The Next Big Thing
Chapter 141: Match Squad Selection

Chapter 141: Match Squad Selection

David was fired up. His blood was pumping, his determination unwavering. This was his moment to prove himself—to show the entire team, the coaching staff, and especially Erik ten Hag just how good he was.

Without a second thought, he stood up, his muscles tense with anticipation. While the other players remained in their spots, chatting and changing into their training gear, David had no time for distractions. His mind was locked in. Focused. Ready.

He made his way toward the exit, his steps steady, his breathing controlled. But just as he was about to leave, the locker room door swung open.

David’s eyes widened.

In walked Cristiano Ronaldo.

Sweat glistened on his forehead, proof that he had been putting in work even before stepping into the room. The second he entered, the energy in the locker room shifted. It was like everything and everyone revolved around him. Conversations died instantly. Players who had been laughing or chatting a second ago were now silent, their eyes locked onto him.

Even the most experienced members of the squad—seasoned professionals who had played on the biggest stages—couldn’t help but look at him like he was an idol. There was a level of awe in the air, an unspoken reverence.

Ronaldo, on the other hand, walked in like he owned the place. And in many ways, he did. His presence carried weight, a legacy built over decades. Yet, despite all that, he greeted them with a broad smile, exuding confidence and warmth.

His gaze landed on Erik ten Hag, who was still standing in the center of the room. Without hesitation, Ronaldo strode up to him and extended a hand.

"Gaffer, it’s nice to meet you," he said, his voice filled with certainty.

Ten Hag took his hand firmly, meeting his gaze.

"Ronaldo, it’s an honor to be your coach," the Dutchman replied.

A sharp glint flashed in Ronaldo’s eyes, his expression unwavering. "Yes, yes," he said with conviction. "And this season, we are going to win it all."

He turned then, shifting his focus to the rest of the squad. His presence alone commanded attention, but the moment he started speaking, the entire room tuned in with rapt focus.

"Hello, everyone. It’s an honor to be at Manchester United again," Ronaldo began, his voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and authority. "As you all know, I played here before. This was the club where everything started for me."

A few heads nodded, some of the younger players hanging onto every word, mesmerized by the legend standing before them.

"When I was here, teams were afraid to face us," Ronaldo continued, his voice gaining an edge. "We dominated. We controlled games. Manchester United wasn’t just another club—it was a force, a machine that crushed anyone who dared to challenge us."

He let that statement settle for a second, his eyes scanning the room, making sure everyone understood what he was saying.

"And I want that back," he declared, his voice firm, unyielding. "I came here to win. To win and nothing else."

As he said that last part, his eyes subtly flicked toward David.

David caught it. He felt the weight of Ronaldo’s words directed at him. He knew exactly what this was about.

Then, breaking the momentary silence, Ronaldo gestured toward Bruno Fernandes, who stood among the players, arms crossed.

"You can ask him," Ronaldo said, pointing at him. "I push, push, push—don’t I, Bruno?"

Bruno simply nodded, not even trying to argue. He had been on the receiving end of Ronaldo’s relentless demands for excellence.

Ronaldo turned back to the squad, clapping his hands once. "Then let’s go, Red Devils!"

A roar erupted from the team, their energy reignited by his words.

Ronaldo then turned back to Ten Hag, his eyes burning with competitive spirit. "Okay then, gaffer. What do we have for today?"

Ten Hag, who had been standing slightly to the side, didn’t hesitate.

"Well, like I was telling the team earlier," he said evenly, "we are going to pick our matchday squad for the season. So we’re heading to the pitch for tests—physical, tactical, mental. And let me make this clear... no one has a spot guaranteed in my team."

The moment those words left Ten Hag’s mouth, a tense silence fell over the room.

All eyes immediately darted toward Ronaldo.

The players held their breath, expecting some kind of reaction. How could Ten Hag say that? This was Ronaldo. One of the greatest players of all time. If there was anyone in the squad who deserved an automatic starting spot, it was him.

But instead of being offended, Ronaldo let out a sudden laugh. A deep, amused chuckle that echoed through the room.

"Yes, yes," he said, nodding approvingly. "That’s good. That’s very good."

Then, with his trademark confidence, he clapped Ten Hag on the back before turning to the squad once more.

"Yes, this is good. It’s time to show you all how it’s done!" he said, grinning as he let out another laugh.

His enthusiasm was contagious. The team, already fired up from his speech, fed off his energy.

But David... David was watching closely.

As they all made their way toward the field, he noticed something. Seven players—seven—had instantly gravitated toward Ronaldo. They walked beside him, spoke with him, clung to every word he said.

David walked alone.

But that wasn’t what bothered him.

He was still thinking about earlier. About how Ronaldo had walked into the room and acted as if David didn’t exist only to look at him when he said that he came here to win part.

Is it because I said he came here to retire?

The thought lingered in his mind, replaying like an unwanted echo. He remembered the way Ronaldo had looked at him after making his declaration about winning and dominating. The subtle shift in his expression.

Yeah... that’s probably why.

But something else nagged at him.

