Arthur Milton was sitting on the sofa hiding behind a cushion.

"Put it away Boss," Arthur whispered. "It is cursed. Everyone knows it is cursed. You win the trophy and then you lose the next game to a team like Luton Town."

"We are not playing Luton Town Arthur," Michael said placing the trophy on his desk. "We are playing West Ham United. In London. They blow bubbles before the game. How scary can a team be if they blow bubbles?"

"Very scary," Arthur said. "Bubbles pop. Just like dreams."

Michael sighed. He looked at the league table.

1. Manchester City 67 Points

2. Barnsley 66 Points

3. Liverpool 63 Points

One point behind. Eight games to go. Every game was a final.

"We are fine," Michael said trying to convince himself. "We beat Tottenham without Kai Sora. We can beat West Ham."

But deep down Michael felt a small stone of worry in his stomach. The win against Tottenham was emotional. It was adrenaline. Now the adrenaline was gone. And the hole in the midfield where Kai usually stood was still there.

THE LONDON STADIUM

The London Stadium was massive. It was an old Olympic stadium converted for football. The pitch felt wide. Too wide.

In the locker room the Barnsley players were quiet.

Diego Nunez was taping his wrists. He looked grumpy.

"I do not like this place," Diego grunted. "The fans are too far away. I cannot hear them insult me. It makes me sad."

"Just focus on the ball Diego," Sergio Ramos said. The captain was trying to keep morale high. "West Ham are strong. They have Antonio. He is big. Like a truck."

"I like trucks," Diego said. "I will crash into him."

Michael walked to the center.

"Listen up," Michael said. "The media says we are tired. The media says we cannot play without Kai. The media says we are a one trick pony."

He looked at Leo Stone. The Phantom was nervous. He had played the game of his life against Tottenham. Could he do it again?

"Prove them wrong," Michael said. "Endrick. Run. Victor. Score. Diego. Smash."

"Smash," Diego repeated nodding.

THE MATCH: THE BUBBLE BURSTS

The teams walked out. Thousands of bubbles floated in the air.

"It is pretty," Endrick said trying to pop one.

"Focus!" Ramos shouted.

The referee blew the whistle.

West Ham did not attack. They sat back. They defended deep. David Moyes their manager had set a trap.

Barnsley had the ball. But without Kai Sora to dictate the tempo the passing was slow.

Leo Stone tried to turn. He was surrounded by three players. Soucek. Ward Prowse. Edson Alvarez. They were big physical midfielders.

Leo was bullied.

Minute 15

Endrick tried to help. He dropped deep. But he dropped too deep.

He lost the ball near the halfway line.

West Ham countered.

Bowen ran down the wing. He was fast. Enzo Silva was out of position.

Bowen crossed.

Antonio was there.

Diego Nunez jumped. Antonio jumped.

Usually Diego won these battles. But today Antonio used his body perfectly. He nudged Diego just enough.

Antonio headed the ball.

GOAL.

West Ham 1. Barnsley 0.

The bubbles machine started again.

"I hate bubbles," Arthur moaned on the bench.

THE COLLAPSE

1 to 0 was manageable. Barnsley had come back before.

But today the engine was not just stuttering. It was smoking.

Minute 30

Barnsley tried to attack. Osimhen made a run. But the pass from Leo Stone was intercepted.

West Ham broke again.

Kudus got the ball. The Ghanaian winger was magic.

He dribbled past Pavard. He dribbled past Ramos.

Ramos tried to use his experience. He tried to pull the shirt. But Kudus was too strong.

He shot from the edge of the box.

Jan Visser saw it late. The ball went through Diego legs.

GOAL.

West Ham 2. Barnsley 0.

Michael Sterling stood on the touchline. He put his hands in his pockets.

"We look like strangers," Michael said. "The spacing is wrong. Endrick is running into Leo. Leo is running into Osimhen."

"They miss Kai," Arthur said sadly. "They miss the cool head."

Minute 45

Just before halftime disaster struck.

West Ham won a free kick. James Ward Prowse stood over the ball. Everyone knew he was the best in the world at this.

"Do not foul!" Michael screamed. "I told you do not foul!"

Diego Nunez looked guilty. He had just pushed Paqueta over for no reason.

Ward Prowse hit the ball.

It curled. It dipped. It was perfect.

GOAL.

West Ham 3. Barnsley 0.

The halftime whistle blew.

It was not a football match. It was a massacre.

THE LOCKER ROOM SILENCE

In the dressing room there was no shouting. There was just shock.

Victor Osimhen threw his mask on the floor.

"We are playing like children!" Osimhen yelled. "Where is the fight? Where is the fire?"

"They are too big," Leo Stone whispered. He looked like he wanted to cry. "I cannot turn. They hit me every time."

Diego Nunez sat with a towel over his head.

"The truck hit me," Diego mumbled. "Antonio is a very strong truck."

Michael walked in. He looked at them.

He could shout. He could throw water bottles.

But he knew the problem. It was not lack of effort. It was lack of balance.

"We are broken today," Michael said honestly. "The system does not work against this team. We miss Kai. It is a fact."

He looked at Endrick.

"Stop running everywhere," Michael said. "You are tired. You look like a headless chicken."

"I am trying Boss," Endrick said sweating.

"Try less," Michael said. "Think more."

THE SECOND HALF: NO MIRACLE

The second half was painful.

Barnsley tried. They really tried.

Erik Olsen hit the bar. Osimhen had a shot cleared off the line.

But it was not their day. The football gods had decided to humble the Misfits.

Minute 80

West Ham scored a fourth.

A simple counter attack. Bowen again.

GOAL.

West Ham 4. Barnsley 0.

The Barnsley fans in the away end were silent. Some were leaving.

Michael Sterling watched them leave. He did not blame them.

