NOVPUB
Chapter 143: Prior to the Decisive Game
The atmosphere surrounding Manchester City reached a fever pitch as the season approached its conclusion. City overtook the Bees at the top of the Second Division, becoming the talk of local fans in recent days.
Rumors are also swirling around Manchester City.
The problem is that the rumors aren’t about how City set a record with an impossible 16-match winning streak, but rather about several of their key players becoming targets for other clubs.
Second Division Table:
1. Manchester City – 83 Points
2. Brentford – 82 Points
3. Bristol Rovers – 79 Points
4. Birmingham City – 77 Points
5. Wycombe Wanderers – 76 Points
6. Blackpool – 75 Points
7. Bradford City – 74 Points
Amid media speculation, O’Neill urged the players to stay silent and focus solely on the upcoming match.
During this period, no one on the team gave interviews, met with fans, or engaged in any media-related activities.
In City’s locker room, O’Neill stood before his players, flanked by John Robertson (Assistant), Steve Walford (Coach), and Terry Gennoe (GK Coach).
The tension was palpable, a heavy silence draped over the room as the team prepared for what could be their final match together.
O’Neill’s gaze swept across the players, and his voice carried a rare softness as he began to speak.
"I know many of you are conflicted right now," he said, pausing to let the words sink in. "Despite our unbeaten streak since March, the situation here hasn’t improved."
The players were confused. That was a very strange opening. What did he mean by ’the situation here hasn’t improved’?
"And I know some of you are already in contact with other clubs," O’Neill continued, his tone calm but direct. "Premier League clubs, First Division, or even clubs beyond England."
Some players winced, and a wave of murmurs rippled through the locker room. O’Neill raised a hand to quiet them.
"Don’t worry," he said, offering a faint smile. "I don’t blame you. How could I? Premier League, First Division, and Second Division. Even if we get promoted, so what? There’s still another season ahead, and I can’t ask you to gamble your future on this club when even I can’t be certain of mine next season."
"..."
The room froze. Players stared at O’Neill in stunned silence, and even Robertson, Walford, and Gennoe exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief.
O’Neill admitting uncertainty about his own future was something none of them had expected, but he didn’t let their minds wander.
"You heard me," O’Neill said, acknowledging their reactions. "I’ve always believed in being honest with you, and this is no different. This club has given us a platform to show the world what we’re capable of, but we all know its struggles run deep. No one can fault you for looking for stability—players like you deserve it."
The weight of his words hung in the air. O’Neill’s admission was raw, unvarnished, and it struck a chord with the players. He could see it in their eyes: a mixture of gratitude, respect, and a hint of sadness.
"But that doesn’t mean we give up now," he said, his voice firm, his gaze sharp. "We’ve fought together through every challenge this season. We’ve built something special here, and for those of you who’ve decided to move on, think of this: what better way to leave than on a high note? Promotion to the First Division isn’t just a gift to the club—it’s a statement. It shows your determination, your professionalism, and your ability to thrive under pressure. It gives you more bargaining power wherever you go next."
O’Neill looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each player.
"I’m not asking you to stay," he continued. "That’s not realistic, and it’s not fair. But I am asking you to give everything you’ve got, not for the management, not even for me—but for the fans who’ve supported you since the beginning of the season. They deserve to see you at your best, one last time."
The room remained silent, but the atmosphere shifted. The players, while still uncertain about their futures, seemed more focused, more motivated.
"Yeah, there’s still one match left, and everything is on the line."
"So..."
BANG!
O’Neill practically slammed the tactical board as it nearly broke from the force.
"We can’t be careless—not now! Just one match, that’s all it takes, and everything we’ve worked for could vanish. One mistake and it’s over. That’s why we need to be sharper, more focused, more united than ever. We can’t afford to lose. Not this game. Not now!"
The task ahead was monumental, but for one last time, they would step onto the pitch together as a team, determined to give their all.
