The third thunderous cheer of the afternoon resounded throughout Elland Road! The roar was deeper and more satisfying than the equalizer, because it signaled not just parity, but ascendancy. The third thunderous cheer of the afternoon resounded throughout Elland Road! The roar was deeper and more satisfying than the equalizer, because it signaled not just parity, but ascendancy.
Xabi Alonso's shot was an act of brutal, beautiful simplicity. It was not curled, nor was it chipped; it was hit with the pure, driven power of a man who knew the goalkeeper was already wrong-footed and who wanted to tear the net off the frame. Xabi Alonso's shot was an act of brutal, beautiful simplicity. It was not curled, nor was it chipped; it was hit with the pure, driven power of a man who knew the goalkeeper was already wrong-footed and who wanted to tear the net off the frame.
The ball traveled without spin, a white blur of focused kinetic energy, bypassing Petr Cech's desperate, futile flight through the air. As the goal light flashed red and the sound echoed, the score stood at 3-1. The tactical demolition was complete.The ball traveled without spin, a white blur of focused kinetic energy, bypassing Petr Cech's desperate, futile flight through the air. As the goal light flashed red and the sound echoed, the score stood at 3-1. The tactical demolition was complete.
The final ten minutes of the game were little more than a formality. Chelsea was visibly spent, their midfield running on empty, unable to cope with the relentless, five-man rotation that Arthur had unleashed. The final ten minutes of the game were little more than a formality. Chelsea was visibly spent, their midfield running on empty, unable to cope with the relentless, five-man rotation that Arthur had unleashed.
Mourinho eventually brought on Shevchenko for Wright-Phillips, a change of personnel that did nothing to fix the structural issue; it was the managerial equivalent of replacing a flat tire with a slightly shinier flat tire. Mourinho eventually brought on Shevchenko for Wright-Phillips, a change of personnel that did nothing to fix the structural issue; it was the managerial equivalent of replacing a flat tire with a slightly shinier flat tire.
The supply line to Drogba remained severed, the defense remained exposed, and Leeds United, with their tails up, controlled possession until Martin Atkinson blew the final whistle, confirming the comprehensive 3-1 victory.The supply line to Drogba remained severed, the defense remained exposed, and Leeds United, with their tails up, controlled possession until Martin Atkinson blew the final whistle, confirming the comprehensive 3-1 victory.
The successful, emphatic win over Chelsea instantly rocketed Leeds United's point total to 26. This meant they had once again surpassed Manchester United to reclaim the much-coveted second spot in the league standings.The successful, emphatic win over Chelsea instantly rocketed Leeds United's point total to 26. This meant they had once again surpassed Manchester United to reclaim the much-coveted second spot in the league standings.
Crucially, the gap to the top was razor-thin. Arsenal, the current league leaders, had stuttered recently, gaining only two points from their last two rounds of games. Their current tally was only two points higher than Leeds United's. Crucially, the gap to the top was razor-thin. Arsenal, the current league leaders, had stuttered recently, gaining only two points from their last two rounds of games. Their current tally was only two points higher than Leeds United's.
This sudden tightening of the table injected a thrilling, almost palpable excitement into the air around Elland Road. Arthur saw a very real hope of competing for the coveted "Half-Time Championship"—a symbolic, morale-boosting title that signaled a team's dominance heading into the new year. This sudden tightening of the table injected a thrilling, almost palpable excitement into the air around Elland Road. Arthur saw a very real hope of competing for the coveted "Half-Time Championship"—a symbolic, morale-boosting title that signaled a team's dominance heading into the new year.
If Leeds United could travel to London next week and secure a win against Tottenham Hotspur, then their subsequent match against Arsenal—scheduled immediately after the international break—would, with high probability, be a winner-takes-all showdown that would determine the pace-setter for the entire season.If Leeds United could travel to London next week and secure a win against Tottenham Hotspur, then their subsequent match against Arsenal—scheduled immediately after the international break—would, with high probability, be a winner-takes-all showdown that would determine the pace-setter for the entire season.
After a necessary day of blissful, self-congratulatory rest, the entire Leeds United team reconvened at the Thorp Archtraining base. The focus immediately shifted to preparation for their upcoming Champions League group match against Dynamo Kyiv on Thursday. Although they had already crushed Kyiv 4-1 away, Arthur still attached great importance to this return fixture. A win here would not only guarantee qualification for the knockout stages but would also cement their first-place standing in the group—a crucial factor for seeding. Yet, as he was merely stepping onto the sun-dappled training pitch, his assistant, Diego Simeone, raced up to him, his face alight with a mixture of shock and glee.After a necessary day of blissful, self-congratulatory rest, the entire Leeds United team reconvened at the Thorp Archtraining base. The focus immediately shifted to preparation for their upcoming Champions League group match against Dynamo Kyiv on Thursday. Although they had already crushed Kyiv 4-1 away, Arthur still attached great importance to this return fixture. A win here would not only guarantee qualification for the knockout stages but would also cement their first-place standing in the group—a crucial factor for seeding. Yet, as he was merely stepping onto the sun-dappled training pitch, his assistant, Diego Simeone, raced up to him, his face alight with a mixture of shock and glee.
