The fans of Leeds United had been refreshing the club's official website like it was a slot machine, each reload accompanied by muttered prayers for fireworks. And finally—finally—something appeared on the screen.
[Welcome David De Gea to join Leeds United for €3 million!]
The words blinked innocently from the page, but instead of cheers, the first reaction across living rooms, pubs, and comment sections was collective confusion.
"David… De who?" one fan squinted at his laptop in a Leeds pub.
Another slapped his mate on the arm. "Nah, that's a typo. They probably mean some senior keeper. Can't be wasting three million on some random kid."
But it wasn't a typo. It was exactly what it looked like: a Spanish teenager with a name nobody in England could pronounce properly.
The internet, of course, didn't take long to do its thing. Within half an hour, the football detectives of Twitter and fan forums had already dug up the boy's CV like private investigators on caffeine.
David De Gea. Spanish goalkeeper. Born 1990. Main shot-stopper for Atlético Madrid's U17 team last year. Tall, wiry, reflexes sharper than a cat on espresso. Rising star, scouts said. But he was seventeen. Seventeen!
For most clubs, dropping €3 million on a 17-year-old keeper would be insane, like buying a Ferrari for a kid who still hadn't passed his driving test. But this wasn't "most clubs." This was Arthur's Leeds United, where outrageous risks had a suspicious habit of paying off.
People remembered—oh yes, they remembered—how Manchester United had just spent €20 million on Kasper Schmeichel. And how much had Arthur paid for him a few years ago? Half a million. Peanuts. Now Leeds had banked the profit and reinvested in a new prodigy.
So while some rolled their eyes, most shrugged and said, "If it's Arthur, it'll probably work." The man could spot talent the way a bloodhound sniffs out sausages.
But De Gea alone? No chance. That tiny €3 million announcement couldn't possibly explain the storm brewing under the surface.
Everyone remembered what the Yorkshire Post had screamed a few days earlier: Leeds United had spent nearly €90 million this summer. De Gea's transfer was just a crumb off the table. Where was the rest?
The answer came right after lunch.
At exactly 1 p.m., Leeds United's official website and Twitter dropped their second bomb of the day.
[Welcome Adriano Leite Ribeiro to join Leeds United for €33 million!]
If the De Gea signing was a polite ripple in the pond, this was a grenade lobbed into the Thames.
The internet imploded in real time. Phones buzzed, pubs erupted, journalists nearly spat out their coffee.
"Adriano!?" one Chelsea fan tweeted in all caps, his disbelief echoing millions of others. "The Emperor of the San Siro? That Adriano!?"
And then, as if to confirm that the world hadn't lost its mind, Adriano himself updated his personal Twitter account. Sitting on Ipanema Beach, tan glowing, shades on, he typed out a long, heartfelt message to fans:
"At this moment, I am sitting on Ipanema Beach enjoying my vacation, but I have to pass on a message to those who like me and care about me. From now on, I will start a new journey in my career. I
will follow Arthur Morgan and Leeds United to start a new life in the Premier League! Of course, I will never forget those days when I fought hard for the honor of Inter Milan and the fans at Meazza.
I hope that the fans who like me and care about me can understand and support my decision. Thank you!"
Not only did he post it once, he blasted it simultaneously across three accounts. Twitter, Facebook, even MySpace (because yes, 2007 still existed). The result was an explosion.
Adriano! The fallen king of the Meazza, the striker who once bullied defenders like a grown man playing against schoolboys. The same Adriano who had been struggling with late nights, bars, and too many drinks. And now, out of nowhere, Arthur had whisked him off to Leeds?
The reactions came fast and furious.
"Wait—wasn't he supposed to be Inter's golden boy again?" a baffled Milan fan muttered, scrolling through the news. "Didn't Moratti say he'd send him back to Brazil for rehab? How did Arthur snatch him under everyone's noses?"
"And thirty-three million euros!? Are you serious!?" screamed the Italian press. "That's the highest fee in Europe since the window opened!"
The English tabloids sharpened their knives too:
"Arthur splashes fortune on a drunkard!"
"Leeds United betting big on wasted talent!"
"From Meazza to Yorkshire—can the Emperor still reign?"
Every pundit had the same argument. Spending that much on a striker with more bar visits than goals in recent months? Madness. Utter madness.
But then again, this was Arthur. The same Arthur who had turned Leeds from relegation fodder into Champions League contenders. The same Arthur who turned scruffy kids into superstars and nobodies into household names.
So while the world questioned the sanity of Leeds United, the fans? They were buzzing. Some couldn't believe their luck, others were already dreaming of Adriano bullying Premier League defenders the way he once did in Serie A.
And through it all, Arthur sat back in his office, calmly sipping his tea, while the football world melted down around him.
*****
Less than five minutes. That's all it took.
Leeds United's Twitter page had barely finished loading the announcement of Adriano's signing when a fan's message shot to the top like a rocket. Retweets, likes, and replies carried it forward faster than wildfire. Soon it was pinned in the collective consciousness of Leeds United supporters worldwide.
