NOVPUB
Chapter 138: How to Make Them Shut Up (Second)
24th Minute: Birmingham were drowning. The Maine Road crowd could smell blood, their roars growing louder with each wave of City’s attack.
Then—another mistake.
Their center-back received a simple back pass but hesitated for just half a second. That was all Solskjær needed.
The City striker pounced with hunger, stealing the ball, weaving around Bennett, and calmly tapping it into an empty net.
3-0. 𝚗o𝚟pub.𝚌𝚘𝚖
First hat-trick!
Solskjær took off running, his arms outstretched, a smile spreading across his face. The crowd’s deafening cheer only fueled his joy as he slid on his knees toward the corner flag, leaving a trail of passion and energy in his wake.
Barry Fry turned away, running a hand down his face in disbelief.
His assistant, eyes wide with concern, muttered, "If we don’t settle down, this could be a record-breaking loss."
Still, Barry Fry said nothing. He didn’t respond. He just kept watching, silently believing in his team.
As the first half drew to a close, City’s attack surged closer to Birmingham’s penalty area. Roberto Carlos, ever the threat from range, fired a powerful shot from outside the box, but Bennett reacted quickly, deflecting it out for a corner.
Cafu stepped up to take the corner.
Ronaldo and Solskjær, positioned themselves ready for any eventuality. They were soon joined by Campbell and Ferdinand, both towering figures who added further aerial threat.
Ian Taylor and Ferguson remained near the center circle, vigilant and ready to thwart any potential counter-attacks, while Gallas roamed toward the far post, eyes sharp for a loose ball.
Campbell positioned himself directly in front of the goalkeeper, applying pressure, while Ferdinand stood poised at the edge of the six-yard box.
Roberto Carlos, ever unpredictable, caused confusion at the near post, drawing attention as others, like Tony Grant, appeared passive in midfield, casually shifting with the movements of the defenders, showing no inclination to engage directly.
Cafu, standing by the corner flag, raised his hand in a clenched fist—a signal understood implicitly by his teammates. Without hesitation, he swung the ball into the box.
As the ball soared toward the center, City’s players surged forward, instinctively pulling the Birmingham defenders along with them. A cluster of bodies shifted toward the far post, but amidst the chaos, one player broke free—his movement precise and deliberate—as he positioned himself at the near post for a potential strike.
The ball sailed into the box, and Ferdinand, with his commanding presence, rose above the rest to meet it.
His header thudded toward goal, but Bennett, quick on his feet, reacted just in time, punching the ball away. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the Birmingham defense. But they had missed one crucial detail.
Gallas, who had been quietly roaming just outside the chaos, was patiently waiting for a loose ball. The moment it bounced, his eyes locked on it. Without hesitation, he surged forward, timing his volley to perfection.
The Birmingham players froze, helpless, as Gallas struck the ball. It rocketed toward the goal, a powerful shot that left the goalkeeper rooted to the spot. The crowd held its breath as the ball flew toward its target, the tension palpable in the air.
"Gallas! That’s his first goal of the season!!!"
With a primal roar, Gallas exploded in celebration. His arms shot into the air as he sprinted toward the corner flag, his eyes alight with a fierce joy. As he reached the corner, he slid to his knees, letting out a triumphant, guttural shout: "Aaaaarghhhh!" The sound echoed through the stadium as the crowd erupted in response.
His teammates quickly surrounded him, clapping him on the back and cheering as he basked in the moment. Gallas raised his arms once more, looking up at the sky, his expression a mixture of relief and pride.
The first half ended, Manchester City 4 - 0 Birmingham City.
Before the second half began, Robertson approached O’Neill. "Now that we’re up 4-0, do we need to defend in the second half?"
O’Neill paused, then shook his head. "No, we press. Now is the best time to unleash and vent their frustration after the two recent losses and the draw from the previous match."
He stepped forward in front of the players. "We keep pressing. Play to your heart’s content. I’m giving you the freedom to play however you want. Prove it to me!"
Birmingham were drowning under City’s relentless pressure.
Fry had told them to remain disciplined, to stay compact, but the reality was far harsher than any tactical preparation.
They couldn’t break out. Every clearance came straight back. Every pass had to be perfect—because a single mistake? It would be punished instantly.
