Chapter 35

Rooney clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. He turned to the referee, still fuming over Nasri's earlier antics. "That was a dive! He wasn't even touched!"

The referee had no interest in arguments. Yellow card.

Rooney was about to protest again, but Giggs pulled him away. "Enough! We're already a man down. Do you want to leave us with nine?" He tightened his grip on Rooney's arm. "If you're angry, put it in the back of the net!"

Rooney glared at the celebrating Manchester City players. Then, with a sharp exhale, he smacked his right fist into his left palm.

You think only City can score? Watch this. Manchester United are not finished yet.

Despite being down to ten men, United's fresh wingers, Mahrez and Martial, launched wave after wave of attacks, forcing City's defense onto the back foot.

"United are showing fight!" the commentator shouted. "Mahrez is cutting inside… he swings it in! A looping cross to Rooney!"

Rooney leapt. Thump! His powerful header sent the ball past Joe Hart and into the net.

*OAL!

"ROONEY SCORES!!!"

The away fans erupted. The despair from earlier vanished in an instant. United were back in it only one goal away with 13 minutes to go!

On the touchline, Jin Taige clenched his fist and roared, "Good job!"

Even in the hostile Etihad, United's fans made themselves heard. Behind Taige, a particularly loud section of traveling supporters caught his attention. He turned and grinned.

"Paul, look at that."

Scholes followed his gaze and laughed. Ferran, who had been sent to the stands earlier, was now leading the United fans like a conductor, orchestrating their chants with animated gestures.

Taige smirked. "I've decided. From now on, Ferran's job is to sit with the fans and fire them up every game."

"Good idea," Scholes chuckled.

United had no choice but to attack. A loss was a loss, whether by one goal or three. They had to push forward.

But Pellegrini wasn't going to let them.

The City manager made three key substitutions:

- Micah Richards replaced the tiring Zabaleta at right-back.

- Javi García came on for the booked Yaya Touré to add defensive steel.

- Negredo was sacrificed for Džeko, bringing in fresh legs up front.

City's midfield, led by Fernandinho and Javi García, shut down United's wingers. Every time Mahrez or Martial got the ball, two City players closed them down immediately. The wide threat that had sparked United's goal was neutralized.

Jin Taige had already played all his cards. He was out of options and down a man.

And then, City struck again.

With United committing numbers forward, their defense was stretched thin. City's midfield trio kept the ball moving swiftly, forcing United's tired legs to chase shadows.

In the 84th minute, Aguero received the ball at the edge of the box. Ferdinand and Smalling closed in, determined not to let him through.

But Aguero didn't shoot. Instead, he clipped a cross to the far post.

Džeko rose above Ferdinand, outmuscling the exhausted veteran, and powered a header past De Gea.

GOAL!

3-1, City!

The Etihad erupted again.

Ferdinand lay on the ground, drained. When he tried to get up, he winced. The landing had twisted his ankle.

United's medical staff rushed over. After a quick assessment, the team doctor shook his head. "It's bad."

Taige's jaw clenched. Whenever the doctor said, "It's bad," that usually meant at least a month out. And Ferdinand, at 35, wouldn't recover as quickly as before.

Frustrated, Taige stomped on the grass and muttered, "Sh*t."

With no substitutions left, United were down to nine men.

United, desperate, still pushed forward. They refused to give up. But two players short, their defense was in ruins.

In the 88th minute, City broke away again. Javi García intercepted Rooney and launched a long ball over the top.

Aguero latched onto it.

Only Smalling stood in his way.

It wasn't enough.

Aguero dribbled past him effortlessly and slotted a calm finish past De Gea.

4-1.

Game over.

The final whistle blew. United had fought bravely, but City's extra man and superior squad depth had proved too much.

As the players walked off, Rooney punched the air in frustration. Taige, arms crossed, stared blankly at the pitch.

It was a bad loss. But worse than that he'd lost Ferdinand to injury.

And there were still so many games left in the season.

XXXX

The highly anticipated Manchester Derby ended in a resounding 4-1 victory for Manchester City.

