Football Dynasty
Chapter 244: The Ref had it out for City—Cards Everywhere!

Chapter 244: The Ref had it out for City—Cards Everywhere!

Originally, Robertson’s plan was simple: Savage would provoke Bowyer, Bowyer would snap, Savage would take a theatrical dive, and the ref would respond with a yellow, then a red. Clean, calculated. A man down for Leeds, morale broken, job done.

However, no one expected Bowyer’s boot to suddenly take flight—like it had a mind of its own.

One moment, he was swinging at the ball with all the grace of a drunken giraffe, and the next?

THWAP!

His shoe came flying off like a missile... and smacked Jens Lehmann square on the lips.

Right on the kisser.

Lehmann sat up, holding the boot like it had personally insulted his ancestors, and looked at Bowyer as if he’d just proposed marriage via footwear. Of course, the result was Lehmann—now in possession of Bowyer’s sullen shoe—who looked to be in quite a temper.

His shove sent Bowyer stumbling backward. "What the hell—are you blind? Can’t you even kick the ball properly?" Lehmann yelled, fury burning in his eyes.

Bowyer, naturally, didn’t back down. He straightened up, brushed imaginary dust off his shirt, and squinted at Lehmann like he’d just heard a mosquito trying to insult him.

"...Huh? The fuck are you saying?" he said, all confusion and cocky defiance.

The two berated each other on the field, completely ignoring the fact that the match was still ongoing.

The most unexpected part?

While Lehmann and Bowyer were locked in their clash, the first to react wasn’t the ref or a teammate—it was Savage, the true provocateur all along.

He took a step forward like a barbarian on the warpath, looking ready to hurl himself into the chaos. But Thuram, the nearest and instantly alert, chased after Savage, ready to stop him. Even he could sense that things were teetering on the edge of absurdity.

The real problem?

While Thuram was still chasing after Savage to stop whatever he was about to do, standing directly in Savage’s path was Lucas Radebe, the Leeds United captain.

"Hey, stop it!" he shouted, stepping in to block Savage’s path. He was determined to stop this madman before he blew the whole thing up.

Radebe stepped in and planted a firm hand on Savage’s chest—just like a defender holding his line. But Savage, fired up on adrenaline and already on edge, took it as a personal challenge.

"You n*gger son of a bitch!"

"..."

If Richard had been there, he would’ve wanted to slap Robbie Savage right in the mouth—no questions asked.

Thank god—or fate, or just sheer timing—that the moment the offensive N-word escaped Savage’s lips, Thuram had already appeared.

Radebe, usually the embodiment of calm and sportsmanship, seemed to freeze for half a second. Then his brain flipped a switch.

Screw sportsmanship. Screw racism.

Because the second Savage’s hand made contact with his chest, Radebe didn’t hesitate—he flung himself backward like he’d just been hit by a wrecking ball. He flew, stumbled, and crashed to the ground in exaggerated agony, rolling across the pitch like a man shot out of a cannon.

"Aaaahhh!"

Back in the Lehmann-Bowyer scene, the situation had already spiraled out of control.

Bowyer popped Lehmann in the face and dragged him straight down to the ground. A loud hiss rose from the stands—not out of disapproval, but as pure heckling. Both City and Leeds fans were jeering the chaos unfolding before them.

A nearby Leeds player rushed in, grabbing the furious Bowyer and pulling him back—desperately trying to stop him from throwing more punches or landing a kick on the grounded keeper.

The referee’s whistle shrieked through the tension, and startled Leeds players, frozen for a second, suddenly sprinted toward the spot.

He showed a red card to Lee Bowyer, who had thrown the first punch. No surprise there.

Loud jeering and hissing erupted from the stands. Bowyer stormed off the field, angrily ignoring his Leeds teammates. But then—suddenly—the referee reached into his pocket again... and showed Lehmann a red card too!

His earlier shove, the one that sent Bowyer stumbling backward, was seen as a provocative gesture—the spark that ignited the entire incident.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Before any City player could even begin to protest, the referee, without hesitation, pointed straight to the penalty spot.

A penalty!

