Glory Of The Football Manager System

Chapter 87: Still in it II:The Final Day, Part 2

The ball left his foot like a rocket. It flew through the air, dipping, swerving, a perfect trajectory. The keeper dove, arms outstretched, fingertips grasping. He got a touch. But it wasn’t enough. The ball hit the back of the net.

1-1.

The away end exploded. It was pure, unfiltered joy. Our fans were on their feet, roaring, screaming, crying, hugging strangers. The noise was deafening, a wall of sound that seemed to shake the very ground.

Jamie stood there, stunned, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done. Then his teammates mobbed him. Big Dave got there first, grabbing him in a bear hug that lifted him off his feet.

"That’s it, kid! That’s it!" Baz ruffled his hair. Kev was screaming in his face. JJ was jumping on his back. The entire team surrounded him, a mass of green and white, of joy and relief and pure, beautiful redemption.

I looked at the stands. Mark Crossley was jumping, arms in the air, tears streaming down his face. Emma was on her feet, phone in hand, texting frantically.

My phone buzzed. Emma: "SALFORD STILL 0-0! YOU’RE LEVEL ON POINTS! ONE MORE GOAL AND YOU’RE CHAMPIONS!"

One more goal. Thirty-five minutes left. We were level. We were alive. The dream was still breathing.

I turned to Frankie. He was grinning, something I rarely saw. "The kid’s got balls," he said. "I’ll give him that."

"He’s got more than that," I said. "He’s got heart."

I shouted instructions to the touchline. "Keep the shape! Don’t get carried away! Stay disciplined!" But inside, I was screaming with joy. We’d done it. We’d come back from the dead.

But Hyde wasn’t done. Colin Briggs, their manager, made a substitution. Brought on a fresh striker. They went more direct, more physical. In the 61st minute, Whitmore had another header. Big Dave tipped it over. In the 64th minute, their winger cut inside and shot. It whistled past the post.

My phone buzzed. Emma: "Salford 1-0. They’ve scored. You HAVE to win now."

ended 1-1, Salford would be champions on goal difference because drawing was not enough anymore. We had to win. Had

Twenty-three minutes plus stoppage time to find a winner.

at Frankie Morrison. He was already thinking the same thing.

Told Jamie to step up more, to take risks.

next fifteen minutes were chaos. End-to-end football. Hyde sensed our desperation and tried to hit us on the break. We threw everything forward, leaving gaps at

advanced full-backs. He was through on goal. Big Dave came out, made himself big, and saved with his legs. The ball

a shot from the edge of the box. Their center-back threw himself in front of it,

head to it. The keeper reacted brilliantly, tipping it over the bar. Another corner. We were piling on the pressure, but the

clock showed 82 minutes. Eight minutes plus stoppage time. Every second felt like an eternity. I looked at the stands. Mark Crossley was standing at the barrier, hands clasped together, praying. Emma was biting her nails, phone clutched in her other hand. Our fans were

down the clock. They were defending deep

then, in the 85th minute,

system would have shown him the passing lanes, the space, the opportunity.

splitting Hyde’s

calm. He took a touch to the side, taking the ball away from the keeper’s dive, and slotted it

2-1.

stopped. Then the

flag, slid on his knees, pointed at the badge, then pointed at me. The team piled on

Emma: "SALFORD STILL 1-0! YOU’RE

on. Five minutes to win the title. Five minutes to complete

a corner in the 89th minute. The ball came in. Bodies everywhere. Big Dave punched clear. The referee checked his watch. Four minutes of

longest four minutes

another corner. We cleared. They had a free kick. Baz headed away. The crowd

Three minutes.