After the match, Pellegrini was all smiles as he addressed reporters. He praised his team's attacking coordination, tactical execution, and the goal scorers. To conclude, he confidently declared:

"Before the game, I promised an exciting Manchester Derby. I delivered."

When reporters relayed these words to Jin Taige, the United manager clenched his teeth in frustration. With a mocking smile, he retorted:

"Oh? And I suppose Nasri's dive was part of the 'excitement' he promised? That was quite the performance he even fooled the referee. Before Jones was sent off, we were evenly matched, and the game was unpredictable. Even with 10 men, we fought back and nearly equalized. I'm proud of my team's fight."

Inside the dressing room, Jin Taige did not criticize anyone. He knew the loss wasn't about poor tactics, lack of effort, or even Phil Jones' red card. The real turning point had been Nasri's deception a dive that tricked the referee into sending off Jones and awarding a penalty.

From that moment, the result had been decided. The injury to Ferdinand at the very end only made things worse.

Though Taige didn't assign blame, the players sat in silence, struggling to accept such a crushing defeat at the hands of their city rivals.

The next morning, nearly every major English sports outlet dissected the derby:

- Daily Telegraph: "The Experienced Engineer Outmaneuvers the Young Tiger!"

- The Times: "A Derby Disaster, a United Waterloo!"

- The Sun (by journalist Wolf):

- "Jones' Fatal Mistake: He Could've Earned a Starting Spot, but Instead, He Killed United's Hopes."

- "United's Veterans Are Showing Their Age. Ferdinand's injury? No surprise his body can't handle elite football anymore. He should consider moving to a relegation-threatened club to see out his career."

On Sky Sports, commentator Raman smugly stated:

"I predicted this. Without Kante, United had no defensive stability. The result was inevitable."

With United's loss, the Premier League standings tightened. City extended their lead at the top to five points over second-place United. Meanwhile, Tottenham and Arsenal won their matches, closing in on United. Liverpool, Everton, and Chelsea also secured victories, leaving the race for Champions League spots wide open.

Carrington was drowning in media criticism but Jin Taige wasn't there to hear it.

That morning, he skipped training. Instead, he left Scholes in charge and drove to visit Rio Ferdinand.

After the match, Ferdinand had undergone medical tests at Carrington's training facility. The results were discouraging:

Sprained left toe. Out for at least two months.

With Vidic and Carrick already injured, this was yet another devastating blow to United's title hopes.

Lying in bed, Ferdinand chuckled as he saw Taige's grim expression.

"Boss, you look worse than me. Who's the one injured here?"

Taige scowled. "I'd rather it be my foot than yours. First Vidic, then Carrick, and now you? My Treble dreams are slipping away..."

Ferdinand sighed, staring at his swollen foot.

"I don't know what happened. It was a simple jump, but when I landed boom, injury. Maybe I'm just getting too old."

He hesitated, then said quietly:

"Boss, if injuries keep piling up like this, I might retire after the season. My contract ends this summer, and maybe that's the right time to say goodbye."

Taige's expression hardened.

"Don't talk like that. I've already decided I'm offering you a new contract. You're not done yet, Rio. I need you for my Treble."

Ferdinand was surprised. After Sir Alex Ferguson's retirement, he had expected any new manager to phase him out. But Taige still valued him.

Taige continued, "Smalling and Van Dijk still need your leadership. And especially Jones when you recover, I want you to toughen him up."

Before Ferdinand could respond, a timid voice spoke from behind.

"Boss...?"

Taige turned around. Standing there, clutching a bouquet of flowers, was Phil Jones.

Ferdinand smiled. "Phil, thanks for coming."

Taige, surprised, asked, "When did you get here?"

Jones hesitated, then admitted:

"Since the moment you said, 'My Treble dreams are slipping away.'"

"Damn, good thing I didn't say anything bad about you behind your back." He patted Phil Jones on the head. "Shouldn't you be at training?

