that the "Avalanche" left in its wake. She called her captain over.

"Gavi!" she yelled. "Forget the short passes! Go long! Over the top! Into the channels! Make them run backwards!"

The message was relayed. In the 21st minute, Gavi, the S-Rank Maestro, received the ball.

He didn't even look up.He just turned and, with a single, sublime, first-time pass, he launched a 60-yard diagonal ball over the top of the entire Apex press.

The Nova winger was in acres of space. He took one touch, drove into the box, and smashed the ball into the roof of the net.

1-1.

It was a goal of breathtaking simplicity and quality, a perfect, clinical counter-punch.

Maya just pumped a single, clinical fist.

Ethan just laughed. This was the most fun he had ever had.

Then, in the 38th minute, a moment that would go down in the annals of FCG history as "The Great Calamity" occurred.

A simple back-pass was played to the Nova Athletic goalkeeper.

He had all the time in the world. But he could see the blue shirts of the "Avalanche" starting their sprint towards him.

David Kerrigan was leading the charge, a wild, manic grin on his face.

The keeper, a solid, reliable 72-rated player, panicked. He tried to be clever. He tried to dribble past the onrushing Kerrigan. It did not go well. He took one touch, then another, his feet a confused, tangled mess. He tripped. Over his own feet. Over the ball. Over the very concept of professional goalkeeping.

The ball trickled, almost apologetically, away from him.

Kerrigan, who had been expecting a long clearance, had to slam on the brakes to avoid running into the goal himself.

He just stood there, a look of pure, disbelieving joy on his face, as the ball rolled, in agonizing slow motion, over the line.

Own goal. Or, more accurately, a complete and total goalkeeping meltdown.

The entire stadium was silent for a second, processing the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of what they had just witnessed.

Then, a sound started to ripple through the stands. It wasn't a cheer. It was a laugh. A huge, collective, joyous laugh of pure, beautiful, ridiculous entertainment.

"I... I... I'm speechless!" Tactics Tim was wheezing, tears of laughter streaming down his virtual face. "That is the single most calamitous, comical, catastrophic mistake I have ever seen in my entire life! The goalkeeper has just dribbled the ball into his own net! This isn't a title decider! It's a comedy festival!"

The Apex players didn't even celebrate. They just fell to the ground, howling with laughter.

On the sideline, Maya just stood there for a long, silent moment, before calmly, deliberately, burying her face in her hands.

The score, at the 40-minute mark, was 2-1 to Apex United.

The Gaffer's Office was a viral sensation.

And football, it turned out, was the greatest comedy on earth.

Ethan looked at his team of laughing, joyous, chaotic heroes.

He looked at Maya, a picture of pure, mortified despair. He looked at the scoreboard.

The "Apex Avalanche" was working, but not in the way he had intended.

And a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. Being sensible was the last thing he wanted to do.

Time to get even weirder, he thought.

The half-time whistle at The Apex was a mercy. The home crowd, who had witnessed a sublime free-kick and a goalkeeping meltdown of historic proportions, didn't know whether to cheer or laugh.

In the Nova Athletic dressing room, Maya was a storm cloud of cold, focused fury.

The lucky, ridiculous goal had shattered her team's composure.

Her players were arguing, pointing fingers.

"If you had just tracked the runner, he wouldn't have been free for the pass!"

"If the keeper hadn't decided to learn how to juggle in the middle of a title decider, we'd be winning!"

Maya let the chaos swirl for a moment before she spoke, her voice not loud, but so sharp and so cold that it cut through the noise like a shard of ice.

"Enough."

The room fell silent....

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.