Chapter 7- Brighton Away

One Week Later... 

The time was here for the second match for United after the January Transfer Window and we were playing Brighton and Hove Albion, the team was doing the best they have done in years, in sixth place in the table. 

Our unprecedented landslide victory over Arsenal and West Ham's draw to Brentford yesterday meant that the table had changed and in our favor too, we were no longer fifth, however, the top two teams, Liverpool and Cuty had won games this week too, making the gap seem almost impenetrable, but we had to try!

1) Liverpool: 65

2) Man City: 62

3) Man Utd: 58

4) West Ham: 57

5) Arsenal: 57

And so on and so forth...

Arsenal was tied with West Ham with points however goal difference meant that West Ham could stay in fourth. There were not many games left in this season and we had to step up if we wanted to take the league by storm, we were in the quarter-finals of the Carabao Cup, and despite mediocre performances, we had to win something this season. 

I had received tips from Varane and he helped me train this past week and I was able to get my defense stat up, I trained with a long time, United player Marcus Rashford and Casemiro's weird, La Liga style of play, which could bring a new weapon to the field if I could replicate it, accurately enough. 

Either way, due to this training my rating has gone up: 

Player: Adrian Randin

OVR: 86

Pac: 97

sho: 90

dri: 88

pas: 86

phy: 83

def: 80

My pace was one of my biggest assets, as an attacking midfielder, this rapid pace, allowed me to accelerate into space and complete steals and interceptions, I would say I am one of the fastest players in the premier league, I don't know who I am competing with for that title though, I had to wipe this from my mind, I should be focusing on the Brighton fixture. 

Match Day... 

We arrived at the Amex Stadium at around noon for the match which would start at 4 pm. The atmosphere was slightly more overwhelming when facing an away match, amidst the ocean of bright Brighton blue, there were a few specks of red like goldfish in a pond. Despite this lack of a mass of supporters, we had to win, if we could topple Arsenal, we could handle Brighton. 

The ball was placed in the middle by the Brighton striker, Evan Ferguson who played the pass off to Joao Pedro who had no option but to pass onto the flanks, Karou Mitoma, the genius of Broghton, the Japanese talent, seized the ball and ran forward, using his careful accumulated IQ to dodge past the outstretched feet of Anthony and was about to move past Dalot when I realized I need to make a move. 

I ran forward, knowing Mitoma must not be allowed to continue, Dalot was pressuring him but eventually, Mitoma broke through and accelerated, but no one could just turn up and beat me on pace, I accelerated too, cascading into the ball with a well-timed tackle and the ball along with Mitoma were sent flying in random directions, the tackle was clean and the referee motioned to play on. 

Casemiro had collected the loose ball and transferred it to Bruno who threaded the ball to Garnacho on the right wing who was replacing Anthony who had a knee injury, Garnacho flew up the wing was met head-to-head with Brighton's defender, Adam Webster, who was looking determined. 

Garnacho didn't fancy his chances with the grim-looking defender and rabona-passed the ball to me, I charged forward, the eleven on my back a blur as I cut through the Brighton ranks, I could see a thread to Hojlund and I took it, and Rasmus chipped it, but the keepers outstretched hands tipped the ball over the crossbar. 

It was a good effort and I patted Hojlund on the back as we walked back to our positions, the play resumed and Brighton began their attack, this time trying for a more frontal approach, this was their mistake, they would have to thread the ball past, Bruno, Casemiro and me, the odds were near-impossible. 

feeling the tension in the Brighton air, I charged forwards, breaking our defensive formation on a gamble and it worked, my charge would give Brighton the space they needed but only for a second, and just as I thought, their midfielder Lallana was too slow to react and barely noticed when the ball was stolen from his feet. 

The Brighton defenders, ran backward, abandoning the press, as I charged forwards, something hung in the air, a strange odor as if the pitch was in an electric field, every player conducting this contagious charge, we were putting it all on the pitch and this was what football was all about. 

With each step I took, the ball and my feet got higher and I looked up at the line of defenders in front of me, I spun, flicking the ball and kicking it over the head of Webster, I ran forward, feigning left sending Lewis Dunk, spiraling onto the floor before the ball landed, the full-backs were shaken off, by a roulette and I was one-on-one with the keeper. 

I could feel my emotions in my head boiling over, I could imagine my eyes glowing as I lined up the shot, my eyes forming an almost sniper-like target in the top corner of the net. I leaned back and smashed the ball and I could feel the tip of my boot being absorbed by the ball as it went flat, but the momentum still carried it straight up, cascading into the net, I ran over to the stands and put my hand to my ear, earning thousands of "booooooooo"'s from the crowd. 

The half-time whistle brought us back to the locker room.

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