Dynasty Awakening: Building My Own Football Empire-Chapter 210: Cruel Deflection

The rain at Anfield felt colder now.

Michael Sterling stood on the touchline. His suit was ruined. His shoes were soaked. But he did not feel the cold. He only felt the heat of the battle.

It was the 75th minute.

LIVERPOOL 1 - 2 BARNSLEY

The Misfits were leading. They were holding on to a lead that felt as fragile as a soap bubble in a storm.

Liverpool were not playing football anymore. They were playing a different game. It was a siege.

Florian Wirtz received the ball again. The German playmaker seemed to have endless energy. He glided past Leo Stone. Leo tried to grab his shirt but his hands were too slippery from the rain.

"Stop him!" Arthur Milton screamed from the bench. "He is too smooth! Someone put a wall in front of him!"

Sergio Ramos stepped out. The captain was tired. He was thirty nine years old and he had been fighting monsters for seventy five minutes.

Ramos slid in.

Wirtz passed the ball just before Ramos made contact.

The ball rolled to Rio. The seventeen year old wonderkid with the red hair.

Rio looked at Diego Nunez.

Diego was breathing heavy. Steam was rising from his bald head.

"Come on baby," Diego growled. "Try to pass me."

Rio did not try to pass him. He passed the ball sideways to Alexander Isak.

Isak shot.

BOOM.

The ball smashed against the crossbar. It shook the whole goal frame.

Jan Visser fell backwards. He looked up at the sky.

"The metal saved us!" Jan shouted. "Thank you Mr Post!"

The ball bounced away. Endrick kicked it as hard as he could. It landed in the empty seats of the Anfield Road stand.

THE CRACKS APPEAR

Minute 80

Ten minutes left.

The clock was moving slower than a snail.

"Arthur," Michael said without looking away from the pitch. "How long?"

"Ten years," Arthur whimpered. "Or ten minutes. It feels the same."

Barnsley could not get out of their box. They were pinned back.

Victor Osimhen was playing as a defensive midfielder. The striker was winning headers on the edge of his own penalty area.

"He is a hero," Michael whispered.

But heroes get tired.

Liverpool won a free kick. Twenty five yards out.

Trent Alexander Arnold placed the ball. He wiped the mud off it. He looked like a sniper adjusting his scope.

"Wall!" Jan Visser screamed. "Make a big wall! Diego stand in the middle! Do not move your head!"

Diego stood in the wall. He closed his eyes.

"If it hits me I will not cry," Diego whispered to himself.

Trent ran up. He hit the ball.

It curled over the wall. It was dipping perfectly into the top corner.

Jan Visser flew. He stretched his long arm.

He touched it. Just the fingertips.

The ball hit the inside of the post and bounced out.

But this time luck was not wearing a purple shirt.

The rebound fell to the feet of Hugo Ekitike.

The Barnsley defenders were on the floor. They could not react fast enough.

Ekitike tapped it in.

GOAL.

Liverpool 2. Barnsley 2.

The stadium erupted. The noise was a physical punch to the gut.

Michael closed his eyes for a second.

"So close," Michael whispered.

On the pitch Diego Nunez punched the ground. Mud flew everywhere.

"Why?" Diego shouted at the grass. "Why did you bounce to him?"

THE FINAL PUSH

2 to 2.

A draw at Anfield was a good result. It kept them in the title race. It kept them ahead of Liverpool.

"Hold for the draw!" Michael shouted. "Stay compact! Do not lose!"

But Liverpool did not want a draw. They smelled blood.

Arne Slot the Liverpool manager was waving his arms like a windmill.

"ATTACK!" Slot screamed. "KILL THE GAME!"

Minute 88

The pressure was unbearable.

Barnsley could not keep the ball. Every time they cleared it the red wave came back.

Endrick tried to dribble out. He was exhausted. He was tackled by Mac Allister.

Liverpool attacked again.

Rio got the ball on the wing. He was fresh. He was fast.

He ran at Pavard.

Pavard slipped. The wet pitch claimed another victim.

Rio was through.

He crossed the ball.

Sergio Ramos cleared it. But he cleared it poorly. He was tired.

The ball fell to the edge of the box.

Dominik Szoboszlai was waiting.

He hit it. A thunderbolt.

Jan Visser did not move. He just prayed.

The ball flew inches wide of the post.

"My heart is not beating," Arthur said holding his chest. "I think I died five minutes ago Boss. I am a ghost now."

THE HEARTBREAK

Minute 90+4

The fourth official held up the board.

5 MINUTES ADDED TIME.

Four minutes had gone. One minute left.

"One minute," Michael said. "Just sixty seconds. Please."

