The Next Big Thing
Chapter 132: Internet Crashes IV

Chapter 132: Internet Crashes IV

David de Gea. Luke Shaw. Aaron Wan-Bissaka. Paul Pogba. Bruno Fernandes. Marcus Rashford. Anthony Martial. And now—Cristiano Ronaldo. Soon, possibly—Jadon Sancho.

The voice of popular TikToker AA9skillz rang out, his familiar, soothing cadence carrying the weight of a man about to drop some serious football wisdom. Seated in his usual setup—face filling the screen, microphone perfectly positioned, room dimly lit just right—he leaned slightly forward, his expression serious.

"Manchester United are gearing up to take over the world next season," he declared, his voice laced with excitement. "We always talk about Real Madrid, Man City, Liverpool, Bayern... but from next season, we have to put Manchester United back in that conversation. And I don’t think people are fully understanding how serious this is. This squad, all under Erik ten Hag? Nah, it’s scary, people."

He shook his head slowly, the weight of what he was saying sinking in. "No. Man United genuinely scare me right now. The way they are moving in the transfer market, the way they’ve been getting these players, they are coming for everything. Not just the Premier League—the whole of Europe better be ready. The Red Devils are coming back."

He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes scanning the screen as if making sure everyone was paying attention. Then, with renewed intensity, he continued, his words hitting like punches in a boxing match.

"Let’s break this down properly. We already know about Bruno Fernandes—this guy stepped into United and changed everything overnight. He’s been running the midfield, controlling games, making the difference. Paul Pogba? When he’s on it, he’s unplayable. He’s a World Cup winner, a midfield maestro. And then—if they actually get Cristiano Ronaldo? Are you crazy? This is a man with the experience, the leadership, the winning mentality—the GOAT, arguably. You put that in a dressing room with Bruno, Pogba, Rashford, Martial, and now Sancho? It’s over. It’s actually over."

AA9skillz leaned back slightly, letting it sink in before going again, his passion only intensifying. "And let’s not forget—Jadon Sancho. This isn’t just some overhyped player. Right now, in 2020, Sancho is one of the best young talents in world football. He’s an assist machine, he’s got goals in him, he’s got flair, creativity, pace—he’s the total package. If Man United actually manage to bring him in alongside Ronaldo? Bro, the rest of the league is finished."

He let out a small chuckle, but his face quickly turned serious again. "And let me just remind you—it’s Erik ten Hag who’s taking charge. Some of you might look at him and say, ’Oh, but he’s only managed in the Dutch league. Can he really do it in the Prem?’ Listen, let me tell you something—this man is a winner. Everywhere he’s been, he’s won. He’s tactically sharp, he gets the best out of his players, and he knows how to dominate games. If you’re sleeping on him, you’re making a huge mistake."

He sat up straight, delivering the final blow. "This isn’t just hype. This is real. The signs are there. The moves are happening. And just look at what Fabrizio Romano tweeted not too long ago—Manchester United’s latest chase? Borussia Dortmund’s own Jadon Sancho. ’Here we go’ might be incoming soon."

He exhaled deeply, letting the moment settle before offering one last thought. "I’m telling you—this isn’t just another ’United are back’ moment that ends in disappointment. This feels different. The players, the manager, the ambition—it’s all aligning. And if this actually happens, if they pull off Ronaldo and Sancho in the same window? You might as well start engraving the trophies now."

With that, he leaned back, smirking at the camera, as if daring anyone to disagree.

Jadon Sancho—the latest name dropped in the news about Manchester United’s charge—sent shivers down the spines of fans, both rivals and supporters alike. Ronaldo might be the bigger name, and he might technically still be the better player at this moment, but Sancho represented something Ronaldo didn’t.

Sancho wasn’t just a statement signing; he was a symbol of the future, of United’s resurgence, of youth and dynamism. And Manchester United fans, notorious for their imagination running wild at the prospect of success, were already envisioning it—the deadly trio of Marcus Rashford, Anthony Martial, and Jadon Sancho charging at the opposition’s goal like relentless predators.

It was so beautiful to them, so intoxicating, that some fans might have been on the verge of an out-of-body experience just thinking about it some were even ejaculating just thinking of it the orgasim letting plenty wives and girlfriends down this night as they were empty from the joy already.

But while the rest of the world buzzed with excitement, while social media erupted in endless discussions about what Sancho’s arrival meant for United’s attack, one person inside his apartment wasn’t celebrating. One person, sitting alone, staring at his phone screen, was frowning.

David Jones.

His fingers tightened slightly around his phone as he scrolled through Twitter, Fabrizio Romano’s latest tweet glaring back at him like an omen.

Fabrizio Romano ✔ @FabrizioRomano 🚨 Manchester United are pushing for Jadon Sancho. Talks ongoing with Borussia Dortmund—positive progress on the player’s side, with Sancho giving the green light. Now it’s up to United to finalize the agreement with Dortmund. 🇩🇪🔴

As part of the negotiations, United are reconsidering some of their earlier transfer targets. Several prospective deals may be canceled to accommodate the move. Edinson Cavani, who was set to join as a free agent, is now considered surplus due to the club’s concerns about having too many attacking players.

