As Woodward set his phone down, Tiger King leaned forward, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Who's Hall?" he asked.
Woodward smirked. "A reporter from the Manchester Evening News—big United fan. He's been trying to land an exclusive interview with you for a while now, but I kept postponing it. Back then, we were busy with the Asia tour, but now? Now we need him just as much as he needs us."
Tiger frowned slightly. "The Manchester Evening News? Isn't that a bit… small-time?"
Woodward immediately shook his head. "No, no, you've got the wrong idea. Sure, it's not one of England's 'Big Three' newspapers, but in the world of sports journalism, it's highly respected. Their coverage is top-tier, and their readership isn't just local—it's one of the most widely read sports papers in the country. Most importantly, they're basically our unofficial mouthpiece. A lot of club news gets out through them first."
Tiger nodded, now reassured. "Alright. Let's meet him this afternoon."
The rest of the morning, Tiger spent his time preparing for the interview, carefully considering what to say. He wanted to send the right message—not just to the fans, but to the players as well. The hours slipped by, and soon, Woodward returned to his office, accompanied by a young man.
"Hello, Mr. Woodward," the young reporter greeted excitedly. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."
Woodward chuckled. "Not at all, Hall. I told you I'd keep it in mind, didn't I? We just got back from Asia yesterday, and today, here we are."
"Much appreciated," Hall replied, smiling. "Oh, and congratulations on officially taking over as CEO."
Woodward waved it off. "Everything I do is for the good of the club. But never mind me—your real target is right here." He gestured toward Tiger. "I'll leave you two to talk. I need a break."
Tiger had caught that mention of "taking over as CEO" and was about to ask Woodward about it, but before he could, Hall extended his hand.
"Tiger, sir. It's an honor. I'm Hall, from Manchester Evening News."
Tiger set aside his curiosity and took Hall's hand firmly. The young reporter, dressed in a crisp suit with gold-rimmed glasses, had the refined air of a British gentleman.
"Good to meet you, Hall. And drop the formalities—just call me Tiger. We're all on the same side here."
Hall was slightly taken aback. It wasn't often that managers, especially those in charge of a club as massive as Manchester United, were this relaxed and approachable.
They took their seats, and Hall immediately pulled a small voice recorder from his bag, setting it on the table. He was meticulous, checking his notes, making sure everything was in place before the interview began.
Tiger, watching his careful preparation, suddenly picked up a newspaper, rolled it into a makeshift microphone, and held it to Hall's mouth.
"Sir," he said in a deep, mock-serious voice, "you have the right to remain silent. But anything you say can and will be used as testimony."
Hall blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing. "Tiger, I think you missed your true calling—you should've been a comedian!"
Woodward, still lingering by the door, chuckled as well. If this coaching thing doesn't work out, at least he's got a future in entertainment, he mused.
Tiger grinned, setting the paper aside. "Relax, Hall. Don't think of this as an interview—just a casual chat between friends."
Hall gave an exaggerated sigh. "You know, usually, I'm the one trying to put interviewees at ease, not the other way around."
With the ice broken, the conversation flowed easily. Hall asked about team building, transfer strategies, and the overall vision for the squad. Tiger answered smoothly, but he was careful—his words were measured, diplomatic. He spoke highly of his players, praised the squad's depth, and expressed his admiration for the foundation left behind by Sir Alex Ferguson.
But Hall, an experienced journalist despite his young age, could sense it—Tiger wasn't giving anything away. No juicy exclusives, no controversial statements, nothing that could be twisted into a scandalous headline. Just polished, professional responses.
Woodward, listening from the side, was impressed. Comedian, lawyer, diplomat—what else is he hiding?
The interview stretched on for two hours. Two hours of Tiger showering his squad with praise. Two hours of Hall subtly trying to dig deeper. And two hours of Tiger expertly sidestepping anything that could be misinterpreted.
Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hall asked his final question. "Mr. Tiger, what's your goal for the upcoming season?"
Tiger glanced toward the window, where the golden hues of the sunset bathed the room in light. He turned back, a confident smile playing on his lips.
"In the next season," he said, his voice firm, "my goal is to win the Triple Crown."
Hall's eyes widened slightly. He had expected something ambitious, but this?
Tiger leaned forward slightly, the conviction in his expression undeniable.
"Write it down, Hall," he said. "Because I mean every word."
When Hall stepped out of the Carrington training base, he was still spinning quickly in his mind, thinking about what Tiger King had just said. He looked back at Tiger King's office that he had just walked out of. Although he was far away, Hall seemed to see the young face again, cheerful and friendly, firm and confident.
Hall came to the parking lot, got into his little broken car, stepped on the accelerator, and headed straight for the newspaper. He can already imagine that the Manchester Evening News tomorrow will definitely increase sales.
The next morning, the streets of Manchester buzzed with excitement as newspapers landed on doorsteps, newsstands, and café tables. The bold, unmistakable headline of the Manchester Evening News stood out among the rest:
"GOAL: TRIPLE CROWN!"
In coffee shops and pubs, fans gathered, pointing at the paper, discussing, debating. Some were electrified by the ambition, others skeptical—but no one could ignore it.
At Carrington, Tiger King sat in his office, a copy of the paper in hand. The photograph accompanying the article captured him in the golden light of sunset, eyes determined, jaw set with conviction.
Woodward entered, smirking as he tossed another copy onto the desk. "Well, Tiger, you've certainly got everyone's attention now."
Tiger leaned back, a confident smile playing on his lips. "Good. Now it's time to prove I mean it."