Jones quickly replied, "It's already noon, boss. Morning training is over, so I took the time to visit."

Lowering his voice, he added, "I feel terrible about Leo's injury. If I hadn't gotten sent off, maybe things would've gone differently. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Ferdinand immediately dismissed the thought.

"Phil, don't overthink it. My injury has nothing to do with you. I just landed awkwardly—these things happen, whether you were on the pitch or not."

Jin Taige chimed in, "Exactly. You weren't to blame for the red card. It was just an unfortunate moment."

The three continued talking for a while until lunchtime approached. Ferdinand invited them to stay for a meal, but they politely declined.

As they walked away, Taige turned to Jones.

"Come on, I'm buying you lunch."

Jones hesitated. "Boss, no need. Let me treat you instead."

Taige scoffed, "What's this nonsense? You think I can't afford it? I know a great place nearby—let's go."

As they walked to the restaurant, Jones remained quiet, his head lowered like a student dreading a lecture.

Taige glanced at him. "Still thinking about yesterday?"

Jones nodded. "Yeah, Boss. It was my mistake. The team suffered because of me."

At that moment, Taige stopped walking. He turned to face Jones, his expression serious.

"Phil, I'm really disappointed in you. Do you know why?"

Jones stiffened. "Boss, I—"

Since the street was empty, Taige raised his voice.

"I don't blame you for the red card! Nasri baited you that was his trick, not your fault. What I can't accept is this self-pity. How long are you going to keep sulking?"

Jones flinched.

*"Red cards, injuries, defeats they're part of football!" Taige's tone sharpened. "If you dwell on them, you'll never improve. Instead of beating yourself up, focus on what you'll do next time. When you face a player like Nasri again, how will you handle it?"

Jones lowered his head further, his emotions swirling.

Though he looked fierce on the pitch, off the field, he was a quiet, introspective guy. He valued Taige's trust if the manager had truly given up on him, he wouldn't be standing here lecturing him like this.

Jones wanted to respond, but no words came out.

Taige sighed. "So that's it, huh? I wasted my breath..."

At that moment, his stomach let out a loud growl.

Jones finally looked up, a small smirk appearing. "Boss… I think I'll buy you lunch after all."

Taige groaned. "You really know how to kill the moment."

Despite the tense conversation, the atmosphere lightened.

At the restaurant, Taige ordered his usual meal, while Jones ever the disciplined athlete chose a healthy meal plan.

As they ate, Taige casually asked, "Since joining United, have you had many injuries?"

Jones shook his head. "Nope."

Taige raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Jones admitted, "I got injured a lot even before United."

Taige chuckled. "Figures."

Jones sighed. *"I don't get it. I feel physically fine. My joints, my ligaments everything's strong. But somehow, I keep picking up injuries."

Taige leaned forward, his tone serious.

"I've watched a lot of your old matches. Your fearless, all-out style? That's been with you since your youth days. It's admirable it shows heart, passion. That's why fans love you."

Jones nodded, but Taige wasn't done.

"But have you ever thought about how your playing style might be causing these injuries?"

Jones frowned. "I've always played this way. I don't see the problem..."

Taige grabbed his fork. Holding it loosely, he brought it close to his other hand.

"This is you right now reckless, diving into danger without thinking."

Then, he gripped his own wrist tightly, steadied his movements, and controlled the fork's approach.

"Now this? This is how you should play. Smart, calculated, efficient."

Jones watched closely.

"Football isn't just about passion it's about intelligence." Taige continued. "Take yesterday's game. In the second half, you threw yourself into a desperate block to stop Aguero's shot. The fans loved it, the team loved it. But ask yourself could you have positioned yourself better to avoid needing that reckless tackle in the first place?"

Jones slowly nodded, deep in thought.

"Work on your positioning. Improve your defensive awareness. Think before you act. That's how you protect yourself from injuries, Phil."

Taige set his fork down. "That's what I wanted to tell you today."

Jones absorbed the words, realizing their weight.

For the first time since the derby disaster, he felt something shift inside him.

A new determination.