The Next Big Thing
Chapter 126: New Coach III

Chapter 126: New Coach III

"I’m so, so bored."

The words came from Manchester United’s newest player, David Jones, his voice filled with frustration as he groaned dramatically. He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular—just himself, the empty room, and maybe the universe if it cared to listen.

But he didn’t stop there.

"Same old, same old. Wake up, shower, eat, work out—that’s all. When are they finding a cure for this goddamn virus?"

He exhaled heavily, tossing his phone onto the bed beside him as he let his head fall back onto the pillow. He felt like he was trapped in some never-ending cycle, just going round and round with no real escape.

With the club on break after the season had ended, and with no new coach yet appointed, everything just felt like... nothing. No training, no team meetings, no matches. Just days blending into each other, the same routine over and over.

Football had been his entire life since childhood, so with the world practically shut down due to the pandemic, he had no idea what to do with himself. No matches, no proper training, no excitement. Sure, he could hit the gym and keep his fitness up, but what was the point if there was no game to play?

David barely had any hobbies outside of football. His whole life revolved around it. The lockdown had taken a serious toll on him, and unless there was a match on TV, he had nothing to do.

Well, except for video games.

But even that had lost its appeal over the past five days.

And he knew exactly who to blame for that.

Zoey.

If there was one person David could consider a friend at this point in his life, it was her. But he was blaming her for two very specific reasons.

First, Zoey had a mouth on her. She wasn’t afraid to run it, and she did so with no shame whatsoever. But despite all her trash talk, she was an unbelievable sore loser.

Ever since David had laughed at her defeat, she hadn’t played a single game with him. Five whole days had passed, and every time he saw her online, he’d send an invite, only to get rejected.

Five. Straight. Days.

The second reason he blamed her?

Because she had ruined solo gaming for him.

Before Zoey, he had no problem playing games alone. But now? Now that he had gotten used to playing with someone, gaming by himself just felt... empty.

He had even tried adding random people online to see if he could find a decent replacement. But they were either creeps, weirdos, or just painfully annoying. He ended up blocking every single one of them. Nothing—nothing—felt like playing with Zoey.

With another groan, David rolled onto his side, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He opened Twitter, hoping to find something—anything—to distract himself.

But today?

Today was boring.

His entire feed was flooded with nothing but U.S. election talk. Apparently, some Donald something and Something Biden were going head-to-head for the presidency.

"As if I care," he muttered under his breath, lazily scrolling past the endless political debates. Maybe if this were his mom, she’d care. But him? Not a chance.

Still, even among all the COVID updates and election propaganda, he found some football discussions scattered here and there. But even then, everything was still about one match—Bayern Munich vs. Barcelona.

Even five days later, people were still talking about the 8-2 demolition. The memes, the debates, the analysis—it was everywhere.

Especially after Thomas Müller came out and said how Bayern always beat Barcelona.

David smirked at that. Müller wasn’t even wrong.

After a few more minutes of scrolling, he sighed and closed the app. His boredom was hitting new levels.

Maybe it was time to spend some money.

Opening his Amazon app, he scrolled through various items, trying to find something worth buying. He had thousands—no, tens of thousands—of dollars just sitting in his account. It wouldn’t hurt to spend a little.

But after a while, nothing caught his eye.

Another sigh.

"Forget it," he thought, shutting the app. "Might as well save it and just buy the car."

Cars.

His other love.

He already had his eyes on one—had been thinking about it for weeks now. Maybe he should just go ahead and get it.

As he lay back down on his bed, his phone suddenly dinged.

David barely glanced at it at first, expecting it to be some pointless notification. But when he picked it up, he saw the blue message bubble on his screen.

His eyes widened slightly.

Zoey.

The message was simple, written in all caps:

"FIFA. NOW!!!"

David stared at it for a second. Then a slow grin spread across his face.

Finally.

But it didn’t take long for that grin to turn into a frown. Just twenty minutes later, David was staring at his TV screen, unable to believe his eyes. Nineteen. To. Zero.

The scoreline burned into his vision as the match ended, the bold numbers taunting him on the screen. His hands clenched around his controller. He had just been beaten—no, destroyed—and he refused to accept it.

