1. A Second Chance
August 24, 2019, Manchester, England
The television flickered in the dim light of the Manchester United youth dormitory, casting shadows across Neil Goyal's tense face.
On the screen, Old Trafford buzzed with frustration as Crystal Palace's Patrick van Aanholt slotted a last-gasp winner past David de Gea.
Manchester United 1 - Crystal Palace 2.
The final whistle blew, and the commentator's voice droned, "A blow for United, and worse, Anthony Martial limps off with a suspected groin injury."
Neil's heart sank. He wasn't just a fan anymore: he was part of this world, a 17-year-old striker in United's youth squad, gifted a second chance at life.
In his previous life, Neil Goyal was a 23-year-old office worker in 2025, a football enthusiast who spent weekends glued to Premier League matches. He'd never kicked a ball professionally, his love for the game confined to FIFA and FM games and pub debates.
But a freak accident, a car crash on a rainy Mumbai night sent him tumbling back to 2018. When he awoke, he was inexplicably in Manchester, enrolled in United's youth academy, his body younger, fitter, and brimming with potential.
Stranger still, a translucent interface hovered in his mind: the Legendary Football System, a Football Manager-like overlay that displayed his attributes as a striker.
Mental, Physical, Technical: all stats sat at a modest 7 out of 20, except for Finishing, which glowed at 10, a "system gift" to kickstart his journey.
Neil stared at the interface now, summoned with a thought. The stats tab read:
Mental: Aggression 7, Anticipation 7, Bravery 7, Composure 7, Concentration 7, Decisions 7, Determination 7, Flair 7, Leadership 7, Off the Ball 7, Positioning 7, Teamwork 7, Vision 7, Work Rate 7
Physical: Acceleration 7, Agility 7, Balance 7, Jumping Reach 7, Natural Fitness 7, Pace 7, Stamina 7, Strength 7
Technical: Finishing 10, Corners 7, Crossing 7, Dribbling 7, First Touch 7, Free Kick Taking 7, Heading 7, Long Shots 7, Long Throws 7, Marking 7, Passing 7, Penalty Taking 7, Tackling 7, Technique 7
A single Stat Point (S.P.) blinked in the corner, earned from a youth official match last week where he'd scored a header after coming off the bench in the 75th minute.
The system awarded points for goals scored in official matches, as well as it can be rewarded for completing missions.
Neil could allocate them to boost any attribute. He hadn't decided where to invest it yet. Finishing was his strength, as the system's welcome bonus had given him 10 Finishing, but his all-around game needed work to impress the first-team coaches.
The dorm door creaked open, and his teammate, Mason Greenwood, poked his head in. "Oi, Neil, you see that? Martial's out. Boss is gonna be fuming."
Neil nodded, his mind racing. In his past life, he knew Martial's injury would sideline him for two months, forcing Ole Gunnar Solskjaer to look to the youth ranks. Greenwood had seized that chance, becoming a star. Now, Neil had a shot to rewrite history.
Neil leaned back on his bunk bed, the television's glow fading as he switched it off. The dormitory was quiet, save for the distant chatter of teammates down the hall.
His mind churned with memories of 2025—endless spreadsheets, cramped Mumbai apartments, and late-night Football Manager sessions where he'd built virtual dynasties with United.
Now, he was in the game, but the stakes were real. The Legendary Football System felt like a cheat code, yet its modest stats mocked his inexperience.
A Finishing of 10 was a start, but 7s across the board meant he was raw, unpolished. Tomorrow's training could change everything—Solskjær was coming to scout, and Neil needed to stand out.
He summoned the system again, studying the blinking S.P.
Pace could make him a threat, but Composure might keep his nerves in check. Off the Ball nagged at him—his FM knowledge told him strikers lived or died by their movement. He hesitated, closing the interface. Sleep was more urgent; he'd decide in the morning.
