Time soon came to August 11, and the air in Liverpool carried that mix of nerves and noise that only the start of a new Premier League season could bring. Arthur marched his Leeds United squad into Goodison Park with his usual calm swagger, the kind that made even the home fans mutter. This was Leeds' first league match since lifting the Community Shield, and though pundits had wondered if that was a fluke, the mood in Arthur's camp suggested otherwise. He had all his main players available, and there was a quiet confidence that this was no ordinary side — it was a team that could dominate from the very first whistle.
Goodison was bouncing, Everton fans in their blue jerseys singing with all the energy of opening day, waving scarves as though they might rattle Leeds into a mistake. But Arthur's men had other ideas. They looked sharp in the warm-up, the ball fizzing across the grass with crisp passes, the forwards laughing and teasing each other as they tested their shooting boots. Arthur stood on the touchline with his arms folded, eyes scanning the field, looking every inch the man who already knew what was about to unfold.
It didn't take long. Nine minutes in, Leeds United showed everyone why the outside world's optimism about them wasn't misplaced. The front two — Adriano and Ibrahimović — decided to put on a little masterclass. It started with a quick one-two just outside the Everton box, a cheeky exchange of passes that left the defenders flat-footed. They went again, the second pass coming even quicker, the Brazilian and the Swede reading each other's movements like they'd been teammates for years instead of weeks. Then Adriano, with that raw mix of power and grace, took the final touch and slid the ball past Howard into the corner.
Arthur clapped once, hard, and allowed himself the tiniest grin. Adriano had just scored his very first Premier League goal, and it was a beauty. The Leeds bench erupted, the substitutes spilling to the edge of the technical area as if they wanted to run on and celebrate with him. High up in the commentary box, Lineker's voice cracked with excitement.
"Adriano again! The man's on fire! Two passes, three exchanges, and Everton's defence were torn apart like paper!"
Jon, his co-commentator and long-suffering Everton fan, sighed loudly. "Well, there goes my afternoon. Nine minutes in and Leeds United are already ahead. That's Adriano's first in the league, and if this is a sign of what's to come… Everton fans, hold onto your seats."
The Leeds supporters behind the goal made sure no one missed the moment, bellowing out songs that shook the stands. Adriano didn't even celebrate too wildly — he just raised his arm and pointed straight at Arthur on the sideline, a little nod of gratitude to the manager who had trusted him when the world called him finished.
The first half rolled on with Everton struggling to find any rhythm. Leeds pressed high, their midfield snapping into tackles, shutting down every avenue forward. Whenever Everton thought they had a chance, Sneijder or Mascherano appeared like a ghost to steal the ball away. By the time the whistle blew for halftime, it was still 1–0, Adriano's goal standing as the difference. But in truth, Leeds looked like they had another gear to go. Arthur walked into the dressing room calm, telling his players to keep their discipline and reminding them that Goodison Park could turn hostile fast if they let the home side back into the game.
When the second half began, Everton tried to respond. They pushed higher, pressed with more urgency, and even sent their full-backs storming forward. The crowd roared them on, urging for an equaliser. But Arthur had anticipated this. He hadn't gone with the Christmas tree formation he'd used against Chelsea in the Community Shield. This time he lined his side up in a 4-3-3, with a single defensive midfielder anchoring things and three attackers ready to break with lightning speed. It meant his midfield five worked like a machine — Sneijder, Kaka, Mascherano, plus the wingers dropping in — harassing Everton every time they tried to build.
And in the 51st minute, that plan paid off perfectly. Sneijder pressed high, nicked the ball from an Everton midfielder, and immediately slid it forward to Kaka. The Brazilian star burst into the penalty area, his stride long and elegant, the defenders back-pedalling in fear. Lescott and Stubbs scrambled across to close him down, desperate not to give him a sight of goal. The entire stadium braced for a trademark Kaka strike.
But Kaka had other ideas. Instead of shooting, he kept running, hugging the byline, dragging both defenders with him. Then, with a quick glance up, he cut the ball back with a neat reverse pass. It rolled perfectly into the path of Ibrahimović, who was standing unmarked around the penalty spot.