David wasn’t like the rest of the world. He wasn’t focused on the "Jadon Sancho" part of the tweet. He wasn’t fixated on the excitement of a generational talent joining United. His eyes were locked on a very different, far more unsettling part of the message: "Reconsidering some of their earlier transfer targets" and "too many attacking players."

He exhaled slowly, his grip tightening. He wasn’t afraid of being cut—his contract was signed, his future at the club was technically secure. But that wasn’t what worried him. It was the intent behind it all.

The club was signaling something loud and clear: they weren’t entirely satisfied with the previous list of acquisitions. They weren’t completely sold on the players they had already brought in. And that realization was a sharp, unwelcome stab to his confidence, because he was one of those players. He was part of that group.

And if Manchester United were ready to scrap deals for some of their planned signings... what did that say about the ones they already had?

Then, his eyes landed on the words that gnawed at him the most—"too many attacking players." And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how painfully true it was.

United already had him, Marcus Rashford, Mason Greenwood, Anthony Martial, and Daniel James. Five players, all battling for the same precious starting spots. And now, if Ronaldo actually arrived, David knew there was no reality in which he wouldn’t start. A player of Ronaldo’s caliber didn’t warm the bench. That was one less available position right there. Two spots left.

But even that was a fantasy. David was a realist. He understood small of football politics well enough to know that, in reality, those two remaining spots might as well be just one.

Because if the club was breaking the bank for Jadon Sancho—and they would have to break the bank—the idea of him sitting on the bench, at least in the beginning, was laughable. You didn’t spend that kind of money on a player and then ease him in gently. No, Sancho would play. He would start. He would be on the team sheet every match unless something drastic happened.

Which meant David wasn’t competing for two spots. He was competing for one. And the people he would have to fight for that spot? Rashford. Martial. Greenwood.

Established names. Players who had already played dozens—no, hundreds—of games for the club. Players with reputation. Players with history. Players with goals in big matches. Players the fans adored, the media hyped, and the club trusted.

David exhaled slowly, his grip on his phone tightening.

He knew how much names mattered in football. More than people liked to admit. The more popular you were, the more leeway you got. The more patience a manager had with you. The more chances you were given even after a poor performance. The more the media defended you. It was why players with star power could go through rough patches and still start every week. It was why the most expensive signings always got opportunities long after others would have been discarded. Football wasn’t just about talent—it was about status. It was about marketability. It was about the trust you had built with the people in charge and the fans who demanded to see their favorite names on the pitch.

And that was David’s problem.

Right now, he wasn’t a name.

Sure, he was talented—maybe even more so than some of the players ahead of him—but talent alone wasn’t always enough. He heard of plenty gifted players who never made it because they didn’t have the status, the reputation, the backing. And with Sancho arriving, with Ronaldo potentially walking through the door, he was going to be pushed even further down the pecking order.

David let out a deep sigh. But despite the weight pressing on his chest, despite the uncertainty swirling in his mind, he wasn’t without hope.

Because as much as names mattered in football, there was one thing even more important.

Ability.

Talent.

And that... that was where David’s confidence never wavered. Because he knew. He knew deep in his bones, with every fiber of his being, that when it came to sheer skill, when it came to pure footballing ability, he was on another level. Rashford? Martial? Greenwood? They were all great players, no doubt. But they didn’t have his touch. His vision. His technical brilliance. Right now, at this very moment, David was convinced—if anyone put all of them through the same set of drills, if anyone judged them purely on ability alone, he would come out on top.

Some might call that arrogance.

David called it self-recognition.

He wasn’t delusional. He wasn’t overestimating himself. He was simply acknowledging reality.

And it was that reality—his unwavering belief in himself—that slowly brought a small smirk back to his face.

He was overthinking. That’s all it was.

At the end of the day, Erik ten Hag was a top manager. A real footballing mind. Someone who didn’t just pick names—he picked players. And if David worked hard, if he showed his quality every single day in training, there was no way a coach like ten Hag wouldn’t take notice. He would get chosen. He knew it. He was sure of it.

Well... maybe making a good strong first impression wouldn’t hurt either. A little extra effort to stand out, to catch the manager’s eye from day one, could go a long way. No harm in getting some extra points early on.

David chuckled to himself, the worries from earlier fading into the background. Now, his mind was consumed by a different thought entirely—

With this much talent in the squad, with the firepower they were assembling, they could win it all.

And a part of him couldn’t stop thinking about Cristiano Ronaldo.

Not just seeing him.

Not just meeting him.

But actually playing with him.

That thought alone was enough to send a shiver of excitement through his veins.

While David was lost in thought, he had no idea that, at that very moment, his name was being brought up in a conversation with Manchester United’s new coach—a conversation that had already shattered any chance of making a good first impression.

Special shoutout to Youngboss06 for giving me one more golden ticket yesterday! I truly appreciate your support. A huge thank you to everyone reading this book—this has been the best month for it so far! Your support means the world to me, and I’m beyond grateful. Thank you all so much!

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