"Boss! You're not going to believe this, but Mourinho is fired!" Simeone exclaimed, his voice buzzing with the sheer drama of the news."Boss! You're not going to believe this, but Mourinho is fired!" Simeone exclaimed, his voice buzzing with the sheer drama of the news.
Finally fired? Arthur's brain instantly went into overdrive. He managed to maintain a cool, professional exterior, but internally, his thoughts were racing. This was a moment of profound, timeline-altering turmoil. The reason was rooted in his memory of the world as it was supposed to be: Mourinho should have been sacked far earlier, in September of this year, not long after the season began, following massive friction with Abramovich over the summer transfer policy. Arthur had been paying close attention around that remembered date. When the media had remained quiet and Mourinho kept his job, Arthur had concluded that his presence had definitely shifted the tectonic plates of the football world.Finally fired? Arthur's brain instantly went into overdrive. He managed to maintain a cool, professional exterior, but internally, his thoughts were racing. This was a moment of profound, timeline-altering turmoil. The reason was rooted in his memory of the world as it was supposed to be: Mourinho should have been sacked far earlier, in September of this year, not long after the season began, following massive friction with Abramovich over the summer transfer policy. Arthur had been paying close attention around that remembered date. When the media had remained quiet and Mourinho kept his job, Arthur had concluded that his presence had definitely shifted the tectonic plates of the football world.
Now, the news confirmed it had only been a delay. It was indeed changed, but the inevitable had merely been postponed. Arthur realized that Abramovich hadn't wanted to fire the decorated manager yet, choosing to endure the friction. Now, the news confirmed it had only been a delay. It was indeed changed, but the inevitable had merely been postponed. Arthur realized that Abramovich hadn't wanted to fire the decorated manager yet, choosing to endure the friction.
But Arthur's strategic masterclass—the complete, embarrassing tactical throttling of Chelsea by a 3-1 margin on their own home turf—had simply provided the necessary public and executive justification. His five-man midfield had been the "last straw that broke the camel's back," providing a catastrophic, visible failure that couldn't be rationalized away.But Arthur's strategic masterclass—the complete, embarrassing tactical throttling of Chelsea by a 3-1 margin on their own home turf—had simply provided the necessary public and executive justification. His five-man midfield had been the "last straw that broke the camel's back," providing a catastrophic, visible failure that couldn't be rationalized away.
Arthur allowed a slow smile to spread across his face, a humorous, self-aware relief washing over him. "Well, then," he mused, quietly to himself, "It seems I simply did the Portuguese gentleman a favour in the end. He was going to be fired eventually, but at least this way, he can claim that he was forced out by the genius tactics of the best young manager in the game, rather than being sacked over a disagreement about buying another centre-back. I'm glad I didn't hold back my attack. If I'd played defensively, he might truly hate me now. As it stands, he'll just hate my tactical system." Arthur allowed a slow smile to spread across his face, a humorous, self-aware relief washing over him. "Well, then," he mused, quietly to himself, "It seems I simply did the Portuguese gentleman a favour in the end. He was going to be fired eventually, but at least this way, he can claim that he was forced out by the genius tactics of the best young manager in the game, rather than being sacked over a disagreement about buying another centre-back. I'm glad I didn't hold back my attack. If I'd played defensively, he might truly hate me now. As it stands, he'll just hate my tactical system."
With that final, wry thought, Arthur turned his attention back to the training ground, his mind already calculating the quickest path to the Champions League knockout stages, leaving the chaos he'd caused in London firmly behind him.With that final, wry thought, Arthur turned his attention back to the training ground, his mind already calculating the quickest path to the Champions League knockout stages, leaving the chaos he'd caused in London firmly behind him.
************
After chatting briefly with Simeone, who was still buzzing about the news, Arthur firmly put the drama of Mourinho'ssudden exit behind him and immediately immersed himself in training work. The Champions League fixture against Dynamo Kyiv was approaching, and the importance of securing top spot required his full attention.
However, the morning training session had barely concluded, and Arthur hadn't even made it back to his cluttered office before his phone buzzed with an unexpected call. He frowned at the screen. The caller ID showed a number he knew belonged to an agent he occasionally dealt with.
"Hello, Jorge," Arthur answered, assuming it was the ubiquitous super-agent, Jorge Mendes.
"Hello, Arthur," a low, distinctly wounded voice replied from the other end. It was not Mendes's usual smooth, confident Portuguese accent. It was rougher, heavier, and tinged with exhaustion.
Arthur instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen again to confirm the caller ID. Mendes's number, it definitely was. He put the phone back up, suspicion rising in his tone. "Excuse me? Who is this, actually? Your voice sounds… different."
"It's Jose," the voice mumbled.