He looked at the scoreboard.

WEST HAM 4 - 0 BARNSLEY

It was ugly. It was the biggest loss of his career.

When the final whistle blew Michael walked onto the pitch. He shook hands with David Moyes.

"Tough day," Moyes said. "It happens."

"It happens," Michael repeated.

He walked to his players. They looked destroyed.

Diego Nunez was looking at the ground.

"Head up," Michael said. "We lost. We move on."

"I feel shame Papa Michael," Diego said. "I let four goals in. I am not a wall today. I am a door."

"Today you were a door," Michael agreed. "Next week be a wall again."

THE MEDIA STORM

If the match was painful the aftermath was torture.

The press conference room was packed. The journalists who had praised Barnsley last week were now sharpening their knives.

"Michael!" a reporter from The Sun shouted. "Is the bubble bursting? Is the Dynasty over before it began?"

"We lost one game," Michael said calmly. "We are still second in the league."

"But 4 to 0?" another reporter asked. "You spent two hundred million in January. You signed Osimhen. You signed Endrick. And you got destroyed by West Ham. Is money ruining the team spirit?"

"Money does not play football," Michael said. "Players do. Today we were bad. It is simple."

"Can you win the title without Kai Sora?" a reporter from Sky Sports asked. "You looked lost without him."

Michael paused. It was the question he feared the most.

"Kai is important," Michael admitted. "But we have a squad. We will find a solution."

"It did not look like you had a solution today," the reporter sneered.

Michael stood up.

"Write what you want," Michael said. "Write that we are dead. Write that we are frauds. Put it on the front page. I will stick it on the dressing room wall. Motivation is free."

He walked out.

THE SOCIAL MEDIA MELTDOWN

On the bus home Arthur made the mistake of opening Twitter.

"Do not look Boss," Arthur warned. "It is toxic. It is radioactive."

Michael looked anyway.

User CityFan99: Barnsley are finished. The dream is dead. 4-0 lol.

User PunditPaul: Michael Sterling has been exposed. No tactics just vibes. The vibes ran out.

User MisfitHater: Send Osimhen back to Italy. He is a flop.

User DiegoFan: Why was Diego sleeping? Did he eat too much pizza?

"They turn fast," Arthur said sadly. "Last week we were kings. This week we are clowns."

"That is football Arthur," Michael said closing the laptop. "You are only as good as your last game."

He looked at the back of the bus.

The players were silent. No music. No cards. Just staring out into the darkness.

This was the test. The real test.

Winning is easy. Everyone smiles when you win.

But losing 4 to 0? That reveals who you really are.

THE ARRIVAL

They arrived back at the training ground at midnight.

Michael got into his car. He was exhausted. His head pounded.

He drove home.

When he opened the door Sarah was waiting. She was sitting on a yoga ball. She looked like a beautiful round planet.

"Do not say anything," Sarah said.

"We lost," Michael said dropping his bag. "Badly."

"I know," she said. "I watched it. Diego looked like he was ice skating on mud."

"It was a disaster Sarah. The media is killing us. The fans are angry. City won their game. We are four points behind now."

Michael sat down on the floor. He put his head in his hands.

"Maybe they are right," Michael whispered. "Maybe we are just a flash in the pan. Maybe I am not ready for the elite level."

Sarah struggled to get off the yoga ball. She walked over and sat next to him. It was a difficult maneuver.

She put a hand on his head.

"Michael Sterling," she said sternly. "You took a team from League One to the Champions League spots in two years. You made Diego Nunez a cult hero. You made Jamie Vardy run again."

"But today..."

"Today you had a bad day," she said. "So what? Even Batman gets punched in the face. Even Superman falls down."

She took his hand and placed it on her stomach.

The baby kicked. A strong hard kick.

"Feel that?" Sarah asked.

"I feel it."

"That is your son," she said. "He does not care about West Ham. He does not care about the media. He just wants his dad to be strong."

Michael closed his eyes. He felt the kick again.

It grounded him. It pulled him out of the dark hole of defeat.

"You are right," Michael said. "I cannot feel sorry for myself."

"Exactly," Sarah smiled. "Now go to the kitchen. There is a slice of pie left. Eat it. Sleep. And tomorrow you go back and fix the engine."

"What kind of pie?"

"Apple," she said. "With custard."

Michael stood up. He helped Sarah up.

"Thank you," he said kissing her.

"Anytime Coach," she winked.

THE MORNING RESOLUTION

The next morning Michael walked into the training ground early.

He walked past the Manager of the Month trophy on his desk.

He picked it up.

Arthur walked in. He looked like he had not slept.

"Boss?" Arthur asked. "Are we okay?"

"We are fine Arthur," Michael said.

He opened the drawer and put the golden trophy inside. He slammed the drawer shut.

"Hide that thing," Michael said. "No more awards. Only wins."

"What is the plan Boss?" Arthur asked. "The media is waiting outside. They want to see blood."

"Let them wait," Michael said.

He walked to the window looking out at the pitch.

"City think we are dead," Michael said. "Liverpool think we are dead. The whole world thinks the Barnsley fairytale is over."

He turned to Arthur. His eyes were clear. The doubt was gone.

"Call the players," Michael said. "Tell them to bring their running shoes. We are going back to basics. No more complex tactics. No more fancy formations."

"What are we doing?"

"We are going to work," Michael said. "Hard work. Dirty work. We are Misfits Arthur. We do not win by being pretty. We win by being relentless."

Arthur smiled. A small hopeful smile.

"I like relentless Boss."

Michael looked at the calendar. Seven games left.

The 4 to 0 loss was a scar. A big ugly scar.

But scars make the skin tougher.

"The bubble burst yesterday," Michael whispered to the empty room. "Good. Now we can stop floating and start fighting."

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