Final Fixture 46: Manchester City vs Rotherham United
Richard stood in the parking lot outside Maine Road, the morning rain clinging to the air with a damp chill that did little to calm his nerves.
His eyes scanned the rows of vehicles until he finally spotted it—a familiar, slightly weathered Rover 100, its dull paint glinting faintly under the gray sky. The license plate was instantly recognizable.
The car rolled into a designated parking spot and came to a gentle stop. A moment later, the door opened.
Anna Maddox stepped out, her face lighting up the instant she saw her son.
"Richard!" she called, her voice full of warmth.
"Mom!" he replied, already moving toward her.
He pulled her into a tight embrace, and for a brief moment, the weight of the day lifted. In his mother’s arms, everything felt a little steadier.
Then came Bryan Maddox, his father, climbing out from the passenger side with the familiar swagger of a man who had seen his share of stadiums.
"So this is the famous Maine Road, huh?" Bryan said, giving Richard a hearty slap on the shoulder. "Not bad. Reminds me of Old Trafford back in the day."
Richard’s mouth twitched at the comment. He’d briefly considered hugging his father too—but now, he thought better of it. n𝚘𝚟pub.𝚌o𝚖
After his father and mother, finally his brother, the new Maddox Entertainment CEO, stepped out of the car. Richard was about to greet him when he noticed Harry wasn’t alone.
"Harry, this is...?" Richard asked, taken aback, staring at the woman Harry was holding by the arm.
Harry cleared his throat, trying to remain calm. "Let me introduce you, Richard. This is your future sister-in-law. We’ve already planned the wedding—"
"FUCK—"
"RICHARD, LANGUAGE!!!"
Richard winced at his mother’s sudden rebuke, realizing how loud he had been. He quickly apologized, then pulled Harry aside, his eyes wide with disbelief. "So fast? Where did you meet her? I barely know about this."
Harry awkwardly coughed, his face reddening. "Richard, you’ve been so busy selling football tickets lately that you didn’t notice what was going on with your own brother—"
"Alright, enough with that. A few months ago, we barely even spoke at the meeting, and now you’re telling me you’re getting married? Don’t bullshit me. Tell me exactly what happened. How did I not know about this? You didn’t tell Mom or Dad, either!"
Harry let out a long sigh, clearly regretting the situation. He rubbed the back of his neck, carefully avoiding eye contact with Richard. "I know, I know—it’s all happening pretty fast. But... promise me you won’t tell Mom and Dad yet, alright?" He glanced around nervously, as if expecting someone to overhear. "She’s my girlfriend from Oxford and... well, sometimes things just... happen."
"What do you mean?
Harry’s face turned red, his breath uneven. "You know how it is—things get complicated when you’re trying to keep it all under wraps."
Richard frowned, unimpressed. "Complicated? I think you—"
He stopped mid-sentence, jaw nearly hitting the ground as realization dawned on him.
Harry sighed again, looking genuinely remorseful. "Look, I didn’t want to make it a big deal. But we’re serious about each other, okay? I just didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad yet because... well, we both know how they’ll react. So... we’re planning to get married as soon as possible. To, you know... cover everything up."
"You’re a bloody—"
"Harry! Richard! What are you two doing?"
The sudden voice sent a chill down both their spines. They turned around quickly to see their mother walking toward them.
"Just talking, Mom!" Richard said, forcing a smile as Harry nodded innocently beside him.
"We’ll talk later!" Richard whispered, nudging him as they entered Maine Road.
Soon people also arrive at Marine Road and they are all acquaintance of Richard.
Fay Loan (CEO of Maddox Auto), Alan Mulally (CEO of Rover Group), Stuart Olm (CEO of Maddox Property), and the special VIP guests he invited—Joanne Rowling and her daughter Jessica, Ric Turner (owner of the Bluemoon-MCFC website), and especially Dr. Mark Waller, the former Sheffield Wednesday doctor who saved his life after he banged his head on the goalpost so hard it nearly killed him. (Chapter 2: Force Retirement)
As soon as Richard spotted Dr. Waller in the crowd, he didn’t hesitate. With a wide smile and eyes already misting, he moved forward and wrapped the man in a firm, grateful hug.