Mourinho? Arthur's eyes widened, though he managed to suppress a laugh. Why on earth would Mourinho be calling him, especially right now, and using his agent's phone? Pushing open the door to his office and walking over to his leather chair, Arthur replied with an expertly crafted tone of professional curiosity: "Ah! Hello, Jose! Uh… You called me, is there something you needed?"
Mourinho, on the other end of the line, completely sidestepped the question. His voice was taut and heavy. "I trust you already know?"
Know that you've been fired? Arthur thought, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Oh, this is rich. He's calling me, the accomplice who indirectly triggered his dismissal with a five-man midfield masterclass, to fish for sympathy. I won't let you succeed, my friend.
Arthur calmly sat back in his chair, leaning back and resting his feet on the edge of his desk. He lied with the serene conviction of a politician. "Know what, Jose? I've been running drills since 7 a.m. We've got the Champions League this week. What's going on?"
Mourinho let out a dramatic, soul-crushing sigh, the sound carrying clearly over the speaker. "Sigh. I left Chelsea."
"Left Chelsea!" Arthur repeated, injecting his voice with a level of theatrical disbelief that deserved an Academy Award. "How is that even possible!? When did this happen!?"
"The club notified Jorge and me yesterday afternoon," Mourinho stated, his voice flat. "Didn't you see the overwhelming news reports about this matter this morning?"
"Oh… I am terribly sorry, Jose." Although Mourinho couldn't see it, Arthur shook his head with mock sincerity. "I got to the base this morning and immediately started running the training session. I genuinely didn't see the news." He paused for dramatic effect, then, without waiting for the Portuguese manager to speak, Arthur twisted the knife, adopting a tone of indignant outrage on Mourinho's behalf. "But you just said the club notified you and Jorge. So Chelsea fired you? Is Roman absolutely out of his mind!? How could he make such a spectacularly stupid decision!?"
What does it mean, fired?! Mourinho's breath completely hitched on the other end of the phone. I said I left Chelsea! Don't you know the difference between 'left' and the word you keep screaming!? He was completely choked by Arthur's relentless, politically incorrect framing. He couldn't think of a clean way to correct the language without sounding petty. The idea that his rival was painting him as an unceremoniously dumped coach, rather than one who mutually agreed to terminate his contract, was causing his blood pressure to spike.
Mourinho unconsciously turned his head and shot a look of pure misery toward Mendes, who was sitting beside him. The phone in Mourinho's hand was creaking, his grip so tight the plastic was straining. Since the call wasn't on speaker, Mendes hadn't heard Arthur's provocative words. He could only look at the manager with a puzzled, deeply concerned expression, his face a picture of professional heartache over the job loss.
After a long, agonizing silence, Arthur knew he had pushed the envelope as far as it would go. The sound of the manager's heavy, constrained breathing was confirmation. It was time to pivot.
"So… what's the real reason you're calling me today, Jose?" Arthur asked, posing the question for the second time, now with a genuine note of curiosity creeping in.
"Ah? Oh!" Mourinho snapped back to attention, startled by the change of subject. He cleared his throat forcefully. "I called you… to thank you."
"Thank me?" Arthur blurted out, genuinely confused this time. He couldn't immediately connect the dots to Inter Milan. "Thank me for what? Thank me for leading Leeds United to a win against Chelsea the day before yesterday, which resulted in you being—uh—leaving the club!?"
Damn it! Mourinho's fragile temper, which had almost been calmed, flared back up instantly. Arthur's words were undoubtedly cutting another fresh wound directly onto the previous one. He took another long, silent breath. He thought about the call with Massimo Moratti, the Inter Milan president, that he'd just finished, and forced himself to prioritize business over bruised pride. He finally spoke again, his tone still strained. "No! I called you to thank you for your recommendation to Mr. Moratti."
Oh, D'oh!
The realization hit Arthur with the force of an oncoming train. He'd completely forgotten about that casual recommendation he'd made months ago, intended as a helpful suggestion to a friendly rival. Arthur slapped his forehead, immediately comprehending the magnitude of the insult he'd just delivered. He burst into a clumsy, genuine fit of dry laughter.
"Ahahahahaha…! So it's that matter!" Arthur choked out, hastily correcting himself. "Sorry, sorry, Jose! I honestly didn't think about it just now! But, wait—have you already discussed terms? That was fast!"
Because Arthur's surprise and laughter sounded absolutely unfeigned, much of Mourinho's lingering anger dissipated. The initial gratitude that had prompted the call—a genuine appreciation for the unexpected lifeline—once again filled his mind.
"Well, Jorge and I just finished talking to Mr. Moratti," Mourinho confirmed, his tone softening slightly. "Although many details haven't been finalized, if nothing unexpected happens, my next stop should be Inter Milan."
"That's fantastic! Congratulations, Jose!" Arthur responded warmly, now fully invested. "When will you take office? Next season, in the summer?"
"Probably not," Mourinho replied, throwing out one final, unexpected detail. "According to Mr. Moratti, I should take over the team at the end of December."
Arthur: ???