Michael Sterling drove his car through the gates of the Sterling Era Training Complex. The security guards were struggling. There were hundreds of fans outside. They were holding Nigerian flags. They were holding Brazilian flags. They were wearing purple shirts with names that had not even been printed in the shop yet.

Michael parked his car. He sat for a moment in silence.

He looked at the steering wheel.

Yesterday he was a manager of a plucky underdog team. Today he was the manager of a Super Team.

"Do not mess this up Michael," he whispered to himself. "You bought the Ferrari. Do not crash it into a tree."

He opened the door and stepped out.

Arthur Milton was waiting for him. The scout looked fresh. He was wearing a new suit. It was purple. It was very loud.

"Good morning Boss," Arthur said beaming. "I feel expensive today. I feel like I should be eating caviar for breakfast."

"Stick to the toast Arthur," Michael laughed. "We spent all the money. We cannot afford caviar."

"Is everyone here?" Michael asked.

"Everyone," Arthur confirmed. "The classroom is full. It looks like the United Nations in there. And Diego is behaving. Mostly."

THE MEETING OF GIANTS

Michael walked into the main meeting room.

The atmosphere hit him instantly. It was not quiet. It was buzzing with electricity.

The players were sitting in a semi circle.

On the left side sat the originals. Jamie Vardy. Erik Olsen. Kai Sora.

On the right side sat the new royalty.

Victor Osimhen sat with his legs crossed. He looked relaxed. His black mask was sitting on the table next to his water bottle like a piece of art.

Next to him was Endrick. The Brazilian boy looked young. He was wearing a baseball cap backwards. He was looking at Diego Nunez with wide eyes.

Diego Nunez was standing in the middle. The Bull was the welcoming committee.

Diego walked up to Osimhen.

He sniffed the air.

"You smell like goals," Diego announced.

Osimhen laughed. It was a deep cool laugh.

"I smell like victory my friend," Osimhen said. "And expensive cologne."

Diego nodded. He approved.

Then Diego turned to Endrick.

He poked Endrick in the leg with a massive finger.

"You are solid," Diego grunted. "Small. But hard. Like a brick."

"I am strong," Endrick said in broken English. "My legs are big."

"Good," Diego grinned. "We like big legs. Welcome to the crazy house."

Michael cleared his throat.

"Okay everyone," Michael said. "Settle down."

The room went quiet.

Michael walked to the front. He looked at the faces.

World Cup winners. Champions League winners. Wonderkids. Street fighters.

"Look around you," Michael said. "Take a good look."

He pointed to the back.

"We started in League One. We were rejects. We were forgotten."

He pointed to Osimhen and Endrick.

"Now we have the best players in the world joining us. Why?"

"Because of the money?" Jamie Vardy shouted from the back.

The room erupted in laughter.

"Partly the money Jamie," Michael smiled. "But mostly because of the project. Because we are building something that history will remember."

He looked at the new signings.

"Victor. Endrick. You are here because you want to fight. You are not here to be passengers. You are here to drive the car."

Osimhen nodded. "I am ready to drive Boss. Fast."

"Good," Michael said.

THE CONTRACT TALK

After the speech Michael called the senior players to his office.

He knew how football worked. When new stars arrived on big wages the old guard could get jealous.

Jamie Vardy, Erik Olsen, and Sergio Ramos walked in.

"Sit down," Michael said.

"Are we being sold?" Jamie Vardy asked cracking a Red Bull. "I saw the new kid. He is fast. Do I need to retire to the bingo hall?"

"Nobody is being sold," Michael said firmly. "I called you here to talk about contracts."

Arthur Milton stepped forward holding a stack of papers.

"The Boss and I had a talk with the owner," Arthur said. "We cannot bring in Osimhen on big money and leave our captains on peanuts."

Michael slid the papers across the desk.

"New contracts," Michael said. "For all of you. Salary increases. Goal bonuses. Clean sheet bonuses."

Erik Olsen picked up his paper. He looked at the number. The Viking eyes widened.

"This is... a lot," Erik said. "I can buy a boat in Norway. A big boat."

"You deserve it Erik," Michael said. "You carried us when we had nothing. You are the heart of this attack. Osimhen is here to help you not replace you."

Sergio Ramos looked at his contract. He smiled.

"I do not need money," Ramos said. "But I like respect. This is respect."

"And you Jamie?" Michael asked.

Jamie Vardy looked at the paper.

"Does this include a limitless supply of energy drinks in the vending machine?"

"It does," Arthur confirmed. "We added a specific clause. The Red Bull Clause."

"Then I am happy," Jamie grinned. "I will sign. The party continues."

Michael felt a wave of relief. The harmony was safe. The locker room was happy.

Now came the hard part.

THE TACTICAL BOARD

Later that afternoon the coaching staff gathered in the tactical room.

It was Michael, Arthur, and the assistant coaches. Even Sergio Ramos was there. The defender loved tactics.

They stood around the digital table.

"Okay," Michael said. "Here is the problem. A good problem. But a problem."

He put the virtual magnets on the screen.

