CHAPTER 132: CRACK IN THE ARMOR

The joy of the new contracts did not last long.

In football happiness is a cloud. It floats away as soon as the wind changes.

And the wind changed on Saturday.

Chelsea were the visitors at the Fortress. They had spent more money on fullbacks than Barnsley had spent in their entire history.

But Barnsley were not scared. They were fourth in the league. They were rich. They had the Misfits.

Michael Sterling stood in the dugout. The rain was falling hard. It was proper Yorkshire weather.

"They look soft Boss," Arthur Milton said rubbing his hands together. "Look at their gloves. They are freezing."

"Be careful Arthur," Michael warned. "Soft players can still score goals. Sterling and Mudryk are fast. Palmer is dangerous."

KICKOFF

Moises Caicedo was shadowing Kai Sora everywhere.

"He is annoying," Kai complained to the referee. "He is stepping on my new shoes. They are white. Now they are muddy."

"Play on!" the referee shouted.

Minute 30.

The game was tied at zero to zero.

Barnsley were struggling to find rhythm. Kenji Sato was running hard but he was chasing ghosts. Chelsea kept the ball well.

Then came the moment that changed everything.

Chelsea broke on the counter attack.

Nicolas Jackson the Chelsea striker sprinted towards the goal. He was fast. He was powerful.

Diego Nunez ran to meet him. The Bull versus the Jackson.

Diego slid. It was a trademark tackle. He won the ball cleanly. The crowd roared.

CRUNCH

But Diego did not stand up.

Usually Diego Nunez bounced up from tackles like he was made of rubber. Usually he roared at the striker.

This time he lay on the grass. He held his knee. He was not roaring.

He was screaming.

The sound cut through the noise of the stadium. It was a sound of pure pain.

Michael felt his heart stop. He ran to the touchline.

"MEDIC!" Michael screamed. "GET ON THE PITCH!"

The physios sprinted on. The Barnsley players gathered around Diego.

Isaiah King looked terrified. He put his hands on his head. "Get up Diego! Please get up!"

Shaun Higgins looked pale. The Butcher looked like he had seen a ghost.

Diego did not get up.

The stretcher came out.

The stadium went silent. Twenty five thousand people held their breath.

Diego Nunez was lifted onto the stretcher. He covered his face with his massive hands. He was crying.

The Bull was crying.

"Oh no," Arthur whispered. "This is bad. This is very bad."

As Diego was carried off the fans clapped. But it was a sad applause. It felt like a funeral.

Michael patted Diego on the shoulder as he went past.

"We will fix you," Michael promised. "You will be back."

Diego did not answer.

The game continued. But the spirit was gone.

Higgins tried to defend alone. But without his partner he looked lost.

Minute 80.

Cole Palmer scored for Chelsea. A simple tap in.

Barnsley 0. Chelsea 1.

The Fortress had fallen. But nobody cared about the score. They only cared about the knee of Diego Nunez.

Sunday morning.

The headlines were brutal.

THE BULL IS BROKEN: BARNSLEY DEFENSE CRUMBLES WITHOUT NUNEZ

SEASON OVER? TYKES LOSE THEIR IRON WALL

Michael sat in the hospital waiting room. He had been there all night. He drank terrible coffee from a vending machine.

The doctor walked out. He looked tired.

"Mr Sterling?"

"Yes," Michael stood up. "How is he?"

"It is a torn ligament," the doctor said. "Not the ACL thankfully. But the MCL. It is a severe tear."

"How long?" Michael asked. The words felt heavy in his mouth.

"Three months," the doctor said. "Maybe four if recovery is slow. He will not play again until Christmas."

Three months.

Michael sank into the chair.

Three months without the Enforcer. Three months of Higgins trying to defend against Haaland and Son and Watkins alone.

"Can I see him?" Michael asked.

"He is awake," the doctor said. "But he is... unhappy."

Michael walked into the room.

Diego Nunez was lying in the bed. His leg was in a cast. He looked small. It was strange to see a giant look small.

He was watching cartoons on the TV.

"Boss," Diego grunted. He did not look at Michael.

"Hello Diego," Michael said sitting by the bed. "The doctor said three months."

"Three months," Diego repeated. He clenched his fist. "I will get fat. My mother will feed me too much. I will become a circle."

"You will not get fat," Michael said sternly. "You will work. You will do upper body training. You will come to tactical meetings. You are still a part of this team Diego. You are still the Bull."

Diego looked at his leg. "A bull with three legs is hamburger meat Boss."

"Not in Barnsley," Michael said. "In Barnsley a bull with three legs is still a hero. Rest Diego. We will hold the line until you return."

Michael drove back to the training ground.

His phone was exploding with notifications. The fans were panicking.

User1: We are doomed. Relegation starts now.

User2: We need to buy a defender! The window closes in two days!

User3: Michael Sterling needs to spend money NOW.

He walked into his office. Arthur Milton was waiting.

Arthur looked serious. He was not eating donuts.

"Boss," Arthur said. "We have a situation."

"I know," Michael said sitting down. "Diego is out until Christmas. We need a replacement."

"That is not the only situation," Arthur said. "Look at the news."

Arthur turned the TV on.

It was Sky Sports News. The yellow ticker at the bottom was flashing BREAKING NEWS.

SHOCK TRANSFER? BARNSLEY MANAGER SPOTTED MEETING WITH PARIS SAINT GERMAIN AGENTS.

RUMOR: PSG PREPARE £100 MILLION BID FOR ISAIAH KING.