The Swede didn't hesitate. He stroked the ball low, clean, straight into the bottom corner. Tim Howard didn't even move.
"Zlatan!" Lineker's voice thundered out. "And that should be that! Leeds United two, Everton nil!"
Arthur finally allowed himself a wide smile. He turned to his bench, pumping a fist in satisfaction. His two big strikers had each scored, the 4-3-3 had worked exactly as planned, and now he could almost taste the three points.
But football, as Arthur knew too well, had a habit of throwing curveballs. Not long after the restart, disaster struck. Manuel Neuer sent a booming goal kick out of the back, and Dani Alves — Arthur's trusted right-back — sprinted to receive it. Just as the ball floated toward him, Alves suddenly slowed, winced, and bent over clutching his thigh. He let the ball roll straight past him, grimacing in pain.
Arthur's heart sank.
On the touchline, he shouted toward the physios, ready to send them sprinting, but before he could even signal, Alves straightened up and waved his hand toward the bench, signalling for a substitution. The fans groaned. This didn't look like something he could shake off.
Lineker's commentary dropped in tone. "Oh dear… Alves has pulled up without any contact. That's never a good sign. If it's just a strain, he might be back in a couple of weeks. If it's worse — well, Leeds United won't want to think about that. Losing a starting full-back on the very first day of the season? Arthur's got a headache coming."
Arthur reacted instantly. He turned to Simeone, barked an order, and the assistant coach went dashing down the line with Dany Mills, pointing toward the fourth official. Within moments, the change was made, Mills jogging onto the pitch while Alves limped down the tunnel, shaking his head. Arthur clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, whispering something quick and encouraging, though his face betrayed a flicker of worry.
The good news was that the change didn't dent Leeds' rhythm much. They kept control of the game, dictating tempo, moving the ball around with patience and precision. Everton, though, weren't about to give up quietly. David Moyes stood on the edge of his technical area, arms folded tightly, then suddenly waved to his bench. In one bold move, he burned all three substitutions at once, throwing on attackers like a gambler pushing all his chips to the middle of the table. The home crowd roared in approval — this was a manager refusing to roll over in his first match of the season.
Arthur, watching from the opposite dugout, just raised an eyebrow. Everton might throw bodies forward, but he trusted his side to hold firm. Leeds had the advantage, the structure, and two goals in the bank. Now it was a matter of composure.
****
But Everton's substitutions had barely settled before Leeds United hit them with an ice bucket right over the head. David Moyes had hoped his triple change would spark a comeback, maybe rattle Leeds, maybe turn the momentum. Instead, it was like pouring fuel onto Arthur's fire.
Only ten minutes had passed since Ibrahimović's strike, and once again Leeds came tearing forward like a pack of hungry wolves. Kaka, who had been strolling around Goodison Park as if he owned the place, suddenly accelerated through midfield. He lifted his head, spotted Adriano darting into the channel between Lescott and Yobo, and slipped a perfectly weighted through ball that seemed to scream, "Finish me!"
Adriano didn't hesitate for a single heartbeat. Timing his run to perfection, he broke the offside trap, thundered into the box, and unleashed a violent volley that practically ripped the net. The ball hit the back of Everton's goal so hard that for a moment it looked like it might tear right through.
3–0!
Leeds United had well and truly slammed the door shut, and if there was any doubt about the outcome before, it was gone now.
"Adriano! He's done it again! That's two goals for the big Brazilian today!" Lineker's voice went up an octave, almost cracking with excitement. "This is only his second game since joining Leeds United, and his very first Premier League appearance! What a way to announce yourself! People doubted him, people questioned Arthur's judgment, but Adriano is silencing everyone with goals like this!"
Lineker's commentary rolled on with increasing enthusiasm. "Think about it—Adriano, Ibrahimović, Torres, Podolski, and the young German talent Marco Reus! This is an attacking lineup that would terrify even the strongest defenses in Europe. I have every reason to believe Arthur is about to lead Leeds United into a new era of glory!"