Osimhen (Striker)

Endrick (Forward)

Erik Olsen (Winger)

Leo Stone (The Phantom)

Jamie Vardy (The Rat)

Danny Fletcher (The Prince)

"We have too many attackers," Arthur said sweating. "We cannot play with six strikers Boss. FIFA does not allow it."

"We need balance," Ramos said studying the screen. "If we play all of them who will defend? Just me and Diego? We will die."

"We play the 4 3 3," Michael said. "But a special 4 3 3."

He moved the magnets.

"Look at this."

Goalkeeper: Jan Visser.

Defense:

Right Back: Pavard.

Center Back: Ramos.

Center Back: Diego Nunez.

Left Back: Enzo Silva.

"Enzo at left back?" Arthur asked. "He runs too much."

"He has energy," Michael said. "We need his legs to cover the attacks."

Midfield:

Defensive Mid: Kai Sora.

Center Mid: Leo Stone.

Center Mid: A new role for Endrick.

"Endrick in midfield?" Ramos raised an eyebrow. "He is a striker."

"He is a number 10," Michael corrected. "He can dribble. He is strong. I want him in the hole. Behind the striker. Running at defenses."

Attack:

Left Wing: Erik Olsen.

Right Wing: Amara (when back) or Rotation.

Striker: Victor Osimhen.

"What about Jamie?" Arthur asked.

"Jamie is the chaos weapon," Michael said. "Minute 60. When the defenders are tired. We unleash the Rat."

"And Leo Stone?" Ramos asked. "He is small for midfield."

"He is the ghost," Michael said. "Osimhen occupies two defenders. Erik occupies one. Endrick occupies one. That leaves space. Leo lives in that space."

Michael looked at the formation.

It was aggressive. It was terrifying.

"It is heavy," Ramos admitted. "Very attacking. If we lose the ball we are in trouble."

"So we do not lose the ball," Michael said. "Or we win it back instantly. High press. Osimhen presses. Endrick presses. Erik presses. We suffocate them."

Arthur looked at the screen. He wiped a tear from his eye.

"It is beautiful Boss," Arthur said. "It looks like a shark with lasers."

"It is the God Formation," Michael said. "We test it today."

THE TRAINING SESSION

The players went out onto the pitch.

The sun was setting. The new floodlights were on.

Michael blew the whistle.

"Okay!" Michael shouted. "Training match! New formation! Let us see what you can do!"

The ball started rolling.

It took five minutes for the magic to happen.

Kai Sora passed the ball to Leo Stone.

Leo Stone turned. He saw Endrick.

Endrick received the ball. He did not pass. He drove forward. He went past Tom like he was a cone.

He saw Osimhen making a run.

Endrick played a reverse pass. It was perfect.

Osimhen did not even look. He knew where the goal was.

He hit it first time.

BANG.

The ball hit the net before Jan Visser could move.

"My god," Arthur whispered on the sideline. "Did you see the speed?"

"I saw it," Michael said.

Then it happened again.

Erik Olsen ran down the wing. The Viking was flying.

He crossed the ball.

Osimhen jumped. He jumped so high his knees were level with the defender head.

But he did not head it. He chested it down.

To Endrick.

Endrick smashed it on the volley.

The players stopped. They looked at each other.

Even Diego Nunez stopped trying to tackle people.

"They play like they have known each other for ten years," Diego said scratching his head. "How?"

"Game recognizes game," Michael said softly.

Osimhen high fived Endrick. Then he pointed at Erik Olsen.

"Good ball Viking!" Osimhen shouted.

"Good chest Mask Man!" Erik shouted back.

The chemistry was instant. It was natural.

Michael walked onto the pitch.

He felt a sense of immense power.

For two years he had struggled. He had counted pennies. He had raided the bargain bin for players.

"Okay," Michael said clapping his hands. "That was good. But good is not enough. We have the Champions League to qualify for. We have the FA Cup. We have the league."

He looked at Osimhen.

"Victor. Are you happy?"

"I am happy Boss," Osimhen grinned. "The grass is good. The ball is round. And Diego has not bitten me yet."

"I am waiting for the right moment," Diego shouted from the defense.

"And you Endrick?" Michael asked.

"I like it," Endrick said. "I like the purple. It looks like royalty."

"We are royalty," Michael said. "We are the new Kings of England."

The session ended. The players walked off laughing and joking.

Osimhen was teaching Diego Nunez a Nigerian dance. Endrick was learning English swear words from Jamie Vardy.

Michael stood with Arthur by the tunnel.

"We did it Arthur," Michael said. "We built the machine."

"Now we just have to drive it," Arthur said. "And pay the fuel bill."

"Don't worry about the bill," Michael said looking at the stars. "When you win everything the bill pays itself."

He pulled out his phone.

He had a message from Sarah.

Sarah: Dinner is ready. And I bought tiny purple socks for the baby.

"Let us go home Arthur," Michael said. "Tomorrow we unleash the 4 3 3 on the world."

"God help the other teams," Arthur chuckled. "God help them all."

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