Michael stared at the screen.

"What?" Michael asked. "I never met with PSG."

"The media is lying Boss," Arthur said. "Or maybe they saw you at the hospital talking to the doctor and thought he was French. It does not matter. The story is out. The fans think you are selling Isaiah to fund a replacement for Diego."

"That is ridiculous," Michael said. "We have money. We do not need to sell."

"Logic does not work in football," Arthur sighed. "Fear works. And right now everyone is afraid."

The training ground was tense.

The players were in the locker room. They were not playing music. They were whispering.

"Is it true?" Finn Riley whispered to Kenji Sato. "Is Isaiah leaving?"

"I do not know," Kenji said looking worried. "If Isaiah leaves who will dance? I cannot dance. My hips are stiff."

Isaiah King was sitting in his corner. He was looking at his phone. He was reading the rumors.

Paris Saint Germain. Mbappe’s old team. The city of lights. Champions League football.

One hundred million pounds.

Michael walked into the room.

The whispering stopped. Everyone looked at him. They looked at him like he was a traitor.

"Good morning," Michael said.

Silence.

"Diego is out for three months," Michael announced. "It is bad. But he will be back."

"And Isaiah?" Jamie Weston asked. "Is he out too? Is he going to France?"

Michael looked at Isaiah.

Isaiah looked back. The boy looked confused. He looked tempted.

"Isaiah," Michael said. "Do you want to go to France?"

Isaiah stood up. He was wearing his pink training kit.

"They want to pay me three hundred thousand a week Boss," Isaiah said quietly. "My agent sent me the text."

The room gasped. Three hundred thousand. That was superstar money.

"And they play in the Champions League," Isaiah added.

"Yes," Michael said. "They do. They have a big tower. They have nice bread. And they play in a league where they win every year by twenty points."

Michael walked closer to Isaiah.

"But do they love you Isaiah? Do they know your coffee order? Will they paint a mural of you on the side of a fish and chip shop?"

Isaiah looked down.

"You are the King of Barnsley," Michael said. "In Paris you are just another expensive toy. You are just another name on a shirt."

Michael turned to the rest of the room.

"Listen to me clearly. I am not selling Isaiah. I am not selling Kai. I am not selling anyone."

He slammed his hand on a locker.

"We are a family! When one of us falls the others stand taller! Diego is down. So Higgins must be two men. Kenji must run thirty kilometers. Kai must... actually run."

Kai Sora nodded solemnly. "I will run Boss. For Diego."

"We do not sell our family," Michael said looking Isaiah in the eye. "We protect them."

Isaiah looked at his teammates. He saw Kenji looking sad. He saw Higgins looking angry. He saw Kai waiting for an answer.

Isaiah smiled.

"I do not like French food anyway," Isaiah said. "The portions are too small."

The room exhaled. The tension broke.

"Good," Michael said. "Now get out there. We have a defense to fix."

Training was hard.

Without Diego the defense looked fragile. Higgins was trying his best but he needed a partner.

Michael called Arthur over.

"We have two days left in the window," Michael said. "We need a defender. A loan. Someone experienced. Someone who can fill the hole."

"I have a list," Arthur said pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. "There is an old Italian guy. He is thirty five. He smokes cigarettes at halftime. But he defends like a master."

"No smokers," Michael said. "Who else?"

"There is a kid at Bayern Munich," Arthur said. "He is nineteen. He is fast. But he is raw."

"We do not have time for raw," Michael said. "We need ready."

Suddenly a black car pulled up to the side of the pitch.

It was a Rolls Royce.

The window rolled down.

Julian Thorne the billionaire owner sat in the back seat. He was wearing a cowboy hat.

"Michael!" Julian shouted. "Get in the car! We are going shopping!"

Michael walked over. "Mr Thorne. I am busy training."

"Training can wait," Julian grinned. "I saw the news about Diego. A tragedy. But every tragedy is an opportunity."

"Opportunity for what?"

"To spend money!" Julian laughed. "I spoke to my friends in Italy. At Inter Milan. They have a defender. He is unhappy. He wants to leave. He is a World Cup winner."

Michael’s eyes widened. "Who?"

"Benjamin Pavard," Julian said. "He wants to play center back. Inter keeps playing him at right back. He is angry."

"Pavard?" Michael asked. "The guy who scored that volley against Argentina?"

"The very same," Julian said. "He costs forty million. I wrote the check already. Do you want him?"

Michael looked at Arthur. Arthur looked like he was going to faint.

Benjamin Pavard. A World Cup winner. Coming to Barnsley to replace Diego Nunez.

"He is French," Michael said thinking of Isaiah. "He can speak to Isaiah. He can tell him the food in Paris is bad."

"Exactly!" Julian said. "It is synergy! Get in the car Michael. We have a plane to catch to Milan."

Michael looked at his team on the pitch.

They were working hard. They were fighting.

He looked at the empty spot where Diego usually stood.

"Okay," Michael said opening the car door. "Let us go to Milan."

He looked back at Arthur.

"Arthur. Keep them running. Tell Kai if he stops moving I will sell his bed."

"Yes Boss," Arthur saluted.

Michael sat back in the leather seat.

The Bull was down. The vultures were circling for Isaiah. The media was predicting doom.

But Michael Sterling was flying to Italy to buy a World Cup winner.

And when Diego Nunez returned... he would have a very expensive partner waiting for him.

"This season," Michael whispered to the window. "Is going to be crazy."