The morning after the hard-fought draw against Chelsea, Tiger King made his way to Manchester United's training ground. The air was crisp, the sun peeking through the clouds, but the place was eerily empty. His coaching staff—Scholes, Phelan, Steele, and the rest—had been given the day off, a well-deserved break after the grueling encounter at Old Trafford.
The only ones present were Connie, the administrator, buried in paperwork, and Thor, the watchman at the gate, giving his usual nod of acknowledgment as Tiger King entered. The silence was a stark contrast to the usual hustle and bustle, yet it suited him. He needed the solitude to think.
His next challenge loomed large—Liverpool at Anfield on August 31st. It wasn't just any match; it was a battle that carried personal stakes. It would be his first time facing Brendan Rodgers, the man he had mocked at the FA reception where Sir Alex Ferguson was honored with a lifetime achievement award. That night, Tiger King had arrogantly declared that he would defeat Rodgers' Liverpool twice in the season. And if he failed? He had made a reckless bet—he would jump off Tower Bridge into the Thames.
The media had latched onto it like wolves to fresh meat. Every sports page on his desk screamed headlines about his bold claim. Pundits debated his chances, some mocking, others intrigued. Fans speculated, rivals jeered. The pressure was mounting. But that wasn't what weighed on him the most.
No, what troubled him was the feeling that those words hadn't entirely been his own. It was as if Tiger King's subconscious, the deeply ingrained passion for Manchester United, the burning hatred for Liverpool, had taken over. Since stepping into this role, he had felt the weight of his predecessor's emotions. The legacy of United coursed through his veins, and with it, the absolute need to triumph over Liverpool.
Liverpool was no ordinary opponent. Under Rodgers, they were evolving. The man had struggled in his debut season, barely dragging the team out of mediocrity. But Tiger King knew better than to underestimate him. In the near future, Rodgers would transform Liverpool into title contenders, deploying fast, technical football built on possession and relentless attacking movement. He had brought in young talents like Sterling, while the additions of Sturridge and Coutinho had strengthened their firepower.
Tiger King had spent the previous night watching replays of Liverpool's recent matches. He studied their patterns—how they built from the back, their high pressing, the way Gerrard dictated play from midfield. He saw the danger in their attack but also the cracks in their defense. Their fullbacks pushed high, leaving space for counters. Their center-backs, while competent, could be exposed by quick movement and clinical finishing. These were the areas Manchester United had to exploit.
Yet, despite his public disdain, Tiger King respected Rodgers. The man was building something formidable. And that made this upcoming clash even more critical. If Liverpool were truly on the rise, Manchester United had to crush their momentum before it even began.
Sitting in his office, Tiger King poured over Liverpool's tactics, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses. He scribbled notes, drawing up potential counter-strategies. The partnership of Van Dijk and Ferdinand would have to neutralize Liverpool's speed up front. Kanté's energy in midfield would be key in disrupting their passing flow. Rooney, Van Persie, and Giggs would need to exploit the spaces left behind by Rodgers' high-pressing style.
By noon, his desk was littered with tactical blueprints and notes. He had dissected every possible scenario, every potential threat. The battle plan was forming in his mind. But the war would be fought on the pitch.
Satisfied with the morning's work, Tiger King finally leaned back in his chair. His mind was still racing, but there was no point in overloading himself. The fight at Anfield was just days away. For now, he would take a step back.
For the first time that day, he allowed himself a smile. He had given the players a day off, and now, he would do the same for himself. He had a family waiting for him at home—his wife Victoria, his son David, and his daughter Alexa. For the next few hours, he would step away from the battle plans and simply be a husband and father.
Because come August 31st, there would be no room for distractions. The war against Liverpool was about to begin.
In the afternoon, Tiger King relished a rare moment of peace with his family. He played a game of hide and seek with David, who giggled uncontrollably every time he was "found" behind the couch. Alexa, ever the strategist, tried to outmaneuver him in a board game, her competitive streak on full display. Meanwhile, Victoria watched them with a smile, occasionally joining in to tease Tiger King when he "lost" on purpose to make the children happy. The house was filled with laughter, a welcome contrast to the tension of the football battlefield. For a few precious hours, he was not the manager of Manchester United—he was simply a husband and a father, cherishing the warmth of home.
After dinner, the playful war continued. Tiger King found himself holding an Iron Man figure, locked in a fierce battle against his daughter's Black Widow action figure. Victoria sat beside him, laughing at their over-the-top dramatics, while David eagerly cheered for his dad. Just as Tiger King was about to declare victory, his phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID—Phelan.
Tiger King smirked, answering the call with a chuckle. "Phelan, your timing is terrible. I was just about to defeat Victoria with my Iron Man."
Phelan's voice was urgent as he interrupted Tiger from talking more nonsense and got straight to the point "Tiger, turn on the TV—Fox Entertainment and Sports Channel 2. They're talking about you right now!"
"Oh? Really?" Tiger King responded, intrigued. He hung up and quickly grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels in search of the broadcast.
Unlike the professional analysis on Sky Sports or England Sports One, Fox Entertainment and Sports Channel 2 was known more for sensational news, gossip, and off-field controversies. If not for Phelan's call, he wouldn't have even considered tuning in.
As the channel loaded, the image on the screen made him freeze.
It was him.