Liverpool had the ball. Of course they had the ball.

They worked it wide to Mohamed Salah. The Egyptian King had been quiet. But Kings only need one moment.

Salah cut inside. He always cut inside. Everyone knew it. But nobody could stop it.

Enzo Silva tried to block him. Salah did a shimmy and went past him.

Salah looked up. He saw the box was crowded.

He floated a cross to the back post.

Darwin Nunez rose. He headed it back across the goal.

The ball fell to Rico Viana. The wonderkid.

He was ten yards out.

Diego Nunez was there. The Bull threw his massive body in the way.

"BLOCK!" Diego roared.

Viana shot.

The ball hit Diego leg.

It should have bounced away. It should have gone for a corner.

But football is a cruel sport.

The ball deflected off Diego shin. It changed direction.

It spun. It looped up in the air.

Jan Visser was diving to the left because that was where the shot was going.

The ball floated agonizingly slowly to the right.

Jan tried to change direction. He clawed at the air.

But gravity won.

The ball dropped into the empty corner of the net.

GOAL.

Liverpool 3. Barnsley 2.

Minute 90+5.

The noise stopped for Michael. He could not hear the crowd. He could not hear the music.

He just saw the ball in the net.

He saw Diego Nunez falling to his knees. The giant defender looked like he had been shot. He put his face in the mud.

He saw Jan Visser lying on his back staring at the rain.

He saw Endrick pulling his shirt over his face to hide the tears.

It was over.

THE WHISTLE

The referee blew the whistle three times.

FULL TIME

LIVERPOOL 3 - 2 BARNSLEY

The players did not move. They lay scattered on the pitch like fallen soldiers in a lost war.

They had fought. They had led. They had given everything.

And they had lost to a deflection in the last second.

Michael Sterling felt a hollowness in his chest. It was worse than the 4 to 0 defeat against West Ham. That was a humiliation. This? This was a tragedy.

He walked onto the pitch. The rain mixed with the tears on the faces of his players.

He walked to Diego Nunez.

Diego was still on his knees. He was sobbing.

"It hit me Papa Michael," Diego cried. "I tried to block it. It hit my leg. I scored against us."

Michael knelt down in the mud. He put his arm around the giant.

"It was not your fault Diego," Michael said softly. "You tried to save us. That is what heroes do. Sometimes the ball is just unlucky."

"I hate luck," Diego sniffed. "Luck is stupid."

Michael helped him up.

He walked to Endrick. The boy was crying hard.

"We lost," Endrick whispered. "We were winning. And we lost."

"We learn," Michael said. "This pain? Remember it. It burns. Use the fire next time."

THE TUNNEL

They walked down the tunnel. The Liverpool players were celebrating. They were high fiving. They were shouting.

It hurt to watch.

Arthur Milton was waiting by the dressing room door. He was not eating. He looked pale.

"That was cruel Boss," Arthur said quietly. "That was the cruelest thing I have ever seen."

"It is football Arthur," Michael said.

He walked into the dressing room.

It was silent. The only sound was the tapping of rain against the high windows and the heavy breathing of exhausted men.

Victor Osimhen sat in the corner. He had taken off his mask. His eyes were red.

Sergio Ramos was cutting the tape off his ankles. He looked old today.

"We dropped points," Ramos said staring at the floor. "City won. We are now four points behind. With six games left."

"Four points is a lot," Leo Stone whispered.

Michael stood in the center of the room. He looked at his Misfits.

Usually he had a speech. Usually he had a joke or a strategy.

Today he had nothing.

Because sometimes there are no words for heartbreak.

"Go shower," Michael said simply. "Go home. Hug your families. Do not look at the internet. Do not look at the table."

He paused.

"You played like lions today. You deserved to win. But football does not care about what you deserve. It only cares about the score."

He turned and walked out of the room. He needed air.

THE LONELY WALK

Michael walked out to the empty team bus.

He sat in his usual seat at the front.

He looked at his phone.

MANCHESTER CITY WIN 4-0.

BARNSLEY DROP TO 3RD.

The title was slipping away. The dream of the Dynasty was fading.

He closed his eyes. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

He could still see the deflection. The ball hitting Diego leg. The slow loop into the net.

It played over and over in his mind like a nightmare on repeat.

Arthur sat down next to him.

"Boss," Arthur said. "Kenji sent a message. He said he is proud."

"Proud of losing?" Michael asked bitterly.

"Proud of the fight," Arthur said. "And my mom sent a message too. She said she baked a cake. Lemon drizzle. She said it fixes sadness."

Michael managed a very small weak smile.

"Save me a slice Arthur."

"I will save you two."