He had hoped that City might sit back or at least play more conservatively in the second half. But he could already imagine that instead, City would push even harder.
The second half kicked off—and for the first time this season, Maine Road was electric.
The stands were alive, voices rising in unison, the sound rolling like thunder across the pitch. Flares lit the air with a smoky glow, and scarves swung overhead as the crowd burst into song:
"Oh Manchester is Wonderful~"
"Oh Manchester is Wonderful~"
"Full of tits fanny and City~"
"Oh Manchester is Wonderful~"
City were hungry. The fans could feel it. And Birmingham? They looked like they were bracing for a storm.
From the dugout, O’Neill stood with arms crossed, eyes scanning the field, but even he couldn’t suppress a small smile.
On the pitch, the City players moved with swagger. Passes were crisp. The press was coordinated. They were playing with the freedom O’Neill had promised—no longer cautious, but expressive.
The ball rolled to Roberto Carlos on the flank. He raised a hand, took a quick look inside, and drilled a low, curling cross into the box.
Ronaldo darted between two defenders, his timing perfect.
PHWEEE~!
The final whistle rang out—long, shrill, and unmistakable.
Immediately, Maine Road erupted—not with a goal, but with applause, cheers, and chants that shook the stands.
The fans rose to their feet, clapping furiously, waving scarves and fists in the air. They weren’t just celebrating the lead.
They were celebrating attitude. Intensity. Football the way it was meant to be played.
On the touchline, O’Neill finally let his arms drop, exhaling slowly. On the pitch, Ronaldo and Solskjær exchanged a high-five, while Roberto Carlos raised both arms to the crowd, soaking in the moment. Gallas dropped to his knees in exhaustion, grinning like a madman. They had poured it all out.
And the crowd let them know: We saw you. We felt it. Thank you.
Manchester City 5 – 0 Birmingham City.
City demolished their shell-shocked visitors without mercy—Birmingham City, the league leaders, left stunned and scoreless!
Richard hurriedly rose from his seat and went over to Miss Heysen to ask about the other match results."Miss Heysen, how’s the other game?"
"Bristol lost, and Brentford won," she replied.
Richard clenched his fist in celebration.
With that result, City were now level on points with Bristol Rovers in third place—just seven and eight points behind the top two in the standings.
Birmingham City - 67 Points
Brentford - 66 Points
Bristol Rovers - 59 Points
Manchester City - 59 Points
Blackpool - 58 Points
Wycombe Wanderers - 55 Points
City demolished the league leaders 5-0 without reply, sending a clear message to Brentford in second place and to Bristol Rovers, who had expected Birmingham to breeze past their easy opponents.
O’Neill clapped his hands in the changing room, gathering everyone’s attention.
"We’re not done, guys. We’re not done. April’s not over, and we’ve got May ahead. Let’s make sure we keep pushing, stay focused. The job’s far from finished."
His words echoed through the room as the players, still buzzing from the massive win, nodded in agreement.
After the match, Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu stayed longer at Maine Road, their eyes fixed on the television. The reason for their focus?
The current extraordinary Minister for Sport, Pelé, was speaking on air.
In 1993, Pelé made headlines when he publicly accused Ricardo Teixeira, the Brazilian football administrator, of corruption. The trigger was Pelé’s television company being rejected in a contest for the Brazilian domestic rights to broadcast the 1994 World Cup.
As a result, the fallout was swift and harsh.
The President of FIFA, João Havelange—Teixeira’s father-in-law—took immediate action by banning Pelé from attending the 1994 World Cup draw in Las Vegas, marking the beginning of an ongoing feud between the legendary footballer and the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF).
This scandal didn’t just stay in the past. It set the stage for a deeper rift between Pelé and the CBF.
"Sure, sure, you disturb my players," Richard muttered coldly as he glanced at the latest news on the current FIFA election. "I’ll make sure you get all the attention then. Let’s see how you fight against your current Minister of Sports."
Gordon Barry, the current Manchester City barrister, had already flown to Brazil to represent Richard in securing support for Pelé, the current Minister for Sport.
The agreement was that $700,000 would be provided, as long as Pelé would revive the controversy from the 1994 World Cup and use it to further challenge the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF).
The deal was swift. Very swift.