"Dr. Waller," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Dr. Waller, now the Dean of the Medical School at the University of Manchester, chuckled warmly and patted Richard’s back. "You gave us all quite a scare that day. But seeing you now—thriving, leading—makes every second worth it."
"Haha, still, I owe you more than I can ever repay. That goalpost nearly ended everything. And now... well, look at this." He gestured around the stadium. "One more match. One more shot."
Dr. Waller smiled. "Then make it count."
"Of course," Richard said decisively.
Maine Road was full of noise. 25,000 fans had packed the stadium, their chants echoing through the stands like a tidal wave of emotion.
Oasis songwriter Noel Gallagher, known as a die-hard Manchester City fan, was spotted in the stands just before kick-off, wearing sunglasses and a serious expression on his face.
"And would you look at that, folks—we’ve got rock royalty in the house! Noel Gallagher, frontman of Oasis and lifelong City fan, is here with us today!"
The camera cut to Noel, who gave a relaxed wave as the commentator approached for a quick on-the-spot interview.
"Noel, great to see you! What are you most looking forward to about today’s match?"
"Well, first of all, I’m hoping City don’t bottle it. But honestly, if they pull it off and win promotion today..." He paused. "Let’s just say Oasis might be signing a contract with Maddox Entertainment sooner than expected."
The crowd roared, the commentator let out a stunned laugh, and people instantly lit up with speculation.
"You heard it here first, folks! Not just promotion on the line—possibly the return of Oasis, courtesy of Maddox Entertainment!"
Hearing this, Richard was taken aback. He turned to eye his brother, who simply grinned and gave a nod.
In the locker room, the tension was palpable, but O’Neill’s focus was sharp. "Their main threat today," he said, "comes from two players: Desmond Hazel and Imre Váradi. They’ve been in great form."
If they lose and Brentford wins, then mathematically, they will have to compete in the playoffs, which will shorten their vacation and make everything uncertain once again.
Everything they’ve worked for up until now, including their 16-match winning streak, will be in vain. And if things come to the worst, he warned them, another season in such a lowly league would be disastrous, not only in financial terms for the club but also for him and their careers as players.
The players nodded, each one steeling themselves for the battle ahead. There was no time to relax or second-guess; they had to be sharp, focused, and disciplined.
"Let’s make this count, lads," O’Neill concluded. "This is our moment. Let’s do it for the team, for the club, and for your futures."
The players stood a little taller now, ready to face the challenge that awaited them on the pitch.
PHWEEE!
A long whistle signaled the start of the first half.
Rotherham, as always, aimed to make an early impact, hoping to catch City off guard by attacking their early-season weaknesses: the midfield. However, they quickly realized their forwards were visibly dispirited, struggling to get any momentum in their attacks.
Their attempts at playing through balls were consistently thwarted by Gallas, who read the game brilliantly.
With no other choice, they reverted to their old style and started playing long balls. Yet, when faced with the towering presence of Campbell, they found it just as difficult to gain any ground in aerial duels, with Ferdinand always ready to back him up.
10th Minute: Rotherham attacking player on the left flank readied himself to deliver a high ball into the box but instead opted for a low cross.
Unfortunately, in his attempt to break through, he was intercepted by Roberto Carlos, who quickly sent the ball to Ronaldo.
Before anyone could react, a swift tackle from behind sent Ronaldo sprawling to the ground. The crowd gasped in unison as the referee’s whistle pierced the air.
O’Neill, seething with outrage, stormed to the edge of the technical area and shouted toward the pitch, "What the hell was that? That was a clear foul! Damn it—call the foul!"
Ronaldo lay there for a moment, dazed and clutching his knee.
When Richard saw it, he stood up instantly.
