The Next Big Thing
Chapter 152: Friendlies, Selection and Surprises

Chapter 152: Friendlies, Selection and Surprises

Manchester United vs Aston Villa.

That was the only thing on David Jones’s mind throughout the night before matchday. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It wasn’t an official match, just a friendly, but that didn’t matter to him. The excitement was still there, coursing through his veins, keeping him wide awake.

This match wasn’t just another game—it was a chance. A chance to impress, to prove himself, to cement his place in the squad.

Thanks to Manchester United’s deep run in the Europa League last season, reaching the semifinals, their first Premier League game of the new campaign had been postponed. Erik ten Hag, a meticulous tactician who left nothing to chance, had seen this as an opportunity. He didn’t want to throw his squad straight into the fire without testing them first, so he arranged the only pre-season game for any Premier League team that summer—a final tune-up before the real battles began.

And he picked the perfect moment for it: the same day the new season was kicking off for everyone else. While other clubs were fighting for three points in competitive fixtures, Manchester United would be testing their tactics, their chemistry, their sharpness—preparing themselves in a way no other team was.

But scheduling the game hadn’t been easy. The timing meant they couldn’t just pick any opponent. They had three options.

The first was Burnley, the team United were originally scheduled to face on opening day. It made sense, but Ten Hag dismissed the idea. He wanted stronger opposition, a team that could truly push them, expose weaknesses, and challenge them in every department. That led him to consider Manchester City, their noisy neighbors and direct rivals.

City, too, had their first league match postponed after reaching the quarterfinals of the Champions League last season. It seemed like the perfect matchup—until Pep Guardiola declined. The City manager had his own plans. He wanted time to integrate his new signings, to refine his tactics internally before putting them to the test.

David remembered how Ten Hag had explained all this to them. The Dutchman had compared himself to his also bald Spanish counterpart, pointing out their contrasting philosophies. While Guardiola wanted to forge his team behind closed doors, Ten Hag wanted his squad to be "forged by iron"—tested in the fire of real competition.

David respected both approaches, but he leaned more toward Ten Hag’s philosophy. There was no substitute for playing actual games. You could train all you wanted, but nothing compared to the chemistry built on the pitch in real match situations.

But he wouldn’t say the Spanish coach was wrong

David knew what he was good at—playing football. Coaching? No. And when it came to Pep Guardiola, one of the most successful coaches of all time and arguably the best right now, David had no reason to doubt him. It was Pep’s team, and he knew what was best. This season, he had made several signings to reinforce his squad.

Despite Manchester United dominating transfer window headlines, they weren’t the team that had signed the most players. Their prominence in the news was due to the caliber of their acquisitions—especially the return of Cristiano Ronaldo and the potential signing of arguably the best young talent in the world at the moment.

However, some teams had been even busier in the market. Chelsea had signed the most players, while Manchester City came in second. Unlike Manchester United, City’s signings were more balanced, focusing on key areas of improvement.

Their new arrivals included Nathan Aké, Ferran Torres, Pablo Moreno, Issa Kaboré, and defensive anchor Ruben Dias—a player widely touted by the media as the solution to Pep’s shaky backline.

With Burnley and City out of the equation, United turned to Aston Villa—the team City were originally supposed to play. Fortunately, Villa agreed.

But what truly got David’s adrenaline pumping was what Ten Hag had said next.

"The squad I select for this friendly will likely be my starting lineup for the season."

That was it. That was the statement that had him tossing and turning in bed, unable to calm his nerves. This wasn’t just a test match—it was an audition. He had to be in that starting eleven. He had to prove he belonged.

Hours passed. Sleep didn’t come easy, but eventually, exhaustion took over.

When he woke up, the excitement was still there.

It was matchday.

The thought alone sent a fresh wave of energy through his body. He forced himself to sit up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The sun peeked through the curtains, bathing his room in a golden glow. He let out a deep breath, shaking off the last traces of drowsiness.

Today was the day.

He grabbed his phone off the bedside table, unlocked it, and scrolled through his messages. A grin spread across his face as he saw texts from his mother and Zoey. Both had wished him luck, offering words of encouragement that only fueled his motivation. He replied to them quickly, promising to give his all.

