Chapter 16 – After the Storm

September 19, 2012 Location: Carrington Training Ground – Manchester United

The buzz hadn't died.

If anything, it had gotten louder.

By morning, Alex's name had crawled up the club's trending topics. Clips of his assist and goal were circulating online, drawing comparisons to a young Rooney or even Kagawa himself.

He tried not to look.

He really did.

But when Rio Ferdinand reposted the assist with a caption that read, "Eyes up, weight perfect. Real football brain. #ProperTalent" — it became impossible not to grin.

Early Morning at Carrington

Carrington at 8:00 AM was a different beast. The air was still cool, and the fields misted over like a dreamscape.

Alex arrived early. Showered. Hair slicked back. Kit sharp. Every part of him on alert.

"Gaffer wants a word."

The sentence echoed in his head all night.

When he finally reached Sir Alex's office, he hesitated just a moment before knocking.

"Come in."

Inside Sir Alex's Office – Carrington, 8:15 AM

The moment Alex stepped in, he was hit by the smell — old books, leather, and a faint lingering of peppermint.

Sir Alex Ferguson sat behind his desk, half-moon glasses low on his nose, flipping through a printed match report with a red pen in hand. The office walls were covered with photos, medals, and trophies — reminders of a legacy too massive to comprehend.

The room felt like a museum and a throne room all at once.

Sir Alex didn't look up right away.

"Close the door," he said, voice low but firm.

Alex complied, gently pushing it shut behind him. For a second, he stood there in silence, unsure whether to move or speak.

Finally, the legendary manager looked up. His eyes were tired but sharp — piercing, like they saw not just who you were, but what you could become. Eyes that coach and develop young talents into legends. Like Cristiano Ronaldo, David Beckham and countless other throughout 2 decades. 

"You nervous, lad?"

Alex swallowed. "A bit, sir."

"Good. You should be."

He tapped the paper on his desk, underlining something.

"You played eighty five minutes in the last match. One assist. One goal. Sixteen touches. Four misplaced passes — two of them risky, the other two lazy. Caught offside once."

Alex's shoulders stiffened slightly. "Yes, sir."

"But," Sir Alex continued, eyes never leaving him, "you tracked back twice to cover for the full-back. You didn't hide after losing the ball. You were brave. And your movement off the ball — that's something we don't see often from academy lads."

Alex blinked, trying to remain composed. "Thank you, sir."

Sir Alex leaned back in his chair, fingers cross over.

"You're from Wythenshawe, yeah?"

"Yes, sir. Born and raised."

The manager smiled, just slightly. "I know the place. Back then, football was bricks and bruises. We kicked balls in alleyways with bins for goals. No GPS vests or protein shakes — just grit."

He paused.

"You've got that grit."

A warmth spread in Alex's chest — pride, disbelief, something powerful.

"But hear me now," Sir Alex said, voice firming like steel. "One good performance does not make a career. You've made a spark. Good. Now you've got to set a fire. Do it consistently. That's what makes a United player."

Alex straightened, eyes focused.

"I'm ready to do whatever it takes, sir."

Sir Alex studied him for a long moment long enough to make Alex feel exposed. 

Then he nodded, quietly satisfied.

"You'll train with the senior squad this week. Impress them. Learn fast. Rooney, Scholes, Rio — you won't get better teachers than them."

He stood up, extending a hand. Alex shook it — firm, but not forced.

"One more thing," Sir Alex added, as Alex turned to leave. "When you play for this club, you don't just play for trophies. You play for your teammates, your family, yourself and most importantly the fans that pay their hard earned money to watch you play on the pitch. You play for something bigger. You carry the badge. You carry the weight. Don't forget that."

Alex nodded once more, the words sinking deep into his bones.

"Yes, sir. I won't."

Down at the Training Ground

By 10:00 AM, the first-team squad was out on the pitch. Rooney, Evra, Carrick, Cleverley, and even Giggs were there. The tempo was higher. Passes zipped. Tackles came sharper. Banter louder.

Alex tried not to look overwhelmed.

"Oi," Rooney called, slapping his back. "Look who decided to join the big boys."

Evra smirked. "You're the kid who made Anderson look good, eh?"

"Twice," Rooney muttered.

They laughed.

Sir Alex wasn't present for this session — it was Rene Meulensteen leading the drills, but the tone remained serious.

Training Sequence: Tempo and Technique

The team broke into rondos — tight spaces, two-touch limits.

Alex ended up in a square with Scholes, Carrick, Valencia, and Welbeck. The ball pinged around fast. Scholes barely moved his feet but never lost control. His touch was absurd — weightless, elegant, and viciously fast.

Alex got caught twice. But the third time, he read Scholes's shoulder drop and intercepted, flicking a no-look return pass to Carrick.

System Notification:

Vision +2%

Mentorship Opportunity – Scholes Path Available

Later, they worked on finishing drills. One-touch lay-offs, rapid turns, first-time shots.

Rooney partnered with Alex. In one drill, he played a looping ball with his left foot over two cones — Alex took it on the half-volley and rifled it bottom corner.

"Not bad," Rooney muttered. "Bit of polish and you'll be dangerous."

Mentorship Progress – Rooney: 21%

Back at the U21 Camp

After the first-team session, Alex returned to the U21 setup for tactical review. Coach Warren Joyce had watched the senior match three times.

"Let me make one thing clear," Joyce said in the briefing room. "You weren't lucky."

He clicked the remote. Up came a freeze-frame of Alex's dummy run.

"This? That's awareness. That's football IQ."

Then a still of his goal.

"This? Cold. You didn't snatch. You waited. That's the difference between a youth player and a man."

Curtis sat in the back corner, quiet.

The room applauded lightly. It wasn't loud, but it was honest. Alex caught Tyler's nod. Even Curtis gave a slow clap.

Later That Night – The Family

Home felt warmer.

His mum had printed every article. The MEN, the Guardian, even a dodgy blog with an MS Paint header that read "RedDevilDreams".

His dad didn't say much — just pointed to the TV where MUTV was replaying the highlights again.

"You did it," he said. "But now you've got to do it again. And again. That's what differentiate a good player and the best. That's the difference."

Alex nodded.

His older brother sat quietly on the couch, legs crossed. Then tossed him a can of Coke.

"You looked taller on TV."

At Midnight – One New Message

Just as Alex lay in bed, still in partial disbelief, his phone buzzed.

Wayne Rooney:

Heard the Gaffer pulled you into his office.

Don't blow it.

Train like it's a final.

And next time — look up. I was open.

Alex laughed aloud.

Then typed back:

Alex:

Was trying to build tension. You're welcome.

System Notification – Weekly Progress Report

Club Reputation: +4

Mentorship Path (Rooney): 21%

Mentorship Path (Scholes – New): 2%

Trait Progress:

Composure: 63/100

Vision: 19/100

Strength: 8/100

Skill Tree Unlocked: "Matchday Aura"(You now gain a small charisma bonus in media and fan events following strong match performances.)

100 Stones = 1 bonus chapter