Pelé, who had seen how the CBF had long held a tight grip on the country’s footballing structure, dictating player contracts, club transfers, and governance, was fed up with them. Richard’s $700,000 would be put to good use in lobbying politicians to pass the law as retaliation against the CBF.
Thus, the Pelé Law was born.
[... To my Brazil, our football is the heartbeat of this nation. From the streets of São Paulo to the beaches of Rio, football unites us. But for too long, our beautiful game has been controlled by a few...]
In other words, the Pelé Law effectively dismantled much of the CBF’s power, granting players the freedom to negotiate better terms and move between clubs with less red tape. It also permitted the formation of independent leagues by sports clubs across the country—something that had not been allowed under the CBF’s governance.
The three looked at each other in silence, soaking in every word of Pelé’s speech. But just as the legendary figure finished speaking, the news broadcast took a sharp turn. What came next made all three of them sit up straight, eyes wide in shock.
[Breaking News – TV Anchor’s Voice]
[...We have just received an update. The Brazilian IRS has officially launched an investigation into Ricardo Terra Teixeira. According to sources, the president of the CBF is under scrutiny for suspicious financial activity, including the undocumented import of a fully equipped beer-making machine—reportedly installed in a private bar he opened just months after the World Cup...]
"..."
"Well? What do you think? Are you satisfied with this outcome?" Richard suddenly appeared, his voice calm but laced with meaning, as he addressed the Brazilian trio whose eyes were still locked on the television.
Hearing his voice, the three slowly turned to him. They looked at his face, as if trying to form a response—but in the end, no words came out.
They were speechless.
Richard didn’t give them time to think. He tossed a newspaper onto the table in front of Ronaldo.
Still confused, Ronaldo picked it up and read the headline sprawled across the front page in bold, capital letters: "’HE LOOKED POSSESSED’: INSIDERS REVEAL RONALDO’S STRANGE BEHAVIOR BEFORE THE GAME!"
"RONALDO’S MYSTERY ILLNESS BEFORE UNITED CLASH RAISES QUESTIONS!"
"RONALDO’S LAST-MINUTE MELTDOWN—CITY DEMAND INVESTIGATION!"
"WHO FED THE STRIKER? MEAL UNDER SCRUTINY AS RONALDO COLLAPSES PRE-MATCH"
All the media outlets were essentially asking the same question as soon as the story broke. Naturally, a few tried to cast doubt on the rumors, but Richard, fully aware of the power of media manipulation, ensured those voices were quickly silenced.
None of the major newspapers gave them much space, except for The Sun. However, The Sun remained strangely quiet, not publishing anything at all. He shook his head, dismissing it all as he instructed Ronaldo to turn the page.
Still stunned, Ronaldo slowly flipped the page, his eyes scanning the next headline.
"MANCHESTER CITY TERMINATES CATERING CONTRACT FOLLOWING RONALDO’S POISONING INCIDENT! RICHARD MADDOX MAKES IT CLEAR THAT SUCH EVENTS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED AT THE CLUB."
The headline caused a major stir among fans. News of a "poisoning incident" sparked outrage and speculation, while Richard’s decision to terminate the catering contract suggested a serious internal failure or negligence.
Of course, Richard didn’t escape criticism either. His strong statement added fuel to the fire—it demonstrated decisive leadership but also confirmed the severity of the situation. Fans were split between supporting him and questioning how such an incident could have occurred under his watch.
"Has it gone too far?" Cafu asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.
"How could it be?" Richard denied it with a shrug, before proceeding to explain the situation.
The catering service is a subsidiary under the Lee Consortium, and there’s a six-year contract. If he wants to terminate it, he’d have to pay a penalty fee of at least £300,000. And Richard, that’s something he’s definitely not willing to pay. Of course, he didn’t say this.
His explanation was simple: "Who serves fish and chips for lunch to an athlete? And then they had the audacity to provide Mars Bars as snacks? Honestly, if they’re trying to fuel athletes with that kind of food, I’m surprised we haven’t seen more of you collapsing."
"..."
Richard then turned to them. "As I said, I’ll protect you," he said firmly. "Now, you’d better repay me with better performances on the pitch. By next month, I expect to see you replicate the kind of performance you gave against Birmingham."