August 25, 2019, Carrington Training Ground
The next morning, the youth squad gathered on the dew-soaked pitches of Carrington. Neil's boots sank into the grass as he scanned the horizon, nerves tingling.
Word had spread: Solskjær was coming to scout replacements for Martial. The gaffer's philosophy of trusting youth was no secret, and with the senior team struggling after the Palace loss, he needed fresh blood.
Neil glanced at the system interface again, debating where to put his 1 Stat Point. Pace could help him outrun defenders, but Off The Ball was essential for a striker, nudging it to 8.
A subtle shift coursed through him, like an instinct clicking into place, sharpening his sense of space on the pitch. He shook his head, still unnerved by the system's power.
Focus, Neil. This is your shot.
The Carrington air was crisp, the pitches alive with the shouts of coaches and the thud of balls. Neil's teammates buzzed with nervous energy.
Brandon Williams, the tenacious full-back, was already sprinting through warm-ups, while Angel Gomes juggled a ball with effortless flair.
Neil felt like an imposter, a 23-year-old mind in a 17-year-old body, surrounded by kids who'd lived and breathed football since childhood. The system was his only edge, but it demanded performance to grow.
Solskjær arrived, his familiar boyish face set with determination. He stood beside the youth coach, Kieran McKenna, clipboard in hand.
"Right, lads," Solskjær called, his voice cutting through the morning chill. "We're short up top. Show me hunger. Show me you belong at Old Trafford." Neil's heart pounded. This was it, his chance to catch the gaffer's eye.
The practice match began, youth players split into two sides: Reds vs. Blues. Neil, playing for the Reds, lined up as a striker. He visualized runs from his FM days, plotting how to exploit gaps.
The ball came early, a long pass from Brandon Williams arcing over the midfield. His First Touch (7) faltered, the ball bobbling, and as he turned, a burly defender, Ethan Laird, muscled him off. Strength 7's not enough, Neil cursed inwardly. He needed more S.P to hold his own.
The match was frantic, end-to-end. Neil's Stamina (7) burned fast, his legs heavy by the 15th minute. He glanced at Solskjær, who watched with narrowed eyes, scribbling notes.
The system pinged:
Objective: Score in the Practice Match.
Reward: 2 S.P.
Neil gritted his teeth, determination flaring. He wasn't here to fade into the background.
A chance arrived in the 25th minute. Greenwood, on the right wing, cut inside and lofted a cross. Neil sprinted, his Off the Ball (8) guiding him to slip between two defenders.
The ball dropped, and time slowed. Composure 7. His heart raced, memories of 2025, cheering United from a Mumbai bar flashing by.
He struck the ball cleanly, his Finishing (10) shining as it rifled into the top corner. The youth squad erupted, teammates mobbing him. Solskjær nodded, scribbling faster.
Neil pushed harder. In the second half, he chased every ball, his Work Rate (7) driving him despite aching muscles. Another chance came, a loose ball in the box.
His Acceleration (7) got him there, but his Dribbling (7) let him down, the keeper smothering his shot. Frustration gnawed, but he kept moving.
In the final minutes, he latched onto a rebound, slotting it past the keeper for his second goal.
The system pinged:
Objective Complete: Score in the Practice Match. +2 S.P.
As the whistle blew, Solskjær approached, his eyes locking onto Neil. "Goyal, you've got something," he said, voice calm but piercing. "Be ready—you're training with the first team tomorrow."
Neil's breath caught, his pulse hammering.
The system flashed:
New Objective: Earn a Substitute Appearance in the Premier League.
Reward: 3 S.P.
That night, Neil lay in his bunk, the dormitory silent. The system glowed in his mind, two S.P. now unallocated. He could boost Strength to fend off defenders or Pace to blaze past them.
He closed the interface, saving the points. Tomorrow, he'd face Rashford, Pogba, and the first team. A 17-year-old nobody with a second chance, Neil Goyal was ready to carve his name into United's legacy, one goal at a time.