Chaos turned to disbelief. City fans roared in outrage. Leeds fans stood frozen, stunned. The drama wasn’t done yet.

The moment the referee pointed to the spot, City players erupted.

"Ref, are you serious?" shouted Larsson, arms flailing. "He shoved him—but he was defending himself!"

Several City players swarmed the official in protest, their voices rising in fury. But the referee stood firm, motioning them away with sharp gestures. His decision had been made.

Just when everyone thought the penalty was the end of the chaos, a sudden roar erupted from the north section of the stands. Heads turned—players, fans, even the referee—and all were stunned by what they saw.

Lucas Radebe.

Still on the ground, tangled in a heap with Savage nearby and Thuram towering over him, it almost looked like the poor man was being bullied.

Thanks to the explosive chaos of the Lehmann-Bowyer fight just moments earlier, everyone’s attention had been swallowed by that brawl. The cameras, the fans, even the fourth official—all eyes were locked on the goalkeeper-meets-midfielder madness.

And because of that, the scene between Savage, Thuram, and Radebe went mostly unnoticed.

The result? The worst possible outcome.

No one really knew what had actually happened in that tangle—but because of the confusion, the referee and officials had no choice but to trust their instincts.

Poor Radebe.

Mad Savage. Evil Thuram.

"..."

Lee Bowyer — Red Card

Jens Lehmann — Red Card

Robbie Savage — Red Card

Lilian Thuram — Red Card

Andy Gray’s voice cracked through the broadcast, almost in disbelief, "oh my God... no one even knows what actually happened down there, but the referee’s just handed out three red cards—to City players!"

Martin Tyler chimed in, his voice rising with each word, "first it was Bowyer—understandable, he threw the punch. Then Lehmann—controversial. But now Savage... and Thuram? What’s going on down there? Is this football or a Shakespearean tragedy?"

No matter how much Larsson protested, the situation on the pitch had already been decided.

The referee simply shook his head, dismissing any kind of appeal from the City captain.

Robertson hurled a water bottle to the ground on the sidelines. "That fucking idiot!" he shouted, startling the fourth official, who shot him a sharp, disapproving glance.

The situation was already tense for the team—and losing players only made things even more difficult.

Zanetti, Larsson, Okocha, Pirlo, and Lampard had no choice but to hold back the furious City players who were protesting. They didn’t want things to escalate any further, and they certainly didn’t want anyone else marching toward the referee.

Thanks to all this, City—now down to eight men—were forced to regroup and recover across the board. Given the state of play, they suddenly looked impossibly vulnerable in everyone’s eyes.

But first—penalty to Leeds.

With no time left on the clock and City essentially forced to play with a man disadvantage, Robertson had no choice but to resort to a defensive strategy.

The fourth official raised the board, signaling a player substitution.

Trezeguet came off for Gianluigi Buffon

Okocha was replaced by Rio Ferdinand

Pirlo made way for Theodoros Zagorakis

A complete tactical reshuffle—one that signaled: survive first, think later.

When Lehmann came to the sidelines, Robertson extended a hand toward him. "Nice work, Jens. Go take a shower in the locker room."

Lehmann shook his head as he took the handshake. "No—I don’t want to go back to the locker room right now. I need to be with the team."

Robertson paused for a moment, then nodded. "Then you stay here," he said, giving Lehmann a firm pat on the shoulder.

Second later, finally—Ian Rush stood at the penalty spot, facing Gianluigi Buffon.

A deep breath. A run-up. A shot.

"GOAAALLLL!"

Bottom corner. Perfect.

The net rippled. The away fans erupted. Rush didn’t even try to hide the inevitability in his celebration as he roared toward the away stands, arms wide, face fierce.

Behind him, the City players stood silent—somber, stunned.

Manchester City 2 – 1 Leeds United.

Leeds were now chasing the game, and it gave them a burst of energy and momentum. City, on the other hand—under pressure and forced into deep defense—had to resort to fouls to halt Leeds’ relentless attacks.

Seeing the situation unfold, Richard in the stands was sweating bullets. He couldn’t help but check his watch constantly, sighing from time to time. "We’re almost there... just a little bit more!" he muttered to himself.