Finally, after five days of ignoring him, Zoey’s voice came through his headset, sounding calm and completely unbothered.

"Finally."

David, on the other hand, was not having any of it.

"What the fuck was that?" he growled, his eyes darting back to the scoreboard. He sat there in his bean bag, completely stunned.

Zoey, of course, sounded too amused for his liking.

"That, my dear David, was what we call a nice game of FIFA."

David’s jaw clenched. Not the game. Not the loss. Her team.

"Not that. Your team. What was that? You cheated. How the hell is that fair?"

He squinted at Zoey’s squad again, his frustration boiling over.

A 99-rated Cristiano Ronaldo who had buried every shot. A 99-rated Lionel Messi running rings around his defense. A 97-rated Ronaldinho, just for extra humiliation.

And then the midfield. A 99-rated Pelé, 99-rated Kevin De Bruyne, 97-rated Zidane, and, somehow, the lowest-rated player in the entire squad—a 94-rated Ruud Gullit.

David felt his eye twitch as he glanced at the defense. A 95-rated Paolo Maldini. A 99-rated Virgil van Dijk. A 95-rated Trent Alexander-Arnold. And in goal? A 95-rated Lev Yashin.

It was a goddamn super team.

David could barely string three passes together, while Zoey’s players glided across the pitch like gods among mortals. His team moved like snails; hers were in turbo mode.

This wasn’t about skill. This was straight-up cheating.

"What kind of team is this? You are bloody cheating! What the hell?!"

Zoey’s laugh rang in his ears. "Oh, come on! Are you serious? Don’t be such a sore loser."

David scoffed, his frustration bubbling over. "From you?! From you?! You, who ignored me for five whole days because you lost?! Now you’re calling me a sore loser? Oh, the hypocrisy!"

But Zoey wasn’t fazed. "La la la—cry me a river. No evidence, no case. I beat you fair and square, and now you’re screaming. Man up, would you?"

David’s nostrils flared. Oh, it was on.

"Okay, that’s it. Let’s play again—with normal teams this time."

Zoey let out a dramatic sigh, but he could hear the amusement in her voice. "Fine, fine. Let’s go again."

Heading to team selection, David immediately picked Bayern Munich. A smug smile crept onto his face.

"History is about to repeat itself."

He fully expected Zoey to pick Barcelona—after all, she had been trashing them for days. But when her selection popped up, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Paris Saint-Germain.

"Out to use my baby—the next Ballon d’Or winner—Neymar to win this game," she said, sounding way too confident.

David snorted. "Nah, this switch-up is insane. Weren’t you just saying days ago that you’d love to destroy PSG? And there’s no way Neymar wins the Ballon d’Or—it’s Lewandowski’s, no doubt."

Zoey scoffed. "Just watch. Let Neymar win the Champions League first. They’ve already won Ligue 1 and the Coupe de France. They’re in for the treble, and when they do, Neymar’s taking that Ballon d’Or. As for not supporting them—please, I’d take them over those devils at Bayern any day."

David chuckled. "You’re funny. But still—no way in hell Lewandowski doesn’t win it."

Zoey’s voice turned smug. "You wanna bet? Put your money where your mouth is."

David grinned. "For sure. Okay, if—no, when—Lewandowski wins it..."

He paused, thinking. Then he smirked. "I don’t even want money. I want a free ’yes’ coupon. For anything. And I mean anything."

He expected Zoey to back out. To complain. To argue.

Instead, she shocked him. "Okay, sure."

David blinked. "What?"

She repeated it. "I said sure, no problem. But if I win, I want you to make the same promise."

David hesitated. Then Zoey’s voice rang out again. "What? You scared?"

His competitive nature flared instantly. "Okay, then. Deal."

As they confirmed their bet, the game loaded. David was already strategizing. This time, no insane god-tier team. Just normal squads. He had this.

But then—

His phone dinged.

Zoey’s voice came through. "What’s that?"

David barely looked up as he adjusted his team. "Just a notification."

Still, out of habit, he picked up his phone to check.

And then his entire body froze.

The words on his screen made his breath catch.

BREAKING NEWS: Manchester United’s new coach has been confirmed...

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