Pushing himself out of bed, he stretched his arms above his head, his muscles feeling loose, ready. He strolled over to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped under the steaming water. As it cascaded over him, he reached for his phone, swiping through his playlist. He needed the right music for the moment.

Drake’s "God’s Plan" filled the bathroom, setting the tone for the day. The beat, the lyrics—it all resonated with him. He nodded along, letting the music hype him up as he lathered shampoo into his hair. Then, as the song ended, another one kicked in: "Hall of Fame" by will.i.am his matchday song.

Fitting.

"You can be the greatest, you can be the best..."

The words sent a shiver down his spine. He wasn’t just listening to music—he was manifesting greatness. He let the song play on repeat as he finished his shower, stepped out, and dried himself off.

He got dressed in a fresh Manchester United training kit, grabbed a bottle of water, and made his way downstairs. The house was quiet, but his mind was anything but.

As he entered the kitchen, his stomach growled. He needed fuel. He prepared a balanced breakfast—eggs, toast, fruit, and a protein shake—eating with precision. Every bite felt like preparation, every sip like a step closer to the pitch.

His phone buzzed.

Prakash.

His driver and now close friend had sent him a message: You ready?

David smirked. He typed back: Always.

Moments later, he met Prakash outside. They dapped each other up, the silent exchange saying more than words could. They were both locked in. Both ready.

And the best part?

The match was at Old Trafford. No travel, no distractions—just pure football.

As he hopped into the car, David leaned back in his seat, staring out the window. The Theater of Dreams awaited.

And today, he intended to make his mark.

"Straight to Old Trafford?" Prakash asked, starting the engine.

"Yeah," David replied, his gaze fixed ahead. The excitement bubbling inside him was almost tangible.

The drive was smooth, the city slowly waking up as they cruised through the streets. David put his headphones on, letting music drown out any lingering nerves. As the stadium loomed in the distance, his pulse quickened. Today wasn’t just another day.

The Theater of Dreams stood tall, a fortress of footballing history. David stepped out of the car, inhaling deeply as he took in the sight. He had walked through these doors before, but today, it felt different. Today, he had something to prove.

Inside, the air buzzed with quiet energy. Staff moved about, preparing for the match. He made his way toward the gym, deciding a light workout would be the perfect way to get his body fully awake before kickoff.

As he entered, he wasn’t alone.

Bruno Fernandes and Cristiano Ronaldo were already there, deep in their routines. Bruno was working on core exercises, while Ronaldo, ever the perfectionist, was in the middle of a focused warm-up. They barely looked up, lost in their preparation.

David greeted them with a simple nod. No need for small talk—they all knew what today meant.

He found a spot and got to work. Nothing too strenuous—just dynamic stretches, some activation drills, and a bit of core work. It wasn’t about pushing limits; it was about priming himself, feeling every muscle engage, ensuring his body responded the way he needed it to when the match began.

After about forty minutes, he was done. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, took a sip from his water bottle, and made his way to the showers. The cool water refreshed him, washing away any remnants of fatigue.

When he stepped into the locker room, the atmosphere had completely changed. It was alive with energy—banter, laughter, the sound of boots tapping against the floor. The squad was in full swing, the usual pre-match chaos unfolding.

Near his locker, he spotted Mohamed, the kit boy, sorting out jerseys. Just as David opened his mouth to greet him, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Alright, guys!"

The chatter died down as Erik ten Hag strode in, his expression composed but commanding. The Dutchman had a presence that demanded attention without needing to raise his voice.

He looked around the room, his sharp gaze sweeping across his players. "I know it’s a friendly," he began, his tone even, calculated. "But I don’t care. I want intensity. I want focus. I want commitment. This is not just a warm-up—it’s a statement. A statement that we are ready for the season. That we are better. That we will dominate."

David felt the shift in energy. Every player in the room was listening now, hanging onto every word.

"The way you train is the way you play. The way you approach a match like this is the way you will approach every game. We set the standard today. Not tomorrow, not next week—today. You give me everything."

Ten Hag’s voice was firm but measured, every word landing with weight. He wasn’t one for unnecessary theatrics—his belief was simple: preparation breeds performance. And today was no different.

A pause. A glance around the room. Then he nodded.

"Alright. The lineup. For goalkeeper..."

David’s ears perked up, his body stiffening slightly as he waited.

This was the moment.

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