The post was passionate, sharp, and, frankly, impossible to ignore:
[I am a loyal fan of Leeds United. I want to thank Arthur for saving Leeds United, leading us out of the trough, solving debts, and winning the Premier League championship! But I still have a lot of doubts about the transfer deal just announced by the club! Put aside the facts reported in the media about Adriano's alcoholism, depression, and violent tendencies. I just looked up Adriano's data at Inter Milan last season. For a whole year, he only got 30 appearances! The only record he got was 6 goals and 11 assists, all in the league and domestic cup games! What use does Leeds United have for this center forward who obviously has only a little tactical value left?? And it costs 35 million euros! This is simply too outrageous!]
The comment summed up what everyone was thinking. One fan had typed it out, but thousands nodded along.
It wasn't like Arthur didn't have a track record of smart, ruthless business. He was the man who turned Leeds into champions again, balancing books that once looked uglier than a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Fans still worshipped him for that. But… this deal? This one stank of risk.
No wonder the reaction was fierce. Since Arthur had taken charge, Leeds hadn't really been a retirement home or a rehab clinic for fading stars. Sure, a few older names had been brought in: Sebastian Deisler, Tim Howard, Mauro Camoranesi, Fabio Cannavaro. And, of course, Sun Jihai, who was later sent back home after his contract ended.
But there was a big difference. Cannavaro was still running the defense like a general. Camoranesi, grumpy as he sometimes looked, was still a vital part of rotation. Even Deisler and Howard, though their careers dipped later, had at least given Leeds solid performances while wearing the shirt.
Not a single one of them had arrived with a reputation like Adriano's—already nicknamed "the drunkard" in cruel corners of the press. This wasn't a gamble; this was Arthur strapping dynamite to his own chest and lighting a match.
Arthur, of course, noticed all this. He wasn't blind. When Allen came rushing into his office, waving his phone with Twitter open, Arthur already had his laptop on. He clicked into the comment section and read the fan's message carefully.
He didn't type an essay. He didn't call a press conference. He didn't issue a carefully polished PR statement crafted by marketing experts. No, Arthur did Arthur things.
He wrote one sentence.
[My territory, my money, I buy whoever I want!]
And just like that, he hit send.
The effect was instant. Fans stared at the reply in stunned silence. Some laughed out loud at the bluntness. Others groaned and said their boss was being reckless again. But deep down, nobody could find a counterargument. He wasn't wrong. Leeds wasn't drowning in debt anymore. The money was Arthur's to spend. If he wanted to buy a striker with more pub hours than goals, it was his call.
The problem was, the fans weren't the only ones watching. The vultures of the English press were circling above, eager to rip into Leeds at the first sign of weakness.
And oh, did they pounce.
By the evening, nearly every major paper had updated their sites with bold headlines mocking Leeds United's "gamble of the century."
Manchester Evening News took the first swing:
"Leeds United officially announced that it spent €35 million to introduce former Inter Milan center forward, Brazilian Adriano. The news was also confirmed by Adriano himself. Judging from Adriano's performance in Inter Milan last season, Leeds United's deal is likely to fail!"
The Sun—never one to miss a scandal—turned the drama up to eleven:
"According to reliable sources, Arthur Morgan has some ulterior business, and Adriano's €35 million transfer funds may be related to these businesses, and it is likely to involve money laundering!"
Because of course, if you can't explain a transfer, it must be money laundering. Classic Sun logic.
The Guardian, usually more polite, sharpened its pen too:
"So far, Arthur Morgan has not made any obvious mistakes in the transfer market. Every signing he made has brought a significant improvement to Leeds United's lineup. But the appearance of Adriano may break his myth in the transfer market!"
Translation: Arthur, you've been a genius until now, but this one could be your Waterloo.
The Times, ever the respectable elder in the press family, tried to add balance:
"Adriano, a heavy tank on the football field, a perfect combination of strength and speed! After a period of slump, we hope Arthur Morgan can activate this Brazilian center forward."
It was the football version of saying, "Good luck, mate. You'll need it."
And then came The Mirror, the cheeky provocateur, focusing on the unanswered question:
"Where will the remaining €50 million be spent? With Leeds United officially announcing Adriano's joining, the previously reported transfer funds of nearly €90 million have already been used by nearly half. Compared with discussing whether Adriano is practical, we are more looking forward to Leeds United's next blockbuster signing!"
The media circus was complete. On one side, fans divided between blind faith in Arthur and furious doubt. On the other, journalists sharpening their knives, betting against him.
And Arthur? He closed his laptop, leaned back in his chair, and smirked. The storm was raging, but he looked as calm as a poker player who already knew the cards in everyone else's hand.
The football world had seen De Gea. They'd seen Adriano. But they hadn't yet seen the ace Arthur still had tucked up his sleeve.