The morning air was crisp as Tiger King made his way to Carrington. The training ground was empty today—he had given the players two days off after their grueling pre-season tour in Japan. The long flights, packed schedule, and intense matches had taken a toll, and rest was essential. But while the players recuperated, Tiger had work to do.
Today, he had a meeting with Woodward. It wasn't just a casual check-in; Tiger had a purpose. A storm was brewing in the media, and he wasn't about to sit back and let it consume his team.
Reaching his office, he settled onto the leather couch and poured himself a glass of warm water. As he took a sip, he recalled something Sir Alex Ferguson had once told him: "If you're thirsty, drink warm water. It's not exciting, but it gets the job done."
That phrase stuck with him. Manchester United didn't need to play the flashiest football right now. They didn't need headlines or praise. They needed results—direct, simple, undeniable victories.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Tiger, what's so urgent?" Woodward stepped inside, raising an eyebrow as he took in the scene. Stacks of newspapers were spread across the table, each one marked up in red ink.
"Sit down," Tiger said, gesturing toward the papers.
Woodward picked one up at random and scanned the bold headlines. He didn't need to read further—everywhere he looked, there were criticisms, doubts, and outright mockery aimed at Manchester United and Tiger King himself. Some called him inexperienced, others claimed the club had no direction under his management. A few even suggested he'd be back coaching the youth team before the season was over.
Woodward let out a low whistle. "Well… you're making headlines, that's for sure."
Tiger leaned forward, his gaze intense. "I didn't call you here just to complain, Ed. I need your help. We can't sit back and let them run us into the ground. I've decided—it's time to fight back."
Woodward raised his hands in mock surrender. "Listen, mate, I'd love to help, but I don't exactly have connections with the Razor Party. Can't have them handling these journalists for you."
Tiger let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Do I look like the kind of guy who resorts to that?"
Woodward smirked. "Well, with that expression just now… yeah, maybe a little."
Tiger exhaled, composing himself. Then his voice turned serious again. "When we were in Japan, I noticed something that worried me, Ed. It wasn't just the results—yes, we drew one match and lost another, but that's not what got to me. It was the attitude. Some of the players walked off the pitch without a care in the world. No frustration. No anger. No hunger."
Woodward listened intently as Tiger stood up, walking toward the window. The training ground lay empty before him, but in his mind, he was back on the touchline, watching his team.
"If we allow that kind of mentality to settle in," Tiger continued, "then this club's identity will disappear. Manchester United has always been about resilience, about fighting until the final whistle. If some players don't feel that, they shouldn't be here."
He turned suddenly, his voice rising. "I won't allow this team to become complacent. I won't let those journalists chip away at our confidence either. If the players read this garbage, they'll start believing it. And that's dangerous."
Woodward tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. "So… you want to boost morale. Something to remind them who they're playing for."
"Exactly." Tiger sat back down, locking eyes with him. "We need to shift the narrative. I want something powerful. Something that reminds every single player in that dressing room what it means to wear this badge."
A slow grin spread across Woodward's face. "Alright. You want a response? Let's give them one."
He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The call connected almost instantly.
"Hello, Mr. Hall. The arrangement we discussed? It's a go. If you're available, come see me this afternoon."
Tiger watched as Woodward ended the call, intrigued.
"So," he said, leaning forward, "what exactly do you have planned?"
Woodward's smirk widened. "You'll see."
Whatever it was, Tiger knew one thing for certain—Manchester United wasn't going to sit back and take the hits anymore. The fightback started now.