Chapter 196: A Cautious Opening

As the match kicked off, the home team faced an opponent that had dropped deep into a defensive shape. Instead of launching an all-out attack, they patiently circulated the ball in midfield, waiting for an opening.

José watched as Manchester United deliberately slowed the tempo. For Mallorca, this was a welcome sight. Tying down a Premier League team's rhythm often worked to their advantage.

Still, they couldn't afford to be complacent. Beckham's pinpoint crosses and Van Nistelrooy's deadly finishing in the box posed a serious threat to any defense. Mallorca wasn't afraid of aerial duels—but this was different. A Beckham cross to Van Nistelrooy wasn't something that could be defended with height alone.

Van Buyten, while physically imposing, couldn't match Van Nistelrooy's movement. That's why Mallorca's captain, Nadal, was assigned to mark him—his experience would be invaluable. Van Buyten, on the other hand, played more of a supporting role, covering gaps as needed. It wasn't unfamiliar territory for him, as he had done similar work for the Belgian national team.

United's patient build-up eventually saw the ball at Beckham's feet. Kaladze immediately closed in. Everyone knew Beckham didn't need to reach the byline to deliver a dangerous cross…

Sensing the pressure, Beckham quickly laid the ball off to Gary Neville, who had overlapped on the right. United's right flank wasn't just about Beckham—his understanding with Neville made their wing play even more dangerous.

Neville, though not flashy, was an effective full-back. As he pushed forward, Capdevila stepped up to challenge. But instead of forcing a one-on-one, Neville played the ball inside to Scholes, who was arriving in support.

Scholes wasted no time—he met the pass with a first-time strike from distance. But Van Buyten was well-positioned in the box, blocking the shot with his body. The ball deflected out of the penalty area, where Motta controlled it and immediately launched a counterattack with a piercing through ball!

The ball zipped past Scholes and landed perfectly at Ronaldinho's feet.

As soon as he received it, Keane closed in aggressively from the front, while Butt lurked nearby, ready to pounce.

But Ronaldinho remained composed. He might not have been fully accustomed to Manchester's cold weather, but his ability was beyond question. Feeling Keane's pressure, he smoothly spun half a turn and flicked the ball forward with his left foot—straight into the path of the onrushing Luke!

Luke, without hesitation, touched it forward again, releasing Eto'o into space.

Mallorca's front three had developed a remarkable understanding over the past year, and it showed. In just a few sharp passes, they had transitioned from defense to attack, breaking forward at lightning speed.

Eto'o received the ball, facing just two defenders—Blanc in front of him and Johansen closing in from the side.

Against two towering center-backs, Eto'o showed no fear. With the open space of United's half ahead of him, he had no reason to worry about their physicality.

Accelerating rapidly, he pushed forward. Johansen tried to close him down from the side but couldn't apply immediate pressure.

Blanc, experienced as he was, knew better than to lunge in. If he stepped up too aggressively, he risked getting beaten for pace. Instead, he positioned himself cautiously, angling his body to shepherd Eto'o toward a less dangerous area.

With no clear path forward, Eto'o was gradually forced into a tight angle. Seeing no better option, he cut back sharply and took a shot from the edge of the box.

But under pressure from Blanc, the strike lacked power. The ball skidded along the ground straight into Barthez's waiting arms.

"Damn it, that bald guy didn't spill it," José muttered in frustration. He had hoped for one of Barthez's infamous handling errors. But he also knew that, despite occasional blunders, the Frenchman had been solid in his first season at United.

Barthez quickly rolled the ball out to restart play. Sylvestre picked it up on the left and began advancing. Ever since Irwin's retirement, United had struggled for consistency in this position, and Sylvestre was a stopgap solution at best. While he was better as a left-back than a center-back—where he was a liability—he still wasn't the ideal choice for Ferguson.

Mallorca had focused their defensive efforts on the middle of the pitch, allowing Sylvestre to advance relatively unchallenged. Only when he crossed the halfway line did García step up to meet him, while Campano stayed tight on Giggs. With no passing options available, Sylvestre decided to carry the ball forward himself.

But García wasn't one to shy away from a challenge—he was the kind of defensive midfielder who committed fouls even when he didn't need to. Seeing Sylvestre pushing forward so confidently, García charged in with a full-blooded sliding tackle!

Sylvestre barely had time to react before the crunching challenge sent both him and the ball flying out of play. The impact was so strong that even García tumbled out with him, crashing into the advertising boards.

For a brief moment, Old Trafford fell silent. Then, an explosion of boos and jeers erupted from the stands. Furious United fans hurled abuse, waving middle fingers and shouting profanities.

García, unfazed, simply got up and jogged back onto the pitch.

"Send him off!"

"Dirty player!"

Amid the outrage, the referee ran over. But instead of issuing a card or awarding a free kick, he simply warned García and signaled for a United throw-in.

He had seen it clearly—García had cleanly won the ball first, only colliding with Sylvestre afterward. By the letter of the law, it wasn't a foul. His challenge had been aggressive, but fair.

The United bench erupted in protest. Ferguson, known for his psychological warfare before games, was equally adept at pressuring referees mid-match. He raged on the sideline, demanding action.

Meanwhile, José clapped his hands in approval. "Well done, Pablo!"

His words only fueled the anger of United's fans, who responded with even louder boos. But José didn't care—if his antics riled up United's players and made them lose their composure, all the better for Mallorca.

The game restarted, but the atmosphere had changed. United's players, feeling the challenge from Mallorca's aggressive approach, were no longer willing to let them dictate the physical battle.

A few minutes later, Keane responded in kind. He charged into Ronaldinho with a shoulder barge, sending him skidding two meters across the pitch.

Kaladze immediately rushed in to confront Keane, only for Butt to step in and hold him back. The situation threatened to escalate, but the referee intervened before things got out of hand.

This early exchange set the tone—neither team would give an inch.

The game had now settled into a rhythm. United dominated possession, executing their usual pattern of attack: build through the middle, spread to the wings, then look for a central finish. Mallorca, on the other hand, played a much simpler game—win the ball and get it to their front three as quickly as possible.

Though Mallorca appeared to be on the back foot, José wasn't too concerned. In an away match like this, patience was key. Wear down the opposition, frustrate them, and wait for the right moment to strike. Even conceding a goal wouldn't be disastrous—an away goal could be far more valuable in the long run.

Giggs, receiving the ball on the left, accelerated past Campano and delivered a cross into the box. Van Nistelrooy, despite close marking from Nadal, managed to get his head on it but sent the effort over the bar.

Minutes later, he tried again, this time squeezing off a shot under pressure from Van Buyten, but Franco was well-positioned and caught it cleanly.

"Beckham's been quiet…" José mused. So far, United's attacks had primarily come through Giggs and Van Nistelrooy. It felt almost deliberate.

"Are they trying to pull our defense toward Giggs and Van Nistelrooy, only to unleash Beckham and Scholes later? Something's not right…" José narrowed his eyes, analyzing Ferguson's tactics.