When Ronaldo had met Ten Hag, he had done the same thing David had done—extended his hand, shown respect. Yet the reactions had been entirely different. Ten Hag had welcomed Ronaldo with warmth, with acknowledgment.

David, on the other hand, had been brushed off.

Of course, there was no real comparison. David knew that. Ronaldo had earned his respect through years of excellence. David hadn’t—at least, not yet.

One day, he thought. One day, I’ll be at that level.

For now, he had to prove himself.

He was still lost in thought when something unexpected broke the air.

A sudden shout.

"Gaffer!"

David’s head snapped up at the sound, and he turned toward the source of the voice.

David’s eyes landed on a player rushing toward them, clearly in a hurry. It was a sight that triggered déjà vu—just a few weeks ago, he had been in the exact same position, running here when Ole was still around. And just as Ole had come to meet him back then, Erik ten Hag did the same now.

"Antony, you’re here!" Ten Hag called out, his voice carrying across the area.

Antony, still catching his breath, nodded quickly. "Yes, gaffer! Sorry, I was late. I didn’t know the way here, and the map wa—"

Before he could finish, Ten Hag cut him off with a wave of his hand. "It’s okay, it’s okay. Go inside, change quickly, and meet us outside when you’re done," he instructed, offering a small, reassuring smile.

None of them had seen Antony since he arrived, and after a brief glance around, Ten Hag clapped his hands together, looking at the rest of the players. "Alright, let’s go, let’s go! We don’t have all day," he urged, motioning for them to follow him.

Out on the field, David was going through his warm-up routine, stretching with Odion Ighalo, who was still with the squad. Out of all his teammates, Ighalo was one of the few he had grown close to. David had made attempts to connect with the rest of the team, but for some reason, it just didn’t click.

"So, I was like, ’Don’t you all know who I am?’" Ighalo was saying as David helped him stretch his back.

David, raising an eyebrow, glanced at him. "Wait, are you serious? They actually tried to seize your cars?"

"I’m telling you, insane people," Ighalo said, shaking his head. "They thought I was a yahoo boy or something—mad men."

David let out a laugh, amused by the story.

Ighalo went on to explain how, back when he wasn’t as famous, the Nigerian police had once tried to arrest him and take his car, mistaking him for a fraudster. The story was both frustrating and hilarious, and David found himself shaking his head in disbelief.

"Alright, I’m done. Come help me with mine, please," David said as he sat down on the ground, switching places with Ighalo.

As Ighalo pressed down on his back, helping him stretch, he said, "But even still, Nigeria is a beautiful country. You should go visit sometime."

David exhaled, feeling the weight on his back. "Yeah, I’ve always wanted to, but it just never worked out. Plus, the money and all that... but maybe now, though."

A trip to Nigeria had always been on his mind, but for one reason or another, it had never happened.

"You should, man. It’s a lovely place. Just get your family over there to show you around. Go to Lekki, some nice places—you’d love it," Ighalo encouraged.

David hesitated before responding. "Yeah... but I’m not so sure about the family part. I know my dad’s mom and sister are over there with her kids, but I’ve never really spoken to them. So... let’s see."

Before Ighalo could reply, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of loud laughter from ahead. Turning his head, David spotted Cristiano Ronaldo warming up with a group of players—Bruno Fernandes, Marcus Rashford, Paul Pogba, and a few others. The main squad. They were all laughing at something Ronaldo was saying, looking completely at ease.

David sharpened his focus, listening in.

"I’m telling you," Ronaldo said, shaking his head, "at Madrid, we don’t do all this physical running and timing. We have machines hooked up to us that track everything while we stay in one place for our physicals. Even at Juventus, it was the same. Man United is really falling behind."

The others chuckled, nodding in agreement. David not sure why as he didn’t really say anything funny.

Then Ronaldo added, "The time I won my first Ballon d’Or here, the club bought a Jacuzzi for me as a celebration... and that’s the same one still here. It’s insane, really."

David listened intently, almost forgetting that Ighalo was still beside him.

"Am I boring you, kid?" Ighalo’s voice snapped him back to reality. "Do you want to go over there?"

David quickly shook his head. "No, no, I was just curious, that’s all."

Ighalo chuckled. "It’s fine, really. By January, I’ll probably be leaving, so it would do you some good if you started talking to them."

David shrugged. "No, I’m good here. I was just thinking."

Ighalo raised an eyebrow. "Thinking about what?"

David exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he stretched. "The Ballon d’Or... what would it feel like to win that?"

Ighalo smirked. "Well, before you start dreaming about the Ballon d’Or, make sure you actually get into the squad first," he said, giving David a light tap on the shoulder.

David followed his gaze and saw Ten Hag standing at the side of the field, watching the players with a focused expression. A few seconds later, the manager started walking toward them.

Reaching the group, Ten Hag blew his whistle sharply. "Alright, everyone, it’s time to start!" he called out.

David immediately got to his feet, dusting off the back of his training gear. He jumped in place a couple of times, stretching his legs and getting himself ready.

"Ballon d’Or later," he thought, his determination settling in. "For now, it’s time to dominate training."

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