Jon, sitting beside him, nodded with a broad grin. This was much more comfortable than watching Leeds dismantle Chelsea last week. "Not just Adriano!" he added cheerfully. "Kaka's got two assists today. At AC Milan, he had to do everything on his own—create, score, carry the team on his back. Here at Leeds, surrounded by this much firepower, he's liberated. With strikers constantly dragging defenders around, Kaka's devastating ability to burst through lines is more dangerous than ever!"
Lineker chuckled, almost leaning into the camera as he saw the director cut to Arthur and Simeone celebrating on the touchline. Simeone had practically leapt onto Arthur's back in jubilation, and the manager himself wore that smug little half-smile that drove rival coaches mad. "I've said it before, but I'll say it again!" Lineker declared proudly. "In the whole of Europe, if Arthur isn't number one when it comes to spotting young players and pulling off brilliant transfers, then who is? He's built this side piece by piece, and look at the monster it has become!"
Goodison Park was stunned. Everton fans tried to lift their team with chants, but most of them already knew the day was lost. Leeds weren't just winning—they were dominating in every aspect.
After the third goal, Arthur finally decided it was time to ease off the throttle. With a glance to Simeone, he pointed to the bench. Kaka and Adriano, both heroes of the day, were called off to applause from the traveling Leeds supporters packed into the away corner. In their places came James Rodríguez and Marco Reus, two young men eager to prove themselves under Arthur's watchful eye.
Arthur folded his arms on the sideline, his eyes narrowing as Rodríguez jogged onto the pitch. He had been keeping a close eye on the young Colombian for months. Last season, he'd given Tuchel specific instructions: toughen the boy up, get him involved in defense, no passengers allowed in midfield. Tuchel had delivered. Rodríguez was no longer a luxury playmaker floating around like Riquelme—he worked, he pressed, and though his stamina wasn't yet elite, his vision and passing range were already shining.
For Arthur, this was the perfect moment. The game was already won, Everton were deflated, and there was nothing to lose. "Show me what you've got, kid," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Rodríguez clearly knew what this meant too. From the moment he stepped onto the grass, he buzzed around like a man possessed. He pressed high, he tackled, he demanded the ball whenever Leeds came forward. Every time Sneijder or Essien looked up, Rodríguez was already pointing, shouting, making runs. His intent was obvious: Arthur, look at me. I belong here.
As the minutes ticked away, Everton's players were chasing shadows. Moyes' brave triple substitution had fizzled into nothing, their tired legs unable to keep up with Leeds' fresh energy. The away fans sang louder with each passing minute, their voices echoing around Goodison like a mocking reminder of the gulf between the sides.
Finally, as the clock edged towards the closing stages, Rodríguez's moment arrived. Sneijder, tireless as ever, burst down the left flank and whipped a teasing cross into the box. Everton's defenders were flat-footed, expecting Ibrahimović to attack it, but instead the ball curved slightly back to the edge of the area.
Rodríguez, timing his run to perfection, arrived like a train. He opened his body and struck the ball first time with his right foot. It soared, curling beautifully through the air, tracing a perfect arc as if drawn with a compass. Howard stretched, but he was never getting close. The net bulged, and Leeds had their fourth.
The Leeds bench exploded. Simeone was on the pitch again, pumping his fists. Arthur just grinned, shaking his head with satisfaction. "Not bad, kid," he murmured, already imagining the headlines.
Lineker could hardly contain himself. "What a strike! James Rodríguez with a stunner! That's his first ever goal for Leeds United, and what a way to score it! Leeds United lead four-nil at Goodison Park—what an opening statement for the reigning champions!"
And that was that. Everton trudged through the final minutes, utterly beaten, while Leeds toyed with the ball and the fans behind Howard's goal danced and chanted Arthur's name. When the referee's whistle finally blew, it confirmed what everyone already knew: Leeds United had started the new Premier League season with an emphatic 4–0 victory away from home.
It was the kind of performance that sent a clear message across England, across Europe even. Arthur's Leeds weren't just defending their crown. They were hungry for more.